Prompting Part XXVI
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
“Leave. Me. ALONE!” He shouted, tugging his coat back on with trembling hands.
“Sherlock -“ Mycroft started, but Sherlock had already taken off, coat blowing behind him, scarf tied haphazardly around his neck.
He knew John was alive. John had to be alive. John wouldn’t just die on him; not without saying goodbye at least. He knew John, and John wouldn’t do that.
“Sherlock, you’re being irrational.”
“Mycroft leave it be,” Lestrade hissed, and Sherlock felt a mild surge of pride which was quickly banished once Lestrade’s hands gripped his shoulders once more. “Sherlock, where are you going?”
“To find John,” he replied, unable to keep the irritation out of his tone. Really, people should use their brains more often.
The pitying look Lestrade was giving him mixed with the condescending one Mycroft was giving him made him want to scream. Instead, his hands just shook more. But he felt alive now, and utterly stupid for having let emotion cloud his judgement.
“Sherlock. Detective Inspector Lestrade texted me to let me know what happened. I brought up the CCTV footage.” Mycroft’s voice faltered, sending a brief surge of panic through Sherlock. “I’m sorry, Sherlock, but he’s gone.”
Lestrade’s grip tightened and Sherlock shook him free, a defiant growl escaping from his chest, his eyes narrowing on Mycroft.
“No. No! I expected better from you, Mycroft,” he spat the name as though it were a bad taste in his mouth. “Don’t you see? Look! Look at the current! John had to have been injured! Why else would he not have resurfaced immediately? How could he fight that current while injured? No. No he’s clever, and he knows I’m clever. He went with the current. He knows how to handle a tough situation and he knows how to stop himself from panicking.”
Sherlock stared at them both, willing them to see what he was explaining, but they still wore the same expressions, now somewhat softened around the edges. He rolled his eyes and snapped his body away from Lestrade’s outstretched hands, stalking forward with his usual confidence.
“It will be quicker if you drive, but I’ll walk if I have to. If my calculations are correct - and they almost always are - then John should be near Waterloo Bridge.”
“Sherlock, listen-“
“No, you listen, Inspector. John’s not dead. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t… He’s not dead!” Sherlock could hear his voice cracking again, but he refused to let himself believe that his judgement was being clouded by emotions.
He drew a shuddering breath, fighting for composure once more. He glanced at Mycroft who was having a hushed conversation on the phone, before allowing himself to be directed towards Lestrade’s car.
“Look. I’m taking you home, Sherlock, alright?”
“NO!” Sherlock was beginning to panic now.
Emotions, he chastised himself, pointless, stupid, irrelevant and definitely not helpful. Push it aside. Only he couldn’t. Not now. Not while John’s life was on the line and everyone including Mycroft were being so dense.
“Sherlock. SHERLOCK!” Lestrade’s voice was fighting through his panic, hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down.
“No! I will damn well walk there myself if I have to but I am NOT going home until I find John.”
“Please, Sherlock just-“
“Stop. Inspector, Sherlock just might be on to something.”
Lestrade and Mycroft seemed to share a silent conversation that, for once, Sherlock couldn’t deduce, before Lestrade nodded and got into his car, motioning for Sherlock to join him.
“We’ll head down to Waterloo then. But after that, I’m taking you home regardless of what we find.”
Sherlock gave a terse nod and slid into the passenger seat, resolutely not looking at Lestrade.
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“Sh’lock?” John croaked before spluttering, heaving nothing but salt water from his lungs and stomach.
Sherlock held him with trembling arms, rubbing his hand in small circles which he hoped were soothing, as the wail of an ambulance grew closer.
“You’re alright John. You’re alright. You’re going to be alright.”
Despite being wet and cold and smelling absolutely terrible, Sherlock couldn’t help but press his freshly tear streaked face into John’s shoulder, taking comfort from the weak, coughing, shivering form in his arms.
“I knew you couldn’t be dead.”
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A/N: D: I hope this is okay and not too out of character or anything :S something about it feels off but I can't, for the life of me, work out what it is. And again, really sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes I may have overlooked.
(also, I was SO tempted to go with an implied Mycroft/Lestrade, but didn't, in the end)
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Yeah secretly I still thought of it as M/L but I was so tempted to have Mycroft call him Gregory instead of 'Detective Inspector Lestrade'.
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Still not beta'd though. :)
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