Man's Original Virtue - pt4
anonymous
October 18 2010, 11:11:43 UTC
John and Harry’s mother dies when John is sixteen, drink driver. Their father, in one of the cruellest forms of irony, then descends into true alcoholism. It takes him another three years before he dies, but he’s a shell of a man long before that.
At the funerals, Harry and John stand side by side, solemn and sober in black.
John has to listen to people telling him to ‘keep his chin up’ and ‘be brave’. His chin doesn’t drop to his chest until hours later, after the reception, when Harry notices his perfect posture and stares in surprise.
“Bloody hell,” she says. “You’re not meant to take that literally.” But they both know he has no choice. “Relax, John,” she says after a moment. “Feel whatever you want to feel, do whatever you want to do.”
An order, true, but not one he’s reluctant to follow.
The tears start and Harry lets him bury his head in her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she mutters, rubbing her hand up his back awkwardly. It’s a parody of what their mother used to do, but Harry can’t quite get it to work properly. “It’s all going to be okay.”
*
Mycroft doesn’t give commands. It’s probably the most curious thing John has noticed about him. The man rules the country (if not the world) but everything he asks you to do is a request, or a favour. It’s all ‘could you do this’ and ‘may I that’.
John would have expected that to endear the man to him. With Mycroft he is in the exact same position as every other poor bugger in the world. He doesn’t have to do as Mycroft asks (so very politely) but if he doesn’t there will be the sort of... Consequences that come with a significant pause and a capital C.
In truth, it unnerves him. People give orders all the time, silly little things like the American ‘Have a nice day’ which is supposedly polite, but makes John’s days a nightmare, in truth. Or the occasional ‘be careful’ or ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. They’re platitudes and clichés but John is stuck with them.
One night in university his flatmate (a rather overly energetic, heavy drinking and sexually enthusiastic Rugby teammate) had said ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ and John had woken up at midday the next day in a ditch without his trousers on and completely stripped of all his valuables.
But Mycroft doesn’t even do those. John sometimes longs for him to say ‘tell me about my brother’, because then John would know where he stands. But he never does.
*
Harry starts drinking heavily when she’s twenty-two. Their father has been dead for a year, his liver pickled beyond belief, and John is at university.
John tries to start a conversation about it, but Harry just says ‘don’t even think about it,’ and John’s mind obediently wanders away from it, though it takes great effort on his part. He has to pinch himself every time his attention catches on her hand on the glass, or the way she throws down a shot like she’s done it all her life.
She apologises the next morning, hung-over, realising what she had said.
“God, I controlled your thoughts... I shouldn’t. I’m so sorry, John.” She rescinds the order, but replaces it with a request that he not talk about it. She’s so upset about the ‘don’t think about it’ remark and so careful to phrase it as a request rather than an order, that John lets her get away with it.
Years later he remembers that night and thinks that he really should have pressed the matter.
*
“Stand by the window,” Sherlock tells him at a crime scene. John walks over without even thinking of saying no. Sherlock’s working now, after all. This is probably vitally important for something or other. Sherlock smiles when he reaches the window. Sally Donovan is frowning.
“You don’t have to do everything he says, you know,” she tells him. John just shrugs.
“It’s probably important,” he replies.
“Of course it’s important,” Sherlock agrees, launching into an explanation about shadows, illusions and the convenience of disguise. John doesn’t catch it all, but it distracts Donovan.
At the funerals, Harry and John stand side by side, solemn and sober in black.
John has to listen to people telling him to ‘keep his chin up’ and ‘be brave’. His chin doesn’t drop to his chest until hours later, after the reception, when Harry notices his perfect posture and stares in surprise.
“Bloody hell,” she says. “You’re not meant to take that literally.” But they both know he has no choice. “Relax, John,” she says after a moment. “Feel whatever you want to feel, do whatever you want to do.”
An order, true, but not one he’s reluctant to follow.
The tears start and Harry lets him bury his head in her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she mutters, rubbing her hand up his back awkwardly. It’s a parody of what their mother used to do, but Harry can’t quite get it to work properly. “It’s all going to be okay.”
*
Mycroft doesn’t give commands. It’s probably the most curious thing John has noticed about him. The man rules the country (if not the world) but everything he asks you to do is a request, or a favour. It’s all ‘could you do this’ and ‘may I that’.
John would have expected that to endear the man to him. With Mycroft he is in the exact same position as every other poor bugger in the world. He doesn’t have to do as Mycroft asks (so very politely) but if he doesn’t there will be the sort of... Consequences that come with a significant pause and a capital C.
In truth, it unnerves him. People give orders all the time, silly little things like the American ‘Have a nice day’ which is supposedly polite, but makes John’s days a nightmare, in truth. Or the occasional ‘be careful’ or ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. They’re platitudes and clichés but John is stuck with them.
One night in university his flatmate (a rather overly energetic, heavy drinking and sexually enthusiastic Rugby teammate) had said ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ and John had woken up at midday the next day in a ditch without his trousers on and completely stripped of all his valuables.
But Mycroft doesn’t even do those. John sometimes longs for him to say ‘tell me about my brother’, because then John would know where he stands. But he never does.
*
Harry starts drinking heavily when she’s twenty-two. Their father has been dead for a year, his liver pickled beyond belief, and John is at university.
John tries to start a conversation about it, but Harry just says ‘don’t even think about it,’ and John’s mind obediently wanders away from it, though it takes great effort on his part. He has to pinch himself every time his attention catches on her hand on the glass, or the way she throws down a shot like she’s done it all her life.
She apologises the next morning, hung-over, realising what she had said.
“God, I controlled your thoughts... I shouldn’t. I’m so sorry, John.” She rescinds the order, but replaces it with a request that he not talk about it. She’s so upset about the ‘don’t think about it’ remark and so careful to phrase it as a request rather than an order, that John lets her get away with it.
Years later he remembers that night and thinks that he really should have pressed the matter.
*
“Stand by the window,” Sherlock tells him at a crime scene. John walks over without even thinking of saying no. Sherlock’s working now, after all. This is probably vitally important for something or other. Sherlock smiles when he reaches the window. Sally Donovan is frowning.
“You don’t have to do everything he says, you know,” she tells him. John just shrugs.
“It’s probably important,” he replies.
“Of course it’s important,” Sherlock agrees, launching into an explanation about shadows, illusions and the convenience of disguise. John doesn’t catch it all, but it distracts Donovan.
*
Reply
Leave a comment