Double Dose, Part 2/?

Feb 14, 2011 18:42

Title: Double Dose
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Family/Drama/Mild Humour

Part 1 HERE

~~~~

Part 2

John sighed, stepping out of his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“How is he?” Sherlock asked, turning from his position staring out of the window to face the doctor.

“He has a bit of a chest infection.” John told him. “Probably nothing to worry about. I'll write out a prescription for some antibiotics, and keep an eye on him, but he should be fine.”

“Ok.” Sherlock said. “Shall I take the prescription somewhere to collect it? We need milk anyway. And Rory only ever eats Cheerios for breakfast.”

John gaped. “Sherlock?” He said hesitantly. “Are you offering to go shopping?”

“Yes.” Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth. “You're the doctor, you should stay here. And if he wakes up, he might be... confused. Strange place. I've heard friendly faces help in situations such as these.”

“So surely you should be the one to stay, then.” John said reasonably. “I mean you're his brother. He'd never met me before tonight. Waking up in a strange bed with a strange man around would probably be even scarier. Surely you'd be best.”

“John.” Sherlock said seriously, staring intently at his flatmate. “I'm a sociopath. His girlfriend has cheated on him with his younger brother and then thrown him out of his flat to live on the streets. That's the kind of thing people get emotional about. I know from experience that I'm bad at these situations. Eventually I will say something very Not Good. That he's an idiot for moving in with a girl who'd already slept with his brother. That he's an idiot for moving into a flat solely in her name. That he's an idiot for sleeping on the streets in winter with nothing but jeans, a t-shirt and a hoody to keep him warm. Or maybe that, in a way, he's nearly as morally questionable as they are for being willing to swap girlfriends with his brother again and again. So tell me, John, which of these observations do you think Rory will appreciate the most?”

John stared. “You do have a brain-to-mouth-filter!” He commented, shocked. “If you know what you're saying is not good, why do you still say it?”

“Sociopaths are capable of love.” Sherlock informed him dryly. “Granted we love in a very selfish, all-consuming way, but we can still love. There are times when I genuinely don't know that something is unacceptable, but when I do know that I'm thinking something not good, I say what I'm thinking and what I have observed because I don't care about the people I'm saying it to. There are few people I love, but I won't say what I know to be bad to those few because it causes me discomfort to see them hurting, even if they are hurting because of something I can't understand.”

John hesitated, absorbing this rare insight into the way Sherlock's mind works. “When were you diagnosed as a sociopath?” He asked, cringing visibly. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Sherlock thought for a moment, clearly weighing his options up in his mind. “When I was twenty.” He finally said, smiling to himself.

”Twenty?” John repeated, his eyebrows raised. “That's a bit late for diagnosing a personality disorder.”

“I saw a lot of child psychologists.” Sherlock told him with a sigh. “All incompetent. All bending facts to suit theories rather than theories to suit facts. They were unable to see anything but a child with Asperger's. It wasn't until Mycroft was in a position to find me competent psychologists that I was diagnosed with both.”

John stared, thinking deeply. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“It's important that you know all of the facts.” Sherlock stated simply. “You need to know that Rory is nothing like me. He shouldn't have that stigma attached to him. Rory is normal. No sociopathy. No Asperger's. A normal man with a very abnormal twin brother. Don't expect him to be a freak.”

“I don't.” John said honestly. “And I don't think of you as a freak either.”

Sherlock smiled. “Good.” He said, walking over to take the prescription from John. “Now, whatever you do don't drink the apple juice. There's a tongue in the carton. I'm testing the absorption of glucose after death.”

John started, glancing from Sherlock to the fridge and back again in alarm.

“Who are they?” He asked, just as Sherlock went to leave the flat. “The people you wouldn't want to see hurt?”

Sherlock hesitated again, seeming to stare straight through John's skull and deep into his brain. “My mother, Rory, Edwin, Mycroft and... well... you.”

*

John looked up from the TV (Jeremy Kyle - it just wasn't the same anymore without Sherlock predicting the results of the lie detectors with 100% accuracy) to see Rory shuffling through the door, John's duvet wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“Where's clever-clogs?” He asked, walking past John and into the kitchen.

“Tesco.” John replied, standing up and joining Rory in the kitchen. “You need anything?”

“M'thirsty.” Rory mumbled, opening the fridge and looking inside.

“Well don't drink the apple juice.” John advised with a grin. “There's a tongue in it, apparently. A human tongue.”

“A tongue?” Rory repeated, smirking. “Christ, he gets worse instead of better. At least living with Edwin the worst you're going to find in the fridge is raspberry flavoured lube in a jam jar.”

“God, I wish I could find lube in the fridge, rather than body parts.” John laughed.

“Yeah, it wasn't bad.” Rory told him. “I'd spread it on my toast and eaten half a slice before Edwin told me what it was.”

John laughed, loud. “How old is Edwin?”

“Twenty-five, now.” Rory commented, sniffing cautiously at a bottle of cranberry juice. “Finally starting to grow up and stop winding everyone up for shits and giggles.”

“God.” John sighed. “It's hard to imagine Sherlock with younger brothers. The cranberry's fine, by the way. Sherlock knows the results of experimenting on my cranberry juice will be his death.”

Rory snorted, nodding his thanks and pouring some juice into a mug from the cupboard. “Don't go feeling sorry for Edwin.” He said reproachfully. “He was such a little twerp. Especially to Sherlock.”

“Why?” John asked, sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling a chair out for Rory and his duvet to join him.

“He's seven years younger than us.” Rory said. “By the time he was old enough to really understand about Sherlock's problems, we were already sixteen, seventeen, so he didn't see that much of him. Sherlock went to Cambridge at sixteen, so when he came back in the holidays, Edwin was entering those nasty everything's-a-joke-or-wind-up-opportunity pre-teen years. He used to really take the piss. Daniel and I used to act as sort of buffers, stepping in when it went beyond brotherly banter.”

“Daniel?” John asked, before he could stop himself.

“Yeah.” Rory sighed, stifling a cough. “He's a proper bastard, but he's always been protective of Sherlock. A kid in his class when he was twelve made a comment about his 'spaz brother', and Daniel was suspended for two weeks for breaking his nose. The thing about Daniel being a nasty little shit is he knows when other people are being nasty little shits as well. It's like the nasty little shit version of gaydar.”

John snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “We should introduce him to Anderson some time. They'll either kill each other on sight or start dry-humping right in the middle of the crime scene.”

“Please don't mention Anderson again, John.” Sherlock's voice rang out as he stepped into the kitchen and dropped two bags of shopping onto the table. “Rory's sick enough already.”

“You've been gone a while.” John commented, opening the shopping bags and sliding the box of Cheerios in Rory's direction.

“Ran into Mycroft.” Sherlock replied with a grimace. “You will be pleased to know Lucy will be starting her new job as an administrative assistant in some government office or another tomorrow morning, and Ben will be starting work in the kitchens. They are currently residing in a police safe house maintained by Mycroft.”

“Lucy?” Rory asked, staring at his brother.

“Not Lucy Proek.” Sherlock said. “Lucy and Ben are - were - two of my homeless friends who kept an eye on you while you were on the streets. They realised how much danger you could be in so watched over you until I found you.”

“Why the hell does Mycroft have a safe house?” Rory asked, looking horrified.

“He keeps it for me.” Sherlock said simply, placing the apple juice in the fridge and pulling a permanent marker from his pocket to mark the one with the tongue with a large X. “He used to lock me in it in an attempt to get me clean.”

“Awww.” Rory cooed mockingly, standing up and flinging an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. “Aren't you special. He keeps a special little anti-drug den just for you. You know, in Mycroft-world, that's practically a declaration of undying love.”

Sherlock glared, pushing Rory's arm off him with a look of extreme discomfort. “Take your pills and go back to bed.” He said. “Before you turn us all into gibbering idiots.”

Rory smirked, rooting through the carrier bags to find the little packet of pills. He quickly read the instructions and took two, before, with a cheeky wave, he picked up his duvet, and walked out of the kitchen and back to bed.

Part 3

fortysomething, sherlock/john, family, lestrade, rory, john, sherlock, edwin, anderson, daniel, mycroft, donovan

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