OPERATION SEPARATION (Chapter 3)
OUTSIDE OPINIONS
Before the front door had stopped shuddering on impact, Sherlock had already shot to his feet. Within sixty seconds of John leaving the flat, he too was out of the building. It took him another thirty seconds to spot John's angry stride. He kept his distance. The tech had promised good reception at ten meters, so keeping a safe distance was not an issue. Besides John was predictably walking to Sarah's, which was a relief. Sherlock hated bugging him like this, but the confrontation had been unsatisfactory in terms of results produced…and John being John, was setting new records for tolerance. Any other month-old flat-sharer would not have lasted beyond the rotting intestine stage. It had taken Sherlock two fruitless days to conclude that the insufferable flat-mate bit was not going to cut it. So he had upped the ante, in a manner of speaking. If there was one thing that John despised more than murderous scumbags, it was any reminder of his infirmities, physical or psychological. Even while burning the wretched paycheck, Sherlock never thought that he could bring himself to utter the pre-planned words to hurt the man… the words that would act like a fresh wound over the poorly healed scar.
Then he had steeled himself as he brought to his mind the scene that he had made Sarah describe verbatim for him in private. His vivid imagination had no trouble picturing a barely conscious John as he was shoved by those goons in a chair; Shan holding a gun to his temple clicking on an empty chamber... John pleading for his life …
That had made it very easy.
He had recited his lines coldly, clinically detached, hoping, and wishing desperately to be punched or slapped by the end of the monologue. Instead John had walked out without a word. Now even as he followed John, he was praying for him to ask Sarah if he could temporarily move in with her, because if that did not happen, he didn't know if he had the courage needed to go through with the next step. And yet he would… God help him…
John had reached Sarah's apartment building by then. Fortunately her apartment was on the first storey. He put the earpiece in his ear just as he heard John ring the bell. That was followed by the door being opened and Sarah's voice,
"Oh dear! That bad huh?"
"How on earth did you… never mind… apparently everyone around me is a bloody mind reader."
"It's called woman's intuition, John. Just sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'll put the kettle on."
Footsteps followed by the sound of John taking off his jacket. Sherlock hoped that he would drape it on the back of the sofa as was his habit; the bug was in the coat collar. About five minutes later, he was already pacing impatiently below the building when he heard Sarah walk back into the room and the sound of a tray being placed on the table, before she took a seat on the sofa…no … opposite the sofa, on an ottoman most likely.
"So what did Sherlock do this time?"her voice was sympathetic.
John laughed in answer, in a way that made Sherlock wince to hear it.
"Sarah, please answer me honestly. Do you think I am in denial about my limitations…you know… as a surgeon?"
On hearing these words Sherlock came to dead stop with a groan. Oh well done John, I humiliate you and this is what you choose to take away from it.
He could hear Sarah's frown in her reply, "You are only human John. You have a right to be disappointed, to be bitter even. You don't become a trained surgeon overnight. Suddenly, you have to give it up. From where I am standing, you are taking it pretty well." Now disapproval tinged her voice, "Did Sherlock…"
John's voice interrupted her,"Sherlock …was just …being Sherlock. Living with him is like playing a never-ending game of Truth-or-Dare." His voice sounded suddenly tired. "It's just that… I was so busy caught up in the Dare of it; the Truth part is a bit more difficult to handle…"
John may not have laid a finger on him at the flat, but the last line cut Sherlock like an invisible blade. Instead of hating him, John was blaming himself.
"You cut him too much slack", Sarah's voice was without malice.
"Trust me, I am mad at him. After all he did burn my paycheck."
"What!"
Sherlock took out the earpiece. He had heard enough. Also for some reason, it felt like he was a child again and eavesdropping on his parent's conversations that they used to have after his frequent temper tantrums. He shook his head to clear the image. Besides his plan had spectacularly backfired, thanks to the impracticality displayed by John's emotional side. Of course he could be trusted to be a glutton for punishment.
As he retraced his steps back to Baker Street, he felt rather than saw one of his brother's black monstrosities glide up behind him. Better deal with this annoyance right now. He sulkily got into the car noting the absence of the blackberry toting assistant. Oh joy! This was a personal call then. His brother was immaculate as usual with the three-piece suit, umbrella and the smug smile firmly in place. Sherlock suddenly felt too tired for their usual verbal sparring.
"What do you want, Mycroft?"
"Just wanted to have a chat with my baby brother. It is not as though you would willingly answer a summons from me, would you?"
"I am busy."
"I can see that…busy driving the one good thing in your life out of it. When will you give up on this preposterousness? Dr. Watson considers you his friend and you are toying with him. He is not one of your experiments, Sherlock. I know that friendship is an uncharted territory for you, but you court danger on a daily basis. Surely this should not be so difficult to navigate."
"You are missing the point as usual. This is not about what I want."
"Of course, how remiss of me. This is you being selfless and protecting him, isn't it? In all your asinine scheming, did it occur to you to TALK to him about how you feel?"
"What is there to talk about? He needs to leave. I am making it happen."
"How about giving him a choice?"
"His choice is irrelevant. His safety comes first."
"How very dictatorial of you?"
"You should be the one to talk…"
"If I REALLY wanted to ensure your safety, Sherlock, I would have to lock you in a padded room for the rest of your life; but you don't see me doing that now, do you?"
Sherlock snorted, "You would if you could. The only thing holding you back, is the extremely high likelihood of me going insane with boredom within a week and slitting my wrists with my own teeth, which would probably defeat the whole purpose."
"Precisely", the sharp brown eyes bore into the blue-grey ones as though trying to make a point."So here I, wielding the kind of power that I do, am forced to watch you from a distance…forced to live in dread of the moment when I will get that call, telling me how your antics of the day have finally driven you to an early grave. You think letting you live your life the way you please, is easy?"
Mycroft took a deep breath to keep his voice in control.
"So please don't delude yourself into believing that you are doing this for Dr. Watson. You are definitely not fooling me. What you ARE doing is taking the easy way out. A part of your subconscious knows that whatever turmoil this separation will entail, would be temporary, as opposed to a long-term emotional investment. His being in danger hurt you, made you feel vulnerable and you hate that you now have a John Watson-sized chink in your armor against the world. So you are driving him away, cutting your losses.I have never known you to be a coward, but I guess, there is always a first time."
If the barb had affected Sherlock at all, he gave no outward sign of it.
"Sod off, Mycroft. I don't need psychoanalysis… from you or anybody else. Sociopath, remember?"
"So this is the one time you choose to live up to society's expectations of you. You do realize that making John leave will not negate your time with him. You cannot simply go back to the way it was before."
The car had finally crawled to a stop in front of the flat. Sherlock moved to get out before the temptation to punch his brother in the nose overrode his common sense.
"One last thing, Sherlock…" his voice became steely, "You will not use again."
Sherlock turned around, fists clenched, furious, "THAT is none of your bloody business."
"Oh you will find that it is. If I find you doing drugs, either as a part of your sorry act, or any other time, you won't have to worry about making Dr. Watson leave; because I will simply make him disappear. You know me well enough to know that this isn't an idle threat. Good day, brother…"
In a detached corner of his mind, Sherlock wondered how much more slamming, the door to 221B would survive before it had to be replaced. Thankfully Mrs. Hudson was out for the weekend or she would have had to say something about it. He ignored the mess he had created in the living-room. He needed to think. Mycroft, as always, was right on both counts, the corpulent arse!
He had stood at this very spot, when he had stormed up the stairs breathless and exhilarated at solving the code. When he had seen the yellow threat painted on the windows, it was as though the ground had dropped out from below his feet (funny how that expression had never made sense before); or like he was falling from a great height; or like being punched in the solar plexus with an iron fist. His brain had whited out, all his thoughts becoming background static to a litany of not John… not John… not John. That was the first time in his life that he had realized, that he had something to lose.
His body had been on auto-pilot, going through the motions of finding a cab and reaching the address as deciphered through the code. He had felt dully relieved that he had solved it before realizing John had been kidnapped because his brain had refused to co-operate till he had heard his friend's voice echoing through the tunnel.
YES this was self-preservation. If John continued to be his friend, sooner or later he would get him killed; and that would destroy him…
So much for the chink in his armor, when his brother was being the first in line to take advantage of it. Mycroft had known that letting John see him using, would be the logical next step and a sure fire success. Now that he had been forbidden from doing so (and he prided himself on knowing Mycroft well enough to know when he was being dead serious); he was going to have to be innovative. Thankfully, John would not be returning till late evening. This was going to take some additional planning…
(Sorry for dragging the drama out but couldn't resist myself… there will definitely be some action in the next two bits… )
Next Chapter