I got this story in my head shortly after beginning my first story, and couldn't get it out of my head. The plot-line just kind of grew in my head, so now... here it is. Hope you enjoy.
It had been a most satisfactory day for Sherlock. A case solved, the mother-in-law and son of a murdered man arrested based on his conclusions, and, to crown it all, solving the case right in front of the insufferable Anderson. Two days with barely any sleep or food was worth it to see Anderson look like he had just swallowed something very sour and spiky.
There was perhaps one drawback of the day. John had not been there. He had had his job to do, and whilst Sherlock would have liked to have him there, he supposed it was too much to expect that of him.
Still... it felt a little strange not having John with him on a case. He had become so used to his presence that it felt as though part of him was missing. Having reliable, steadfast John there, he who always seemed prepared for the situation, who was unswervingly loyal... who had done many things for him... felt like an anchor in the sea.
It felt so strange to think that way. For years of his life, he had relied on no-one, trusted no-one to get close enough to see beyond the cold exterior. It had been unsettling at first, realising that he was showing that side to John without even meaning to. That along with showing the human side of him, came emotions. Fears, insecurities... caring.
As he took a taxi back to Baker Street, he got his phone out to find a suitable restaurant. He noticed that he had three missed calls from his brother. Impatiently, he hid the alert for that. He really did not have time for his brother right now.
He chose a few restaurants for them both to choose from, just in time for the taxi to pull up in front of 221b. He felt... happy. Nothing could dent that feeling today, not even-
"Good evening, brother dear."
Mycroft was sat in the armchair (his armchair), looking perfectly calm and composed. John, on the couch, less so. In fact, he looked tense, nervous. He nonetheless gave Sherlock a faint smile when their eyes met.
"What are you doing here, Mycroft? I ignored your calls for a reason, can you not take a hint?"
"Oh no, i'm not here to bother you Sherlock. I came for a word with Doctor Watson here."
Sherlock hadn't expected that. He glanced at John, but the good doctor was keeping his eyes on Mycroft now, watching him carefully. Mycroft leant forwards in his seat.
"So, John, what will it be?"
John hesitated. His eyes flicked in Sherlock's direction, then back to Mycroft.
"I need more time to think about this."
"I'm afraid this offer won't be around for long-"
"This isn't a decision i'll be taking lightly, Mycroft, and i'm not being pushed into it. I'll contact you when i've decided."
Mycroft paused, but there seemed to be nothing further he could say. After a moment, he cleared his throat, got to his feet.
"Very well. You have my number, of course. Good evening Doctor Watson. Sherlock."
And with that, Mycroft moved past Sherlock and down the stairs. They heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.
There was a couple of seconds pause.
"That was intriguing. What exactly did he want, John?"
Sherlock was genuinely intrigued, and a little worried. John seemed... troubled.
"He... had an offer for me." John's voice was quiet, cautious.
"I gathered that. What offer?" He was keeping his voice, his reactions calm and collected as ever, but beneath he was trying to think. What could Mycroft want from John? He normally only made offers to important people, and John wasn't important. Well, not important as Mycroft categorised it.
John hesitated, but seemed to not want to answer. He got to his feet.
"Christ, I didn't know how late it was. Um... tea? How did that case go?"
John had moved into the kitchen, was pouring water into the kettle. Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder and felt him stiffen slightly. He removed it.
"John, my brother only makes offers if there's something in it for him or his career, and that is never a wise course of action. What is going on?"
Again, John hesitated. Then he put the kettle down, and turned to face Sherlock. He seemed to be steeling himself.
"Mycroft came with a... job offer. The army want to recruit me back."
Part 2 coming shortly! Subscribe, review, feedback is very welcome!