Chapter Text
“John, you have… you have to do something.”
The panic in Mycroft’s voice was a perfect match for what John was experiencing, watching his friend begin to slip away from them.
“Doctor Watson! You have to help Greg!”
“John, is there anything I can do?”
“John! Don’t just squat there. Assist Lestrade!”
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?”
John rubbed his eyes took a deep breath before speaking again.
“He’s bleeding internally. I’ve got to get him on an operating table and I need to do it fast. Look… Martin, are they sending out an ambulance?”
“Um, yes… fire truck and ambulance.”
“Ok, then someone… can we get off this plane?”
“Yeah, we’re fine for that. I think.”
“Then someone get down there and tell them we’ve got a patient that needs a hospital immediately.”
“I’ll do it! I’ll make them come up here and help as fast as they can and not waste one second.”
“Good lad, Arthur. Martin, I presume you’ll have to stay and deal with whoever it is you deal with for this sort of thing?”
“Probably, for awhile, at least.”
“Ok… Mycroft, why don’t you stay with Martin and help smooth things…”
“I shall stay with Martin, John. Mycroft most likely would be better utilized going with you.”
“I…fine. Good idea. Arthur? Are you still here?”
“I was waiting for you to say ‘go.’”
“Then everybody go.”
Arthur jumped and raced for the door, Martin dashed back to the cockpit, with Sherlock on his heels and Mycroft… Mycroft sat watching and completely at a loss as to what to do.
“Sounds like they’re almost here, so Greg’ll be on his way soon. It… It’ll be alright, Mycroft”
“Will it? He didn’t want to be moved. Gregory was fearful something like this would happen.”
A thought that had been plaguing John since he saw his friend’s rapidly paling face.
“I know. And I know it was my idea and that I helped convince him to go ahead with it. Believe me, I have not forgotten about that at all.”
“Tell me what to do, John. Whatever you need, regardless of cost…”
“I just need an operating theater. And… yeah, hold on. Grab my mobile out of my jacket.”
Mycroft leaned across and pulled out John’s phone passing it over to the anxious doctor.
“Just one minute…. come on… Yes! Sam, it’s John. I know, but you’ve gotta shut up listen to me right now. I need your help… no, your medical help… patient with recent gunshot trauma suffering internal bleeding from, well, a fucking horror of a plane landing… we should be en route shortly… it’s my friend, Greg… I know, but I tossed that piece of wisdom out when he got shot, so this isn’t exactly new for us… god, thank you... that won’t be a problem… nothing is going to be a problem, don’t worry… that’ll help, thanks… ok… see you soon.”
“And the purpose of that was?”
“Sam Harris is a mate of mine. Did his own stint patching up soldiers and he’s the best man I know for this sort of thing. Makes me look like I got my license yesterday. I want him in on this.”
“Thank you for that, John. We cannot lose Gregory a second time. I simply cannot allow that.”
Mycroft was also certain he could not survive that.
“I promise you he’ll get the best possible chance. Sam’s the type that doesn’t stop trying until they’re cold on the table. Believe me, this is Greg’s best chance.”
Mycroft nodded and raged inside that, at this moment, there was nothing he could do to give his Gregory an even better chance. For all of his power, not a sliver of it was of any use. Fortunately, for both his and John’s mental states, the sirens came to a halt and the only sound in the air was Arthur’s enthusiastic shouting for the medical crew. It was only a few more minutes until there many hands on Lestrade’s body, securing him and taking him off of the plane, leaving Arthur dithering next to Mycroft while they watched the action.
“He’ll be ok, won’t he, Mycroft?”
“John has already taken steps to assure that very thing. I believe I shall take transport this time with John and Gregory, but I need you to remain and bring Sherlock and Martin up to date with our destination. They shall also, I am very sure, appreciate your natural talents for bringing people ease in times of trouble.”
“Oh! Oh… ok. No really, that’s good, because I’ve seen the inside of an ambulance and we wouldn’t all fit, so this way you can be with Greg and I can be with Skip because… oh, I just know Skip is going to be very upset. Very, very his face goes the color of his hair upset. And Mr. Sherlock! He loves Greg and this has to be very difficult for him. Yes, it’s best I stay with them right now, but we’ll be with you as soon as we possibly can.”
“Excellent. And thank you, my boy. It is quite a relief to know that you will be in charge of things on this end.”
“Thanks Mycroft! You can count on me. Now, you’d better hurry or they’ll leave without you.”
Something that had just crossed Mycroft’s mind.
“Until later. I will phone if I have news.”
With that, the elder Holmes hurried to catch up with the rest of the party bound for the hospital, leaving Arthur to gather his strength and prepare to take command of the plane and its remaining inhabitants. Who he was not surprised to hear arguing when he opened the flight deck door.
“You cannot be certain of that, Martin. We must consider the possibility of sabotage.”
“Sabotage! What! Someone wanted hurt Greg! No! Who would want to do something as horrible as that? Well, besides that awful Edgar.”
“Not Lestrade, Arthur. Well, not necessarily Lestrade. It is far more likely that Mycroft would be the target.”
“What! Why would you say that, Mr. Sherlock? Who would possibly want to hurt Mycroft? He is the nicest man in the world!”
Sherlock and Martin looked at each other in silent and very grudging agreement that Arthur should not be allowed to lose that optimism, no matter how ridiculous it actually was in Mycroft’s case.
“Arthur, Mycroft’s an important man and important men often make enemies, even when they, themselves, are very nice. And people get jealous of how important they are, too. But, no one is actually saying it’s sabotage, as I have been trying to tell Sherlock.”
“But we cannot discount the possibility and if there is an investigation, I demand to be party to it!”
“This isn’t a crime scene!”
“Yet!”
“Skip… Mr. Sherlock…”
“If you force my hand, I will engage Mycroft’s assistance in this.”
“Until we know more, this is pointless. Stop looking for trouble when I’ve… we’ve… got enough already.”
Sherlock scrutinized his cousin and propped open the flight deck door with his hand.
“Arthur… leave us.”
“Wait… why?”
“Because we could use a refreshment before we are descended upon by the bureaucracy.”
“Oh! Yes… I’ll get right on that. One little snack coming right up.”
Arthur gave Martin a kiss on his cheek and hurried away, not picking up on the gleam in his fiancé’s eyes that was directed at the tall man staring back at him with as much intensity.
“What?”
“You feel guilt over this situation.”
“Who wouldn’t? Well, besides you.”
“This is in no way your fault, Martin. I accompanied you on your tour of this aircraft before takeoff and you were very thorough with your inspection. Would it even have been possible for you to observe a problem with the landing gear?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I shall argue for the ‘maybe not’ because I did not notice anything untoward and the basic mechanics of the machinery you examined appeared quite functional. Do not take on the burden of this incident, Martin. It is unwarranted.”
“You can’t know that, Sherlock.”
“If there is a choice between my analysis of a situation and yours, you would be idiotic to choose yours as the winning option. And… you did a credible job of managing the aircraft once we were on the ground.”
“You think so?”
“The aircraft is in one piece and we are alive, Lestrade’s special circumstances notwithstanding… I believe that is the intended outcome of any plane at the end of its journey.”
“No matter what our so-called outcome may be, Carolyn’s going to kill me. For killing GERTI and nearly killing Arthur.”
“I do believe nothing in Arthur’s behavior suggests he is near death and by the time you depart again for Fitton, I suspect no indication of any landing difficulties will be visible on your aircraft.”
“You think Mycroft’s going to have it fixed.”
“No, I know Mycroft will attend to the repairs. He recognizes the value of your craft to Arthur and, therefore, will erase any damage today might have inflicted upon it.”
“You’re probably right. Yet one more thing for which I have to owe him.”
“You owe him nothing, because you have not asked for anything. What he gives of his own free will, for whatever purpose, is not something you must repay.”
“Oh and you would know this how? It’s not like you’ve accepted anything from him in… oh, I think ever in your entire life.”
“Do not speak so confidently about things which you do not know, Martin. I have had to rely on my brother on the rare occasion. And… for occasions that I apparently do not recall in their entirety.”
Martin wanted to tell Sherlock he was full of a particularly nasty form of crap, but the look on his cousin’s face said that this time he actually wasn’t.
“Well, none of that’s my top concern right now. The only thing I really care about is keeping Arthur righted. I… how can I keep him safe and happy, Sherlock? I couldn’t do it before and now… if something happens to Greg, I have no idea what I’ll do…”
“Arthur has a far greater degree of inner strength than you credit him. If… not that anything will happen… but if a saddening event were to occur, Arthur would grieve terribly, but it would not destroy him.”
“I don’t want him to ever suffer because of me or anything… caused by me.”
“And we find ourselves back at the beginning of this conversation. You caused nothing, you are responsible for nothing… and Arthur would agree with me. Ah, I believe I hear him fumbling with the door latch. Shall we ask him?”
Martin glared up at his cousin, trying desperately to ignore the fact that Sherlock’s absolution was actually making him feel a great deal better.
“Ask me what? Here, I’ve got you each a sandwich and some juice and I told that rather frowny man with the clipboard and radio that he couldn’t talk to you until you had your snack. He tried to get around me, but I gave him a rather stern talking-to and blocked the aisle so he couldn’t pass. He’s having some tea right now, but I don’t think you should make him too long, because when he’s done he’ll probably just try to get past me again and I’d hate to have another little talk, which would certainly would make both of us rather a bit unhappy.”
“We’ll… you can tell the nice… frowny… man we’ll be out in a minute. And thank you for the snack, love.”
“You’re welcome! And don’t worry about a single thing. I’ll go sit and keep him company and maybe we can play a game or listen to songs on my phone if you want to take a little extra time to talk to Mr. Sherlock.”
Arthur gave Martin another kiss on his cheek and, after hesitating a second, gave one to a very shocked Sherlock, before going back to entertain their guest.
“As I was saying…”
“I get it Sherlock. I think I actually get it.”
“Good. Now eat these, then deal with the bothersome official.”
“Eat your own sandwich.”
“This is ham and jam, Martin. Even without the rhyme, I would decline.”
“But I’m sure Arthur thought his rhyming combination was simply made in heaven.”
“And let’s not let him know otherwise. Eat.”
__________
If Mycroft needed any further proof that his love for his Gregory was true and real, it could easily be taken from the fact that he had now sprinted at full speed twice in the span of a scant few months, which was twice more than he had ever done in his entire life. And it was fortunate he did, since the ambulance doors were starting to close despite John’s very vocal protests.
“Christ, Mycroft. We nearly left you behind!”
“I apologize, John. I had… Arthur.”
John winced at the thought of what Arthur must be going through and just nodded his understanding.
“Now, let’s just hope we don’t hit traffic.”
Mycroft smiled the first smile he’d been able to muster since their touch down.
“Traffic? What traffic?”
__________
John wondered if the streets of London had been this quiet during an air raid. As the ambulance sped along, they encountered not a single car, all of which had been halted behind barricades and what John hoped was not a mobilization of military troops. He felt almost embarrassed pulling into their destination, but that was quickly quashed as a last look at Lestrade’s vital signs screamed that if Mycroft hadn’t taken action, they would probably pulling up to the morgue door instead. And a very welcome figure was standing there waiting.
The unloading went blessedly quickly and it was no longer than a few minutes before Lestrade was behind doors that Mycroft knew he could pass through, but still couldn’t bring him follow. Instead, he turned his attention to watch as John spoke a moment with the man that had been waiting for the ambulance. Tall and respectably aged, which pleased Mycroft to no end. He absolutely wanted a man of experience tending to his Gregory’s care. After a moment and a long look at Mycroft, the man followed after the gurney and John walked back to give the very worried Holmes an update.
“He’s being prepped right now. I have no idea how long it’s going to take, but I’ll try and keep you informed, ok?”
“Thank you, John. I shall notify the others. Is there… do you have any idea…”
“No. I’m not going to speculate about what we’ll find when we open him up. But, this is Greg we’re talking about. He survived being shot twice, a little bleeding’s not going to faze him.”
“He is already so weak. How much can we really ask of him?”
“Everything. And he’ll give it. Now… I’ll let you know.”
John quickly walked off to get himself ready for surgery, leaving Mycroft trying, and mostly succeeding in, taking a deep cleansing breath. He had thought hospitals were a thing of their past. Right now, his Detective Inspector should be seeing his new room and making numerous and ludicrous complaints and demands that would have Arthur laughing and John reminding everyone that his patient needed rest. They should not be here. They shouldn’t be in London was the likely truth. Why couldn’t he have simply taken Gregory’s concerns more seriously? Not that he hadn’t, but only for what they mean to his beloved, not for the possibility that they were real. Was there ever to be a time his arrogance and idiocy wouldn’t put his dearest Gregory in jeopardy?
Mycroft thought a moment, then placed a call to Arthur, his current second-in-command.
“Hi Mycroft! How’s Greg? Is he alright? Did Doctor Watson fix him yet? Is he awake? When can I see him?”
There was a balm his soul had grown to crave and it flowed abundantly from the young man to whom he was speaking.
“Gregory is currently in surgery; therefore, I have no news to impart at this time. However, John is optimistic that he will be able to recover from this setback.”
“Really? He looked so pale, Mycroft. And there was blood coming out of his mouth… just like last time.”
Arthur was too gentle a man to ever have to have such visions in his mind and it pained Mycroft terribly that he could not have spared Arthur this second trauma.
“I am certain it is a matter of coincidence. And I will provide you with any further information as soon as I acquire it.”
“Brilliant! Because I don’t think I’ll be able to wait and wait and wait… can I come to the hospital and wait with you? That would make it much better.”
“Of course you can. Are Martin and Sherlock finished with their individual tasks?”
“I’m not sure. The man with the clipboard is still talking to Skip and Mr. Sherlock is with them. I’m not sure what he’s actually doing but the clipboard man keeps looking over at him and then moving closer to Skip. Which is a bit silly since Skip just moves away and closer to Mr. Sherlock and Mr. Sherlock moves away from Skip and back towards the clipboard man. It’s like they’re doing a dance in a little circle like the kiddies do at school.”
“Arthur, please hand the phone to the gentleman with the clipboard.”
“Oh… ok. Should I say goodbye?”
“For the moment, but I shall see you soon.”
“Alright then. Bye, Mycroft!”
“Goodbye, Arthur. Consider the situation for your aircraft resolved.”
Arthur tapped the airport official on the shoulder and handed over his mobile. After a few moments, marked by increasing agitation and the dropping of his pencil, the man handed the mobile back to Arthur, bid Martin and Sherlock goodbye and hurried away like he was late for the birth of his first child.
“And that will be the end of that. Mycroft will have his own army of officials and investigators take care of the matter, whether by overt or covert means, and it will by much as if this incident never happened. Arthur, in addition to his meddling, did my brother have anything useful to say about Lestrade’s situation?”
“He said Greg’s in surgery and that I could come and wait with him. But, he really didn’t know anything about what was wrong with Greg or if… or anything.”
“Then how about you do that, love? You and Sherlock can go and…”
“We will all join Mycroft and John.”
“Sherlock, I need to stay with my plane.”
“I would not be at all surprised if Mycroft’s functionaries are, at this very moment, arriving at this location to handle matters for him. You will only be in their way.”
Sherlock punctuated his speech with minute glances towards Arthur, so many, in fact, that he worried his eyes might cease to function before Martin caught onto to his train of thought.
“Oh…. oh! You know, Sherlock… maybe you’re right. We should all be there to support Greg and… I’m sure GERTI will be in good hands with Mycroft’s people.”
“Hurray!”
Arthur dashed to one of the overhead compartments and started to take down his box of artwork.
“I think we should, perhaps, leave that for the moment. We have no knowledge of how long Lestrade will be again in a hospital room and it would perhaps be a wiser course of action to use your decorations to prepare his room in Mycroft’s home so it is ready to welcome him when he is finally able to make use of it.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. But… hold on a moment… ok. I’m ready. I got Mycroft’s sketchbook and mine, too. And I’ll need pencils… here Skip, put these in your pockets. When I asked, Mycroft said he’d help me draw things so they look more like what they’re supposed to, so this might be a nice time to do that. It’ll give us both something to do rather than… well, rather than sit and worry, which we’ll be doing anyway, but this way we can draw while we worry and that’ll be better than just sitting and worrying, which is just terrible.”
“That sounds very… productive. Now, if I am not mistaken, and I very rarely am, there is a car waiting for us. Shall we go?”
“Yes!”
Arthur grabbed Martin and pulled him towards the exit, ignoring the sputtering and yelping, leaving Sherlock alone for a moment to gather his own thoughts. He never placed any faith in the concept of fairness, but he also could not shake the feeling that there was something fundamentally wrong about a man like Lestrade being forced to suffer tragedy after tragedy. It was the same for John. They were good men who had tragedy visited upon them by others and… deserved not one bit of it. Sherlock gladly accepted responsibility for anything that had happened to him and he was very certain Mycroft merited full responsibility for his own troubles, but, in comparison, they had suffered little, whereas John and Lestrade had suffered greatly. It made no sense, but then, little did when it came to people. This time, however, Sherlock found himself unable to simply acknowledge the iniquity and move onto other thoughts. It hurt. It burned. It suffocated. It was wrong.
“Mr. Sherlock? Are you alright?”
Sherlock snapped out of his reverie and quickly made a show of gathering John’s jacket.
“Of course. I was simply deciding if there was anything John would need from our luggage.”
“Oh! That’s smart because I don’t know when we’ll get our things. There are already people looking at GERTI, but when I asked them if they knew Mycroft they smiled, so they must be his friends, which is good because I know they’ll take good care of her and Skip won’t have to worry. But this one lady said it could take awhile before we got the plane back so that’s why I came back to get my art box since I don’t want it put somewhere I can’t get to it and leave Greg without any pictures to look at in his new room. Of course, I could and will make more, but the ones we already have are so nice that…’
“Prudent planning… I applaud your skill at thinking ahead. Here…”
Sherlock pulled down Arthur’s box of drawings and handed it over to the steward.
“And, was I correct about the vehicle?”
“Yes! You were at that. And Charles is driving! He’s brilliant!”
What suddenly struck Sherlock was Arthur’s calm steadiness in light of their current crisis. This was exactly the opposite of what he would have predicted for Arthur’s demeanor.
“Excellent… Arthur, may I ask you a question?”
“Didn’t you just do that?”
“Ah. Let me rephrase. Arthur, may I ask you two questions, the first being whether or not I may ask a second?”
“Yes! I love being asked questions, even if it’s not a game and I can’t win any points.”
“Very good. My second question is that you appear tranquil, which I find unusual given the circumstances we are experiencing.”
“Ummm… that’s not a question, so I’m not sure what to say.”
“Perhaps the stress of the landing has muddied my ability to communicate. Why are you so calm, given Lestrade is, again, clinging to a gossamer thread of life.”
“Oh! That’s easy. I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“Calm.”
“You appear calm.”
“Brilliant!”
“Why is that brilliant?”
“Because it means I’m doing a good job.”
Though he knew they should be speeding along towards the hospital, Sherlock was completely unable to stop himself following the conversation to what would surely be an unexpected, yes strangely-logical conclusion.
“Can you tell me what job it is at which you are excelling?”
“Being in charge! Mycroft said I was in charge while he was at the hospital and I’ve been watching him very closely. Mycroft is always calm, well, except when he’s not, but that’s only for a little while and only when it’s something very big and he doesn’t actually have to give commands or anything. But when he does, he’s very calm and tells people what to do nicely and that’s what I’ve been doing. And it’s worked!”
“Mycroft put you in charge.”
“Well, it was the best decision. Skip might be the captain, but he doesn’t have quite the skill for understanding people that I do and that’s important for keeping everyone happy and steady and with their tea. And you’re the world’s most brilliant detective, but I’m not sure you know much about planes, so that left me! It isn’t a surprise, really.”
“No, not a surprise at all, given in was Mycroft assigning duties. That he did not relegate Martin and I to carrying your train is perhaps the only unusual aspect about it.”
“Do I have a train? I don’t remember packing one and I’m sure I’d remember if Mycroft got me a train because that would be amazing! Trains are nearly as much fun as planes, and they’ve got a whistle! But… I am upset, Mr. Sherlock. Every time I think about Greg, I get a feeling in my stomach like I’ve swallowed a very large rock with wings, because it’s very heavy and lumpy, but fluttery at the same time. But, I’m keeping track and every time I feel that fluttery rock I add a “1” to my count and when Mycroft says I’m no longer in charge of you… well then, I’ll have a little moment and try to pull out all the rocks.”
Sherlock doubted there would ever come a day he would not be both vexed and impressed by Arthur Shappey.
“The ability to subvert one’s own emotions for the greater good of those around them is the hallmark of a successful leader.”
“Does that mean I’m doing a good job?”
“Yes.”
“Hurray!”
“Now, let us join Martin. I would not be surprised if he is currently being an unwanted distraction for those attempting to rectify this situation and I would rather not have to rescue him from his bound-and-gagged confinement in the cargo hold.”
“Yeah, he was being a bit antsy when I left. And an antsy Skip sometimes means he needs to be sat upon in some way and I’d rather not have anyone do that to him anymore except for me.”
__________
“Mycroft!”
“Ah, Arthur. It is good to see you. And with your entourage. How fitting.”
“We had little choice but to follow our commander’s lead.”
Sherlock grudgingly agreed with Mycroft’s amused chuckle over Martin’s very indignant snort.
“Well, one chooses the best man for the job, does one not, brother dear? I take it, Martin, your aircraft is being tended to properly?”
“If you mean invaded by an army of people who all smile when Arthur mentions your name, then yes.”
“Excellent. Rest assured that a full and accurate report will be filed with the proper authorities and that all damage will be repaired before you must return to Fitton.”
“Mycroft… how’s Greg?”
Sherlock saw both Mycroft and Arthur’s calm of command snap for an instant and as quickly be reestablished. Apparently, his brother had finally found his long-awaited apprentice, insomuch as Arthur could ever be molded into anyone’s vision except his own.
“I have yet to receive word as to his condition. John has enlisted a colleague of his to assist with the surgery that he assures me is highly-qualified for these situations. From initial findings, he does seem an appropriate choice.”
“You are already spying on him.”
“As I did the personnel in Fitton, Sherlock. Do you believe me so lax as too place Gregory’s welfare in the hands of individuals for whom there is even a whiff of impropriety?”
“Doctor Watson got one of his friends to help? Brilliant! Now I know Greg is going to be alright because Doctor Watson is a brilliant doctor and he wouldn’t be friends with a doctor if they weren’t brilliant, too. That’s twice the brilliant! I feel a little dance coming on.”
And a quick jig erupted in the middle of the waiting room before Arthur dropped into an empty chair and shook himself vigorously as if to fling all of the leftover dancing out of his body and force his muscles to relax.
“I guess there’s nothing to do but wait, is there?”
“Unfortunately, Martin, that is our only recourse at this time. I shall have something brought for you to wear. I would doubt you would wish to while away the hours in your uniform.”
“I wouldn’t doubt Martin even wears his uniform in bed. Hat included.”
“I can tell that you he doesn’t, Mr. Sherlock. Well, not usually. It’s only when we play…”
“ARTHUR!”
“What? Oh… Skip, they don’t care that we play with the airplane games on my phone while snuggly under the covers. And you do like to wear your hat when we do that.”
Martin muttered something about finding water, and cyanide to go with it, before stalking away with his finger pointed at Sherlock the entire time.
“Ah, the joys of family.”
“You said it, Mycroft. It’s the best!”
__________
Mycroft wished he was better versed in medical matters so that he could assess whether the lack of news was a good or poor omen. As the hours slipped past, the only reports he could squeeze from the terrified hospital staff was that the surgery was ongoing, which meant, at least, his Gregory still lived. Arthur and Martin had curled together on a small sofa, looking through pictures on Arthur’s phone, before losing the last of their adrenaline and crashing into a very hard sleep. Even Sherlock was hovering in that nebulous zone between awake and asleep, which for him, was somewhat equivalent to getting much needed rest. And Mycroft was glad for it all. Let them rest, he would stand guard. It was what he did best; stand guard at the gates and battle to keep the darkness at bay. You could never defeat it, but you could hold it back and it was the work of his lifetime to do just that. Work he had done with great success. Almost unfathomable success, if he could be allowed a moment of pride. So why was it impossible for him to safeguard one single individual? An individual that did not scorn his attempts, as did Sherlock, but wanted to be well and whole and part of his life? Was that the real price of loving someone – to have them be the one thing that showed you precisely the edges of your limits?
Mycroft felt his mind veering into very dark and very unhealthy places and it was more than a small blessing that John arrived at that moment, exhausted but smiling, to give news. Close behind was John’s friend, of whom Mycroft most definitely wanted to gather information with his own senses.
“John?”
“Well, the bastard still refuses to let go of this vale of tears.”
“He is well.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but we’ve got him stabilized. The landing did a number on him… lots of my good work undone and he was leaking like a broken pipe, but barring another plane crash, I think he’ll live. I’m not going to lie, though… this was a setback. A big one.”
Mycroft listened with both great relief and an equally great dread. What this would do to his Gregory’s state of mind did not bear contemplation. As John spoke, Mycroft also kept an eye on John’s colleague, who, unabashedly, also kept an eye on him. It was time to begin gathering information.
“And you would concur, Doctor… I do apologize, I have forgotten your name.”
“Unlikely from what I’ve heard about you, but we can play it that way if you want to. Samuel Harris…”
Mycroft groaned inwardly… of course he had to be American.
“… and yes, John summed it up pretty well. He’ll have to deal with longer recovery and rehabilitation times, but no one’s saying they’re insurmountable. It’ll be a lot to come back from, though. I’d start searching for a good counselor for him because he’ll need to do a lot of talking to keep his head straight and on his shoulders.”
A thought that was never far from Mycroft’s own mind.
“Now, you all…”
“DOCTOR WATSON! AND DOCTOR… DOCTOR! HOW’S GREG!”
John couldn’t help but grin and motion Arthur to come talk to them. For his part, Arthur was very glad his dream about John having news wasn’t really a dream and that he wasn’t yelling at people in his sleep.
“Greg’s out of surgery and he made it through as well as we could have hoped.”
“Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”
“Not quite yet. He won’t be unconscious for as long this time, though, so you’ll get your chance soon.”
“Hurray! And… oh, you do look like a proper doctor, don’t you? Not that Doctor Watson doesn’t, but he’s not got as much grey hair and isn’t as tall as the doctors you usually see on the telly. But you do, so you must be super!”
“And you must be Arthur.”
“I am! You’re very good at guessing games. Got that one right away and without any clues at all.”
“Oh, I had plenty of clues. John talks about you all the time and he described you perfectly. Good to meet you, kid. You can call me Sam.”
“Doctor Sam! And you’re American, aren’t you? Your name even sounds like it belongs to an American doctor. I can’t wait to tell Mum I met an American doctor!”
“Yeah, we’re an amazing breed and turn up in the strangest places. Like London.”
“Right! That’s going to be my new game when we fly. Find the American doctor and take a picture. Then I’ll put them up on a map in my room!”
“Well, here’s a tip. Just stand in front of the local hospital or clinic and yell ‘It’s Miller time!’ and if there are any Americans in there, doctor or not, they’ll come running.”
“Brilliant! Just like with those things they use to call ducks! Oh this is amazing… I knew Greg would be in good hands!”
Mycroft observed the exchange and noted that his brother and Martin were doing the same. So far, proper respect had been paid to Arthur, so Mycroft’s alert status downgraded from red to vibrant orange. And, though it was a completely superficial and easily manipulated factor, the man’s appearance and presentation were also helping to allay some of his concerns. Arthur was quite right in that the man resembled the very stereotypical senior medical practitioner. Hair going as silver as his beloved Gregory’s, with some hints of auburn still holding fast. Tall, taller even than him, and absolutely straight-shouldered. Slim, though solid of build and with admirable muscle development for a man his age. It was the eyes, however, that struck Mycroft most sharply. Gleaming. Keen. Fiercely intelligent and aware. Kind, but not mild. There was also humor… a rather large amount of humor, which balanced the sharper edges that Mycroft could also see lingering almost out of sight but ready to be called to action at a moment’s notice. This was not a man to be ignored or underestimated. John had chosen well.
“Now, as I was saying, Mr. Lestrade…”
“Greg.”
“I can’t call him that, Arthur. We haven’t been formally introduced.”
“Oh! That’s true. And they say Americans aren’t polite. Not that I’m sure who ‘they’ is, but I know they say it!”
“I could give you a few words to describe them, but that can wait. So, Mr. Lestrade is going to sleep at least until morning, so there’s no reason you all can’t do the same. Get some rest, come back tomorrow and we’ll take it from there.”
“But I don’t want to go!”
“Arthur, don’t make me go cut a switch.”
“You must know Mum.”
“I do believe that the advice is sound, Arthur. Before, we had no indication as to when Gregory might waken, but if we know there will be no opportunity for communication until tomorrow, then you should make yourself comfortable and rest as best you can. I am quite certain you shall have a very busy day tomorrow crafting new decorations for Gregory’s room and you must be fresh to produce your highest quality work.”
“Well, I do suppose that’s true. I just don’t like leaving Greg here alone, Mycroft.”
“He will not be alone. I shall remain with him.”
“Not a chance. You’re going with them.”
Mycroft blinked back his surprise and turned to fully face the man addressing him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Save your begging for someone who likes that sort of thing. You’re going with them, getting some rest and putting a good meal or two under your belt. A day like today takes it out of you and that can come back to bite you in the ass later, when you really don’t want it to.”
“I am sorry, but you must be under the impression…”
“Look here, Skinny. Your… boyfriend, partner or whatever he is… is going to need you in top shape and if you start neglecting yourself, you might as well just walk away right now because you’ll be no good to him in the long run...”
John hoped that his grin wasn’t as visible as it felt because he had absolutely hoped for a day when these two could actually meet. And it was going just as he imagined. Mycroft looked about three seconds from exploding and Sam had already crossed his arms to settle in for awhile. All that was missing was popcorn. For his part, Mycroft was torn between a very inappropriate flash of giddiness at being called Skinny and a rising anger that he would gladly unleash, if only to evacuate some of his general frustrations and fears.
“Do you have any idea…”
“Plenty. Come here. John, you too.”
Mycroft was so stunned at being grabbed by the arm, that he went along with being hustled down the hall away from the rest of the very stunned, yet very amused group.
“How dare you!”
“Easily. Here’s the story… right now you’re showing signs both of mental and physical exhaustion, which I’d absolutely expect from someone who’d had the day you’ve had. And John filled me in on the some of the situation concerning Mr. Lestrade’s condition, so I bet you’re still carrying a lot of guilt and weight from that. I am not joking when I say you need to be in top shape and it’s obvious to me that, right now, you’re not. A night’s sleep in a good bed and something to eat isn’t going to bring you back up to fighting trim, but it’s a start. As it stands, you’re in for rough time while Mr. Lestrade makes his way back and you cannot, not for one instant, let yourself get run down. So, you will get some rest, you will get some food, you will recharge your batteries and you will do it regularly!”
“John!”
“I can’t disagree, Mycroft. You wore yourself out in Fitton and Sam’s right, you’re showing the signs. Greg’s going to need a lot of emotional support over the next couple of days and you need to be rested to help him. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll be here…”
“Like hell you will.”
Now it was John’s turn to gape like a fish out of water.
“What?”
“You’re not staying here, you’re going with them.”
“I most certainly am not; he’s my patient!”
“No, he’s our patient and you’re about to embarrass yourself by collapsing onto the ground!”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Was it ridiculous that the last hour or so of surgery, you were pretty much just leaning on the table and I was doing all the work?”
“That’s not…”
“Don’t say that’s not what happened. You were nearly in a plane crash then came straight here to work on your friend. You’re fried, John and I don’t need a burned-out, useless excuse for a doctor in charge of my patient’s welfare. Home. Food. Bed. Sex, if you’re up to it. Back here tomorrow.”
“Under no circumstances shall I permit Gregory to be left alone…”
“That’s why I’ll be here. Got my new Road & Track yesterday, there’s a couple of games on tonight that I’d like to catch and, very surprisingly, I don’t have a date lined up for the evening. So, I’ll be point man and if it makes you feel better, you can give me a call later for a check-in. But you are leaving. Both of you. I can’t have it any other way.”
John wanted to punch something. Hard. The only reason he didn’t was because (a) this was part of the reason he wanted Sam on the case. He didn’t blunt the truth and said what had to be said. And (b) he was completely right. John’s legs felt like jelly, his stomach was beginning to knot from the adrenaline ebb and the lack of anything to eat since they left Fitton and, in his heart, he wanted nothing more than to just have a little time with Sherlock to reassure himself that his partner was safe.
“I will be calling to check in.”
“I will be asking if you got any before you called.”
“Bastard.”
“My mother tries to tell me that all the time, but my dad keeps correcting her.”
“Liar, you take a holiday back to the States every year to dance on their graves.”
“It’s spirit communication. I’m my own ghost whisperer.”
“You’re your own mental patient.”
“That too. And that goes for all my personalities.”
“If the schoolyard banter may be interrupted… John, do you believe it wise to leave Gregory’s care in hands other than your own at this very delicate stage?”
“I’m not the only doctor in the world, Mycroft. I’m not even the best, though it’s a close thing. Greg didn’t suffer from lack of attention in Fitton and I can assure you he won’t here, either. And, provided he doesn’t pull a nurse for some linen-closet entertainment, this twit’s a good choice to keep an eye on Greg’s progress because he has a knack for knowing when something’s wrong before anyone else does. It’ll be ok, Mycroft.”
Not that the elder Holmes wanted to believe that for a second. He should be here. Gregory deserved that much at the very, very least…
“You’re not letting him down by taking care of yourself, Mr. Holmes. You’re not betraying him or putting him second. You’re doing what you have to for his well-being, so get the hell out of here before I dropkick your tiny heiny and watch you bounce down the road.”
One touch of one button and this man would no longer exist anywhere. Ever. But, somehow, Mycroft did not believe the tall doctor would go easily into that good night and he already had sufficient matters to attend to without adding an additional one to his plate.
“Very well. For this one occasion, I shall bow to your and John’s advice and take what relaxation I can from the evening. But I shall also contact you for a status report and I would appreciate you not interjecting any inappropriate questions into our conversation.”
“Well, that’s easy since your partner in inappropriateness is currently sleeping it off in recovery. Now, once he’s fit to canoodle, all bets are off.”
“Canoodle? Good heavens… John, I am now very ready to depart.”
“Yeah, this one can clear a room faster than anyone else I know. Come on, Mycroft… really, Greg’s in good hands.”
“I shall reserve judgment.”
Mycroft took small satisfaction from snubbing the tall physician and striding away with his nose most certainly not in the air.
__________
“Mycroft! Doctor Watson! Was there something wrong with Greg?”
“No, we were just making arrangements for our sleeping beauty, so we can all go home and relax.”
“Is… Mycroft, are you coming, too?”
“It appears that I am. I was outvoted on the issue and I am not entirely convinced that John’s colleague would not perpetrate some extremely juvenile prank that would serve to spur my eviction if I protested. However, he will remain at Gregory’s side tonight, so you need not worry that Gregory will be alone for any reason.”
“That’s great! I like Doctor Sam. He reminds me of Greg, so they’ll get along very well if Greg wakes up early and wants to chat or watch the telly or tell stories. So, we’re really all going home?”
Mycroft watched as Martin wrapped his arm around Arthur and Sherlock very surreptitiously took John’s hand. For awhile longer, it seemed, it would again be two couples and him. But… hopefully it would only be for a very short while…
“Yes, I believe we are.”