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Chapter Text

With a great sigh, John Watson rested heavily against his cane and waited to be let into his two bedroomed, semi-detached house that he shared with his dick of a father. John was only fifteen years old so he couldn’t make his own way in the world, all he can do is hope that the drunken git would pass out and let John just escape to his room. That was a wish and a prayer; if he was lucky, his father will unlock the door and walk straight past him and ignore him for the rest of the day. On any other day he would drag John in by his left arm, pulling at the wound in his shoulder and hurl abuse at him for hours while downing his body weight in alcohol.

His father never hit him though never laid a hand on him, but most of the time he would blame John for the accident that took his wife and daughter and caused him on a downwards spiral of drunkenness and depression; which in turn made him lose his job and has to live of dole money just to pay the damn rent.

So here he is, hoping and praying that his father is either too drunk or too depressed to hurl any more insults at him today. After half an hour of waiting his father stumbled out of a taxi and weaved his way to the house. He was in a drunken daze and he hardly registered John on the step until he almost trod on his cane when John went to stand.

“Wha’ ya’ doin’ boy!” His father slurred, moving to take his keys from his pocket and thrust them to John. John got the message and silently opened the door and watched as his father stumbled into the house. “Shudn’ ya’ be at college now!!?”

John followed his father into the room, standing straight in the middle of the room as his father slumped into his chair and began pouring out his glass of whiskey. “College sir? But we don’t have the funds for college.” John was confused but he still managed to keep his voice professional and strong. God forbid if he ever spoke back.

“Ya mother saved so you ‘n’ ya sister ca’ go. She ha’ already paid upfront before you killed ‘em. You have three years at tha’ dreadful, Bart’s place.” His father waved him away and John couldn’t help but limp away, moving as quick as he can up the stairs and towards his room.

Sure enough there was a letter waiting for him, which was already opened on his bed. His father never gave him privacy. When he read it he couldn’t believe it. He was actually going. He sat against his bed and let the tears fall. He silently thanked his mum and apologised to his sister as he cried. In two weeks’ time he will be at college, living in the halls and away from his drunken father. He would be able to do what he wanted and because of his case, he can choose his five A-level subject during intro-week.

John fell asleep hugging the letter and holding a smile on his face. He dreamt of his mother, sister and the college that will soon be his freedom and his home.

**

Sherlock Holmes is all legs and brain. No filter. He just doesn’t know when to shut up really and it does get quite annoying. His mouth runs a mile a minute and his older brother has to clamp his down against his lips sometimes when he’s about to insult a very important guest to the house, or manor as Mycroft calls it (Castle to Sherlock). This year is going to be the worst year at his school. Being two years older still means that he has to suffer his little brat of a brother while he is at school as well as at home.

Sherlock can’t believe his luck now. He can go to school and torment his brother as well as doing it at home. Of course he would never do it in front of mummy and father, but the house keeper doesn’t mind. She’s probably the only part of the help that Sherlock will tolerate, every other member of staff is reduced to tears as soon as Sherlock opens his mouth to speak and he has never tried with Mrs Hudson once.

Well, he has but it didn’t work. She just laughed and asked him how he knew these things and listened carefully as he boosted about his talent. Mycroft can’t help but growl slightly when he hears this time and time again, sometimes he wishes his father never tort Sherlock the science of deduction. Sometimes he wishes that it was just him, but Sherlock is his little brother (no matter how annoying and childish he is) and his parents have now put it to him to look after him in the new school. Now, with only two weeks left to go, Sherlock is becoming beyond bearable, Mycroft is ready to strangle the git!

**

Two weeks later finds John and his suitcases struggling towards the school bus that has come through to pick him up. His father is still passed out in the living room and he makes no effort to leave a note, or to leave anything of himself behind. He hopes he won’t see his father again; he can’t stand to hear how it is his fault that they’ve lost everything. John knows it is his fault. He doesn’t need to be reminded by a drunken slob!

He manages to make it to the bus, dragging his case behind him. Here an old women with too many wrinkles and not enough teeth takes it from him, despite his objections, and places it with the other luggage in the bus. He steps on slowly and makes his way to an empty seat and waits. His stomach growls with anticipation and excitement. Hopefully he’d be welcomed with proper meals, a proper mattress and a proper night’s sleep.

The bus starts and heads of towards the country side, leaving London behind him, John looks ahead to what could be.

*

It takes at least two hours to get to Baker's & Bart's Private Education College and John looks out of his window. It is all very medieval: there are four towers which show the corners of what seems to be a castle, vines start around the front of the brick work, stopping three stories up. There seems to be rows and rows of windows, John can’t even begin to count how many are on this side of the building. There’s even a god damn mote around the building and the bus rattles as it goes over the bridge. He’s studying in a fucking castle! No wonder it cost so much a year! He can’t keep the wonder out of his eyes as he stares at the place.

“Welcome to Baker’s court. This will be you house for the time you spend with us.” The voice drags John’s vision to the front of the bus. That same old lady is pulling into the drive way now. No way is this only the Baker dorms! He watched as excited older kids rush off the bus to catch up with their friends, leaving John to stare.

If this is Baker’s Court, then where’s the school? Where’s Bart’s Courts? This is unreal” John whispers to himself as he steps of the bus, leaning heavily on his cane he manages to get a good look at the place. He can finally see Baker’s Courts and he kicks himself mentally for not noticing before. He had been too busy eyeing up the castle to notice. On the left of the castle is a smaller building, but big enough to house at least sixty boys. John nods, grins and goes for his cases, only to be stopped by a taller, well built bloke.

“No need newbie. They’ll be sent to your room. My name’s Greg Lestrade, I’m third year and I am the Court’s Head Monitor.” The boy nodded and smiled to a rather embarrassed and nervous John Watson.

“Erm. John Watson sir.” John held his hand out and Greg shuck it while laughing at the formalities.

“Well, Mr Watson. Let’s get you settled in and a tour of the place.” He was holding a clip board (why he never noticed before John doesn’t know) and then the Greg guy frowned. “You’re housed with Mr Sherlock Holmes. Sorry mate, nothing I can do to change that but if he gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll have a word.” John looked even more confused and nervous. “It’ll be alright mate. Follow me. We have you down in 221B with the bloke. But it’s good. Each section has four rooms. The first room is when you enter, that’ll be a small study room. Then of course the bedrooms and bathrooms.”

Greg chattered away as he lead off and John limped to follow. He wasn’t really listening to be honest, he was more concerned with whom this Sherlock boy was and why would he be warned about him already?

Chapter Text

Sherlock had come to school earlier than most, only because he had to ride with fatty Myc. It was unfair! He wanted to get in when the other’s got in. he wanted to be able to deduce his roommate. Obviously he would have one and Fatty Myc refused to tell him. So for the drive to the school, Sherlock never shut up and he really loved the idea of getting on his nerves. That’s how he made his plan. He would use most of the school year to bug Myc Holmes if he ever got bored, which is sure he will be.

He was now dragging his cases into 221B, thankfully having ignored Greg and his idiotic gang of third years. Myc obviously went to meet Greg, denying that anything going on there was useless; Sherlock knew something was and he used this as bait and loved it when Myc’s cheeks burned a bright red.

He was just finished putting his clothes away when he heard the door open and Greg muttering something about settling in and an hour before the tour. Euch, the damn, dreaded tour. Sherlock will be doing his own; no doubt his brother would have warned Greg already. Now, the time to annoy and to meet his new roommate. He left his bedroom and entered the small study room, becoming face to face with a small kid with blond hair, a bad shoulder and a psychosomatic limp looking at the place in wonder and awe. Working class then and going by the state of his clothes he either very poor or looking after himself. Or both. So then why is here, in this school. Surly he hasn’t the funds.

They were both looking at him now, Greg frowning and John shifting slightly. Standing straight and limp forgotten. Like he’s ready for attention. Difficult father then. Or strict. Or both.
“Greg, how’s my brother this morning? I’m sure you tasted his breakfast.” Sherlock smirk, the new kid only managed to disguise a giggle as a cough as Greg’s face burnt red and he stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Sherlock turned to face the kid again, eyebrow raised and his gaze cutting into him. He took a deep breath (now or never) and begun …

“How did you get into this school? It’s obvious that you don’t have the funds to afford it, you don’t have a stable family life at home and you really don’t even need the cane.” Sherlock folded his arms, staring at the young boy. He really was a puzzle. Everyone in this school came from middle class families, rich families sometimes even a royal passes through. So why this kid?

“How … How did you know that?” The kid looks bewildered and shocked. Not what he normally receives. Again Sherlock takes a deep breath and dives right in;

“Your clothes, obviously they’re handmade and you’ve had then roughly three years. The jumper at least. Your shoes are scruffed at the edges and you haven’t a new pair even though they are beginning to get tight on you. So you can’t afford it. The money hasn’t been spen into this school because the shoes are the same age as the rest of your clothes. So, for three years you’ve had the same clothes, nothing new but you can manage to get into boarding school? Not a chance. What I don’t understand is how a boy with a bad shoulder and a fake limp and no money can get into the school?” He breathed deeply and waited for the reaction.

“How could you possibly know about my shoulder?” The boy replied, eyes never removing from Sherlock.

“You winced when Greg squeezed it in a friendly manor. Obviously you’ve been injured and it hasn’t healed properly but the one on your leg has but you still use a cane. It’s psycho … oh!” Sherlock stopped and began to pace, a smile spreading on his face. “The old clothes, the limp, the accident. It must have been traumatic and I would guess at three years ago. You lost your mother and your father blames you which explains the unhappy home life. This school proposes a method of payment and if the payments are filled by the time the child reaches sixteen then they can come here for however many years their pot can cover. How many years?”

“I’m here for three years. My mother was paying into two accounts and after the accident they combined both accounts and I am covered for the whole three years.” John mumbled, but he still never looked away from Sherlock, his posture stiffened a little more.

“You lost a sibling too. No wonder the relationship between you and your father is shredded beyond repair. He’s an alcoholic yes? No shush, of course he is.”

“How could you know about the shit relationship and the drinking?” John basically demanded.

“As soon as you see anyone you stand up straight, give them full attention and never speak unless you are spoken to. You’re clothes are old and you look after yourself. You obviously have someone who is legally responsible or you would be in care and not here. The man lost both his wife and his child, of course he’s an alcoholic.” Sherlock replied, waiting for the ‘fuck you’ or the ‘freak’.

“All that … That was. You saw that? … Wow, that was … amazing.” John was instantly impressed. Sherlock couldn’t believe it.

“That’s not what people normally say you know.” Sherlock gave him a smirk and unfolded his arms to put them in his pockets. “They normally tell me to fuck off.”

John just giggled. Instantly. He cracked and giggled and Sherlock couldn’t help but follow suit. There was something about this boy, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“John Watson.” He supplied after he finished giggling and held out is hand. Sherlock shuck it.

“Sherlock Holmes and welcome to Baker’s courts.”

Chapter Text

On the other side of the castle school was Bart’s courts. It was the same size of Baker’s courts and held a mix of females and males. Although they had to be separated within the building of course, the females slept in the rooms on the second floor while the boys remained on the first floor. The same layout as Baker’s Courts across the way, each student lives in a room which is the same as any other room. No one was treated differently, the school motto always stood as ‘Everyone is equal, not even money can change it.’

Bart’s court held those that were studying most of their subjects in chemistry and biology as well as English Lit and forensics and also anatomy and physiology. Baker’s Court was housing those mainly studying human science and mathematics, also those with biology majors and microbiology and biochemistry. There was also a mix of psychology, sociology, law and politics within each court. This was put out so that people who studied the same subjects were, or should have been, in the same courts.

Molly was reading the broacher about the courts as her father drove her up to Bart’s Courts. She was thankful that she was here actually; home life was not as exciting as people exclaimed it could be. She lived with both her parents and was an only child; she was quiet and very shy when around other’s at home but when she wasn’t around her parents she was a party animal. With the place where she lived, it was frowned upon for such a behaviour, even her future profession was frowned upon. She wanted to be a forensic pathologist and her reasoning was that the dead had a story to tell and she would be able to tell it for them.

Her parents were great parents though, they never hit her, they never abused her or shouted at her and they have paid for her three years course and had even begun looking into volunteer places for her. They just thought about what the neighbours would think of this and tried to get their girl to change her mind. But that was one more thing about Molly, once she’s made her mind up, she wouldn’t be moved. No matter how shy she appeared, how red she went, she would not change her mind.

Her father pulled up into Bart’s courts and parked up, giving his young daughter a little nudge. Molly gave a gentle squeak and she looked up to her grinning father.

“Come on my little mouse,” Her father smiled, his voice soft as he ruffled up her hair. Molly blushed a little and stepped out of the car quickly and looked at the building. It was huge, she had never seen anything so big before and she lived in a manor herself.
“Mother would be envious,” she whispered a little and turned to watch her father bring over her cases and she turned her head back to the building, her eyes glazing over as she drifted into her thoughts. She was here at last.

“Excuse me, I’ve not seen you around here before, would you be a first year by any chance?” A male voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked around. Standing there was a boy of possibly eighteen, brown short hair and a sharp smile; his teeth where white enough and he wore t-shirts and tight jeans. He was actually quite handsome and Molly smiled, blushing softly, she didn’t have the energy in her now to speak. She was tired and gasping for a smoke, but she played innocent and shy while her father was hanging around here like a lost puppy dog.

“Yes, she’s a first year. Her name’s Molly and she can be quite shy around new people.” Her father supplied for her and Molly shrugged slightly but kept quiet. Her eyes flashed with something while she stared at the boy.

“Right, well I’m John Dimmock; people just call me Dimmock. I’m your welcome for today and I am here to show you to your room.” Dimmock addressed Molly and she smiled a little wider, putting on her best flirty yet shy smile she had.

She nodded and moved to pick up one of her cases while her father carried the other two and they followed a grinning Dimmock into the building. It was actually very warm inside and reminded Molly of an apartment building. There were stairs as soon as they walked into the main area and they headed up them to the second floor. On this floor, as there was on the first floor, were long thin corridors with numbers on the doors that lined up the walls. Each room had one main room for studying and tow en-suite bathrooms and Molly was in heaven when she went into her room. It was simple and not a bad colour. Black and gold covered the walls and she put her bags down and quickly slipped into her shy nature. Her father stayed a little longer, speaking to Dimmock before he went, and when he did Molly sighed, relaxed and squealed excitedly. Dimmock couldn’t help but chuckle at this new sight, it wasn’t unheard of for people to hide beneath a fake when around their parents and Bart’s & Baker’s School helps bring out their real selves without fearing that their family were to find out.

**

Jim was bored. He was stuck in Bart’s Courts, waiting for his precious Sebby so they can share their room again. He had made sure that the school knew to situate them together once more for their second year. After the first year and all the scandals that the school had been involved in, the board had no choice but to succumb to his needs. He enjoyed his studies, what rich kid doesn’t? Both Sebby and Jim were studying the human body, pathology, law, chemistry and forensics. How else were they going to find out what the best way would be for getting rid of someone?

Finally, after waiting for nearly ten minutes, Sebby turned up, gave his father the shove off and made his way over to Jim, just as a new female rode up on a black Harley Davidson and almost toppled Sebby over.

“Watch it, ya’ bitch!” Sebby had growled, dropping his bag and scowling at the girl. She didn’t look old enough to drive, let-a-loan drive a motorcycle. That was until her helmet was pulled off and she gave her most apologetic grin.

“Sorry mate. Got caught up in the building.” Her voice was gentle, almost like silk and Jim saw Sebby instantly relax as he got lost in her chocolate eyes. Well, this was not going to happen and Jim made his way to the two of them. She was beautiful, her lips were the colour of blood and her hair hung low against her shoulders. She was every boys wet dream. Well, everyone’s except Jims. He wouldn’t dip his candle in her wax even if she paid him, he didn’t go for girls.

“Sebby, dear,” Jim droned, moving to hang on his arm. The new girl smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I’m bored!”

“Well, look what we have here, if it isn’t Jim Moriarty in the flesh.” The girl stepped forward, placed her helmet beneath her arm and held out a hand for Jim to shake, which he did out of politeness and a little confusion. The girl saw it. “Oh, I’m sorry. Morstan. Mary Morstan. You’ve been making a name for yourself in my parts. My father has been bought out and is now working for you. I didn’t think he would stoop as low to work for a kid. What did you do?” at least she didn’t sound upset. In actual fact she was beaming and she sounded ecstatic and genuinely interested. Well she would be, she had been trying to get her father under a thumb for a long time.

“Oh, I just told him that if he didn’t do as I asked and sign his business with me then Sebby here,” He gently kissed the other boy’s cheek, “Would release a video tape of him beating his wife and trying to attack his daughter. He freaked and caved. It was too easy. After the way you stuck up to him on that video, I’m surprised you didn’t try yourself.” Jim sighed, such a waist of talent.

“Oh come on now sweetness, how else do you think Sebby got a hold of such a video. I’m a worker not a leader.” She smiled again and stepped back as a black car strolled in through the gates. “Ah, my luggage. About bloody time.” She rushed of towards the car and began fetching her luggage. Jim and Sebby watched as Dimmock made his way over and Mary began flirting and giggling. With a little work she may become useful.

Jim and Sebby made their way to their room, speaking calmly and quietly about how they would proposition her for their new game this year. At long last, both Holmes brothers attended the school and their fun could finally begin.

Chapter Text

John had been in the school for a little over three hours and already he had a friend. Well, he would call Sherlock a friend now at least. He enjoyed the company, enjoyed the fact that Sherlock would deduce anyone that had walked by making John giggle throughout the tour. This did not sit well with the guide, Lestrade. He kept turning to tell them to shut up, which made them giggle harder.

At one point, Lestrade had stopped the group and marched up to the pair, his face like thunder.

“For once Sherlock, can you act like a mature young adult!?” Lestrade had hissed, his fisted clenched tightly at his sides. Before it could get worse John stepped in with his winning smile. He had learned to defuse anger a lot around his father.

“He deduces people, I laugh and he likes it. I wouldn’t hold out too much hope, but give me a month …” He looked back at Sherlock, noted his tight face, knowing that he was trying to stifle a few more giggles through a glare. John turned back to Lestrade, noting his softened posture but still the glare. “…Ok, maybe three months. But you know how it is. New school, new people. “(Sherlock interrupted with a strained ‘Data, John’, which had Lestrade sag a little more.) “Would you rather he deduces your sex life with his brother?” John had said this as innocently as possible, smiling warmly and Lestrade gaped, utterly giving up before declaring the tour over and walking away with his head high, he had muttered something along the lines of ‘Fucking Holmes’, but John wasn’t all that sure.

“Perfect John.” Sherlock muttered through giggles as he moved to lead the way, John had tried to calm himself down but he couldn’t stop the laughing from rising again.

“Where are we going anyway?” John had asked after a while of silent giggling and following the younger Holmes down the corridors of Baker’s Court.

“We don’t have to start any classes till tomorrow afternoon; we have the rest of the day. I want to see what the plant life is like in the woods at the back of Bart’s Courts. I’m sure I can extract some for an experiment I have in mind.” Sherlock had answered in a bored voice. He didn’t even look back to see if John was following (somehow he knew he would always follow) and just headed towards the exit and out into the court yard.

John did follow, he was quiet as he jogged to keep in step with Sherlock and his lankly legs. It seemed that Sherlock was lost in thought and John left him to it. That is until his little brain managed to click onto something.

“Experiment? What bloody experiment? It better not involve burning the damn carpet. Again. We’ve been here what? Three hours? And already there’s an acid burn in the carpet. MY carpet may I add?” John had stopped walking and held out his hand to prevent Sherlock from walking away again.

“It’s nothing too serious John. And that was an accident, I wasn’t meant to spill it.” Sherlock gave a small pout and headed off once more. “Come along John, the plant life won’t pick itself.” With a huff of his own and a deep sigh, John followed the lanky, smart git towards Bart’s Courts and the woods beyond.

*
Irene Adler was a second year, along with her companion and lover Kate. They had their room at the back of the Courts and gained the school’s permission for a redecoration. Well, Adler seduced it out of the governors. It was quite amazing to Kate how easily it was for Alder to seduce the male population, even when she knows the male population makes Adler’s skin crawl.

Kate sighed softly as she placed her two large suitcases in the study room. Well, it should be a study room but Adler had changed it around and made it into her own little seduction room. There were hooks on the walls for different items, such as whips and paddles. The fact that there were not there when Kate had stepped in told her that her lover had not arrived yet.

The blood red and the black detail of the walls made the place look like a very small BDSM club, which Kate knows for a fact that Adler wants to own. Kate too actually, it interests her. They are both learning about the human body and biology. Kate’s reasoning is that it would be the best way to understand and know how far the human body can go through painful pleasure.

With a smile and a relaxed sigh, Kate moved her suitcases to her room, which she shared with Adler anyway. The spare room was used when they both got bored enough to use the equipment on each other. Those were the best nights, their little games. Kate always loved the fact that

After sitting down and taking the weight off her feet, Kate had heard the outer door open and the sound of a thud. Adler was back and she sounded rather tired and fed-up, if the idea that she had thrown her suitcase down was anything to go by. Kate left their room and entered the outer room with a soft smile.

“Irene, what’s got your whip in a knot?” Kate leaned against the door frame, her arms folded against her chest and her eyes scanned over her lover. Irene looked tired and slightly pissed off about something. This can only mean one thing; her father. “Don’t tell me: Mr High-And-Mighty drove you through today.” She hated that man, he detested Irene’s life style choices and he hated Kate so much more. He found it disgusted that women fuck women and he totally blames Kate for Irene’s sexuality, like she forced her and if that’s what he wants to think, so be it.

“I have a mind to remove the court order.” Irene growled a little and Kate made her way over to wrap her arms around her lover. “He refuses to see it as my choice and he keeps saying that this school will get me out of some pathetic and sick fantasy. Well, just wait, I’ll make sure he hurts.” Irene buried her head into Kate’s neck and clung on tight. The only women … No … The only living person who ever saw Irene in such a state will always and forever be Kate.

“Come on Miss Adler.” Kate knows that always cheers her up, even if only a little. It shows the dominance she has over the girl and Kate loves it too. “We’ll go for a walk, which always helps you smile. Who knows, we may bump into some fresh meet.” Kate was glad that Irene giggled at that and moved to press her soft, glossed lips against her cheek.

“Wouldn’t miss it at all my dear Kate.” Irene purred softly, stepping back to take her hand and walking in step with her out of the room, her posture showing someone in control and dominate. Not someone who would love to rip her father’s skin off with her bare hands.
*

Dimmock was giving Molly a small tour of the rooms when they bumped into the two dominatrices of the school. Molly tried to hide a soft surprised gasp when Dimmock whispered that into her ear. She blushed slightly when she failed and one of the women held out her hand, the nails covered in bright red nail-varnish, her lips slick with a softer red lip gloss.

“My name is Irene Adler. “ Said the woman with a gentle grin. Molly took her hand and shook it was. “And this is my girl, Kate.” She indicated to the smaller, blonder woman beside her and Molly went to shake her hand too.

“I’m Molly. Dimmock was just showing me around.” Molly straightened herself up, standing a little closer than necessary to Dimmock and trying to make it look like she belongs here.

“Oh, standing close enough so he could touch you, his arm is twitching just slightly. I think he wants to wrap it around you just as much as you want him to my dear Molly.” Irene smirked a little at their shocked faces, Molly looked over Dimmock and he shrugged, and then placed his arm around her waist.

“Well, at least you’re no Holmes Miss Adler.” Dimmock replied and nodded to the two ladies, heading off once more with Molly.

“Dimmock. We’re off to see the woods now, wouldn’t it be nice to show Molly the grounds.” Kate called over her shoulder as she watched the couple. For some reason that Molly intrigued her interest and she squeezed Irene’s hand a little. A small promise that she will explain later.

Molly stopped and turned to Dimmock. They seemed to be whispering lightly together before Dimmock nodded. “Alright. We’ll all go together then. Just none of your usual business ladies.” He warned and guided Molly down towards the two ladies and the four of them headed off together.

*
Jim and Sebastian had been wondering around, deep in the forest since after their meeting with the strange Morstan girl. Jim couldn’t quite understand her and that hardly ever happens. Sebastian just let him get on with his pacing and mutterings when they both heard gentle footsteps heading their way. Jim looked at Sebastian with a slight smirk and made his way over to him, his arm linking through the younger boy’s when Mary step out into the clearing.

Jim growled lightly in his throat but then stopped when Sebastian gave him that look. The look which told him not to pounce to early when they could use something for their own good and Jim had listened, turning his scowl into a smirk. They both waiting for the younger girl to notice them and when she did she smiled flirtatiously. She knew it would not work on Jim, but Sebastian was a different matter altogether.

“Aright, enough with that young lady!” Jim put on his best commanding voice and removed his arm from Sebastian’s. He stepped up to Mary and circled her while Sebastian just stood in his spot, watching with his arms folded. “You think you can give my boy the eyes do you? Think it would work? Well, you’re wrong. He’s mine. Only mine, understand?” Jim was pleased when Mary nodded, her eyes never leaving Jim’s circling body.

“What can I do for you Jim?” She wasn’t fazed, scared or even manipulated. She knew about the young boy’s steadily growing reputation and all at such a young age too, she was impressed and intrigued.

“I understand you like to use your looks to get what you want.” Jim plainly stated and moved to face her, arms gently crossed and his voice sounding so casual and very business-like. “If you can manage to seduce Mycroft Holmes, I may have a little more for you to do.” Jim didn’t elaborate and clapped when Mary nodded, giving her consent.

*

Mary loved a challenge and from what she has seen before she even came through the woods is that the Holmes would be a challenge. Especially if Mycroft is the one to be dating that Lestrade bloke, word does travel fast among the second and third years, even if she did have to meddle at some point. She had wanted information on the couples of the school, the gay, straight and the bi-sexual, as well as the innocent and the loud. They were all easy to loosen up with a flick of the hair and a grin in the right place.

Now she had a challenge that she will overcome, she will manage to seduce Mycroft Holmes, she never leaves a job unfinished. She’s about to head off herself after giving Jim her consent and services to his growing empire when there was chatter coming from one side of the clearing (two young boys by the sounds of things, one of them sounds really exasperated with the other) and from the other, a lot of laughter and exclaims of ‘really?’ and ‘No way’.

Mary looked over to Jim and Sebastian and watched their faces light up with glee and interest. She made her way over and stood on the other side of Jim and watched as two young boys, one tall with black curls and one short with golden hair and a slight limp. On the other side two couples emerged, two females holding hands tightly while one spoke to another about something to do with whips. The one listening had her hand clasped in Dimmock’s hand, well that was quick for him. No wonder he refused her advances earlier.

“Well, as much as I would love to enjoy this little get together, I’d better be off” and she did. Mary waved, winked, smirked and flicked her hair as she wondered away, leaving everyone else behind her.

*
Dimmock, Molly, Kate and Irene came to a stop when they finally took notice of the other people around them. One had already waved and left, Mary Morstan if Dimmock remembered correctly. He then looked around at who else was there and groaned annoyingly and quietly. He took Molly’s hand and pulled her back, whispering gently in her ear:

“Moriarty and Moran. Trouble makers, those are the young boys in the middle, you do not want to get involved. The two on the outer edge I don’t know yet but it’s best we leave now, the look on the tall guy’s face is enough to raise the tension.” Dimmock pulled back, nodded to Irene and Kate again and proceeded to lead Molly out. He was right, on the far side of the clearing, the two young boy’s had stopped, the smaller one looking confused and the taller one looking like he was ready to kill.

Dimmock noticed that Irene and Kate had followed them out without saying anything. If anyone knew Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran then they would know not to interfere when things would get tetchy.

*

Sherlock had stopped suddenly, his eyes on the two young, smirking boys ahead of him in the clearing and his face fixed itself into a glare. He recognises them from mummy’s stupid get togethers and they were always trying to manipulate him in some way, use his genius and maybe even try and involve him in some schemes. If not then the little brats were trying to get information about Mycroft. Always trying to make it seem like something else but Sherlock always knew what they were truly after. He had never detested someone before he met Moriarty and his loyal lap dog. Sometimes being a genius is dangerous if some spoilt kid (like Moriarty) managed to get a grip on it.

“Not going to introduce us my dear?” Jim purred stepping towards John slowly, almost predatory with Sebastian slowly following behind him with a tight smirk. John stiffened slightly and held out his hand before Sherlock could say anything on the matter. This narked him completely.

“John Watson.” He sounded bored of the whole thing and Sherlock watched as Jim looked over John, smirked and walked past them both, Sebastian following behind with a scowl towards John. John had dropped his hand and watched them leave, standing a little closer to Sherlock as he watched. “I don’t like them.” He said instantly and looked towards Sherlock.

Sherlock looked back and nodded, moving forward as he rattled off what he deduced from the pair. Some of it made John cringe and other’s made him giggle as he spoke about past run ins and how he had thwarted a couple of Moriarty’s plans during those blasted parties. He even mentioned how Mycroft would join in at some point and then the stories came out about him.

*
By the end of the day; the meeting was forgotten; John was giggling like an over-active hyper child; Sherlock had his plant cuttings for his experiment; Mary was on a mission; Molly and Dimmock were now a couple and getting to know the real person on each; Irene and Adler both let out their frustrations the best way they could and Sebastian and Jim were devising a plan on getting into Mycroft’s head but would need to distraction the smart arse Sherlock first, which should be easy considering Sherlock’s need to solve puzzles.

Chapter Text

Mary had walked towards Baker’s Courts the day after she was giving her orders, intending on starting her challenge straight away. Of course she knew that Mycroft would be hard to seduce, seeing as though he preferred men over women. But Mary had enough knowledge and knew Mycroft still had a thing for women. He was a man of power and knew all sorts about the school, Hell; he even managed to provide most of the funding. People say that he owns a minor position on the school’s board, but Mary saw the underlining meaning behind that. Mycroft was the school’s bored. He can be just as manipulative as Mary herself and she loved that about the guy. All of this information.. Well, most of it, she had managed to learn on her first day, plus Jim was sending her text after text with bits of information. She never did reply she had no need to; she will do her job and prove to the two boys just how good she can be.

Mary was walking up the steps of Baker’s court as the sun beamed down against her back, her shoulders where exposed to the light as she wore her tightest, red vest top and tight light blue skinny jeans with knee length red boots. Her red bag hung across her shoulders and she shivered a little. It may be sunny but that doesn’t mean it was warm. It was September after all, the summer heat is just beginning to dwindle, and the leaves of the trees surrounding the school glistened in all its autumn splendour. Mary only had a moment to look over it before she headed inside, confidence washing off in her very walk. Her head held high and the young boys all getting ready for class looked at her as she walked by. She knew for a fact that Mycroft had no lesson this morning, but his dear Greg did and this was the perfect opportunity. Moriarty had sent her Mycroft’s room number and told her to get close and he wanted her to present evidence of her success if any. That explained the hidden mike and camera, so small that not even the genius would notice. This was sending Jim and Sebastian a live feed, which they were watching from Jim’s laptop in the school’s library.

Mary came to Mycroft’s closed bedroom door, put on her best smile and knocked lightly. She waited a second before knocking again, slipping into a student who is in need of some guidance.

“Enter”, called out a deep voice. In that one word Mary knew Mycroft held power, knew he was confident in that power and she also knew that it would be so fun to knock him down of his high horse. She breathed deeply and opened the door, stepping lightly into the room.

“I’m terribly sorry Mr Holmes. I’ve seemed to have lost my timetable for this semester and I have no idea where all my classes are. I’m already certain that I’m late and I was told you could help.” Mary spoke quickly, giving a hint of panic in her tone. She wanted to come across as a dedicated student and someone who would hate it if she was late.

**

Mycroft was sitting at his desk in the study area of his room, looking through his ‘History of Politics’ books for his next class. His room was just like any other and he shared with Greg. Greg’s desk, next to his own, was cluttered with paper, pens and books. He was not allowed to organise it into tidiness like his own, Greg had complained last time he had tried. This memory brought a smile to his face; the make up afterwards was the best part. He placed his book down and was about to sort out at least some of the mess that was left lying around, just so he could have the rough, angry make-up sex that Greg always gave him when he was annoyed. He knew that Greg understood why Mycroft annoyed him in small ways; it was all part of their game. If he had annoyed Greg intentionally then sex was off the table for at least two weeks. Greg can be a stubborn git.

There was a knock on the door, lightly at first and then more persistent. “Enter”, he had called in his best, calm and dominating voice. When a young female student came in looking lost and a little panicky, Mycroft stared for at least a second before slipping into his ice-cold emotionless mask again.

“I’m terribly sorry Mr Holmes. I’ve seemed to have lost my timetable for this semester and I have no idea where all my classes are. I’m already certain that I’m late and I was told you could help.” Even this girl’s panicked voice was intoxicating. She was interesting and for the moment all thoughts of Greg slipped his mind and something next to interest flashed on his face before again he slipped back into the emotionless mask and mentally scalded himself for pushing his lover out of his mind for this female.

“It’s alright Miss …” He dragged that on for a moment and raised an eyebrow.

“Morstan. Mary Morstan” The young girl replied.

“Alright Miss Morstan. I’m sure we can sort this out. All you need to do is head over to the reception in the main school and give them your name and student number. They should be able to help you out.” Mycroft gave a tight smile and trying so hard not to stare. He did take in a few things about her but she seemed difficult to read, just like Adler had been once. One, but now they had an agreement; Mycroft would not expel her and take away her tools if she agreed to leave the teachers alone. It was working so far. Now Mycroft was getting distracted again, and Mary seemed so close. ‘How did she get so close?’ Mycroft swallowed a little and stepped back, forcing himself to remain impassive.

“You seem to be miles away sir.” Mary was saying, her lips curling into a light smile and she remained where she was. Looking extravagant and flickering those eye lashes at him. What effect was she having on him. It didn’t sit right with Mycroft and he didn’t like it. She had come closer again, a hand outstretched a little. Mycroft reached out and took it in a firm grip. “Thank you Mr Holmes.” She purred, leaning into him and whispering into his ear. “If you ever need a favour, call me.” She whispered seductively, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek and Greg would have to walk in at that moment and Mycroft froze, Mary stepped back, some glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

**

When Greg entered his room that second, he had never expected to see one of the girls all-over Mycroft and Mycroft to be looking as red as a tomato and as lost as a fat kid in a salad bar. He growled low in his throat, stepped forward and somehow managed to keep his voice low.

“What the Hell is going on?” He had asked, anger underlining his voice. He saw how Mycroft stiffened and the girl stepped back looking smug. Greg had never wanted to hit a woman before but this bitch was actually pushing it just by using facial expressions.

“I was thanking Mr Holmes for his help.” She sounded way too innocent for Greg’s liking and Mycroft looked like his best friend had died. “There’s nothing wrong with offering him something in return now is there?” She purred softly and Greg growled again, stepped forward dangerously and glared.

“That voice ain’t going to work on me love.” Greg stared her down, using his best authoritive voice, claiming back what is his. “Women disgust me and you’ll get nothing from My. He’s taken in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh. Oh no.” Was his bitch was actually giggling like Greg had got it wrong? “I never meant anything like that. I just meant if he needed someone to help him. Like a PA or something. I’m good with data.” She purred softly, innocently and was walking towards the exit. “Think about it, he may need someone good with computers and has a lot of free time to order his more important work for the school. We wouldn’t want it closing down because the funds were going haywire now would we?” She winked and was gone. Greg looked stunned but he was still too angry to even understand any hidden implications of that. He turned to Mycroft who wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“My.” He had said simply, moved close to him and held out a hand beneath Mycroft’s chin and made their eyes meet. “Don’t you ever get too close to anyone but me. Understand?” He had glared a little at Mycroft. No matter how much walking in on the scene had hurt him, he would always forgive Mycroft as long as nothing had happened to make that impossible.

Mycroft just nodded, a little shocked and a lot lost. Greg was hoping he wasn’t thinking about that girl. But he knew in the back of his mind that she was right. Mycroft hadn’t had much time juggling the pressures of his study along with the pressures of running a minor part in the school’s board. Greg sighed a little and pecked Mycroft’s nose.

“You know she’s right Greg.” Mycroft mumbled, Mycroft never mumbles. He must really be tired and feeling a little guilty.

“I know but if you get too close to her again, I will ban the sex for a month. Understand?” Greg looked into Mycroft’s tired eyes and watched as he nodded slowly. “I love you My and no one is taking you away from me. I refuse to let them.” Greg watched as Mycroft’s eyes lit up and they were both locked in a tight embrace for who knows how long.

**

Moriarty was actually trying to hold a laugh in as he was watching Mary work on Mycroft. Nothing got past him and he saw how Mycroft had instantly reacted to Mary. This was too good and he could use her again, especially when she mentioned the fact that she would become his PA. it was school knowledge that Mycroft was juggling too many things at once and having someone on the inside would work perfectly for his plans.

He turned to Sebastian and they smiled at each other, leaned over and kissed roughly. When they broke they were both still grinning like an idiot.

“All we need now is the puzzle for Sherlock the smart arse Holmes. How about Mr Watson?” Sebastian grinned devilishly. They knew John’s story and they could use that against the pair.

“Perfect Sebby my darling.” Jim purred. “Get the meeting set up for Saturday and we can get this thing in motion” Jim sounded delighted and they walked hand in hand out the library and towards class while Jim was carrying the laptop and Sebastian was sending the text.

Chapter Text

School, Sherlock soon realises, is dull and boring. The teachers are idiots and the only thing worth staying for is John. Even after two days of undeniable boredom of lessons and small boring experiments, John has buried deep beneath Sherlock’s armour and that doesn’t even bother him. Much. John is a puzzle and the only interesting thing in this place, everyone else, even Moriarty and Moran are predictable and boring. Well, so far anyway.

In the last couple of days, John has not asked Sherlock what was going on between him and the two older boys, and Sherlock never explained. They were both sniggering madly and too caught up in annoying Mycroft and Greg to really take notice as to what was going on around them.

“Shouldn’t you be in class, Brother of mine?” The soft but annoyed voice of Mycroft pulled Sherlock out his thinking and he stared at his older brother with a scowl. They were stood behind one of the larger bins outside the kitchen, where Mycroft would probably know Sherlock gets his live rat specimens, much to John’s annoyance.

“There’s a rumour Myc.” Sherlock said in his cheesy grin, but still he had an underlining of a worried tone which he was sure Mycroft would pick up. Even if the use of the nickname was enough to annoy him, it wouldn’t be enough to hide the fact that Sherlock was getting a little worried for his older brother. “You almost got off with a … Girl.” He said the gender with a scrunched up face, like uttering it upset him.

“Sherlock. Get. To. Class.” Mycroft hissed, his face tinging slightly. The urge to tell Sherlock not to worry was overwhelming but he would never.

“You know, she was seen with tweedle dick and tweedle fuck.” Sherlock whispered as he walked past, not waiting for Mycroft’s reaction as he headed for his class. That was the only thing he worried about, Jim getting too close to his brother. They may not get along very well, but they are family and a threat against one is a threat against the other, which is where this whole feud between him and the boys had come from, the fact that he would stand by his brother.

**

Mycroft watched as his younger brother walked away, head held high and hands in his pockets. Mycroft knew he won’t return to class, he’ll only attend those with John, which is possibly three out of his chosen six. But as Mycroft watched, he couldn’t help but feel something stir within him, something which might be described as brotherly affection and protection. With a sigh and a shake of the head, Mycroft lit up a smoke and allowed himself to think. Just think about what it could mean if Mary was hanging around with Jim and Sebastian. Those two had it in for the Holmes boys that much is clear, wanting to take advantage of Mycroft’s slowly building power and Sherlock’s intelligence no doubt. With a sigh, Mycroft continued to smoke, that is until he heard soft giggling from around the corner.

The next second, a young girl was laughing with some boy, Mycroft was certain was Dimmock. Both had a smoke hanging from their lips and they hung off each other, only nodding in Mycroft’s direction as they headed on. Mycroft watched them walk past, smoke filling up around them and he knew they were very much infatuated with one another. But what he didn’t know was that the next time he sees the couple, they wouldn’t be laughing much at all.

**

Sherlock didn’t return to his class, there was no point, John wasn’t there. He returned to his room and moved over to John’s desk where he had left a mould experiment. Checking the growth of different moulds in the same setting; each bit of mould was rested in a dish, all sealed perfectly and each in a perfect straight line. John was upset at first but grew used to it as he headed off for his first class.

Sherlock didn’t hide his grin as he remembered the way John’s face flushed red with annoyance, the way he growled deep in his throat and the way his body went straight and he stormed off, leaving the cane behind. That was unexpected but at least John would no longer limp and he would be able to keep up. The only thing left to understand was why John blamed himself for the accident that killed both his sister and mother.

This puzzled him more than John did himself and John refused to talk about it. It couldn’t be guilt of walking away alive and hardly scared; he almost lost his life, what with the shoulder wound and the obvious damage to the leg. It’s not logical for him to feel guilty. Sherlock didn’t even know what had happened, was it a car, train, house fire .. What? But John just shook his head and walked away. Sherlock had tried in the last couple of days to get the answer but he had to make do with research. When Sherlock finished jotted down some more observations of his mould samples, he retrieved John’s laptop and easily hacked into it. John would be back in two hours so he had plenty of time to search for an accident a few years ago, involving a family of three and one survivor. Sherlock knew his father wasn’t there and the fact that John survived showed why both blamed John. His father would be self-blaming if he was there but because it is simply John’s fault, then it was only John his mother and his sister.

**

John makes his way into his room, his mind completely boggled and his face slightly pale. He hates it when he has to learn about different accidents in which a doctor would need to understand for when a patient comes in close to death. Some of it hit too close to home for John’s liking. He paused in the door way when he noticed that Sherlock was using his laptop.

“Sherlock! That was password protected!” John let out a little aggravation and shut the door with his foot.

“’HarryandLou’ is not really a strong password John. Took me five minutes to guess it.” His face never left the screen, his fingers typed over the keys before he suddenly stopped, his face reflecting instant shock as he stared and then looked at John. “How could a thirteen year old protect his family from a mad man with a gun?” He whispered softly, he was completely curious.

John’s face paled even more and he moved over to snap the laptop shut, his hands shaking. “Yes, thank you.” His voice was surprisingly smooth, strong and calm.

“John ..?”

“Leave it!” John snapped, instantly shutting Sherlock off. “Just .. Don’t ok. Not now.” John sighed and moved to hide away in his bedroom, effectively cutting off the rest of the world.

**

Molly and Dimmock lay faced down, hand in hand and both had vomited before death. Mycroft sighed as he saw their lifeless bodies, remembering their laughs and their smoking habits. Even now it was clear how much they adored each other. Dying together hand in hand, side by side and Mycroft couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Get the police in and call an assembly. Their parents should be notified. I’ll get Anthea to make the call.” Mycroft nodded to the very pale headmaster and he just looked awestruck. The first suicide since the school opened and all Mycroft could think was how thankful he is that the pair had hidden themselves out of the way of the school grounds and in the clearing. He looked around as he noticed Miss Adler comfort a shaking Kate and he nodded to the young girls before striding away, getting the image of a laughing and loved up couple out of his head.

Chapter Text

Word had gotten around fairly quickly and it seemed that the school did not want to rest. Obviously the parents mourned and shouted obscenities at him. Caring was not an advantage, in the end life ends and hearts break. Although, Greg would scowl and hit him around the head if he ever voiced that out loud with him in the room, because Greg cares and he assumes and believes it makes him strong. It does not. It makes you weak, just look at the family, shouting and screaming at him for answers. Well, not at him but at the board. He really does need a break and a PA, all this wok and caring is giving him a headache, which is the only justification for Mary being in a chair behind him, dressed in black.

It was only a few days ago that she came to Mycroft and offered her apologies and condolences. Not that he needed them and he did say as much but she was right in what she said. A suicide upon school grounds, will affect those involved with the schooling a lot harder than it would the pupils. And this is what she meant. The sentiment of the family. With a sigh he stood slowly, putting on his best grieving face, he even managed to have his eyes tear up slightly but he would never allow them to over flow. All eyes are on him now and this is the best part, the act and with the image of Greg and his awe struck face in his mind, he began to speak to the heartbroken parents of Dimmock and Molly.

“I must emphasise my upmost sympathy ...”

“Did you know her?” Molly’s father said his voice harsh but still strong as he had an arm around his wife’s shaking shoulders, his look a look of daggers. If looks could kill then this man would have ended all life on the planet. “No you didn’t did you? You are just saving face of the damn school! Molls would never take her own life. Especially with a boy whom she never even bloody well fucking KNEW!” His final word was yelled, causing most of the board to jump a little and look even worse for wear. Mary gave a soft squeak behind Mycroft but he didn’t look back. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Dimmy would never … He was Happy Mr Holmes.” Said the fragile woman of Dimmock’s mother. She held a white napkin in a shaking hand, holding tightly to her grieving husband who just looked distant and blank. It was like he wasn’t in the room anymore. “They never met until … Until here. Why .. I don’t … He seemed so happy.”

“Are you even damn well sure that they took the poison themselves? How do you know that they were not forced to take them. I refuse to believe that my daughter … My only child … Would take her life alongside a fucking idiot with whom she just fucking met!”

Molly’s father was beyond angry, his face was beginning to flush, the tears rolling down his cheeks and he was standing, facing of Mycroft with a growl and a glare. His fists clenching and unclenching quickly, his wife sobbing uncontrollably and the other parents went silent. Shocked almost, they did not understand why their son was being dragged through mud, surly he did nothing?

Mycroft didn’t blink but he showed compassion and hurt. He stood proud as the other members of the board began to shift a little. It was unheard of for bullying to come to their school, they held the children’s safety at the highest od standards and they even trusted in Mycroft, a student himself but so calm and able to understand the parents needs for their children, Mycroft knew they needed him and he must calm this situation.

Just as he was about to speak, Mary stepped forward, dressed in black and her cheeks where a little damp, “I’m … I’m sorry sir.” She spoke to Molly’s father. “I’m a friend of your daughter. We just met here yes, but we helped each other fit in somewhere new.” Mary was shaking a little, upset maybe? But Mycroft didn’t understand, he had never seen Molly and Mary together. “If I may sir. I work with Mr Holmes. I help him organise his things, his work. When this tragedy hit our school, he sent me to work on research straight away, to find you your answers. I’m terribly sorry sir.” Mary’s voice was soft gentle and Molly’s father had calmed a little to return to his wife, resuming his hold around her and Mary stepped closer to the pair of parents. She said nothing as she held out a file for them. Just the one between the four but no one moved to take it. They stared at her, drowning in their sorrow and her beauty. Mycroft would never understand the workings of women let alone the workings of a broken heart.

When Mycroft return to his seat, still not one of the parents reached for the file and so Mary took it upon herself to explain, carefully and gently what she had found in her research for answers. It was true Mycroft sent her on her way to get answers as to why to happy people would take their lives and not leave a note. So he listened and he still had a feeling something just didn’t add up but he pushed that away and focused on what Mary was saying now.

“I do apologise but these are from Dimmock’s and Molly’s computers at the school and their phone history.” Mary’s posture was confident and straight. She knew what she was doing but her voice betrayed her posture, it shook slightly, filled with such emotion that her body did not show. Mycroft was impressed. He understood now that this woman could act, and acting she was. But who for?

“They were emailing and texting constantly with each other before they even attended this school. They felt that they did not fit in anywhere unless they were together but with the pressures of their lives forcing them apart, they couldn’t take it and so they began to build a way in which they could remain together.” After her speech she left the file of emails, text and computer history with the grieving parents and moved to leave the room, nodding calmly to the school board, mumbling apologies and saying something about needing space.

But Mycroft was no longer taking notice of the tears of woe before him as his gaze watched as Mary left the room. She was either hiding tracks of something deeper in this and working her way to get something bigger, or she generally cared and she was truly upset and also what she found would be true. But Mycroft knew body language, he could read it like a book and he knew that this Mary was hiding something and thi8s couple suicide went deeper than she was letting on. He rose to his feet, suggested to let the parents have time together and alone and ushered the school board members out of the room and he returned to his own. Face rested in his hands as he thought over the proceedings of the day and sighed.

‘What is it they say?’ he thought to himself, letting his shoulders sag as he made his decision. ‘Keep your friends close.

And your enemies closer’

Chapter Text

It’s Saturday, the school can finally be free of its students for the weekend. Most of the idiots are going home for a few nights, spreading stories and rumours about the dead bodies; some going as far to say that the dead couple were not ready for the trials ahead, such as pregnancy. But Jim knew that that was just plain bull-crap if he ever heard it. He knew why they had died and he knew how, even if no one else did and that made him smile as he sat on his bed, one of the few students remaining at the school this weekend and the few days mourning the school has given the students.

 The door opened a moment later, breaking Jim from his thoughts as he looked up, a knowing smile on his lips as Sebby strolled in with his phone in his hand.

“He’s ready and waiting, finally managed get the old oaf out of his fucking chair. The place is a pub not far from here and he’s already drowning in his fifth whiskey. If you want anything to come from this you must leave, now.” Sebby looked up from his phone and smirked a little over to Jim. This was the best part of being with Jim; being the only one to see his rare relaxed features, a smile here and there and wild excitement flashing in his eyes.

 At that very second Jim was excited, he smile a rare and real smile and stood, running his hands over his dark blue (almost black) suite, rubbing away invisible dirt and rubbing out any creases caused by sitting down.

 “I suggest we leave now then.” Jim headed straight for the door, patted Sebby across his buttocks as he passed and began the walk down the hall, head held high and his face set in his blank ‘business’ mode. Sebby just followed on behind him, his gaze fixed to the perfect view as he kept at least three paces behind and Jim just smiled as he walked on, he knew without looking back where Sebby's eyes where focused.

***

The pub was quiet, almost empty but it still filled Jim’s nostrils with that damp, musky and old man’s sweat. He pulled a face in disgust and heard Sebby huff a little behind him; it may be one of his investments but the place just stank and it was running itself into the ground. Or well, it would have done already if Jim wasn’t using the place as a deport business.

 He headed straight to the bar, his posture stood tall and certain of himself, he knew the workers did not like Woking under a kid, but still, he had so much to use against them that it seemed to be their only option.

 “Mr Watson.” Jim stated to the bar-man. His tone held no room for confusion and he really did just want to get out of there as soon as possible. The bar-man nodded off to a man in the darkest corner, so out of the way of everyone else that he looked like a pitiful loner and Jim really hated those types of drunks. With a gentle huff, he made his way over to where the oaf of a man was sat, Sebby following behind and sat down beside him.

 “Mr Watson I assume,” Jim started and the old drunk looked up. His eyes were blood shot, his shoulders drooped down and his body sagged against the chair. He already looked like a man defeated and it seemed to Jim that he wouldn’t need to do much to get him on his side for his next move in distractions.  

“Wha’ you wan’ –hic- wit’ me?” This man couldn’t even fully focus his attention on Jim but at least he wasn’t so over his limit that he would have passed out, even if the slurred language was annoying for Jim.

 “We have a deal to make with you,” Jim started, looking Mr Watson over once more, putting on his best sweet boy smile. Sebby was heard scoffing beside him and Jim had to give him a sharp nudge to try and at least shut that boy up.

  “Bu’ you jus’  kids. Wha’ deal –hic- can you make wit’ me?” Mr Watson swayed then, finishing off his whiskey and holding up his glass towards the bar. Jim looked over and shook his head, no drink would come to Mr Watson. Mr Watson noticed of course and turned his head back to both Jim and Sebby, his mouth hanging open slightly as his mind worked on the memories of whispers he heard in this place. “Moriart –hic- eee?” His head tilted and Jim nodded, Sebby just grinned. “Wha’ you wan’?”

 Jim did love how this man became his pet suddenly and easily, well after he worked out his name at least, but some puppets can be so slow at times. He gave Sebby a nudge. “My right man here will explain everything, and do not worry; I will make it worth your while. But first, you must remain a little sober at least. It is important for the information we have for you.”

 Jim sat back and folded his arms as Sebby leaned forward, placing down a school file on the table between them and watched as Mr Watson’s eyes went slightly darker when he noticed the name on the front of the file.

 “We know what happened sir and we are truly sorry and we can help you now.” Sebby pushed the file forward and watched as the drunken idiot picked it up. Still, Sebby was leaning towards him as he spoke to the oaf; “As you can see we have our research and we believe in revenge. We can help you Mr Watson and all you need to do is ….”

***

The boys left the pub and basked in the sun and fresh air. Jim was as smug as he could ever be with the final result of that meeting and he even linked his Sebby’s arm as they walked. He was in a good mood.

 “Sebby, let’s celebrate a deal well done.” He grinned over to his man and leaned in, pecking his lips just so, he knew Sebby cannot say no to Jim.

 “Oh. Hell. Yes.” He hissed against Jim’s lips and he couldn’t help but smirk lightly. The final game can at last begin now that the distractions where well in place and little brother would be off his back and then he could strike big brother where it hurts. The school.

Chapter Text

 Mycroft sat behind his desk, looking through some papers he had Mary gether for him. He wanted to have a look through the so called 'evidence' she had gathered about the deceased couple. To anyone else it looked spot on and fool proof, it seemed ligit and real but considering Mary's new friends, Mycroft understood that there is something behind this. Some he must point out to be able to prove it to the board. He sighed softly as he shuffled the papers, not being able to see much evidence that the couple was actually murdered and did not commit suicide. There is only one more thing he can do and he knows he would never live it down.

 He sighs once more and leaves the papers to fall back to the desk, a couple floating towards the edge but never falling off. He picks his mobile out of his pocket and fires off a quick text, just afew words but enough to get the attention and leg work he needs from his younger brother.

Possible murder on campass

Need you too take a look, it may

just interest you. You have till

the school re-opens on Thursday - MH

He puts his phone down on the desk and rubs his hands across his face gently just as the door opens and the 'she-devil' enters with her wicked grin.

"Mycroft, Gregory is here to see you." She steps forward to let the man in question in, he doesn't look too happy about being led in by a flirtacious bitch. That much was evident in his eyes and posture. Mycroft smiles back politely and nods, saying nothing to the woman as she winks and leaves, closing the door behind her.

 Once she's gone, his Greg instantly relaxes slightly and moves forward towards him.

 "Why do you insist on keeping her. Isn't it obvious that she wants you? or more so obvious that I don't like it?" Greg's tone is tired and slightly jealious as he moves behind Mycroft and wraps his arms losely around his shoulders. "I don't understand it Myk. Why would you keep such a woman on and didn't you mention something about her hanging around with the wrong crowed?"

 Mycroft leaned back into Greg's grip, his hands moving to rest against his arms. "Please understand Gregory, she is a valuable assest and since she's busy working around me and my own work, she cannot provide too much information to her friends. Also, the only information they get is faulse and I begin to build up evidence of workings against this school." He turns his head to face Greg, watching his face change to confusion more than aggitation. He doesn't really understand but it is perfect. The only act of attack, is the false act of stupidity.

 "I don't get it Myk, she could easily get information else where and realise what you are doing. She's a manipulative and seductive swine. You are better off keeping her away from your notes, if tehy get a hold of them, who knows what they could use against you and this school."

 At that moment, Mycroft's phone buzzes a text alert and Greg shifts and moves away a little. Instead of leaving right away he turn and presses a kiss to Mycroft's temple. "You are a smart man, do not let that trip you up and make you do stupid things. I don't care what happens to the school to be honest, i care what they get on you." With that he turns to leave. They only really have time for quick talks and even quicker visits, Mycroft has a lot of work to get on with when protecting teh school and Gregory has classes as well as hallway patrol. Even though most of the school is back at home for the few days, Gregory still needs to ensure that the students left behind are staying out of trouble. Especially since the couple's deaths.

 Mycroft waits until the door has closed before looking at his phone and frowning deeply as he reads his brothers words. This is not a good day to be a couple on campass, he thinks. This is going to be one hell of a term; if the school remains for that long. He re-reads teh words and closes teh text before diling a number.

"There's another one, behind the gym. Miss Irene and Miss Kate have been found, hand in hand on the grass. My brother is already there on chaos control. He may need you my dear Greg." Mycroft hangs up and begins the rest of the calls for the day, at least he can hide behind his desk while his brother and John do what needs to be done.  

Chapter Text

The body of Irene and Kate are placed just as the first couple was, holding hands and lying in grass for everyone to see. the only difference here is that these two must have been through some serious pain if the marks across their exposed arms and legs is anything to go by, as well as a whip lying between the two. Sherlock sweeps around the scene quickly, ignoring the soft chatter of a few students that have begun to circle around and Greg's insistant nagging that he huirries up. the only thing that he manages to process as well as the data giving by the bodies, is John, watching him with arms folded and a frown on his face.

"John. Come here and tell me what you see." Sherlock orders without looking up from his kneeling position beside Kate, eyes flicking over her face quickly. He looks up when he feels John kneel down beside him with a sigh and he waits for John to begin.

John groans softly, his leg giving him sharp pains as he bends down, dropping his cane to the floor. "I tell you what I see Sherlock." He hisses in a gentle whisper. "Two dead girls, both with a slight trace of vomit on their lips and chin, looks like they choked on it. Possibly the same as the first couple, but what I don't see Sherlock, is why we are even here. We shouldn't be here, we're contaminating the scene. Let the police work this out, that's their job. Plus, going by the note that kate has in her hand, it is obviously a suicide."

Sherlock rolls his eyes as he listens before suddenly looking at John now, a flash of admerition flickers over his face before he manages to hide it. He sees John giving the two bodies another sweep with his eyes, carefully, before slowly standing up and grabbing his cane. Sherlock watches him still, and sees John raise an eyebrow. "I didn't notice a note, how did you ... No -" He holds up a hand to stop John from answering and movs that hand round to pluck out the scrumpled note and pocketing it just as Greg is showing an officer over to the scene. "Ah, yes. Perfect timing officer. These two young women where murdered, which is obvious if you look at the facts ...-" Sherlock is about to continue before the officer huffs and interupts:

"You are not working with the force, you are just a kid and should not be here. This is the second suicide on campassand don't you worry yourself and scare your friends." The officer folds his arms and it is clear to anyone watching that both the officer and Sherlock take an instant dislike to one another.

"Excuse me but it is obviously a murder. These two would not do this in order to be together and all that sentiment. Not one bothered about sentiment to be exact. they were smart and possibly onto something and must have obviously been excluded from the picture before they could find proof." Sherlock stood tall, towering over the officer, who just glared right back at him, not being intimidated at all.

 "Listen, kid. You have no proof of this obscene idea and seeing how they are clearly linked to the first couple, who self adminerstrated the poison, then it can be assumed that these are sucides also. We will be looking into their emails and such to double check that assumption. Now .. If you do not mind, I would like to allow my team to work."

 Sherlock huffed and stormed away, leaving John standing there, mouth open and watching with interest before hurrying off after Sherlock.

 "Wait! Stop!" John managed to catch up and grab Sherlock's sleeve to stop him. "Now explain why you think these are murders and not suicides."

 Sherlock frowned and gave John an eye roll. "It's obvious. Apart from the fact that I know Irene and Kate well enough to know that they woudl not do something so pathetic as this, I also managed to observe. Any idiot could see that there was two sets of footprints and two sets of drag marks leading towards the scene. It is clear to anyone who has been in the medical profession long enough that the bodies where placed like that after they died. Dead people cannot move John. So what other explanation is there other than murder?"

 "I saw no marks in the grass Sherlock." John folded his arms across his chest but Sherlock still saw the glimmer of awe in his eyes. Something that always gets to Sherlock, making his stomach flip. Which is impossible because a stomach cannot flip.

"There is evidence that someone tried to clear them up. They either did a bad job of it because I noticed it, or they did a smart job of it and wanted me to notice." Sherlock looked over the John's left shoulder, frowning softly. "Why would they begin this? I need proof." And again he turned and rushed off, leaving John behind to follow.

***

John stared and watched Sherlock's back for a second before moving to follow, his mind whirring with thoughts and images of people being tortured with their own equipment and this only stirred more questions.

Why were these two hurt and Molly and Dimmock were not obviously hurt? His thoughts provided. Was it because they liked that sort of thing? did they like that sort of thing? What is going on in this school?

He was about to process these questions aloud when he managed to catch up to Sherlock but his text tone stole his attention. There was only one person who would text him now and that would be Sherlock, but obviously it wasn't as Sherlcok was now making his way towards the Barts section of the school. John stopped just so he could take out his phone and open the message. What he saw there made his face pale and his jaw drop. He didn't notice Sherlock as he turned towards him, he didn't realise he made a loud cry and he didn't notice Sherlock rush to his side to look over his shoulder at the text that has caused John so much agony.

What goes around

Comes around.

You stole my wife

You stole my princess

and it's all your fault son.

You left them to die, and now

you will know the pain I feel.

See you soon son.

Chapter Text

Jim is grinning like an idiot, listening to his Sebby ramble on about the progress of both the diversion and the seperation. But there's a point in Sebby's speech that has Jim instantly frowning.

 "... They are both together and working hard Jim. They're getting to close and I think it's time to send over Mary as well as pushing forward with Mr Watson." Sebby pauses, daring to glance at the younger male and swallows hard. There's nothing much that frightens Sebby except for that glint in Jim's eyes. The murderous rage hidden behind a psychotic smile.

 "The I suggest you call for Mary then, I will not be beaten on this overs oe pathetic excuse for a Holmes!" The end of his sentence is bellowed loudly, echoing through the trees of the woods. Jim's fists are tightly curled by his sides and he is panting. He takes a little over a second to compose himself and moves to sit against a log, hands resting beneath his chin and his face blank but his eyes glaze over. Jim is lost to his thoughts and Sebby's left to summon their minx.

 The idea causes him to to shiver only slightly, he hates the posh bitch and her flirtacious mannor. It won't work on him or Jim but it never stops her and it gets annoyingly revolting. with a sigh he sends off the text and waits just to the side of Jim and remains standing.

 Jim is still slipping into his thoughts when Mary does eventually turn up, skirt just above her knees, flat and confortable shoes and a tight white shirt, the first two buttons left lose. It is obvious she's been in a meeting and also obvious thats she has tried to win over the board the only way she knows how but what is not obvious (well, to Sebby) is whether she was successful.

 "I take it Mycroft has them so far around his podgy little finger that you couldn't even manage to get one of them to us." Jim stated not questioned, and he looked up and noticed how still Mary had become. "No worries, we have something of more importance for you." He turned around to face his Sebby. "If you could explain to her small mind on what it is she must do, I need to think." With that Jim returned to his 'thinking' postion and blocked the two of them out.

 "Mary. It is important that you speak to a Mr Watson." Sebby began. "He must remain only slightly sobar in order to his part of the bargin and you must at least have one or two people on the board on Jim's side. Use manipulation techniques if you must. Mr Watson must be allowed into the grounds off the records and he must have access to his son's room and belongings. As well as making sure evidence is in place for the suicides. Jim does not need anything being traced back to him. These tasks falls to you and I don't need to remind you what would happen if you fail, do I?" Sebby stopped and folded his arms, giving Mary a hard and knowing look.

 Mary nodded and left without a word, she knows her place and she has not got a death wish in which she would mistake her place, she's not that stupid. There's a lot of work to be done, and she will cpmplete it. She does in fact like the way she looks, she doesn't want to end up looking like Irene did or worse.

***

Sherlock was pacing again and it was getting on John's nerves. Granted that he was effectivly keeping John busy so that his mind didn't wounder over to the text as much as it would if John was alone, but it was still making him dizzy and distracted him from his search. He heaved a sigh and rubed his hands over his face, moving to look at Sherlock.

 "Would you stop already!?" His tone was annoyed and underlined with slight anxiety, which he hoped Sherlock would not pick up on. But Sherlock's .. Well, Sherlock and he picks up on anything.

"You must understand John, the police will not do anything without proof and this helps me think!" But he does stop pacing and stares at his notes on the wall.

 There are personal notes on all the victims especially Kate and Irene. Jihn suspects he knew them better than the rest and he understands their daily goings on better than the first couple.

 "I understand Sherlock. I'm not that stupid." He sighed and stood beside Sherlock. Sitting on his bed and staring at the lap-top screen was really causing his leg some discomfort and his shoulder was stiff. John looked over Sherlock's notes taped to teh wall and limped a little closer and frowned. "Irene and Kate liked it rough I see." He commented, his ears turning a little pink at the thought. "Molly and Dimmock looked like a good couple, quiet and ..." John stopped and turned to Sherlock, an eyebrow raised. "Do you think they've been killed depending on what they like?" John thinks it's stupid but that's what he sees when he stares at the notes on the wall.

 Sherlock looks over at John, then to the wall and back to John, stepping closer as he does. John can feel his heart hammering a bit, obviously Sherlock's about to call him an idiot and speak at a hundren mile an hour and explain exactly why John is so wrong.

 what he does not expect is Sherlock's cry of excitement, Sherlock's hands to his shoulders and then Sherlock's lips locked to his. It only lasted a second and it was hard, brusing and quite nice if John was honest to himself. "You. Just .. That is perfect John!" Sherlock is now back to rumaging through something or other, muttering away to himself, leaving John staring at nothing, completely dumbstruck, his right hand lifted up and his fingers brushed against his lips lightly. He could still feel the crushing force that was Sherlock, his lips tingled and he couldn't speak or even move.

 "John!" Sherlock was yelling and John turned towards him slowly.

"You ... You ... Kissed .." John was still utterly dumtruck. He couldn't quite believe it.

 Sherlock gave a loud sigh and moved to grab John by his arms. "Yes I kissed you and we can do that again. But right now we must find Mycroft. I have some evidence that these were attacks and not suicides." He smiled then, grabbing John by his hand and dragging him along, John forgot his cane but that was no matter. His brain was too focused on Sherlock's lips and his promise of more. "Think John. Who can walk around campass without being noticed, who hunts in the middle of a school?"

 John has no idea, Sherlock has a theory but they don't have enough evidence yet. which is why they are heading towards Mycroft's office. They need help.

***

"You're certain My?" Greg was asking while sitting on the couch in Mycroft's office, piles of paper scattered around him. "This is circumstantial at best, you must know that of course, it won't hold in court, let alone with the board members. She could rip all this to shreds in seconds if she's as smart as you are giving her credit for."

 Mycroft sighs and looks over to Greg. He knows his Greg is wanting to work with the police, he's even volunteering for them now and on this case as well. It is something that Mycroft could use to his advantage but then again, Greg is right. "Yes. She could rip to shreds but it is all we have so far. She's trying to get information on the bored and to see if she can use it against them for her own reason, or that for Moriarty. The bored will not understand or acknowledge the young boy's reputation without proof and we have some of that here." Mycroft groaned softly and placed his head in his hands. He really did detest this part of the work. "It looks like they are either trying to get the school closed or trying to get the school under Moriarty's power. Either way, these grounds could hold useful for anyone starting out on a criminal path. It is well hidden and can be well guarded. But to get his way he needs me and my younger brother ..." He dare not finish that. He couldn't.

 He didn't realise when Greg moved but he did feel his lover's arms around him and his lips against his temple. "Nothing will happen to Sherlock. Or to you. We will fix this and we will destroy whatever web tyhis kid Moriarty is trying to wrap around here." Greg smiles and places his lips gently against Mycroft's just as the door bangs open and Sherlock announces himself, John being dragged behind him with no cane.

 "Mycroft. I have found evidence that these suicides are killings. They take the poison themselves, but how or who gets them to do it is not in my reach yet and we need your help. I need access to every studen and professor who walks the school grounds and I need their past records. Everything." Finally Sherlock stops for breath and Greg watches the connection between the two brothers. Communicating with facial expressions now. Greg will never get used to them being in the same room for very long.

 He gives a nod to John and is slightly grateful that he is not the only one stuck in the middle of teh two Holmes.

 "Anything you need Sherlock, you shall have. I suggest you find this out soon, the school is in more trouble than just these killings." Greg spots a look between the two brothers and watches as Sherlock matches out with John being dragged behind. Greg sighs softly and moves away from Mycroft in  order to look through the notes and files he left in order to hug him. 'This is going to be a long week' Greg thinks to himself, and he actually likes the work but not the reasons behind such paper work. Never the reasons.

Chapter Text

 Sitting on the desk, legs crossed just so, that enough flesh is shown on the legs to make the men flush slightky beneath their collars; Mary couldn't help but give a small smile of satisfaction. She knows she can use her body for a number of things, she's not exactly unattractice for her age; she is quite mature in that aspect and her intelligence is far above average but not enough to put the Holmes's to shame, which is; in itself, a shame.

 She keeps eye contact with the three men in the room with her, running perfectly manicured nails across the files in fornt of her. "As you can see gentlemen, there is enough here to have all done for fraud as well as adultery charges. and on minors in the school as well." she smirked a little while giving them disapproving 'tutting' noises. The men around her stiffened, the one to her right went suddenly pale and the other to her left just groaned. the one in the middle however looked calm and collected, but she could see the small twitches in his face that gave away his discomfort. "It would be in your best interest to take the offer a Mr Moriarty is offering you and take his orders as though it will be your last. Believe me, if you fail, then you would be wishing for your lives to end." She gave them a small smile, a one preserved to comfort another but in this situation, it only made the threat all the more real.

 "What would he have us do Miss Morstan?" The one in the middle asked. His voice sounded so calm despite the situation and his collegues beside him quivered and shook, the one on the left looked like he was going to faint at any given moment. This middle man would be a great ascet to Moriarty's growing network.

 "Well, Mr Knight, it is so simple." Mary slid down from the desk and moved to pull out one more folder from her school bag. This one seemed thicker than all the others and was stamped with bright red, capital letters, indicating its importance. "In this folder is enough evidence against Mr Mycroft Holmes and his family to have their ties severed with the school and you all know what that means then don't you?" She asked, her one implying that she was talking to little children and not three grown men.

 "The school would be left to its own income, and even that is not enough to keep it running." The middle man, Mr Knight, seemed to be the spokes person of the group and the way he seemed so calm in a stressful situation was what made Mary hand the folder to him. "I'm assuming that these are of course, faulsified and in that aspect I do hope for your life's sake Miss Morstan, that you have left no trail for the Holmes's to follow."

Mary just stared him down, her eyes twitching ever so slightly, now ignoring the other two quivering men. "Do not let that tongue get you into trouble Mr Knight, or do I need to remind you that your son; Henry was it? .." She paused briefly as if she had trailed off in thought. "... That your son is as sane as parinoid schizophrenic ... No hang on. He is a paranoid schizo right?" She gave the man no room to answer, but instead continued. "You three are to convince the rest of the school's bored of the Holmes's family betrayal and to ensure that the school be turned towards the Moriarty's instead. I do not have to repeat the threats again, that's just tedious and I do hate it when men always look at the tits and never listen." With that she left, firing of a quick text as she walked.

Wheels keep on turning,

Proud Mary is burning. x - MM

***

The past to days had been too long for Greg's liking. There had been no more reports on missing or dead couples around campuss which was a delight in itself, but the school still remained shut. It was now Wednesday and still Greg had no hopes of proving the information giving by Mary was fake. He was tired, he was restless and he even snapped at Mycroft a couple of times. Which he would appologise for but not right now. He needed the scilence as he flickered through the so called text, emails and chatting information that had been sent between Molly and Dimmock. Proving that this was faulse would be more evidence that Mary was not who she seemed and that she was indeed setting about trying to get the school closed.

 They already had circumstantial evidence; emails exchanged to an untracable email address, print out of coded text messages (hacked of course by Mycroft) as well as small snippets of recorded conversations from her mobile. She may be smart enough to fool some people, but Mycroft was sure to have his way at hacking into people's  personal lives. That was one thing Greg did enjoy about Mycroft, as strange as it sounded, but he did and that was that. people may call him crazy but it was this part of Mycroft that had won Greg's heart. Greg himself was a little frustrated at first when he realised that Mycroft was tailing his emails, recording his calls and even tracking his calls, just so that he could be sure that he could eventually pluck up the courage to ask Greg out without feeling the notion of being shot down or so to speak. Greg found it cute and sweet that Mycroft went through all that trouble just to see if his lust was returned, and obviously it was because when Greg found out he had shouted at Mycroft before attacking his lips. And here they are, working in silence while they tried to get the final bit of solid evidence for Mycroft's so called contact in the Government, to ensure Mary's arrest and instant imprisonment. even if they could not find a trace of Moriarty's invovlment, they could at least try and cut the ties of his manipulator and seduction ice queen.

Greg stared at the papers in his hands, looking at the texts that went between Molly and Dimmock before noticing something. It was small, it could have been easily overlooked that Greg tripple checked, smiled and gave a small whoop of joy as he looked up to Mycroft.

 "This is something, this is deffinatly something that would show her tampering." Greg had shot up before he gave Mycroft a chance and he thrusted the paper infront of him. Mycroft glanced at it and gave Greg a confused look. Greg groaned softly. "Look at the third text down, the one Molly sent to Dimmock. What does it say?"

 "It says; I feel like a dead body. No one understands but you. I feel the end of my life is already here." Mycroft read and loojked up. Greg could see that Mycroft was still not getting it. He sighed.

 "When was it sent? Exact details as it says in the print out." Greg was buzzing. Excited that he spotted something Mycroft did not.

"29th febuary this year at 3:33 in the afternoon. What of i...." Mycroft stopped and looked up, a grin flittered across his face sudenly. "There was no leap year this year. It was last year. This, among what we have already gathered so far is enough to get my contact interested. But we still have to wait for the solid piece to fall into place."

 Greg watched the look flash across Mycroft's face. It was that 'I have a plan and I'm sorry I did not involve you but it is just so perfect that you will love it' look and so Greg had waited. A few moments later there was a hastly knock on the door and a man rushed in holding a thick file. The man Greg knew as Mr Knight, the father of a Henry Knight who Greg only knew in passing.

 "Is my son still retrieving the best help there is to offer Mr Holmes." Mr Knight blirted out, his face pale and his body was shaking. Greg watched Mycroft nodded and Mr Knight placed a folder down on the table as well as a small wire. "Then everything you need is there. The file handed to me by Mary herself as well as her mentioning a name and the plan. You have them sir, both of them. Your position in the .." Before he could finish, before Greg could even blink, the gun shot filled the room, My Knight drooped to the floor and Greg rushed to him while Mycroft ran to the broken window, Just in time to see a much older man running away. There was not enough time to catch him but he catalogued his posture all the same and tehn went to help Greg.

 Greg shook his head, his face had paled slightly, "Crack shot, through the head. He was dead before hitting the floor. They must have known his betrayal."

greg looked at Mycroft and his breath caught by what he saw in that face, a face that never showed panic, never let emotion cross it if he could help it, was now looking down at the dead body with a look of pure dread. "I think we should get to Mary before Moriarty."

 With that, Mycroft stood, blanked his expression and went quickly to his phone. Whatever happened next was a blur to Greg, but seeing Mary shot through the heart and head was a sight he would never forget.

***

 To say that Jim was angry was an understatement. Sebby had never seen such a temper in the man before. He growled and threw things, he even slapped Sebby across the face once, when the news was heard. Mary had slipped up. His name was mentioned and now he needed to go underground. They both did. Sebastian's father was good at hiding people, especially since he was in the army and he had mentioned that to Jim. They could leave as soon as possible.

 This manged to calm Jim down and he saw his lover and his boss nod slowly. Together they both ran, each flying a text off of their phones.

From: Sebastian

To: Da

Pick up parcels ASAP.

Will be left with Uncle Sam - SM

From: Moriarty

To: JW Senior

Proud Mary needs shooting down.

Then revenge. Do not disapoint! - JM

***

John was angry, so angry that he didn't know if he would strangle Sherlock or punch the window. He needed to get out of there, needed to walk away. He couldn't listen to that insane trollip any longer. It had all started of easily enought. Well, not easily but calmly. They were both sat in their room, hunting through the folders on every student and every professor of the school. Sherlock had quickly mentioned to discard any of the professors that had went home along with most of the students when the school closed due to the tragic events. Although Sherlock didn't say it like that, that was the first thing that slightly irritated John. Sherlock was not showing any remorse or any form of sorrow for the lost lives of the young students.

 "Sherlock, they are not just bits of data! They were once human begings. People cared about them. People miss them!" John had protested, only to be shut down by Sherlock once more.

John growled softly but went back to work, reducing the hundreds of files to around seven students, including themselves and only two professors as well as the school board. Another thing that irritated John was that Sherlock came straight over and discared John's file along with his own, Mycroft's and Gregs; insisting that they were obviously not the killers and it was stupid of John to even think that they should have remained in the same file as the possible suspects. Sherlock then discarded Moriarty's file, Moran's file and Mary's file; insisting taht tehy each had their specfic jobs and Moriarty would not be the one to get his hands dirty. He would ensure that the rest of his clan were untracable about this and plus Mycroft was working on that part already.

 "Really John. I had hoped you were not the same, boring and normal idiot as the rest of them!" Sherlock had snapped and John stood, shaking a little.

 "Sherlock!" John yelled back. "You think that just because you can piece together the smallest bit of detail and create a story, that you are special and perfect!" John hissed the last words, his voice so low that it was dangerous. His hands held into fists by his sides to prevent himself from lunging at Sherlock. "I'm not an idiot!!" John's voice was now an almightly yell, his face turning red with anger, even more so by the confused look on Sherlock's face as he held the folder of one of the professors; namely the head professor of the school John noticed slightly.

 "I never meant .." Sherlock tried but John laughed bitterly.

 "Oh, you mean boring and normal idiot in a nice way?" John asked, his voice sickingly sweet that the venom behind the words could not go unitced. "I'll let you work on this on your own!! I need a fucking walk before I end up strangling you with your own damn, pissing scalf!!" John yelled and stormed out without his coat. He ignored Sherlock's cry of his name, his running feet as he proclaimed he'd solved it and even ignored his pleas to join him. John just continued to walk, he didn't care where and he hadn't noticed how long he was gone.

 It was a a while before John stopped as a shadow of a man slightly ahead of him near the trees made his heart hammer loudly and every instinct tole him to run. But he was paralised by a fear he didn't know he had of the man striding towards him. or was it because of the gun raised and pointed directly towards him?

 "Hello son." His father said with an eery calm, his face fixed in a snarl. But that's not what John's mind focused on right now.

"You're sober." John stated, hating himself for the fact that his voice shook dreadfully and his body shivered with a small fear. His father was sobar and he still blamed John for everything.

Chapter Text

"You're sober." John stated, hating himself for the fact that his voice shook dreadfully and his body shivered with a small fear. His father was sobar and he still blamed John for everything.

"Surprised son?" His father smirked, tilted his head and John instinctly stepped backwards. "You let a man into MY house and you let him take MY family while you hid in a fucking cupboard!" John could see that his father's hand was shaking and his finger was tense against the trigger. John just listened and swallowed hard, knowing that his father was telling the truth. It was his fault, of course it was. No matter what Sherlock said, He let his mother and his sister get shot and all he got was a wounded shoulder and a bad fucking leg. What price was that for not defending his family. He deserved this. He knew he did. He didn't need his father to tell him that. "What kind of son cannot defend his family!"

 John couldn't help it. He felt so guilty that his legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees and dropped his head, his cheeks soaked with fresh tears. Tears of pain, and guilt; tears of loss and sadness. "I .. I'm sorry ... I .." John wasn't given the chance to finish, his father yelled over the top of him.

 "You don't get to be sorry!!. You should have died to protect them!! I know I would have done!! You are nothing but a whimp!! A poor excuse for a human being!! A Rat!!" John didn't need to look up to see that violent tremors of an angry man, he could sence it. Anger was flooding the air around them. It was so thick that it almost choked him. what did surprise him was the sharp intake of a breath that his father took to control himself. "Stand up boy!" And John did. He couldn't help but obey this man; the man who had mentally tortured him, blamed him and guilt tripped him at almost every turn in his life and John could not blame him. "We are going for a drive. A time to open old wounds and then you can see what it's like to bleed." His father's voice was calmer now, so calm it terrified him and he couldn't do anything but nod.

When his father lowered teh gun slightly and motioned John to follow him, he did without a pause. He was walking to his grieve, walking towards his mother and his sister to retrieve judgement from them for causing their death and the one person on his mind was Sherlock. He just couldn't help but feel slightly glad and happy that the clever boy he shared a room with and had feelings for would still be alive. At least that was one death he wouldn't cause.

John hadn't realised it but he was in the school's car-park and beside an old care. He couldn't help but risk a glance up towards his father when the lock went on the car. Instinct told him to open it as his father slid round the car to stand behind John. He thought that his father was making sure he would get into the car without running (Like that was an option. He didn't want to run from his mistakes anymore), but the defening noise of a gunshot ripped the air, a white hot pain filled his shoulder as he slumped forward into the car at an awkward angle. He didn't realsie the scream that filled his ears was a one of his own and he felt numb as his father shut the door of the car.

 John was panting and sweating now, moving to sit properly and kept his eyes closed. He raised his right hand over his shoulder and noticed it was a through and through wound. If he didn't get medical help soon he would bleed to death. He kept his eyes closed and gritted his teeth against the pain, trying to control his breathing but it was of no use.

 "You deserve this. You deserve to bleed as I have." His father mumbled beside him as he turned on the engine. "Oh, look. An audience." His father chuckled and John managed to catch sight of Sherlock, running at full speed towards the car, his face as pale as he was sure his own was. He raised a hand to the window, mouthed 'I'm sorry' and watched while his father drove him further away from help and closer to death's door. His father's laugh still rining in his ears, the car was travelling way to fast along the roads. John was sure he heard another loud screeching noice but he couldn't be certain. He just relaxed, let the squashed feeling take control and allowed the darkness to swallow him whole.

***

Sherlock watched as John stormed out. He tried to call after him, explain something, anythng to make him come back. But it dodn't work and he frowled, grabbed his phone and phoned for Mycroft. Luckily his older brother answered on the third ring;

"It was the head Professor. Obviously being paid for the more deaths he caused. He chose couples because it was ensured that he got double his pay. Mary covered for him and he tehy where being employed my Moriarty and Moran. MorMor for short." Sherlock stopped and listened to his brother's long sigh. Something's happened. "What is it?" he asked shaprply.

 "We have evidence against Mary and her part in everything as well as a mention of Moriarty and his plan." He paused, Sherlock waited. There was more and he knew his brother loved to be dramtaic. After a moment, Mycroft continued; "Mary was found shot twice, my confident was shot in my office. I still have the evidence but both Moran and Moriarty have vanished. And Sherlock .." Mycroft now turned urgent. Sherlock heard a few tappings here and there and he heard a shar intake of a breath. "Why is John's father taking John home? What have you .." But both the Holmes brother's stopped breathing. Sherlock because John was in danger and Mycroft because he saw teh danger now.

 Sherlock dropped his phone and ran. He had never ran so fast in his life and he just managed to catch a sight of John, in a car, with his father and covered in blood. That didn't stop him, he continued running, partially aware of rushed feet behind him. He didn't care, his sight was on John.

As the care pulled towards the gate, there was a blare of a horn and a lorry breaking, but it was too late. It had hit the car and Sherlock felt arms wrap around him as he watched the car being dragged along the road. The lorry hitting it on the driver's side, the motion causing the car to roll along the road.

 The lorry was already breaking so the car didn't roll to far. Sherlock was yelling, struggling in strong arms, he was yelling for John, his eyes wide as he stared at the devistation before him.

"Please, please God. Let him live." Sherlock thought over and over, little did he realise he was actually muttering the words out loud as he struggled.

Chapter Text

Mycroft was typing his details into the office computer, ready to bring up the school's CCTV footage of the day. He knew Greg was beside him without even looking at that damn tapping of the Detective's foot was annoying now. They had said they needed CCTV proof of Mary interacting with Moran and Moriarty before they do anything about it. The head Professor was also there, looking slightly uneasy. Mycrift knew why but he would not risk that without Sherlock's evidence. Surely he couldn't be so slow.

 That was when his mobile rang and he listened to Sherlock's ramblings while indicating for an officer to take the head professor away. "We have evidence against Mary and her part in everything as well as a mention of Moriarty and his plan." Mycroft was saying just as his computor was loading up the CCTV. "Mary was found shot twice, my confident was shot in my office. I still have the evidence but both Moran and Moriarty have vanished. And Sherlock .." He was pausing over the screen on his monitor. A one showing John heading towards his father's car. Has Sherlock done something again? Driven another student away so far that he has resorted to returning to his drunken father? "Why is John's father taking John home? What have you .."

 "Mycroft!" Greg hissed interupting him. Mycroft saw Greg point to the screen at the exact moment John slumped against the car. There was no time. They all ran out, the police that were already there were radioing for help and backup. Mycroft had never ran so fast before in his life. It was not because John was injured, but because he was Sherlock's friend. His only friend and he knew Sherlock. Whoever tried to take away Sherlock's things always got hurt by him. Mycroft did not want his brother to do something stupid while a man had a god damn gun. That was all. Well. Maybe he was a little concerned for John's safety. He was the only one who can manage to keep Sherlock tolerable, even after such a short time that John had known his younger brother. there was something there between them, any idiot can see that. Which makes both Sherlock and John an idiot.

 Mycroft ran down the steps and towards his brother, hearing screeching of tires before seeing anything. He acted quickly, grabbing his younger brother's waist and pulling him back as the car rolled over in front of them. Mycroft still had to keep his brother back and restrained, just incase he tried to get there before the medics and risk John further. He tried to mumble some calm words into Sherlock's ear, but even as Sherlock calmed down, it was clear that he wasn't listening. His eyes were unblinkingly focused upon the wreck ahead, not really seeing the damage and muttering quietly; "Please God. Let him live."

***

Greg has never seen such devistation before in his life. It wasn't just the accident that had him frozen to spot, it was the devistation of Sherlock Holmes and his older brother. Both looked so lost; Sherlock because he witnessed his friend being trampled over by a fucking truck and Mycroft probably because he had no idea what to do in this situation. Greg shook himself after a moment and marched upto the boys. He heard mumblings but he didn't focus on that right now, what he intended to do was damage control.

 "Right. Move back, come on you two. The emergancy services will be here in a moment." Greg moved and reached for Sherlock, looked Mycroft in the eye and basically pleaded for him to help right now. When they both began moving Sherlock back, he was histerical once more. It took them both to try and calm him and still they couldn't do that. Greg tried to focus on calming Sherlock and not listening to his own heart ripping apart at Sherlock's desperate pleas for John and his safety. He tried to ignore Sherlock's damp cheeks and his venemous spitting at the people around him.

 It was a delight when the emergancy services did turn up; ambulances, fire fighters, more police and even a helicopter was starting to land on the field. Greg looked to Mycroft, silently asked him to trust him before rushing off towards a medic and left Mycroft behind with a struggling, broken and histerical Sherlock. The worst kind.

 "Look, can someone please help my friend over their. He's in bits." Greg begged a medic, coming out of the ambulance. "He needs sedating or something." But the Medic shrugged him off, saying they had to get to the people in the vehicals. Greg couldn't help it, he was worried for three people here and it was not good for his stress. "MY FRIEND HAS JUST WITNESSED HIS BEST FRIEND AND THE ONLY PERSON IMPORTANT TO HIM IN HIS OWN MIND, SHOT AND THEN TRAMPLED BY A FUCKING TRUCK, AND NOT ONE OF YOU WILL GO OVER THERE AND HELP HIM FOR SHOCK!!? WHAT TYPE OF MEDICS ARE YOU!!?"

 It was astonishing at how scilent everything went after his outburst. It even shocked Greg himself but he didn't let that show on his face. he was panting heavily, his face red with anger and his hands pointing towards the medics. "Someone get over there, now!" He ended in a lower, more dangerous tone and only sherlock's pleas and yells could be heard in the space. A young medic nodded and rushed to an ambulence and then ran for Sherlock with a bag in her hand. Greg took a calming breath and forced himself not to look at the wrecked car and decided to move onto the onlookers that have began flittering around the road.

 "There's nothing to see. Now get lost." He hissed at them all, glaring at them and they soon backed away, but remained close enough to see the drama unfold. He didn't care and as he turned he watched as Sherlock was carried by Mycroft into the back of an ambulance. He looked limp and calm but Greg knew he wasn't but at least he would be able to get some rest. He headed towards that ambulance now and looked into the back. He could hear the mumblings still, but Sherlock looked settled. At least a little bit.

 "They're taking him to the hospital, only to keep him sedated just until they can assess John." Mycroft didn't look up at Greg at all, but he was not surprised.

 "Go with him, My. I'll be on control here. Text me as soon as you hear anything at all." With that he shut the doors when he knew the nurses where already inside with them both and he rushed of back to the office. He must finish off every bit of paper work, answer every question that was passed to him and ignore the thoughts rushingthrough his head. Work, that was what got his mind of everything. Work and statements and then more work. He was sure someone said he would be a great copper at some point but he didn't care, he needed to work.

Chapter Text

The hospital was too white, too clean and full of idiotic staff that refused to allow Sherlock to leave his room. He didn't really care very much that his body was refusing him again and every time he stood his world spun violently and he had to sit down once more.

He had already left three doctors and two nurses in tears and four of them were male. He really wanted to get to John, and he hated hanging around for hours. It was already past six hours and they still refused to let him move or even give him any details on how his John was doing. Every time Sherlock became too much to handle, they sedated him, much to his annoyance.

After waking for the third time, he saw that Greg was by his bed, he had bitten his nails down to the skin and some had been bleeding. Mycroft was by the window, staring out into the hospital grounds. The silence and tension in the room made Sherlock sick and his face went pale.

"Where's John!?" He sat up right, ignoring another wave of vertigo and stared at the two people in his room. Greg startled and looked to the floor and Mycroft straightened. Something's happened and he waited.

"He need a life saving operation." It was Mycroft that spoke. "He's stable now but only just. His heart gave out on the operating table but they managed to revive him." Mycroft sighed and turned to face Sherlock. His face was a set mask but his eyes were serious. "He's comatose Sherlock. They don't know when or if he'll .."

"Don't!" Sherlock growled. Moving to stand calmly. "Show me. Now."

***

It has been three weeks and Sherlock has hardly left John's bed side. Greg managed to get him to eat something and Sherlock managed to move to use the loo. Only when it became desperate.

"Do you know he's gone." Sherlock was saying. His hand gripped John's tightly. "He can't hurt you now. And you'll stay with me. I'll keep you safe. Just wake up."

***

"Six weeks John. I can't do this without you. I can't breath without you. I can't sleep. I need you John. Wake up. Stop messing around and wake up!" Sherlock was getting desperate now. He hasn't been home. Sleeping in the chair, his hand held in John's and his eyes so dry from the tears he's shed over the last 6 weeks.

"The doctors said that if you're not awake in four weeks, you might not wake at all. But you won't leave me, will you? You'll stay with me? Please." He was begging but he didn't care. His head rested against the bed John occupied and he was crying again.

Sherlock didn't know how long it was but he knew the instant he felt John's hand tighten around his own, he felt John's body tighten and his breathing came in rapid breaths. Sherlock didn't wait any longer and he had plunged the call button and watched as nurses rushed in around John. He felt someone pull him out the room and he was once again in the hall way staring at John's door, feeling so numb and weak.

***

Time slipped by unnoticed and Sherlock couldn't tell when the nurses came out of John's room but he did recognise that his mother was here with Greg and Mycroft. They all looked up when the nurse came to them.

"He's awake but only just aware. He's been told about the accident and the death. But I must warn you, he is still confused and his speech is a little off." The nurse's voice was too calm for Sherlock's licking and he felt his mother tug at his hand as they all went into John's room.

"Sher'ock?" John was awake and he remembered him! It was this that drove Sherlock forward and placed his lips against John's in a desperate kiss.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again." Sherlock whispered when they broke apart and John nodded, his arms held weakly around Sherlock.

"Like you. Did always. My fault." John mumbled. His voice sounded so harsh from lack of use.

"I've always found you interesting and no, nothing's your fault. I've told you once, a boy cannot stand up against a bullet." Sherlock sat down and blocked out his mother and brother and friend. "He was taken in by guilt, drink and Moriarty. He needed someone else to blame so that no one knew he had held the gun."

John went stiff then and he had gasped. Everyone around them gave Sherlock a glare but Sherlock continued, his hand in John's, grounding him to the here and now. "The police had to do a ballistics report and the gun that tore your shoulder was the same one that attacked you and your family that night. You're safe now John, I promise you."

John never spoke, never cried but just lay there, staring at Sherlock and moved his gaze around the others in the room. It had gone so quiet now and Sherlock didn't want to ruin it.

"Not me. Him. Me safe? But no home .." John mumbled, his grip was iron tight in Sherlock's.

"You're safe son." It was Sherlock's mother and John stared at her. "You'll be coming home with us, once you're better."

Sherlock smiled at his mummy and she nodded back. Mycroft and Greg were quiet but Sherlock knew they just needed to make sure John was awake. Sherlock ignored them and went back to rambling with John, explaining how the school has closed due to the past events and may open next year. He rambled on about what they would do once John was home.

"I love you John. You're the only person I've ever cared for and ever wanted to make happy. I understand what it is now and I want you with me always." Sherlock finished, never once did he notice that they were alone now and John just nodded, closing his eyes to sleep.

Chapter Text

Three months! They wouldn't let him go anywhere for three fucking months!

John had taken physiotherapy, speech therapy, counselling and everything they threw his way but they wouldn't let him home for three fucking months!

Finally though, he was picked up in a limo and Sherlock was waiting for him as always. Sherlock was always with John, and if he wasn't aloud, Sherlock had manage to reveal the skeletons they had buried. It made those three months tolerable.

The limo drove both him and Sherlock just outside of London to a huge fucking manor and John had to pinch himself in case he was still in a damn coma. But no. This was real. He finally felt at home, with people who will watch over him, people who cared for him and people who didn't actually blame him. He still found it hard at times and the nights were the worst but he was getting better. Slowly.

**************************

Ten years later and John is running down an alleyway in London, chasing after Sherlock, praying he won't let the mad man with a knife hurt him. They chased after some criminal whom Sherlock believed to have data on Moriarty and Moran, and they needed that. They needed to understand why? Why now, after ten years were they back and digging up old memories?

John still had nightmares and now after texts, emails and dead people looking like his sister and mother, they became worse. He hated it. Hated knowing that someone out there knew about his past and was using it to tease and torment both him and Sherlock.

They chased the criminal but never managed to catch him. John had rested against a brick wall to catch his breath and waited for Sherlock to join him.

"We'll find them." He said once he caught his breath and turned to Sherlock. "And we'll end them." He promised.

* fin *