Just Haven't Met You Yet! Ch2

       “So your name is Sherlock?” The DI asked writing down some stuff in his pad of paper.

Sherlock just nodded at him. He had just come out of the ER with a broken nose and a few bruised ribs but not much else. Much to his dismay, even if Lestrade had not came and picked him up, he wouldn't have died there in that alley.

“Is there someone we can call for you..?” Lestrade questions hesitantly as if expecting him to say no.

“The British government would probably work,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

“W-what?” Lestrade asked confused. How did this man have any connection to the British government? He looked bloody homeless.

“My brother is the British government,” Sherlock clarified. “I'd give you a number to call him but he probably already knows that I'm here and should show up in 3... 2...” the door opened and Sherlock sighed. “Hello Mycroft.”

“M-Mycroft?” Greg said, grabbing his own arm.

“Yes,” Mycroft said walking across the floor to shake Lestrade's hand. “Thank you for finding my brother Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“M-Mycroft?” Greg said still in shock to see the man with the name he had searched for, for so long.

“That is my name detective. But if that is all you are capable of saying I might need to have you removed from your position,” Mycroft snapped.

“N-no. Uh...” Greg said rolling up his sleeve to reveal the other man's name written there in elegant script.

“If you thought I was unaware of that you must be pretty thick. As my brother has most likely made you aware, I hold a minor position in the British government. That being said I found you about 5 years ago.”

“And you didn't contact me?!”

“I found it.... unimportant.” Mycroft said simply turning back to Sherlock. “Now brother of mine, you will-”

Greg cut him off. “Now wait, you mean to tell me, you knew where I was all this time, and you didn't say one bloody thing to me?!”

“I thought I made that point clear. Now if you will excuse us.”

Sherlock made a noise of dissatisfaction at the bickering. Mycroft was throwing something away. God he was lucky, he had his soul mate right there! 'He knew about Greg and hadn't even said anything. That ungrateful son of a-'

“SHERLOCK! You are thinking out loud again. As I was saying, you will be admitted to a rehab center so you can get your life back together.”

“The only person in this room that needs to be put it in a rehab center is you for your cake addiction.” He snapped.

Greg was still just standing there staring at Mycroft in silent rage.  Mycroft just looked at Sherlock with a dull expression on his face.

“Childish whims won't save you now, brother. Athena and a car are waiting for you outside.”

The younger Holmes let out an exasperated sigh and pushed himself up off the chair, sulking out the door, leaving the elder Holmes and DI in an uncomfortable silence. Mycroft turned on his heels and headed out.

Greg cleared his throat stopping Mycroft mid stride. “Will you be coming round again?”

“That remains to be seen.” He said exiting the door slamming behind him.

***

Now in many rehab centers people don't get visitors unless it’s for family counseling. However the case was not the same for Sherlock. Mycroft had used his “minor position in the government” to make a few tweaks to their rules. Sherlock was to visit with his mother and father once a week for 30 minutes minimum. The only other visitor Sherlock got was Mycroft on the occasion to make sure he wasn't being too stubborn. So it came to a surprise when he had been informed the DI that had picked him up was here to see him.
Sherlock got up and put some clothes on, as he wasn't wearing much before, and went to go see Lestrade. He wouldn't let on but he was actually kind of excited to have a visitor other than his parents, even though Lestrade was only coming to talk about his brother.
When they were both sat in the conference room at a table with some coffee, Lestrade looked up and Sherlock for a moment before speaking. “Hello Sherlock. I wanted to talk to you about-”

“My brother, yes I know. You have been through a lot looking for him and you’re irritated that he has known about you but not contacted you. You are upset and lonely and have even gone as far as sleeping with one...two women? I also know you haven't been getting enough sleep, most likely because of the situation with my brother. I can tell by the wrinkles by your eyes, and the dark circles. I can also tell that your work has been rather uneventful, not too much excitement, and..... you’re looking for a promotion in the next month or so.”

Greg just stared at him for a moment. “What?”

Sherlock looked at him for a moment in confusion. “Would you like more?”

“No no, that's alright. I suppose I'll get right to the point then. You are correct about me wanting to talk to you about your brother.”

“Ugh dreadful alright let’s hear it then.”

“I was wondering if you thought he would ever come round. You know, it’s been about three months and I haven't heard a peep.”

“I wouldn't count on it. Mycroft keeps to himself. He is so lucky to know where you are, but he decides to be an ungrateful git. If I were in his position I would take you up in a heartbeat but unfortunately I'm stuck John-less. I thought he was the one you know, that bastard.” Sherlock began to think out loud mid-sentence causing him to spew information he didn’t necessarily want the DI to know.

However Lestrade was interested now, and wanted to know more, he had always been one for gossip. “Wait, you thought you found your... er... John?”

Sherlock sighed. He didn't want to talk about this with Lestrade. He didn't want to talk about this with anyone really. “Yes,” Sherlock relented. He didn't continue. He didn't want to give information that wasn't required of him.

“And... What happened..?” The DI inquired.

A strange feeling started to bubble up inside Sherlock and he just needed to get it out. He had never wanted to talk to anyone about any of this before. Of course he had told Mycroft and his parents, but for some reason he felt a compelling need to tell everything to the unfamiliar man sitting in front of him. “I- I was at university,” Sherlock started. “I had met a man. His name was John. Naturally, I had inquired as to if his mark had read my name. He told me it did but that he wasn't comfortable showing me. That he had been in some form of accident that made is mark unreadable and he didn't want me to be repulsed by it,” Sherlock took a shaky breath before continuing. “I should have known that something was strange then, but I had just wanted it to be My John that I believed him.”

Lestrade felt a compelling need to reach out and comfort the poor young man in front of him. He knew that Sherlock would never allow it though. So he sat quietly and listened intently as Sherlock continued. “It was a year and a half of my life I wasted with him. He was a bloody liar!” Sherlock shouted startling the DI and all of the other occupants in the room. “One morning I hadn't knocked on the door of the bathroom and he had just gotten out of the shower and I saw his arm. It wasn't disfigured. And it didn't say my name. The next day I dropped out of university and met Jim.”

“Who- who's Jim?” Lestrade questioned.

“The one who got me into this whole mess. The reason we ever came to be in contact with each other.” Sherlock replied.

Lestrade felt a surge of pity in his gut. He just wanted to hug the boy and tell him it was going to be alright. “I'm sorry to hear that.” He stood up awkwardly “Well. When you get out get a hold of me yeah? I’ll get you a job, keep you out of trouble. You seem to be pretty good at looking at someone and knowing things.”

Sherlock perked up a bit. If there was one thing he wanted around the same amount as his John, it was a detective job. “Alright.”

“I best be off then. Send your brother my regards” He said and walked out.
***
8 months later Sherlock was riding back to his flat at 221B Baker Street, having just finished a case with Lestrade. He had been on 13 cases since he got out 2 months ago and decided to label his career now as “Consulting Detective”. This also meant he’s the only one in the world. God was the police force thick. They missed everything important and almost convicted the wrong guy! Again! Nevertheless, Sherlock had found the right killer and had him convicted, so it had been a pretty thrilling day.
Besides his lack of a companion, his life was pretty good. He paid the driver and walked up the stairs to his flat. He only so much as sat down before Mrs. Hudson, his land lady, called up and said he had someone wanting to see him.
“Oh for the love of god, who could want me now? I’ve only just arrived home!” He grumbled throwing himself out of the chair and throwing open the door.
Ms. Hudson was at the landing with a young woman with a round face and dark hair and eyes. “She says she thinks you can help.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but nodded so the lady walked up the stairs and followed him into the flat.
“Sir” The dark haired woman started. “I want help finding my Robert” she said quietly.
He looked at her in horror. “I'm a consulting detective not a private detective, get out.”
“But sir, please!”
“Get Out.”
Tears filled her eyes but she obliged. As she was walking out Sherlock thought about it for a moment. He knew how awful it was without his soul-mate. He had to help her. “Wait. Sit down, I'll help.”