Hooked (teenlock)

Chapter Eight

"At least I'm able to care about someone besides myself. At least I'm human."

Mycroft laughed. "You? Human? You're practically alien, with your 'disability.' No wonder no one talks to you."

"John does."

"Do excuse me, dear brother. I meant to say 'no one important.'"

I spoke through gritted teeth. "John is important to me."

"Exactly. You consider him important, and the rest of us know better than to trust your judgment."

I stormed out of the kitchen and out the front door. I'd never known what Mycroft ever intended to do with his petty remarks- but they certainly worked in pissing me off.

The problem with storming out of your own house is that, often, there aren't many other places to go. I decided to wait it out, sitting by a stop sign down the street until it grew dark outside and goose bumps ran up my arms. Only then did I trek back to my home, not so much defeated as disappointed in my body's incapability to stay outside longer. That was me, though. Expecting far too much of those around me- and, of course, of myself.

--

Over the next week, John and I found that we had hit a dead end in our research. I could find no more information about John's past, and together, we had difficulty finding any evidence at all. Sitting together on the floor in the library bathroom, I felt the two of us begin to give up on the case entirely.

John sighed heavily. "If we aren't going to get any further-"

"John, don't be ridiculous. Of course we're going to get further in this case. I care greatly about this, and I'm not going to quit. Neither are you."

"Why do you care so much about this case, Sherlock?"

"Because you care about it, and I care about you."

He shook his head, but only as a smile crept onto his face. "That's terrible reasoning, if you ask me."

I grinned. "Terrible reasoning is better than none at all. Right," I clapped. "Before we get too absorbed in flirting, where do you think we should look next?"

Before John could give any answer, a door to one of the stalls slammed open, and the one and only Jim Moriarty stepped out. "Right here," he purred.

John had jumped upon hearing the sudden clatter. "Oh for fuck's sake," he muttered, "always so dramatic... This is ridiculous..."

Moriarty cleared his throat. "John, if you would care to stop being so whiny, I could continue?"

The blogger simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Right," Jim continued. "You two are obviously desperate. Let's be real here, two idiots like yourselves couldn't get halfway to finding out who did this. And you haven't. Frankly, you guys have hardly scratched the surface."

I smirked. "You genuinely believe that you know more about this case than we do?"

He grinned back at me, widening his lips enough to show almost every tooth in his mouth. "It isn't a belief, Sherlock Holmes. It's a fact."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Please, feel free to prove your point at any time."

"One condition."

"Shoot."

"You lovebirds have to accept me onto whatever 'team' you're trying to collect here. To help on this case. Okay?"

It was beyond ridiculous, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. "No promises."

"Yes promises. Or no info."