The Problems of Your Future

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It had been a few months since Sherlock had gotten shot. John still wouldn't talk to Alex and Mary would barely acknowledge her. Sherlock and Molly were the only people who would talk to her. The day Sherlock could come home finally arrived. John helped him into the flat. Alex kept her eyes averted from both of theirs. She could feel John glaring at her.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" John said. "I mean, with her around?"

"I'll be fine." Sherlock sighed. Alex got up and left the room. There weren't many places she could go, but the bathroom was preferable choice. Sherlock turned to John. "She's still your sister, you know."

"She's not acting like it." John said. "I'll see you later."

John left. Sherlock sat down in his chair. Alex crept out of the bathroom. Sherlock smiled at her and patted the arm of his chair. Alex sat down on the couch. No matter how many times Sherlock said he forgave her, she still didn't believe it. Sherlock looked at her. Alex finally met his gaze.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly.

"Much better." Sherlock said. "You're brother is coming over tomorrow to discuss what Magnussen has on you."

Alex just nodded and picked up her book. Sherlock knew she was frightened of any anger that might be directed towards her. That was all probably going to come from John. After they had eaten dinner that night, Sherlock got ready for bed. He laid down in his bed and read a book, waiting for Alex to come in. She didn't. Sherlock got up and went into the other room. She was curled up on the couch, just like when she and Sherlock had only been friends. Sherlock sighed.

"You're just being ridiculous now." He mumbled, picking Alex up.

"The heck are you doing?" She mumbled.

"You're coming to bed." Sherlock said.

Alex didn't struggle. She was too tired. She curled up next to Sherlock and fell asleep. When morning came, Alex talked a little more freely with Sherlock. When evening came, John knocked on the door. Alex jumped. Sherlock went and answered the door. Mrs. Hudson was cleaning the flat.

"John!" She said. John just nodded at her. He was glaring at Alex, who had her head down. "What's going on?"

"Bloody good question." John said.

"These two are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do." Sherlock said.

"No, I have a better question." John said, walking up to Alex. She wouldn't look at him. "Look at me. Is everyone I've ever met a phycopath?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, after pausing a minute. "Good that we've settled that. Now-"

"SHUT UP!" John shouted. Alex cowered in the corner "And stay shut up. Because this isn't funny. Not this time."

"He didn't say it was funny." Alex said quietly. John turned to her.

"You. What have I ever done? Hm? My whole life, to deserve you as a sister?" He asked.

"Everything." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, I told you, shut up." John said.

"No, I mean it, seriously. Everything." Sherlock said. "Everything you've ever done is what you did."

"Sherlock, one more word, and both of us will have greatly injured you." John said.

"You were a doctor who went to war. You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie." Sherlock said. "Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. That's me by the way, hello! John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You're abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people, so is it truly such a surprise that your favorite sister and the one you feel the most need to protect conforms to that pattern?"

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