Not Afraid

Chapter Eight - Harry

John and Harry had never got on, even before the drinking started. They just didn't see eye to eye and that was that. Then, when Harry had taken to drowning her sorrows in a bottle, John couldn't bear to look at her. Around a month before John had met Sherlock, they'd sat down and had a big talk about trying to get Harry clean. However, the terms in which they had departed hadn't been pretty. John could recall the fight well; it was etched forever in his mind for what he'd said to her, telling her she would never be any Watson worth their salt because she didn't care about anyone but herself. He'd told her that she didn't deserve the time people gave her. That was a moment that John Watson was not proud of. How could he be? He had turned his sister away instead of helping her. Since then, they'd exchanged very brief conversation over the phone which never ended well and John hadn't known where she was. The guilt that had consumed him for so long had been tamped down by being with Sherlock but now it rose up like bile in his throat. Harry was in London, sitting in a police cell in Scotland Yard. John could hardly believe, thought it might have been some cruel joke until Greg handed over her ID. Her face, hard to pick out in the tiny thumbnail photograph was different, so much different than when he had last seen her many years ago. And her credentials had changed from 'zero-chance-of-reforming-alcoholic' to Captain Harry Watson of the Royal Air Force, leading a crew of crack shot fighter jet pilots. John didn't know much more because he was still sitting in his chair at 221B, staring at Harry's ID card.

"John?" Sherlock spoke quietly, concerned. John knew he ought to say something but this was what he had least expected. He was just getting his life back on track! Just figuring out what Sherlock meant to him and what he meant to Sherlock and how they'd express it and now...this. It felt wrong, terribly wrong to resent this moment but John couldn't help it. He might have been a bad big brother but she hadn't exactly been a great little sister either, though he knew that didn't justify anything.

"John, are you alright?"

"I'm...fine," John traced Harry's face on the ID card and finally looked up. Sherlock was watching him carefully, assessing his mental state, wondering if he might need something. Yeah, John needed something. A stiff whisky. Or a hug.

"No, you're not," Sherlock told him.

"John, we'll deal with this, okay?" Greg sat awkwardly, twisting his fingers together and clearly hating that he'd had to tell John the news. He knew about Harry's problems and knew how much it hurt John.

"No, no, it's fine," John said, tucking the ID card into his pocket and making his mind up right then and there. No more ignoring his family. He'd done that for far too long, pretending that his sister's problems were not his own. He'd also hidden from the judgment she gave him whenever they met; he'd run off to the army and left his family behind to worry, not returning phone calls. He'd just...left, unable to handle sitting around doing nothing with his life. He'd needed adrenaline. He'd needed danger.

"John," Sherlock rose from his chair and stood in front of John, laying his thin hands on John's shoulders, attracting John's gaze. "John, I'm here, okay?"

"Okay," John breathed deeply, calming himself. "Okay."

Greg glanced between them and John could tell that he was trying to figure out their dynamic which had obviously changed since he'd last been in the flat. But he didn't ask, preferring to climb out of his chair and nod once at the boys.