Not Afraid

Chapter Nine - Broken

Harry didn't get to sit in the client's chair right away. John insisted instead, that she took up a chair in the kitchen while he gave her a once over and checked that her bruising wasn't covering anything worse. She sat in the chair, suffering John's ministrations with good grace while Sherlock stood between the kitchen and the sitting room, watching carefully. He hadn't said much since the cell. Once Harry had stopped crying, they had managed to get her released and John and Sherlock promised to keep an eye on her. Paperwork was signed and then they left Scotland Yard to get a cab back to 221B. During the ride, no one spoke. Sherlock turned his attention to his phone, Harry closed her eyes and looked as if she were still fighting off her hangover and John watched Harry, wondering what on earth to do. Now, as John rinsed his cloth to finish dabbing at Harry's jaw, he figured he had better try for some conversation. That was what you were supposed to do, wasn't it?

"So, you when did you get into the air force?" he asked, turning back to his sister and wiping the last of the crusted blood from her skin. John had had no idea that the occasions he had spoken to her over the phone, he'd been actually out of the country with the Air Force, knocking targets from the sky! She'd kept that well hidden. For a moment, she was quiet. Then she cleared her throat.

"Two months after I left Clara," she said. Suddenly, at the mention of Clara, Sherlock was very much interested in the conversation.

"Yes, I've always wondered, why did you leave Clara?" he stepped properly into the kitchen and leaned on the table, spreading his palms across the surface and eyeing Harry.

"Excuse me?" Harry peered past John so she could get a better look at Sherlock. "I'm sorry but I don't exactly know who you are."

John winced slightly as Sherlock developed a slightly hurt expression on his face. "Uh, Harry, this is Sherlock Holmes. I mean...you know. My..."

"I know you've talked to her briefly over the years," Sherlock accused John, now standing up very tall and straight, an injured expression on his face. "Just quick phone calls, mind you, but you didn't tell her about me?"

"Funny enough, it didn't come up," John shook his head at Sherlock who continued to look hurt. It wasn't like him and Harry had had in depth conversations about friends and best friends and all! Harry simply looked confused.

"Yeah, but who is he?" Harry said. John hesitated, wondering what Sherlock was now. He was more than a friend, that much was obvious. Then, a sly smirk crossed his face and he winked at Harry.

"My boyfriend," John said. All at once, Sherlock began spluttering and coughing and had to dash to the sink to fetch a glass of water. Sniggering, John threw the slightly damp cloth at Sherlock which hit the middle of his back and slid to the floor, leaving a damp mark behind it. "Settle down you drama queen," he said. "Jesus, anyone would think it was some kind of curse word!"

"Oh shut up," Sherlock finished his glass of water and turned to face John and Harry, leaning on the bench and trying to look like he wasn't bothered.

"Well, you have changed," Harry remarked, looking at her brother and quirking an eyebrow. "Apparently, I'm not the only gay-as-a-picnic-basket Watson anymore."