Watching You Fall Omegle 48

You: "What makes you think I lied?" John asked, rather proud that his voice was level and calm. "I told you exactly what my friend told me."

Stranger: "I want to meet this friend of yours," Moran said, his eyes narrowing. "Get him down here."

You: John felt his mouth dropping open, his mind freezing completely. He didn't know anyone other than Mycroft in the government and he very well couldn't have him walk in. "I don't think I can right now," John temporized, hoping Mycroft was listening and figuring something out. "I'm not even sure he's in the country right now."

Stranger: "Than you can call him," Moran growled. "Either way, I want to speak to him. That isn't a problem, is it?" he asked testingly. He raised an eyebrow at John.

You: "Give me a few minutes," John sighed, sliding out of the booth and pulling out his phone. "I can't guarantee he'll answer, though." Turning his back on Moran was one of the hardest things he'd done but John did and walked outside to make the call to Mycroft.

Stranger: "John?" Mycroft asked into the mic as he watched John exit the bar. He felt Sherlock stir next to him and saw his brother staring sadly at John's small form in the distance.

You: "We have a problem," John said, pretending to talk into his phone. "Moran doesn't believe me. He wants to talk to the friend that told me about your two "agents". What do you want me to do?"

Stranger: "Well, does he have to see that friend in person or not?" Mycroft asked slowly, his mind working a mile a minute trying to piece together a plan.

You: "He would probably prefer that," John said dryly. "But I think he might settle for talking over the phone."

Stranger: "I don't know if he would recognize my voice from back in the alley. I don't want to take the chance if we can avoid it," Mycroft said slowly. "There has to be another way..."

You: "What about the agent who was with you?" John asked suddenly. "He's probably out of the hospital by now. Can he talk to Moran?"

Stranger: "He could recognize his face," Mycroft shook his head and looked at Sherlock, who had looked at Mycroft.

You: "What about over the phone?" John persisted. "Did the agent actually say anything to Moran?"

Stranger: "I can't remember," Mycroft admitted. He sighed heavily over the mic and thought for a moment. "If you want to take that chance..."

You: John shrugged, knowing Mycroft could probably see it from the car he was sitting in. "I don't see that we have much choice. Unless you can magic up another agent to pretend to be my friend," John sighed.

Stranger: "I could always pull one of the agents out of the bar to come to the alley and talk over the phone to Moran," Mycroft mused.

You: John thought about that then nodded. "That may work," he said. "They haven't spoken yet and I doubt Moran knows who they are."

Stranger: "Alright, give me a few moments then," Mycroft said. "Lance, do you mind stepping out of the pub and meeting me in the alleyway just a block down?"

You: John put away his phone and walked back into the pub. As he did so, one of the other agents stepped casually away from the bar and walked outside. John headed back to the booth and nodded at Moran. "He'll be calling back in about five minutes," John said, toying with his glass again. "He had to get somewhere where he could talk."

Stranger: "Fine," Moran said, leaning back in his seat and rolling his eyes slightly. "But sooner or later, I want to meet him face to face."

You: John shrugged again, not willing to answer that comment. He didn't know if having Moran meeting someone pretending to explain everything would be all that good. After a few minutes, his phone rang.

Stranger: Mycroft called John's phone, making sure it was ringing, before handing it over to Lance. "Make sure you say just what we went over, nothing more," Mycroft warned quietly. "I'll still be talking to you in the earpiece if you need help."

You: Lance nodded even though he was fairly sure Mycroft couldn't see him. "Hello," he said smoothly into the phone after it was picked up. "John?"

Stranger: "Yes, hello. My friend, Moran, wanted to talk to you about a couple of people you work with," John said back, giving Moran a small nod.

You: "Yeah, sure, pass the phone on over," Lance replied, getting into his role. It was easy; this was something he'd been trained for all those years ago.

Stranger: John handed the phone over to Moran and watched as he rose the phone to his ear, eyeing John. "Hello?" he asked slowly.

You: "Hello, name's Lance," Lance said cheerfully. "You John's friend? He said you wanted to talk to me."

Stranger: "Yes, that's me. Can you tell me a little about those two men you work with that you told John about?" Moran asked, calming talking into the phone.

You: "Sure, Adrian and Thomas, right?" Lance said, taking a few moments to put his thoughts in order. "They work with me sometimes and we keep an eye on discharged soldiers who have certain skills we might find... useful. Let me tell you, keeping an eye on you was a job and a half."

Stranger: "Yes, I tried," Moran said, letting a small smile play his lips before it slipped back into the straight face he held. "Can you tell me more about them?"

You: "That depends on what you want to know, of course," Lance said, wondering how much he could make up on the spot. "I can't tell you anything they're doing right now. National importance, you know."

Stranger: "Can you tell me why I couldn't find them in any databases?" he asked slowly, sipping from his drink.

You: "I would think that would be obvious. They use codenames," Lance said, shrugging automatically. "All agents in that division do. We want to keep them safe so they don't have to worry about their families being targeted."

Stranger: "And why were they chasing after me instead of just calling my cell phone, which, by the way, is listed under my name," Moran growled.

You: "They weren't chasing, they were observing," Lance corrected. "We don't approach a person we want to recruit unless we are completely sure we want to recruit them. They were observing to see if you would be a good fit."

Stranger: "They were running after me, and that's why I shot one of them," Moran said, his voice raising a little. "Explain that to me."

You: "They were trying not to lose you. They had to keep an eye on you and you were making it extremely difficult," Lance said, a hint of reproach in his voice. "And Adrian is fine, since you didn't ask."

Stranger: "No offence to any of your little working bees, but I really don't care if they are fine or not," Moran growled, crossing one arm over his chest. "Next time, just call me."

You: Lance sighed, knowing the sound was clearly audible over the phone. "You haven't really listened to a word, have you?" he asked, exasperation clear in his voice. "The point of their mission was to watch you and not contact you. But I shall keep that in mind in case we ever decide to recruit you."

Stranger: "Is that all you can tell me?" Moran asked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He crossed his legs under the table and sighed.

You: "Surely you understand a need for secrecy?" Lance asked. "I've given you all the pertinent details. What more could you need that wouldn't put my agents or their families at risk?"

Stranger: "I'm sure there's more you could tell me," Moran said, not letting up. "I'm sure you haven't told me everything you could."

You: "What more do you want to know?" Lance replied, rolling his eyes. "They aren't following you anymore, if that's what you're hinting at."

Stranger: "I know they are. They wouldn't just give up," Moran said, himself getting very impatient. "I want to talk to them."

You: "After you shot Adrian, you were deemed unsuitable for recruitment," Lance replied, annoyance in his voice. "They haven't followed you since then. Tell me, have you actually seen anyone following you?"

Stranger: "No, but I know when people are watching me," Moran snapped. "And what do you mean unsuitable?"

You: "I mean that you have a short temper and are quick to violence," Lance replied, calming his voice again. The last thing he needed was Moran taking his anger out on John and Mycroft firing him for screwing this up. "And if anyone's watching you, it's not one of my people."

Stranger: "Fine," Moran snapped. "You were useless." He hung up the phone and handed it back to John, huffing.

You: Lance closed the phone and chuckled to himself at the anger in Moran's voice. He could only guess that the man hadn't heard what he wanted to hear. "It's done," Lance murmured to Mycroft through the mic. "What do you want me to do now?"

Stranger: "Go take a place across the street from the bar in that cafe. Get a window seat and watch from there," Mycroft said back into the mic. "We still want you nearby just in case."

You: "Understood," Lance replied, walking out of the alley. He decided to chance his next comment, knowing that Mycroft did appreciate insights from his operatives. "This Moran... he's dangerous," Lance said hesitantly. "And he's paranoid. That's never a good combination."

Stranger: "I know," Mycroft said slowly. "He's been this way for a while." Mycroft shook his head slowly as he looked at Sherlock. "Go to the cafe."

You: "Yes, sir," Lance said and made his way to the cafe. He ordered a coffee and sat down at a window seat, making sure he could see the pub.

Stranger: "That was useless," Moran groaned out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Waste of time."

You: "Well, sorry," John snapped, shrugging and taking back his phone. "You got to talk to him. Is there anything else you wanted, Colonel?"

Stranger: Moran just growled before waving for another beer. "Nothing, I think I'm good," he said after he downed half the beer in one swig.

You: John pushed his glass away, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Well, I have some work I need to do," John said, standing up again. "Goodbye, Colonel."

Stranger: Moran just watched John leave before finishing off his beer. He knew there was more. He knew they both knew more. It was just a matter of getting John to tell him.

You: John headed out to the car Mycroft was sitting in, not caring if Moran saw him get in or not. John assumed that as long as he didn't see Mycroft, everything should be fine.Then, when he slid in and looked in the backseat, John felt his world implode. There sat Sherlock, staring back at him with a bit of a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Sh... Sherlock?" John stammered, torquing his body around in his seat.

Stranger: "Um... who?" Sherlock said smoothly, not knowing what to really say. "John, I'm Dean, remember?" Sherlock kept his eye contact and gave him his best confused look.

You: "What...? Oh my god, sorry," John said, his words rushed in his embarrassment. "You just... I know I've said this before but you look so much like him. And the black growing out in your hair makes you look more like him. I'm sorry."

Stranger: "Relax, John, it's fine," Sherlock said, putting on a smile. He raised his hands and waved them in front of his face slightly waving it off. "I know I look like him to you. Easy mistake. Are we done here, Mycroft?"

You:"We are, Dean, thank you," Mycroft said, nodding at his brother. He couldn't believe he hadn't expected this but pulling out one of his agents and making up the story for Moran had rattled him a little bit. "Thank you."

Stranger: Sherlock unhooked the earpiece and handed it back to Mycroft. He turned to John and sent him a small smile. "I ought to get going," he said to both of them, moving to open the car door.

You: "Wait, what are you doing here?" John asked suddenly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I thought you were just someone who worked at New Scotland Yard."

Stranger: "Oh, yeah, I am. But see, I'm a friend of Lestrade at work, and Mycroft here contacted me to help out," Sherlock lied quickly and smoothly. "Of course I would say yes."

You: "But why? What could you possibly do here?" John persisted, a bad feeling centering in his gut.

Stranger: "Mycroft needed another man to help cover the bar. He came to me," Sherlock shrugged.

You: "I don't understand why he came to you, though," John replied, shaking his head. "I know I probably sound paranoid but how are you connected with this? He could have just gotten another agent."

Stranger: "Ask Mycroft here," Sherlock said, nodding to his brother as he got into the driver's seat. "He called me and I didn't ask questions." Sherlock let out a small laugh.

You: John took his eyes off who he believed to be Dean and Sherlock took that chance to get out of the car. Mycroft kept his eyes on the road as he started the car, waiting until Sherlock had turned the corner before pulling away from the curb. "So, explain," John said tersely, glaring at Mycroft.

Stranger: "Well, I can trust him, it just seemed logical," Mycroft shrugged, driving down the road, hoping that's all John would need, knowing it wouldn't be.

You: "You trust him," John repeated flatly. "Why do you trust him? And did you know he was the same man I asked you to look into?"

Stranger: "I didn't," Mycroft lied. "I trusted him because Greg trusts him, and I trust no one more than Greg."

You: "Funny that Greg never mentioned him," John said conversationally, working to keep his anger contained. "That's part of why I asked you to look into him. What are you not telling me here, Mycroft?"

Stranger: Mycroft silently sighed to himself before getting his face to go straight and emotionless. "I am telling you everything, John," he said, glancing at John and putting his eyes back to the road.

You: John sighed and his shoulders slumped, exhaustion warring with the anger bubbling in his chest. "I may not be as smart as you, Mycroft Holmes, but I've learned to tell when you are lying," John said quietly. "Give me one good reason why I should let this go and not hound you until you tell me."

Stranger: "Because you should trust me," Mycroft said, his voice solid. "I wanted him here to help me because I trusted he could do the job the best, and I was right."

You: John studied Mycroft carefully and couldn't see a lie this time. Mycroft, at least, believed what he was saying. "And what job was that?" John finally asked.

Stranger: "Getting out of whatever situation Moran may throw us in. He came up with the agent coming out to take the phone call, he's smart enough that I knew he would help," Mycroft said, lying slightly, doing his best to convince himself it was the truth as well.

You: John had to admit that having him there hadn't hurt. Especially if Dean really was the one who came up with the plan to distract Moran. But it was just too big of a coincidence that he was here after John had asked Mycroft to look into him. "So I'm guessing you've researched him a bit then?" he asked.

Stranger: "Not in depth," Mycroft said slowly. "If you want to find out more, Greg would be the best one to talk to, not me."

You: "I may do that when he's feeling better," John replied, suddenly feeling guilty for keeping Mycroft away from the DI when he was sick. "If you can just drop me off at Baker Street, I'll let you get back to him."

Stranger: "Thank you, John," Mycroft nodded, knowing John understood. He drove to Baker Street and parked outside of John's flat. "If I could just get the earpiece and mic back?"

You: "Yeah, right, sorry," John replied, hurriedly removing the earpiece and taking the mic off his collar. "Lot on my mind, I guess. Hope Greg feels better." He handed the devices over and got out of the car.

Stranger: "Me too," Mycroft muttered as he took the mic and earpiece. He placed them back in the case, closed the lid, and started back home.

You: Lestrade was still feeling miserable though he hadn't thrown up anymore. Anthea was a silent presence in the room and that comforted him. He didn't think he could keep up any sort of conversation. When he heard the door open, Lestrade tried to lever himself up to a sitting position, calling out, "My... Mycroft?"

Stranger: Mycroft hurriedly hung up his coat by the front door and rushed upstairs and into Greg's room. He nodded at Anthea who had stood. "He slept most of the time, hasn't vomited in a while. No problems though," Anthea whispered in his ear before she said goodbye to Greg and left the room. Mycroft went over to Greg's bed and sat down on the edge, taking his hand gently. "How you feeling, love?"

You: "Still miserable," Lestrade coughed, squeezing on Mycroft's hand. "How... how did the... meeting go?" He rubbed at his throat, trying to ease the rasp when he talked.

Stranger: Mycroft brushed a strand of hair out of Greg's eyes and frowned down at him sadly. He took a tissue from the side table and brushed off his hand before brushing off where Greg had squeezed on himself as well. "The meeting went fine. John saw Sherlock, luckily he played it off as Dean," Mycroft said softly, keeping his voice quiet as to not bother Greg too much. "Otherwise, everything went mostly smoothly."

You: "Good," Lestrade replied, his eyes closing against his will. A cough burbled up out of his chest and Lestrade could feel exhaustion taking him over again. "Think I'm going... to fall... asleep, love," he managed to say before he fell into a light doze again.

Stranger: "Alright, babe," Mycroft whispered, standing. "I'm going to go call in for an appointment for the doctor in about an hour or so. If you're still awake, are you hungry?"

You: The movement woke him up again and Lestrade struggled to answer. "Not hungry, but... will you come back?" he coughed again, his throat feeling like it was on fire.

Stranger: "Let me call the doctor and get you some tea, you need it right now," Mycroft said, running his hand softly through Greg's hair. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes, then I want you to drink it, okay?"

You: "Okay," Lestrade said, his eyes closing again. He heard a quiet muttering from the rest of the house and assumed it was Mycroft calling the doctor. Another coughing fit shook him and he was still coughing when Mycroft came back in.

Stranger: Mycroft retook his seat on the side of the bed next to Greg and pressed the back of his hand on his lover's forehead. It was heating up and Mycroft frowned. He set the cup of tea on the side table and sat back. "Love, you need to sit up to drink your tea. Do you need help?" Mycroft said quietly, each word caressed with concern.

You: "Yeah, not enough strength right now," Lestrade murmured. He sat up with Mycroft's help and sipped at the tea, smiling at the honey that suffused the tea. "Thank you, love. What did the doctor say?" He was able to talk easier now, the honey soothing his throat.

Stranger: "He said we can come in at two-thirty. So in about forty-five minutes we have to leave," Mycroft said, placing his hand on Greg's knee. "I hope we can get you feeling better. I hate seeing you so miserable, love."

You: "I know," Lestrade replied, taking more sips of the tea. "I'll be fine soon. I think I'm going to nap until we need to leave." He handed the cup back to Mycroft, his throat feeling better after the tea. "Stay with me?"

Stranger: "Of course baby," Mycroft said as he took the cup and set it down on the table. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. He sat down next to Greg and helped him lay down before laying down next to him. He wrapped one arm around Greg's middle and held him close. "I'll be right here when you wake up, and I'll be waking you up in forty minutes."

You: Lestrade curled into Mycroft's side, his warmth permeating the chill that had been wrapped around him since he woke up this morning. Finally relaxing, he fell into a deeper sleep.

Stranger: Mycroft kissed Greg's temple and let his body relax next to Greg, playing with his hair gently as his lover slept. Sick or not, Greg was beautiful when he was asleep, and Mycroft loved watching him.

You: All too soon, Lestrade felt himself shaken awake. He blinked blearily, focusing on Mycroft's face. "Time to get up?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Stranger: "Afraid so, love," Mycroft said with a soft, sad smile. Mycroft sat up and looked at Greg, who was still in his boxers and no shirt. "Do you have any strength to get up and dress, or do I need to help you, baby?"

You: "I think I can do it mostly on my own," Lestrade replied, forcing his legs over the side of the bed. "If you could just make sure I don't fall over." He carefully pushed himself to his feet and headed over to the dresser. Once there, balancing against the dresser, Lestrade pulled out some clothes.

Stranger: Mycroft stood next to Greg as he got to the dresser. He stayed close to Greg as he dressed, making sure to keep Greg upright. "I worry about you going down the stairs, baby," Mycroft said softly as Greg dressed.

You: "I'll be ok, love," Lestrade replied, fumbling a bit at the buttons on his shirt. "There's a railing and you can make sure I don't fall." He wavered a bit on his feet then, throwing out a hand to hang onto Mycroft's arm. "Guess I'm not as well as I'd hoped," he said ruefully.

Stranger: "I'd feel better if you let me carry you down to the car, or at least down the stairs," Mycroft said, grabbing onto Greg and walking him over to the bed to sit down. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

You: Lestrade shook his head, an image of both of them falling down the stairs flashing through his mind. "You don't need to carry me," he said, smothering another cough. "I'll walk down and it'll be ok."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed lightly and brushed another strand of hair out of his eyes. "If that makes you happy," Mycroft muttered. "I just don't want something to happen to you." He leaned up and pecked Greg on the cheek.

You: "I know, love, and we'll be fine," Lestrade replied, turning his head and pressing his lips against Mycroft's lightly. "We should get going." He pushed himself to his feet again, steadying himself with a hand on Mycroft's shoulder.

Stranger: "At least hold onto my arm the whole way," Mycroft said as he stood and held out his arm for Greg. "It would just make me feel better a little."

You: "I can do that," Lestrade said, smiling. He looped an arm around Mycroft's and walked carefully towards the door. They made it downstairs a step at a time, moving carefully so Lestrade didn't fall. "See?" he asked when they got to the bottom step. "We're fine."

Stranger: "Okay, I see, I see," Mycroft chuckled lightly. "But when we get home, I'm pulling out the bed from the couch and we're sleeping there till you get your strength back." Mycroft opened the door for them and then closed it again when they got outside, locking it quickly and going to his car with his driver waiting for them.

You: "Sounds comfy," Lestrade said, smiling again as he slid into the car. When Mycroft got in next to him, he laid his head on Mycroft's shoulder and dozed off again. Whatever it was that was making him sick kept coming in waves.

Stranger: Mycroft played with Greg's hair gently as he told his driver where the doctor's office was. As they pulled away, Mycroft pulled Greg closer with an arm around his waist.

You: The ride was quick, the doctor's office not too far away. When they got there, Lestrade was shaken awake again. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's cheek then slowly worked his way out of the car.

Stranger: Mycroft quickly went around to help Greg out of the car, holding his arm out of Greg to take again. "Come on, love," he muttered. "You can sit down again soon."

You: Lestrade took the offered arm, clutching tightly as his balance wavered again. He walked slowly with Mycroft and collapsed down gratefully into a chair when they made it into the waiting room.

Stranger: Mycroft kissed the top of Greg's head before he went over to check him in. Coming back over to him, Mycroft sat down and let Greg's head fall onto his shoulder. He felt his breathing even out again and soon knew Greg had fallen asleep. "Baby, you know I hate waking you up when you feel like this," Mycroft whispered to his lover as his hand moved up to his hair.

You: "Lestrade?" a nurse called out, walking into the waiting room with a clipboard. Mycroft nodded at her and shook Greg awake again. "Love, it's time to go back," he said softly when Greg blinked at him.

Stranger: "Already?" Greg moaned as he sat up a little and looked at Mycroft. He nodded and stood as Mycroft stood next to him. "Can I have your arm again?" he asked quietly.

You: Mycroft held out his arm again without a word, allowing Greg to lean on him as they followed the nurse back. She kept shooting them worried looks, which started making Mycroft more worried than he was before. Once in the examination room, Mycroft helped Greg up on the examination table while he took one of the chairs.

Stranger: Greg sat up on the table, wishing Mycroft was closer to him but not daring to reach out to him or call him over. He looked away from Mycroft as the doctor walked in.

You: "Hello, I'm Dr. Sanderson," the doctor said, looking up at Greg from the chart in his hands. "What seems to be the problem today?"

Stranger: "He seems dizzy, was vomiting this morning, too weak to stand on his own and could barely move this morning," Mycroft said when Greg looked at him. He stood and went over to stand next to Greg. "Yeah, I just feel light headed and sick to my stomach," Lestrade added on.

You: Dr.Sanderson nodded, a careful eye on Lestrade. He noticed when the man tipped over slightly and caught himself against Mycroft. "Well, let's start with your blood pressure and temperature and go from there," Dr. Sanderson said, pulling out a thermometer. He went through the tests quickly but efficiently, marking down the 101 degree fever and elevated blood pressure.

Stranger: Mycroft stood over Greg, holding onto him as Greg gripped onto him for his life. Mycroft watched as Dr. Sanderson did the tests and Greg leaned more into his hold.

You: "What do you think?" Mycroft finally asked, unable to keep silent any more. Dr. Sanderson shrugged, unwilling to venture a guess just yet. "I need to listen to his heart and lungs," Dr. Sanderson said instead.

Stranger: "Do you need my shirt off?" Lestrade asked, his throat starting to hurt him again. He coughed heavily and closed his eyes.

You: "No, you're fine," Dr. Sanderson replied. He slid the stethoscope under Lestrade's shirt, worried about the cough he'd just heard. It sounded as if the man had fluid in his lungs. After a minute or so, the doctor slid the stethoscope back out and looped it around his neck. "I believe you have pneumonia," he said smoothly. "I'll prescribe you a painkiller and some antibiotics."

Stranger: "Pneumonia?" Greg asked slowly, his mind not being able to remember exactly what that was. "Can you refresh me on that?"