Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Everything belongs to the evil syndicate Moffatt/Gatiss/RTD (you'll see) and/or to Arthur Conan Doyle, who is innocent because he's dead.

A.N. The fic title is a reference made plain in the prologue, but if you missed that Dr. Who episode (The god complex) go watch it! It's great!

His room

Prologue

It's a few months after the end of Hiatus (the word is neutral enough to be acceptable to them both), and their life is back on track. They've just ended case in Cardiff – barely a 6.5, but it looked better – and now they're home and settled for the Dr. Who rerun.

It's the episode where the Doctor and his companions get stranded in a fake 1950s motel where everyone has a room containing his or her worst fear, to lead people to prayer...because faith gets them eaten by the alien of the week.

"I'd be a goner in a second; believing pulled me out of my room once already," John comments softly. He wouldn't normally confess things like this. It just sort of slips out. He doesn't want to let it linger, and since he's admitted his fear (ok, not explicitly, but there's no need to) it's fine to ask, right? So he adds hastily, "And in your room, Sherlock? What would be in there?".

"My father," his friend replies quietly, firmly looking at the screen – not John.

"Come on, with all you've seen, he can't be that bad...Was he?"

The doctor corrects his joking tone abruptly; he still knows next to nothing about Sherlock's family after all. But Mycroft that is, which isn't all that heartening. The older Holmes is still a million miles away from abusive, mind you. Shrugging off his friend's admission is an idiotic move regardless, if John wants Sherlock to confide in him. To give up the secrets he still guards.

"My father was the best man I've ever known. Nonetheless, he's sitting in my room – or he'd be if such a whimsical place existed," the sleuth reiterates, his mask perfect, so that even with the uncomfortable topic he's apparently unaffected. Strangely, he didn't claim he'd have no room because he has no faith in anyone or anything beyond himself. Then again, if Sherlock believes someone will save him from anything, even despite himself, it's probably Mycroft he's thinking about. He qualifies as 'higher power' fairly well.

"You're not going to elaborate on that, are you?" John queries. He doesn't want to make Sherlock feel like he's trying to pry, but neither wants to be told someday, "You never asked," if this comes back to haunt them. It looks like a good compromise.

"Obviously," the detective replies with a shrug.

Of course, John thinks. What was I expecting?