Started writing this around March, when Sherlock S3 still was a far away dream, Hope you like this little character I created. Apologies for all the mistakes. Reviews and feedback are welcomed!
A very particular man whose looks changed along with his life was standing in front of a very particular door, one would say he looked the same, but a closer look would reveal a curly hair that was cut probably by himself, signs of a bad shave and a paler and thinner face, wearing a visibly old and mistreated suit, with a black coat, he gently knocked at that door he hadn't seen in three years, he is visibly nervous, anxious, while waiting he hears a young voice, a girl's voice, followed by footsteps rushing down the stairs.
- John did you forget your wallet again?!
The door opened in quick move, a girl was standing at the door. She looked no more than 18 years old and by the way she said "again" she probably was living there for quite the while, and now, she looked obviously confused.
- I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else, how may I help you?
Her voice got a pitch higher and a flush flooded her cheeks, she was slightly shaking, the man noticed she slid a few inches inside. He just thought she probably was nervous or maybe distrustful of him. He didn't answer the girl.
- Excuse me, sir?
- Oh yes! I'm terribly sorry. John's not home then? -The man answered with a very kind voice and a very charming smile making the girl a bit more comfortable-. I'm an old friend.
- Oh… yes, he just went to get things for dinner. –The girl nervously answered.
She waited for the man to say something or at least leave while she slid her hand to the knob, the man obviously noticing, she saw he wasn't going to do any of those things.
- Where did you meet him? –She said suddenly with firm tone.
Probably aware of John's past, checking answers, distrustful then.
- In the army, a long time ago. –Hesitating he said, he never occurred to came up with a back-up story, he never assume John would live with someone else, someone who wasn't him, should he tell her? How much does she know? – He treated me, we became good friends.
- That's great! –Fake joy, he immediately notices – So, what's your name?
- John Harrison. –He said the first name that came to mind, the name of the character of an action movie, soon to be premiered, he heard about it everywhere, thinking about it, maybe it wasn't the best name he could've used.
She immediately noticed the familiarity of the name but not related to John in anyway, she tilted her head confused, trying to remember if John ever mentioned someone by that name, she took a moment to answer and finally said.
- I don't think he's ever mentioned you. –She answered quietly.
The man saw the trust he created with only a smile, decreasing by the second. He thought of around 3 ways to gain her trust back, but he didn't have to, in the moment he was about to put to test the first one, the girl spoke.
- Maybe you could wait for him, here, it's a sensitive day for him and maybe you could cheer him up with some good stories.
He noticed a slight smirk, like in her mind something just fell into place, he began to be suspicious. Was he really that nervous; was his mind so out of place? He never stopped and wondered who this girl in front of him really was, he never wondered if John would ever live with someone else, because he knew he wouldn't. The signs of her living there were clear, her answers weren't hesitating or at least that was what he was led to believe, she could be skilful liar, she could've set this up days before he was ready to knock that door, he had gotten sloppy right after he killed the last one of Moriarty's man, but were they really all?
- I don't want to intrude – He said – I could return some other day.
- Oh no, it's better this way, Mrs. Hudson is not around, so it's quite lonely at the moment, John Harrison right? – He nodded – Right this way Mr. Harrison!
He noticed the sudden confidence building up around the girl, he entered, as much as he wanted to stay alert, he couldn't help but to feel a rising sense of joy, seeing what once was and hopefully will be once again his home.
- Your name? – He suddenly asked, once he remembered there were more immediate matters that needed taking care of.
- Oh, right! How rude of me, it's Jacqueline… - He noticed the slight hesitation, that immediately disappeared, if Sherlock would've been a bit slower that day he would've never noticed it – You can call me Jackie. – She finally said.
She started walking upstairs, with a slight hand gesture she asked him to follow her, he just nodded in response, after they walked through the door, in an unconscious move he took his coat off and hanged it in the perch, she looked at him in confusion, he just laughed a bit in sign of embarrassment, it was all very quiet, not a word was spoken, as it with one word, the apocalypse would be unleashed, everything was said with small gestures and sweet fake smiles, yet you could almost touch the tension building up in the room, the man was sitting in front of the couch with a Union Jack pillow, he waited while the girl made some tea, he noticed a suspicious behaviour while the girl was in the kitchen, she was holding something, and now she was hiding it in the bag she had in her jacket, a phone, she returned holding a platter with a couple of cups and teapot.
- And how did you meet John? –The man asked after drinking some of his tea.
- Not so long ago actually, I meet him right at the corner of Saint Bart's, I kind bump into him, and he was nice to me. – He swallowed louder than he intended to, every word seemed like the truth to him, she was being honest but he was certain she was hiding something.
- So you just moved here? –He asked.
- No –She immediately denied, definitely hiding something -I don't live here, to tell the truth, I'm visiting for the week. –She made a clear pause – You do know what day is today right?
He drank the last sip of tea in his cup, laid back and thought; he hadn't been aware of dates for the last three years, in those three years the only date he was interested in, he didn't even know when it would come, the day he would see John again, after a while thinking, it hit him like a splash of cold water and as if she could read his thoughts, she said.
- The day his best friend Sherlock Holmes died.
He could hear how clearly she pronounced every word, placing special emphasis in the word "friend" and that name, she was giving him a very inquisitive look, he settled and took his cup back to his mouth, remembering there was no more tea in it.
- I didn't know, as I said I'm an old friend and I haven't seen him in a while and besides and I haven't been really aware of dates, – He made a long pause – how did he deal with that? I assume this Sherlock was someone close to him – He finally said.
- Good god! Do you ever read the papers?
This girl was itching his patience, every word that came out of her mouth seem to have a purpose of its own since the moment she let him walk through the door.
- I'm afraid I've been outside the country and I've just got back, so no.
- The first year was awful, he went through one massive depression, his limp was back, he shut himself down and everyone was concerned he might attempt something against his own life, so we all kept an eye on him.
He was really trying to control his emotions, listening to her was hurting him more than he expected, he got up and walked towards the window, wasn't really a good idea, his knees were starting to grow weaker by the moment, he wanted her to stop, but she continued.
- It took him some time to get back on his feet, though I know he still keeps Sherlock's phone and read trough all of their texts. – He could feel the intense glare the girl was giving him – I admire the love he has for that man, believing in him after being proved a fraud, believing in a lost cause… I truly love him but it was almost pathetic.
He felt a sudden rise of tension in his muscles, he was ready to shout something against her, but he stop when he saw a car parking right in front, he turned towards her, watched her put down her cup of tea and fixing her jacket.
A knock at the door, two seconds later, another one, she stood up and walked towards the door.
- It seems that another guest has arrived.
He slid his hand to the back of his waist and pulled a gun, aiming at her.
- Who are you? – His voice shook a little – Where's John?
- Oh! Do relax! I told you he went to get something for dinner.
The gun didn't even startle her, she continued on walking toward the door, he still held the gun aiming now at nothing, for she was walking downstairs and opening the door to someone. He heard nothing, not a greeting, no commands, no anything; it was unimportant, his finger was ready to pull the trigger no matter who entered through the door, the door opened and a man holding an umbrella walked in, behind him, the girl, who looked excited, practically hoping through the door.
- Long time no see little brother. –The man with the umbrella said lazily.
- Mycroft? ... – His face stunned, about to burst out with inquiries, but was suddenly stopped by the girl.
- Uncle Mycroft, would you like some tea? – She said smiling, looking at Mycroft as if she's met him all her life, she turned towards the man still holding a gun. – Would you like some more?
He stood still; there was a dead silence for what it would seem hours, tension around the room enough to make the body numb.
- Sherlock, Jacqueline asked you a question, I'm sure that after three years, you haven't forgotten your manners. – Mycroft said with a daring smile.
Sherlock finally dropped the gun, placed it on the table and obviously weary he just nodded, Jack ran towards the kitchen and the only thing heard was the tinkling of teacups. Mycroft walked towards the couch and sat down inviting Sherlock with his hand to do the same, reluctantly he did, keeping at all moment menacing eye contact, which Mycroft found it to be amusing, since he kept that daring smile since he walked through the door.
- How long have you been planning this? Better yet, how long have you known? – Sherlock's tone was aggressive, hoping he wouldn't have to go around the main subject for long.
- I've known for three years, I started believing it for less than two. – Mycroft was checking his mobile while he spoke, but he looked at Sherlock, almost hearing the thousand questions twirling in his mind. – You should thank Jacqueline; the little one can be quite persistent.
That didn't helped at all, Sherlock looked towards the kitchen, straightening himself up, loosening in order to grasp whatever he was missing, he needed the whole story to make absolute sense of what was going on, he was pretty sure he had the main part of the picture, but he wanted to see it all.
- Who is she? – He asked letting out a small sigh, certain that this was the main question.
- A friend, family even – Sherlock looked confused at the word family; Mycroft decided to give short and concrete answers, he needed to be in a meeting in less than an hour, the text he received form Jack 10 minutes ago, made him storm out his office, although he would never admit this to anyone, he almost lost hope of seeing Sherlock again. – She met John three years ago, been trying to convince me you were alive ever since, it's better if you ask her all the details.
- Did you help me… - Sherlock hesitated and Mycroft finished the question.
- Helped you track down all of Moriarty's men? Of course I did, once I was certain you were alive, don't tell me you didn't found it awfully easy towards the end.
- Tea's ready! – Jack carried the tray with everything they needed to drink some tea while they talk, she had a small but warm smile, and she looked sincere and almost like she just saw her hero.
Mycroft prepared all three teas, Jack sat in the chair besides Sherlock, changing position over and over again, Sherlock recognized the expression, he saw it when she opened the door and realized he wasn't John, she was uncomfortable, anxious, he founded hard to believe that it was the same girl who pointed a gun at and didn't even flinch.
The atmosphere turned tense, Jack decided it was better to turn her back at Sherlock, to make herself more comfortable, Mycroft seem to be enjoying the company, Jack assumed it was because all of their gatherings must be that way, meanwhile Sherlock seemed extremely concentrated on his tea, surprised Mycroft remembered how he liked it.
- How's John, really? – Sherlock decided to break the silence, the answer he got from Jack earlier seemed a bit too painful and he was hoping she was just being cruel.
Jack turned towards Sherlock and Mycroft sighed loudly, looked at his watch and got up giving a small sign to Jack, it was subtle but Sherlock picked it up. Mycroft simply said he needed to get to a meeting; of course that wasn't a lie. Sherlock stood up too, as Mycroft walked towards the door, Mycroft stopped, turning towards Sherlock.
- Welcome back. – He continued on walking and he left.
Jackie looked at the scene playing in front of her, in a certain way glad, the Holmes brothers weren't exactly known for their sentimentality, but Jack knew Mycroft was relieve and she would dare say happy, because Sherlock was there, alive and ready to prove he wasn't a fraud and in no way blaming him for what happened, maybe it was a selfish thought from Mycroft, but she knew it would give him some peace at night.
- Shall we introduce ourselves again? – Sherlock looked considerably calmer, Jackie nodded – Sherlock Holmes and you are?
- Pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes, I'm Jacqueline … - She hesitated again, Sherlock intensified his gaze, after a few seconds she finally said – Watson, Jacqueline Watson.
Sherlock remained still, processing the words, looking for a clarification, finding none his jaw dropped and pulled air so fast to his lungs in order to speak, he started coughing, Jack quickly brought him a glass of water, after drinking it and ending with a sore throat he let himself fall into the couch. Jackie looked amused at his reaction, she didn't know Sherlock well enough to know what he was thinking but she was sure it was along the lines of "What the hell happened while I was gone" or "how much have I missed"
- I promise I'll explain everything. – She said holding a smile.
The atmosphere in the flat was completely different as when they first entered, it simply felt right, she sighed in relieve; Sherlock was still in the couch looking at the empty space in front of him, she looked at the clock in her phone, John would arrive at any moment and as if she'd just summon him with her thoughts a sound came from downstairs, the opening of the door; she reacted swiftly and ran upstairs leaving Sherlock completely alone, whispering to herself. "Showtime"
Sherlock was caught by surprise by her sudden rush; he was sure she whispered something; he'd quickly gotten up trying to stop her but ridiculously failed and was completely baffled when the door opened.
A blond man, carrying bags full of groceries entered, the bags he was holding in front of his face were making it difficult to see and to walk.
- John… - Sherlock said just above of whisper to the man who just entered.
- Jack, a little help here! – John said fumbling with the bags, trying not to let them fall – Jack!
The bags were about to fall, a plate with beef mince fell to the floor splashing blood and beef all over the carpet ending up as Jack would put it "a not so good representation of Sherlock's fall" this was enough threat for Sherlock to help John hold the bags.
- Oh Jack, where were you? I think we can save some of that – John continued fumbling with the bags, which slowly were being hold by another set of hands – Be careful with the eggs.
Sherlock didn't realize he was shaking, his breathing became unstable. He had plan to remain calm while explaining to John everything, since the moment he knocked nothing expected happened, he'd lead John slowly to the kitchen, surprisingly he hadn't seen his face, he hadn't noticed anything odd. Same old John, but I suppose he wasn't expecting a dead friend to pop by for a visit announcing he was never dead. One more step and the bags would be on the table, Sherlock panicked, this moment a few seconds ago, made him feel like he was never gone, those few steps helping John with the bags as he many times did, when John went to the market a bought enough food a month, cause they probably wouldn't have any time in the next weeks because of a case and the body parts Sherlock kept in the fridge were not a option.
This was it, the moment he dream of, the moment that kept him going, oh he was going to get punched in the face, but it would be worth it. The bags fell into a safe place on the table and John looked up, higher than he expected.