This is a random one-shot that I've had in my head for a while now.I haven't read the Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal/Red Dragon books, but the gap between the Hannibal Rising and Red Dragon movies (Before Hannibal goes to prison), lines up pretty well with when Sherlock would have been a child. If I'm wrong about that I do apologize.
Reviews would be lovely.
The first time a letter arrived John wasn't surprised. He simply assumed Sherlock's posh family sent him letters. Then it started becoming as regular occurrence. At 12 PM every Monday, a letter would in the mail, first class for Sherlock Holmes.
"Who is mailing you?" John asked, one Monday afternoon.
"An old friend," Sherlock smiled and continued to work with his most recent experiment.
The days melted into years, but every Monday a letter would come, there was never a missed Monday. After 2 years and endless letters, John still didn't know who they were from, or if Sherlock had been replying. John decided he was determined to get answers,
"Who is mailing you?"
Sherlock looked up from the most recent letter, "I told you, John. An old friend." He stated simply, returning to the letter.
"Sherlock, I know it's not really my place, but you get a letter every Monday at the same time, I am just genuinely curious." John said shying away a bit from Sherlock's intense gaze.
"John, do you really want to know? He is a friend, but I'm afraid he is not one of the most... Average people" Sherlock looked back down to the note, "If you would like to read this letter... You may." He said softly.
John nodded standing up and taking the note from Sherlock, it read,
Dear Sherlock,
I'm quite aware you are reading my letters, though you refuse to write back, I'm sure your friend will soon be realising who is mailing you soon. Am I wrong? Is he reading now? If so wonderful, congratulations on the solved cases, his blog is rather riveting.
If your friend (Dr. Watson, is it?) is reading, does he know? Does he know that you Sherlock Holmes had a very close friendship with me? That I helped you with your studies when you were younger? If not, do you think you should keep things like this from him? He may become quite alarmed by the fact that we spent extensive amounts of time together in your youth.
Anyway, I am hoping to hear back from you soon. Please give Dr. Watson my regards.
Ta-ta,
Dr. H. Lecter
John went white, his eyes grew as wide as saucers.
"Sherlock... Is this... Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter, mailing you?" John asked stunned.
Sherlock made an offended noise, "Press nicknames are dull." He sighed a bit before continuing,
"Before he was incarcerated, he worked in my parents mansion under the alias, "Zachariah James". He was my tutor." He looked at John for a moment, studying his paled face before he continued, "Once my Father caught on to the fact that he had killed people before he came to work for us, he was immediately dismissed from his job. We still kept in touch over the years, I told him about cases, he even helped me with some while he was incarcerated. He's married now, though I do believe the Americans believe her dead. Clairce Starling, as he mentioned in the letter."
John didn't know what to do. He sat there awestruck.
"I can't believe you have a close... Friendship, with Hannibal Lecter."
Sherlock nodded slowly,
"He is actually shocked that I, myself have a friend" then Sherlock picked up his violin and spoke no more for the rest of the night.
There it is. I know it's short and it ends pretty abruptly, but I wasn't really sure how to continue it, without making it twenty chapters long, and this was only meant to be a one-shot.
Thank you for reading.