Chapter 1. Subsequent to the fall: At a social event arranged by Mycroft Holms, Sherlock reveals that he is not dead and the circumstances leading him to his deception. John is engaged to Mary Morston and does not know what to think about his return.
The deep tones of Frank Sinatra and Mel Torme played quietly as guests mingled. Mycroft Holmes wove his way through the dance floor looking for Sherlock knowing that he was unlikely to find him there at all. Opening the door to his study, he found him standing behind his desk gazing out over the grounds as dusk settled in on the estate. Sherlock was wearing a tuxedo though he had refused to cut his hair for the event as Mycroft had requested. This was in essence a celebration Mycroft had arranged for Sherlock to honor him in his efforts to bring down Moriarty's criminal empire and it's far reaching grasp within the British government.
"Come now, Sherlock, there is no need for this recluse behavior. This event is in your honor and it is important that you recognize the sentiment being expressed by our guests and if you do not accept your place as host, please be present and show some thanks." Sherlock had a dry disinterested look on his face.
"I am not one, nor have I ever been one for honoring anybody much less calling attention to my own activities. The merit of my actions should speak for themselves" he said as he turned to face Mycroft who was now perched on the corner of his own desk.
"Surely, Sherlock you understand that they unfortunately do not stand on their own merit. As brilliant as you may be, the media and now most of England understand you to be a fraud, and I am, we are, with this event, restoring your name, Sherlock! You will accept the efforts of both Mummy and I and also of Sergeant Lestrade... whom, whom I have imposed upon to invite those in any way connected to your past cases and anyone involved in the judicial system you have been a part of. Need I remind you that you will need that system on your side. Faking your own death is not an act to be taken lightly."
Sherlock thought about this for a moment and placing a finger to his chin and a second to his nose, he cocked his head sideways a smirk grading his lips. Yes, he thought, this was indeed a clever arrangement and he need only think for a moment to remember why he had agreed to it in the first place. At that moment, Molly Hooper came to door.
"Sherlock, she said, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, John will be here soon." In the last month, Sherlock had one at a time, informed his collogues and his brother what had happened, how he had faked his death to prevent them from being killed and had apprehended the remainder of Moriarty's men. Sherlock made for the door of the library but Molly moved to block his path.
"No, I mean I want to talk to you about John, not talk to you to tell you he is coming... I mean I, I know you know he's coming" she stuttered. Mycroft was still perched on his desk.
"Um, about that, I had been meaning to talk to you as well, Sherlock." Mycroft joined in.
"Please, I will stop you there" said Sherlock knowingly in his traditional muted and passive tone. "I know John has recently been engaged to be married but I have no evidence to suggest why you think it important unless you would like to me to discuss my intentions to let his room in the near future. I assume that would not be an appropriate subject upon meeting for the first time since my death." Sherlock inhaled sharply, pulled the lapels of his jacket together and moved past Molly into the corridor.
The finance, I do hope she is appropriate for John he thought with some apprehension. Sherlock had intended to tell everyone that he was alive the moment it was safe for him to do so, but not three months after his death had John become engaged and Sherlock, who did not refrain from speaking his opinions, found himself sadly at a loss of words. The others had known he was a live for over a week and he wondered if John wouldn't be insulted he were the last to know.
Sherlock entered the ball room and took a seat on one of the luxurious decorative sofas he was not allowed to play on as a child and looked up at the skylight. There were stars glittering above him. He crossed his legs and continued to stare.
"Get up and socialize," Mycroft said coming by and kicking his leg out from beneath him. "They must meet you so they will trust you and if these people trust you, so will the nation…and do not forget, that you will be making your speech soon." Not until John's come and I've had a chance to speak with him, he thought. Removing himself from the festivities, once again, he waited in Mycroft's study until Molly came to get him.
"Thank you Molly, for retrieving me" he said knowing that John had arrived. The two of them walked out into the foyer. John was taken aback. Molly was dressed in a red flowing gown with white gloves and at her arm, was Sherlock with a half pensive half disinterested expression on his face.
"Jo..." Sherlock began but John's face was white and he had already started to speak himself.
"You are dead! He said, I saw you die!." John was looking at him with eyes wide and he had strayed away from his guest forgetting that she was attached to his arm. Mary Morston was a petite blond who very much suited John. Her stature did not overwhelm him and she, like john, was very mild mannered. She did not say anything but rather focused on calming John, patting him lightly on the arm as he pulled her across the room closer and closer to Sherlock and Molly. Molly was now standing between the two of them explaining that it was not Sherlock's fault and that he had faked his death to save John's life.
"Why, why Sherlock am I the last to hear any of this. You have been dead for over three months...buried and dead!" What's the concern now, thought Sherlock, John had obviously been occupied with other areas of his life. He should understand why he was not the first person he'd informed.
John had broken away from Mary's arm and was standing in front of him with his hands limply at his sides while Mary stared in wonderment, understanding donning as she concluded that this must be John's friend who had of late passed away.
"Sherlock you git! You prat! There was no need to fake your death, you attention seeking, self interested arse. And why did you do it in front of me, I saw you fall off a building and smash your face into the concrete. The bones in your face were broken and you were cold." John's eyes looked sad.
"Ah, cold, you said it, John that body was cold because it wasn't me. I …" John didn't want to hear how he had eluded him. His eyes wandered in bewilderment and Sherlock stopped realizing now was not the time to reveal what he had done.
"John, I suspected but I was not wholly sure, that Moriarty wanted me to die and I wanted to be the one to pull the trigger... so to speak. I was prepared to jump…if needs be, in order to buy myself time to figure out how to defend myself from Moriarty's ludicrous claims. He had gunmen on you John, and on Mycroft and Lestrade. Initially I thought I could influence Moriarty to call his men off but he shot himself. If I didn't jump…well, you get the picture." John's facial expression changed somewhat, registering both anger and understanding.
"And now the man of the hour!" Said Mycroft. Sherlock could see him through the ball room doors on the stage clapping and urging the dancers on the floor to applaud.
"Go Sherlock" ordered Molly as she shoved him though the doors. Mycroft made a relieved expression as Sherlock entered the room. The crowd parted, he made his way to the stage and took his place next to Mycroft who introduced him once again and applauded his detective genius. Mycroft handed the microphone on to Sherlock to recap what he had explained to John not minutes before, that he had faked his death as a last resort to save the lives of his compatriots and had apprehended the remainder of Moriarty's men. The crowd cheered and Mycroft lead an elderly gentleman up on stage who appeared to be, and John was not initially sure, the mayor of London. Confirmed, the thought, as the man produced a plack upon which a beautiful Victorian key was mounted.
John, overwhelmed by the rapid turn of events and relief that Sherlock no longer believed himself a fraud washed over him with intensity. He had completely forgotten Mary who stood stunned in the corridor as he wandered into the ball room to better hear the mayor. Remembering her, he ran back out into the hall and apologized for his inconsideration.
"I understand" she said sympathetically. Suddenly Mary understood why he refused to talk about Sherlock. Really she knew nothing about the man except that he had been John's flat mate and that he had committed suicide. John had shared nothing about his feelings on the subject. Sherlock had taken his life in front of John she thought and reached out supportively for his hand. This was the first time, in fact, that she had heard his name.
"It's ok Mary" he said acknowledging her sympathy. John moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders affectionately while watching Sherlock on stage accepting the key to the city. He looked less then pleased to be here thought John. Sherlock, he was certain, had no part in arranging this affair. He would rather be thought a fraud than grovel for the acknowledgement of England's well to do. He had faked his death, he thought, and technically that was illegal. Without explanation he faced trial and imprisonment. It was better to just clarify the whole affair now and avoid prosecution and the need to win over the media in the long run. Lifting Mary's overcoat off of the seat beside her, he covered her shoulders again. As he prepared to go, Sherlock, who was making his way back to them, caught his attention.
"So, see you at the flat then?" he asked flatly as John and Mary made for the front entrance.
"Right" said John without question. "When you have finished up here, head home and you'll catch me up on the details. Truthfully this is all a little overwhelming and while I understand that this is a celebration, and truly something to be celebrated," he admitted, "I don't think I am in the mood for dancing anymore."
"Understood" said Sherlock "I have never been one for these sort of affairs and if I weren't obliged to remain, at least until Mycroft is satisfied that I have made a sufficient appearance... I trust you haven't gotten rid of my things just yet." There was both tension and relief hanging in the air.
"No, Sherlock, I haven't gotten to them yet, I really hadn't had the…time to get to them yet." Sherlock was slightly insulted. "I'll see you at home" John said and escorted his date out into the cold evening air.
Please review, I already have a direction this is going but I want to know where you foresee it going, thanks!
