Sadly, I don't own Sherlock Holmes.
On July 27th 2012, the eyes of the whole world were on London. For the third time, the honor of hosting the Olympics was given to them and the expectations were high. The country that bares the name the GREAT Britain can not allow itself to fail.
Of course, unless you spend the last few days in a cave on Mars, you are already aware of this fact. However, the following two stories will not be about the ceremony itself. That night secrets were revealed, guys with high cheekbones were punched, people were blackmailed, but the most important thing was that the two man came home.
Doctor John Watson wasn't feeling good that day. The good news was that this wasn't some kind of emotional pain. He had his share of that in the last few years. The bad news was that he threw up right in front of the doors of his boss who came out of the office in that exact moment, tripped and broke his left hand. So, all in all, that wasn't the best day of John's life.
He was now laying in front of the telly, with a cup of tea in his hands and a high fever in his body. It's been a long time since he turned the TV on. More than two years to be exact; Since the day when Sherlock Holmes took his life. He couldn't listen to them saying that he was a fraud and a liar. All the news he wanted to hear were easily accessible over the internet anyway.
He fought desperately not to fall asleep. His homeland was hosting the Olympic and he probably won't live to see that happening again. The ceremony was just about to start, but John was already almost out. There is no way he could have ever stayed awake if he didn't hear a familiar voice; Deep, silky, perfect for storytelling and belonging to a dead man. He stood up and was wide awake in the matter of seconds. As much as he stared at the screen, the picture on it wasn't changing. The man was tall, slender and had brown hair. As much as it seemed impossible, the person who stated the broadcast of the Olympics games by saying:
-Let the games commence.- was no other than Sherlock Holmes.
John stated walking around the living room. He was dreaming. That must have been it. Or maybe his fever was high that he was starting to hallucinate. And, yes, there was the possibility that he was just losing his mind.
He almost didn't allow himself to think that the man on the screen was actually his dead friend. It must have been a doppelganger, a long lost twin, a robot. Anything made more sense that this.
-I can't believe I'm doing this.- John muttered to himself as he took his phone and, with his hand still shaking, typed:
-There was a guy on TV. He looked just like you. And sounded like you too. Please, Sherlock, if you're out there, please, call me.- When he pressed SEND he just collapsed on his couch and stared at the wall.
Ten minutes have passed. Then ten more. Soon, a whole hour went by and John realized that he made a fool of himself by texting a dead man. If they have cell phones in heaven, they probably can't text was hard to get a text back from Sherlock when he was alive.
As John took his phone to delete the text he sent and send another one to his friend Mary, who was a psychiatrist, telling her that she'll receive a visit from him in the morning, the phone lighten up. He received a new text message:
-Open your doors. SH.- John has no idea how he managed to get to the front doors. Every part of his body was shaking. He just knew that he was holing the doorknob, too afraid to pull it. Maybe someone got the hold of Sherlock's phone and was now pulling a mean prank on him. Maybe he got hit by a car on his way back from work and was now in a coma. But maybe, just maybe, Sherlock Holmes was waiting on the other side of the doors. And that small possibility of happy ever after made John finally open the doors.
He found himself face to face with the man he saw on TV. He was smiling and the smile was honest and childlike.
-John, it's nice to see you again.- he said.
-Sherlock, is that really you?- John asked.
-Yes, John, who else would it be?- Next second, Sherlock was on the floor, bleeding. There was a cut on his face from where John just landed a mighty punch.
-Gee, I don't know! Benedict Cumberbatch maybe! You jerk! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were dead, you dick!- Sherlock stood up.
-I'm sorry John. It was all to protect you. Let me in and I'll tell you everything.- he promised.
When they were in the living room, John sat him on the couch.
-Come on, let's hear it. How did you survive, why did you lie to me and what on Earth are you doing on the BBC?-
-Moriarty gave me a choice: Either I kill myself or you, Lestade and Mrs. Hudson die. I couldn't risk your life so I did what he said. Surviving the fall wasn't that hart, to be honest. I just…- A small wormhole opened in fabric of space-time continuum in John's living room, sucked up the sound of Sherlock's explanation and took it to a parallel universe (this one, to be exact) where Moffat, Gatiss and Thomson were trying to figure out how to throw someone of a building and have them survive the fall.
The author would like to apologize to the readers if this strange phenomenon decreased the reading experience of this story.
-That was brilliant.- said John. Sherlock's lips parted in a small, proud smile –Bloody amazing.-
-Well, it was a stroke of genius, to be hones.- admitted Sherlock.
-You did that for us? Thank you.- said John.
-You did save my life multiple times. I should be thanking you.- replied the taller man.
-Ok, now the last question. What were you doing announcing the start of one of the biggest things in our country?-
-After the fall, I didn't want to go into hiding. There were countless loose ends to Moriarty's organization. So, Mycroft talked to one of his closest friends, a show writer, who was starting this new show and he needed a lead. You know I was a part time actor in my days...-
-No I did not know that. What did you act in? Why didn't you tell me?- John was baffled. What else was this strange man hiding?
-I acted in a lot of things, but my favorites were a film about that scientist and that play about Frankenstein.-
-I went to see that with Sarah when we were still together.- said John –Wait, does that mean that you were doing the theater when we were living together?- he asked.
-I thought it was obvious. It was all under the alias of Benedict Cumberbatch.- John felt like he was about to faint so he just skipped to the next question. There will be time for freaking out later. Although, a lot of things that Sherlock did, like dying his hair all the time, growing strange facial hair and disappearing for days made a lot more sense.
-So, what happened with the show?- he wondered.
-I took the job so I could stay close to London and continue sabotaging Moriarty's web without exposing you to danger. Unfortunately, the things got a little out of control.-
-What happened?-
-The show was a massive success and my costar and I became world wide famous.- he said in a flat voice.
-You sure know how to keep a low profile.- commented John.
-The best place to hide is in plain site. No one will ever think that a famous, good guy actor is actually a consulting detective on the run.- he assured John –They asked me to make that little sketch and I said yes. You are suppose to be at work now.-
-I was sick, so I came home. Do you always schedule your appearance around my plans?-
-I try to as much as I can. I was going to visit you by December. I didn't want you to freak out in the theatre.- Sherlock said -I had to play a good boy for more then two years now. And I couldn't just say no to parts and now I'm stuck paying the villain in Star Trek and dragon in Hobbit.-
-What?- yelled John as his brain tried to put together all the puzzle pieces. He knew he heard the name Benedict Cumberbatch before. Sherlock just stared at him blankly.
-Smaug the Dragon. I had no idea what he was before, but I've read the books and…- John pointed to his book shelf.
-Everything Tolkien ever wrote is there. I've been waiting for the Hobbit since I was eight and now you're saying that my best friend is in it?- he asked.
-That would seem to be the case.- said Sherlock.
-I'm so proud of you.- admitted John, smiling like a lunatic, already trying to find a way to make Sherlock take him to the premiere.
–We'll talk more later. Let's watch the Olympics. It will be spectacular. I'll put this in your mind palace. It's important.-
As then watched the Queen jumping out of an airplane, John asked:
-That show you do, what's it called? What's it about?-
-It's actually a modern take on the old Arthur Conan Doyle novellas. You know, those about Sheridan Hope and Ormond Sacker*.-
-I love them.- said John –One of the best crime stories ever.-
-I play Hope. We're actually quite alike.- John thought about it for a second.
-Yeah, you are identical.- he concluded.
-You should watch the show sometimes. They say it's really good.-
-I will.- said John.
The rest of the night, they watched the broadcast together, while Sherlock spoiled everything for John because Mycroft told him the whole plan (the army of Mary Poppins' was his idea). The only thing he got wrong was the song that started playing when Fiji representatives walked in. It was supposed to be "I want to Break Free" but the sound of Bee Gees's "Stayin Alive" made Sherlock smile.
-I guess I'm not the only one who came home tonight."
On the other side of the town, by the time the song came to the chorus, Sebastian Moran was already in his car, on his way to the Stadium.
*Sheridan Hope and Ormond Sacker are the first names for Sherlock Holmes and Watson Conan considered. In this universe, he just went with his original plan.
You might have noticed that English is my second language and only help I have is the spellchecker and the internet and I apologize for any mistakes you might have encountered. The second chapter will be up tomorrow and, in the meantime, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed.