As I enjoyed watching The Final Problem last Sunday night(15/1/17), I wanted to do a Sherlock fanfic, as a follow on.

Sherlock: The Monuments of the Heart

Chapter 1

221B Baker Street had barely recovered from the impact of the explosion before Sherlock had insisted on redecorating the flat. His mind had obviously become hugely distracted by the recent events caused by Eurus at the Sherrinford facility. John agreed, believing it might be better for his friend to start getting his life back to normal. The visits to his sister happened twice a month, all at her request. Brother and Sister would perform Franz Biber's The Mystery Sonatas and other various classical pieces of music. Their love for music, helped them to bond well with each other. Mycroft was never happy with the fact, Sherlock would defend his sister, whenever the two brothers had an argument.

Once the flat was decorated and looking better than ever, with the new wallpaper and the scientific equipment, everything felt refreshing about each section of the flat. Although Sherlock enjoyed making Rosie smile and giggle with his many pulled silly faces, yet there were still many moments where he considered the possibility of having not done everything right.

Sherlock's recent ever changing behaviour hadn't gone unnoticed by John, who looked determined to get to the bottom of the reason behind this. One morning as John sat down for breakfast with his friend, he chose this moment to ask him, what was really going on. "Go on, enlighten me."

"Enlighten you with what, John?" He really wasn't in the mood to talk too much that morning.

"My deduction tells me, something's on your mind or perhaps it's someone who is on your mind?...Eurus...Irene Adler" Sherlock instantly rolled his eyes, as soon John started asking far too many questions.

"For the last time John, I don't love Irene Adler. She's more of an ally to me than a future girlfriend."

"Molly then?..." unsurprisingly John was soon met with silence and a very telling stare from the Consulting Detective. From the impression he got, it didn't take John too long to work out, who else meant a lot to his friend...Molly Hooper.

"Why don't you just ask her out?"

"I can't, not after what Eurus made me do. You seen what she did, didn't you? Attempting to emotionally hurt both myself and Molly with three words that wouldn't be considered to hurt anyone in a bad way. No I can't, not right now."

"Sherlock it's been weeks since what your sister put us all through with her twisted mind games. Besides I've told Molly about Eurus. So here's a piece of advice from me to you; don't live with regrets for the rest of your life because they'll only bite you in the backside, the longer you continue to think nothing of them." John was beginning to get fed up with his friend, mooching around and doing nowt whatsoever to act on his personal thoughts.

The atmosphere between them turned silently annoying, for John particularly and then fell on deaf ears, for the duration of 10-15 minutes at least. Dishing one or two truths had felt like the right thing to do at first but now the fact he wasn't having much luck with convincing Sherlock to take his advice on board. Yet, he soon found out his assumption regarding this matter wasn't as he thought it might end up becoming, Sherlock was slowly coming around to the idea of acting on his gut feeling.

"What if she says no and wants us just to remain friends? What if I frighten her again? What if, I follow in my sister's footsteps with everything I tell Molly?"

"You won't, follow in Eurus' footsteps. You're far from becoming like your sister. You use your mind palace for better deductions and to prevent lives from hanging on a cliffhanger. What I'm trying to tell you is, there's always first for everything Sherlock."

"What if she ends up saying yes and then a case comes up? Surely she will want to keep her distance."

"Oh for god's sake Sherlock, just phone her up and ask her!" Clearly John couldn't tolerate another moment of listening to Sherlock's 'What if' questions, raised his voice and in the process accidentally woke Rosie up from her sleep. The two men exchanged looks, Sherlock's was more of a curious look and John's was a 'I probably shouldn't have shouted at you like that' look. Luckily Mrs Hudson, who was quietly cleaning in the kitchen and had taken it upon herself to look in on Rosie. She didn't experience any trouble in calming the baby down from crying.

"Oh Mrs Hudson. Have I told you, you're a true godsend." John tells the landlady, as soon as she appears from John's former bedroom in the flat.

"Yes you have...but I've lost count how many times you told me. Anyway, what's all this shouting about? Has Sherlock had another argument with his brother? I don't know why he's still talking to him. All that despicable man ever does is bring trouble and danger to poor Sherlock's door." Mrs Hudson voiced her opinion of the eldest Holmes brother, an opinion which didn't surprise John nor Sherlock at all.

John turned to face her. "Not quite, I'm afraid...well not this time. It's more to do with a wake up and smell the coffee call."

"John...I'd rather you didn't make yourself Baker Street's answer to the News of the World right now, even without doing an update on your computer. You're better than that." Sherlock requested, making it clear he wasn't comfortable with every detail of their conversation being passed on to other people.

"Sorry but I think Mrs Hudson is owed an reasonable explanation, as to why I shouted at you." Being honest and truthful was always the best way of behaving whenever Mrs Hudson was in the same room.

"Fine then." The youngest Holmes brother huffed.

"When me, Mycroft and Sherlock found ourselves incarcerated at the Sherrinford facilities. Eurus dared Sherlock to save someone who loves him, someone whose life who we were led to believe, life was at risk. All he had to do was get her to tell him she loved him. He wasn't allowed to tell her, the threat to her life, depended on him getting to admit those three words. In the end, Eurus told us, it was all just one big ruse. Twisted I know. Yet now, Sherlock's beginning to think the same as this certain person who loves him...it's Molly by the way...she's the woman who loves him. "

"Oh Sherlock..." Mrs Hudson squealed with delight and rushed over to hug her favourite tenant.

"I haven't exactly spoken to Molly in person yet. I'm not really sure, I know where I stand with her."

Going over this one last time in his extraordinary mind proved tough enough for him, within it. However with knowing now, on the outside he had been led to believe the 'I Love You' declaration was only ever a code to save Molly Hooper's life, it made matters confusing to say the least. Sherlock had pretty much convinced himself, from his point of view that his words to her felt genuine but he didn't know how it would remotely likely for him to explain the depths of his feelings, even with one of his long drawn out, puzzle solving speeches.

"Oh I'm sure, she'll come and see you when she's ready." Mrs Hudson thinks the two of them just need to choose the right time and moment, to sit down and sort things out with each other as soon as possible.

"I'm not sure I can wait for her to come and see me. Something's changed, even my mind palace is telling me one thing and my heart is telling me something else entirely." The most rarest and unusual of smiles suddenly forms itself across Sherlock's face, as he visualizes one or two of these images.

Molly and Sherlock hold each other's hand, she appeared to look more comfortable with holding his hand than he was with hers. The two had taken up stargazing as a hobby. This certain hobby certainly benefited Sherlock with his deductions. Starry lights floated everywhere around them, as if it were a magical fairytale of sorts.

"You need to tell the real me, how you feel, Sherlock. Imagining us together, can't be the way forward for you."

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a 18 year old boy with long black hair, knocking at the flat door. He took everyone by surprise.

"May I ask, how long you've been standing there?" Sherlock asks. He doesn't waste no time, in analyzing every detail about this young man. Certain features which stood out about this individual included;

Single. - This is an easy giveaway.

Owns a dog - he knows this, the moment he acknowledges the dog paws on the man's shoes.

Travels during the summer - the rounded shoulders pose the young man has, that too he notes.

Sore fingers, obviously plays a musical instrument

Vegetarian - the smell of celery is very evident. John doesn't seem to have noted this.

Ambitious

"The elderly woman told me to wait downstairs. I heard shouting, so I came up here to see why I'd been forgotten about."

Scottish or Irish? - he can't tell which accent it is.

Mrs Hudson makes her apologies to the young man before she exits the room, leaving him alone with Sherlock and John, who both now happened to be sitting in their usual seats.

"Do please take a seat." Sherlock says, gesturing for him to take a seat, centered in the middle, the only one which remained vacant for a few seconds.

"So why do you need our help...?" John asks, while clutching a notepad and pen in both of his hands.

"Peter...my name's Peter. Peter MacNair" The young man more or less blurts his name out instead of calmly confirming it. It's plain obvious something might in fact be causing him some distress, once all eyes are on him.

Scared? A witness to an unreported crime? Shaky hands? Sherlock is right on the mark, as he's able to pick up on further giveaway clues about Peter.

"Well...where do I start? I was playing a gig in Hammersmith. The concert went brilliant, better than I expected..."

"Get to the point please" Sherlock requests, as he closes his eyes in complete concentration and listens to main part of Peter's story. With his hands positioned as if he were praying, he questions whether the conclusion will be a) Absolutely boring, dull b) Slightly Fascinating c) Reveal a shocking revelation.

"I was going back to my dressing room and before I got to open the door, I heard screams coming from upstairs from the stage area. So I went to see what the commotion was. From thereon here's where the strange stuff began to get really weird. I discovered a man's body lying face down in the doorway and then the next thing I know, I'm waking up in my dressing room with a banging headache and holding an heavy object in my hand. How it came to be in my hand, I have no explanation of this but rest of assure I'm adamant I didn't kill this man whoever he was."

"So why hasn't anybody reported you, for making these claims?"

"Because whoever committed the crime is obviously manipulating, those who either witnessed or overheard this person planning to carry out this criminal act. Unbeknownst to you walked into the perfect trap...Peter. " Sherlock informs him. An visual image of the crime scene emerges in front of everyone in the flat's living room.

Sherlock stands up from his chair and doesn't take too long to use his observation skills to, examine the room around him. The not-so-small room looks likely to have been disturbed but Sherlock simply puts that down to the audience making a mess. He positions his left hand in the air and then a safe dial appears right in front of him, to rewind this night back in time. He notes blood spots by the stage and Peter unconscious on the floor - perhaps the unidentified body was wrapped up and then dragged past where Peter was lying. Two individuals had certainly done well to disguise themselves, looked down at him before dragging him through the doorway of the room and into the far background. The lights in this room flickered and dimmed, an ominous warning for Sherlock to leave this visualized scene for the time being.

"So, do you believe me or not?" Peter asks.

"Have you spoken to anyone else about this, other than the two of us?" John refers to himself and Sherlock.

"Yes I spoke to a DI Lestrade. He hardly helped me. The only answer I ended up getting from him was, 'Not my Division, go to 221B Baker Street, I know two crime solvers who would be very happy to help you." In flashback sound, Greg Lestrade's voice momentarily utters these words of recommendation.

"Did he now?...We'll take the case." Sherlock says, as he glances over at the young man.

xxx

Sherlock and John entered the Hammersmith venue where Peter's gig had taken place a few nights ago. Everyone who worked there looked on in amazement and surprise. Various whispers circulated around "Is that him, the great Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street? Go on you idiot, go and ask him for a selfie. Oi Terry, better let your followers know on Twitter, Sherlock Holmes is in the same building as you."

There came a time, not too often where Sherlock preferred not to be the centre of attention during a case which urgently needed his skills to solve it and enjoy the limelight by the end of the day. Locking himself away safely inside his mind palace, at least helped him to map out where the fire exits and the dressing rooms were situated in this building.

"So what are you thinking?" John asks him, while as the duo took it upon themselves to find the nearest dressing rooms. It just so happened seeing as this building had two floors - Ground Floor for performers/artists/Music Fans and the First Floor for the Manager/Venue Owner; The dressing rooms were just down the corridor, which Sherlock had already worked out from his deductions.

"The truth lies within the eye of the beholder unless the beholder isn't in charge anymore...meaning someone's swiped the CCTV recording from that night and making Peter look more like a rambling Scot with an obsession for Irn Bru ."

"An obsession for Irn Bru? What makes you think that has anything to do with this case?"

Even before reaching the room Peter used a few nights ago (The Bowman Room), Sherlock was keen to share one strange theory.

"Has it not crossed your mind John, given how Peter is Scottish, he would crave this as a reminder of home before he goes on stage for a performance. So who's to say, there's a strong possibility his drink could have been spiked. Of course with whatever was used to spike his drink, the drug would more or less have taken a few hours to take effect on him and then when it did just that, he's powerless to do anything, at the mercy of of this individual. "

"Couldn't Chloroform be applied?" John felt this was the likely cause.

"Maybe." Sherlock re-examined the brief events from the other day, at the flat. How the young man showed no signs of a drug habit while under questioning. His hazel eyes although nervy at times, Sherlock put this down to shock obviously. The name Lawrence stood out, illuminated right in front of his eyes.

"The victim's name is Lawrence. When we walked past the main reception area. I caught a glimpse of the staff signing-in book. Today is Friday and the names of everyone who works here, printed in the book, have five ticks against them. Whoever Lawrence is, he has two ticks against his name. Peter's gig took place on Tuesday night and yet there isn't for Wednesday, Thursday or today." A flashback confirms this in Sherlock's mind.

"Well maybe he's unwell or he's had a family emergency." John isn't sure whether to agree him on this. He believes Sherlock's attempts of throwing himself head first into this case and blanking out his feelings for Molly, may be impacting his general understanding of everything around him.

"Sorry I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." A woman in her mid 50s who was cleaning nearby, addressed Sherlock and John. "You were talking about Mr Barnes...Lawrence Barnes?"

"Yes."

Sherlock's eyes suddenly began to analyze the body language of this woman. Right-handed, Widower, Alert, Independent, Good Listener, Crime Fiction fan, ...

"He's never missed a day's work. Really strange of him, to miss 3 days of work without letting his colleagues know. He actually gave me a cleaning job here. Nice man, so like I say it's out of character of him, not to show up for work." She tells them.

"Did you notice anything else, anything which suggested to you, someone may hold a grudge against him?" Sherlock questions her.

"Not from what I've seen. He treats everyone with the right kind of respect and equally. Come to think of it, I don't think anyone has ever said a bad word about him in this place. Why are you asking me this for? Has something happened to him?"

A few minutes later, the woman whose name badge read Bernadette on it, was now trying to process what Sherlock Holmes had just told her. She nearly lost her balance, as soon the 'murdered' word was brought up. "You think someone killed Lawrence? Did that young singer tell you this?"

"Yes he did. Why don't you believe him?" John asks her.

"This may surprise you but I actually do believe him, it makes sense than a lot of other things. You see I arrived for work on Wednesday morning for my shift and the first thing I see is this big commotion, this young man in his 20's hanging around outside. He wouldn't move unless someone came out and spoke him away from the gathering crowd behind him. Sadly he didn't achieve that and the only thing he did achieve was getting himself escorted from the premises. Anyway I overheard about the allegations he made but I never thought they would be involving Mr Barnes."

Despite the odds now looking pretty favorable for them, with regards to getting to the bottom of this seemingly straightforward case; Sherlock was suddenly struck by a worrying feeling - danger was still lurking around the corner, waiting to take an advantage of one's biggest mistakes.

Their investigation didn't really get far, especially when Sherlock asked if he could view the corridor/stage area recordings for that week, he was told visitors weren't allowed to view them.

As they were leaving the building, Sherlock was putting together a rather marvelous yet simple idea.

End of Chapter

All Reviews are welcome