The Charitable Man
Hey Guys thank you so much for reading. I think the first thing I need to point out that this is a... semi Adlock... (That's the only way I can describe it atm) And this story is set after John and Mary's wedding but His Last Vow does not happen in this story. (Well kinda does but we'll talk about that later) The characters like CAM and Janine will be in it. I've had this idea for ages but never been confident about writing it up until now. So... yeah I hope this makes sense... so I hope you like it :) xx
One thing you should know is in my story Sherlock and John have been partners for over ten years... we all alright with that? Good. xx
BTW I am dyslexic so there may be mistakes I do not see so if there are any mistakes I've not seen please make me aware and I'll do my best to correct them :) thanks xx
Chapter One
To Sherlock Holmes she would always be The Woman. No other name would ever be more appropriate or indeed more suitable. The Woman. Sherlock Holmes didn't think about people often, he had far more important tasks to occupy his time. Doing Gabe Lestrade's work for him, belittling Donavan's affair with her next door neighbour's boyfriend (Did she really have no standards?) and making sure Mycroft was too busy looking for his ID pass than to start putting camera's in the flat. For the moment that definitely wasn't the case, at least not any time soon. Having to explain why his ID was found in a slum in Peckham was unlikely a conversation he wanted to have with his superiors. Sometimes having a homeless network did wonders for messing with your big brother's sanity and more importantly his ego.
But every once in a while Sherlock would do nothing. No cases, no clients, no crime. He would just sit and think. Sit in silence and travel back through his mind palace and find her. He didn't go to his mind palace to fantasize about her. He searched for Irene Adler just to observe her. Sherlock would think about his last encounter with the Woman. Eight years seemed to just have passed by in the blink of an eye. Many things seemed to have passed too quickly. Taking out all of Moriarty's network, coming back from the dead… John moving out of 221b and marrying Mary. Of course Sherlock would never admit it but without John's presence in the flat, Sherlock's home life seemed a lot quieter and lonelier. A lot like it had before the two had met. Even Mrs Hudson's chatter (which Sherlock had started to avoid due to the lack of finishing sentences on her part) couldn't quite fill the gaping hole of a missing human. But Sherlock was not one for moaning about things that could not be changed no matter how much he might want it to. Sherlock knew he would see John again. They would still go on cases. They would still do things like in the good old days. But no matter how many times Sherlock tried to rationalized these facts in his head, he knew things would not be the same.
It was just another dull afternoon when Sherlock was in one of these moments when Sherlock received the text from Mycroft.
My office. 5 minutes. – M.
No – SH.
I thought you liked a good mystery? – M.
Mystery? What was he a child? Mycroft probably could have debated that… but that wasn't the point. He wasn't going to be drawn out like a moth to the flame… or more appropriately a child to a sweetshop.
Sounds perfectly dull – SH
No. Sherlock refused to be manipulated by Mycroft again. The last time had been bad enough… but on the other hand the end result was… No. No No No! No more cases from Mycroft. He made that promise to not take any more cases not after… not after her. And he intended to keep it that way. And so said phone ended up tossed into the middle of the settee while Sherlock slouched into his chair, giving death glares to the chair opposite him. John's old chair. Empty. Wonderful. Another day just lounging about waiting for the next to come along and give something stimulating to do.
That was until heard the soft clicking of footsteps slowing making their way up the stairs of 221b before a soft tapping knock on the door. Sherlock's glaring face softened and the corners of his mouth began to turn up into a smirk. He got up from his seat and made his way over to his phone and began typing out a text.
Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.
If inconvenient come anyway.
Could be dangerous – SH
Finally. They had a client!
John couldn't have been more relieved when he received that text. Despite all the pleasures and advantages that marriage gave him, his job still remained the same. John was never one to complain about having a job, in fact his was very grateful for it considering all the stunts he had pulled while on a case with Sherlock (God knows why Sarah hadn't sacked him long ago) but today was just an incredible boring day. Not to sound like Sherlock Holmes but it was DULL. And the clock was beginning to play tricks on him. John felt like he was back at school waiting for the bell to go so he could just go home. But on the bright side he only had a half day. And that half a day ended… 20 seconds ago. Freedom. Well until he got the phone call from Mary asking him where the hell he was. Better text her now.
Exactly at that moment was when Mary decided to ring him. For some reason Mary could always sense when people needed to get in touch with her so she'd ring them first… It was very weird to say the least. His psychic Mary and her voodoo powers. Though he didn't call her that. Last time he did he ended up with a dead arm. Mary didn't mess around. But he couldn't complain, Mary was one of very few women who would put up with a lot of his (Well Sherlock's really) antics. She enjoyed it actually. Their little adventures. The 'Bromance' as she called it though never around Sherlock. Sherlock threw a fit last time she said it and to this day the carpet still doesn't fully cover the dent wood in the floorboard. John couldn't conceal the smirk on his face. A Sherlock story was always a great ice-breaker at awkward party.
Making his way up to Baker Street he noticed the sound of Sherlock playing his violin. A strange low melody. This confused John slightly. Sherlock usually composed when he'd finished a case or if he was in deep thought. Why ask him to come quickly if he was just composing?
"When you're done staring at the walls John you might want to meet our guest"
That pulled John out of his thoughts and made him walk up the stairs into the flat.
"Yeah… sorry… I was just thinking"
Sherlock's arched his eyebrow. John just rolled his eyes. No matter how much time they spent apart Sherlock would always be the 'arrogant prick' but still his best mate. And by this point, after living with Sherlock's attitude for so long, John didn't find it as irritating anymore. Well maybe a bit but it could be quite amusing.
Sherlock placed his violin down and slowly walked over to his chair and sat down placing his hands in the steeple position. It was then John realised that someone was sitting in his chair and Sherlock was eyeing him.
"John. Meet our new client"
John looked over at the man sitting in his chair. Blue suit. Sharp-looking, and well fitted… Almost reminded John of something Mycroft would wear. Silver cufflinks. Expensive. Probably Armani or Ralph Lauren. Shoes. New shoes. No scuff marks. Tanned face. Obviously just come from abroad. John stopped. Oh Jesus no. John had started deducing. Stop it just stop.
"Yes.. urmm nice to meet you Mr..Urmm"
"Smith" The man raised from his seat and gave John a strong handshake.
John looked over at Sherlock who was eyeing the man intensely.
"Smith?"
"Yes Doctor Watson. Just Smith. Common I know but still..
"Useful to keep one's true identity safe" Sherlock interjected "Don't insult our intelligence and just tell us what you want".
The man almost flustered but remained composed as he went to the side of John's chair and picked up a black brief case. He pulled out a folder with the word Confidential plastered across it and handed it over to John who took it with slight confusion on his face.
"The information in that folder in classified. But my employer has directed me to make sure this information is passed on to you both"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. And stood from his chair walking towards the door.
"I don't take anonymous clients. Now if you're done wasting our times you can find your own way out"
Smith didn't make any attempt to move. He stood in his place smirking.
"I was warned about your lack of patience Mr Holmes but you are going to want to read that file"
"Why?"
"Because it has information on a person of interest to you Mr Holmes"
At this Sherlock turned slightly. Not quite intrigued but there was some small, tiny part or him that wanted to know.
"Who?"
"Mr Holmes how much information do you have on Frances Carfax?"