The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Pulled
A/N: My problem with Fanfiction writing is the stories write themselves. It's almost like I can't make it go where I want it to because I try so hard to be cannon. I have a Molly/Sherlock story in mind. This is actually a prequel too it. I couldn't write one without the other. This will be a Donavan/Watson story to begin. If it flows correctly maybe it will complete itself with both stories. I'm all about the assemble cast. It's what happens to John during Sherlock's preamble to coming back. We can't have John wallowing away in some dark apartment waiting for his prince to return. Neither would his friends. No one could be like the Great Sherlock Holmes, but people still need help. Who better then John Watson to be a savior to London in his own way, while trying to save the legacy of his friend? Did I put too much spoiler in this? I hope not.
Another thing, I am very American, and have only slight information gleamed from the UK. Please let me know if I inadvertently make social faux pas, or actually insult an aspect of the English cultural. Most of the things I've learned is from watching TV, because I don't really like to travel.
To the title the full quote from The Usual Suspects: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesn't exist. Tell me that is not the pediment of "The Reichenbach Fall". Well let's see what our Sherlock Crew can do about that one.
Chapter One: The Fifth Day
Mrs. Hudson looked around the Angelo's quaint restaurant. The funeral was a disaster with paparazzi everywhere. This was more of what it should have been. More dignified and worthy of the man they all grew to love.
It was packed with people. Voices were hushed whispers save for the moments broken with sobering laughter. Villains and heroes alike were in the room. Reminiscing of times when they met the man that changed their lives in one way or another. This was a memorial for the great Sherlock Holmes. These were the people that knew him. Not those out there spreading lies about him. Not those filthy rags trying to make a quick quid off of a man as great as he was troubled.
She bowed her head slightly as she took in all the faces. Detective Greg Laustrade was in the corner on his mobile. His face contorted in anger. She sighed to herself knowing of the trouble he'd been having at work since this whole affair had blown up in his face. A man he trusted was on trial despite the fact he wasn't here to defend himself. The department, even the police commissioner was trying to make him distance himself from the entire scandal but he refused to be silenced in his constant defense of his friend. He was relentless in his belief that Sherlock was innocent.
She turned her gaze to another in the room, Mycroft. With their mother, taken to bed with grief over the loss of her son, Mycroft was the only family member present. He nursed his whiskey in deep thought. Memories of the past, plans for the future, none could say. His face was a mask of marble, emotionless and stoic. Anthea, as she was introduced to Mrs. Hudson, sat across from him seeming to never taking her eyes off her phone. Her face was easily read, "Bored". It was a great façade, as only once in a great while would she look up with concern in her eyes when she thought no one was watching.
John was also trapped within his own world. Mrs. Hudson knew he was in great pain. He was consoling himself with the fact that he would prove that Sherlock was innocent, that Jim Moriaty did exist. John was determined to prove the root of all these problems weren't caused by his friend but was stopped by him. She worried that this need to clear Sherlock's name would do more harm than good. He was becoming obsessed. She didn't want to think it but the sleepless nights and other erratic behavior changes were growing more and more worthy of concern. His new mission in life may well be something that drags him into a hole he could never be brought out of.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head sadly. John was truly suffering and despite everyone around him, he saw only those that betrayed everything. Despite the people trying to show love, support, condolences, John was filled with venom for any that said a wrong word about his friend. It was understandable to be sure but to see only perfection where there were flaws, it was worrisome.
Clink Clink Clink
Lestrade stood gathering everyone's attention. Sighing deeply, with all eyes on him he did what every good captain would do rally the troops. "Hello, everyone," the sobering silence was deafening. "John once asked me why I put up with Sherlock. I told him that Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and that one day, if we're very very lucky; he might even be a good one." His eyes got misty as a lump formed in his throat. "Looking around this room, I see now the proof that he was a good man. I know that and so do you." A cheer and raised glasses clanked together in appreciation. "I don't care what the outside world thinks, or what they believe. They didn't know him. He was flawed," Lestrade started, "He was human. He was careless sometimes with his words, with his actions. Yet, here is a room full of people grateful that he was here when we needed him. He had a great gift. He could have used that gift for all sorts of malice. He CHOSE not to. He CHOSE to help each and every person here. He may have played it off that it was because he was bored, and he needed things to entertain his mind. But there are murders, psychotics and evil that are locked away for a very long time because of him. I refuse to think that is a fluke of being bored. That is a man who actually wanted to help people even if he himself didn't know why. There was a need for him to be a good man. For that alone, I thank Sherlock, wherever you are." With heavy heart he lifted his glass. "To Sherlock"
Even John in his numbed state raised a glass and gave a slight grin, "To SHERLOCK" he repeated rest in the room.
The phone vibrated in Molly's pocket. Her mind instantly went to John, she was running late for Sherlock's Memorial. Aside from wanting to scrub the scent of the morgue from her, she took longer to get out of work then she planned. She pressed the answer button without even looking at the screen as she bustled down the street. "I'm just round the corner and will be there in two shakes."
"What, you're missing my memorial?" came the haunting voice that she both loved and despised.
Her tone became hushed almost instantly and she side-stepped to get out of the foot traffic of the sidewalk. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"Some would say" Sherlock countered almost automatically, "Why aren't you there yet?"
"Long day" she stated slight exasperated.
"New case?"
She heard his ears perk up just at the thought of it. "Oh, my God," she said shocked, why she was shocked she had no idea. Quickly she turned the tables. "Do you want me to walk in to Angelo's and tell them you'll be back in the morning to solve it?"
Silence was on the other end but for a moment. "Don't be ridiculous." She heard him intake breath. "I thought it over and you shouldn't go."
"Where?" not meaning to be confused but she wondered if they changed topics.
"To my memorial. Keep up Molly" Sherlock spoke as he would to a simpleton.
Frustration wasn't the word to describe what she felt. "Wait you called, to criticize me for not being where you don't want me to be? Yes, defiantly crazy. I'm hanging up now."
"No wait." Not sure where he went wrong but needing to get his point across. "I just can't have you getting swept up in sentiment and telling everyone everything." He was very matter of fact which infuriated Molly all the more.
"So now you don't trust me," she accused.
"It's not about trust. It's about the person you are." That didn't sound any better from Molly's point of view. "You are going to be with a room filled with people in pain, the fact that you can relieve that pain," he takes a deep breath, "Might be a temptation that you can't resist."
She visibility shook with anger, and took a deep breathe. "How dare you? I was at your funeral with your friends and said nothing. You think I'm going to betray everything you worked for now."
"That's not it," Sherlock back-stepped, "I put you in a situation where you have to constantly lie to everyone. I'm sorry for that. When you chose to help me I'm sure you had no idea how long this charade would last. This won't be just painful for them but painful for you as well. I" he stopped for a moment trying to choose his words carefully. "I want to spare you that."
"Your right, I chose to help you," some of her anger deflated. "I may not know how long this will last, but I do know you will come home and I know everything will be right with the world someday." There was silence as neither knew where to go from there. "Listen, I'm just around the corner so I really should be going."
"Molly, leave your speaker phone on so I can hear what they are saying about me." he said and Molly could see the in her mind's eye his smirking lips.
"You cheeky bast—"
"MOLLY!" The shout of Sargent Sally Donovan from the other side of the block.
"Have to go, Donovan is coming,"
"Sargent Donovan is going to my Memorial?" Sherlock asked slightly stunned. Molly didn't hear it though as she quickly put her phone away.
Molly smiled her prettiest innocent smile and waved at Sally.
"Are you OK, Molly?" Sally asked finally reaching her.
"Of course, why do you ask?"
"You seem a bit flushed," Molly's hands went her face. Despite the fact Sherlock was only on the phone, she still got a bit flustered when hearing his voice. Her mind scrambled for an explanation.
Sally wished she could have bitten her tongue right off, "Of course you're not. I'm sorry I meant no disrespect." Sally looked to the restaurant almost subconsciously. "I can't imagine how you are doing."
Did everyone know I was in love with him? Molly chided herself.
"It will get better some day and you'll find someone else."
"Yes, I'm sure I will." Molly was just glad for the explanation she grasped for to be so easily handed to her.
"Listen, I need a favor. The new case," Sally started.
"Of course I emailed the department information before I left."
"No, not that." Sally wrung her hands nervously. "Could you ask the Inspector to come out here?" Molly cocked her head to the side. "It just with everything between the Commissioner and Lestraude are tense right now and He, the commissioner is demanding the progress we have on the case. "
"Can't it wait?"
"It should but," she rubbed her head even more distressed. "The commissioner knows he's here and if a reporter got this in the paper." She stumbled over the words, "Lestrade's just on such thin ice and I don't know what to do. The commissioner is demanding the information now. I'm sure he's doing it on purpose but I see no way to leave Greg out of it without making it worse."
"So go in and tell him that. Lestrade will understand that you are only looking out for him."
"And he's only looking out for Sherlock." Sally countered.
"Come on then we'll go in together and talk to him."
Sally didn't move. Her eyes drifted to the window. "I can't go in there. He knows how I felt about him. I don't want to be disrespectful."
"Lestrade may know but you are his co-worker and you're only looking out for what is best for him."
Sally didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't Lestrade she was referring to. Her eyes watched, John Watson painfully. She could only imagine what he was going through. John must have felt her staring because he looked up and their eyes locked. The sorrow drained from John's eyes and rage replaced them. Sally backed up physically feeling the rage even through the window, but she refused to back down and she watched him as he got up and walked out of the restaurant.
"What are you doing here?" John asked accusingly.
"I only need to talk to Inspect-"
"If you haven't noticed he's a bit busy at the moment mourning a friend." John cut her off taking another step toward them.
Molly was about to interrupt when Sally gave her a look. Instead Molly thought back up might be needed and started walking for the door, "I'll go get him."
"John, I don't want to make this difficult,
"You don't, really, because you had no problem at all spilling you guts out to the nearest tabloid that would buy your slander."
"That's not true, that was said in confidence to the commissioner, I don't know how that tabloid got that information."
"So you did say it." He chuckled sarcastically to himself. "Leave right now." He turned before he would do something he might regret.
"John wait," she reached out grabbing his arm to stop him. He spun around so angry she raised her hands up in surrender. "I just want to say." The expression on his face was not one who wanted to listen but she continued anyway. "I need to say. I'm sorry for you loss." He looked as if he was physically restraining himself from striking her, "I know what it's like to love someone the world doesn't understand." She hesitated only for a moment and continued. "You are a good man, you don't deserve for something that you care for so much to be ripped from you. No matter the reason. You don't deserve the pain you're in now."
"The pain I'm in now? That's what you're sorry for." John scoffed. He couldn't believe her. "Not, oh I don't know destroying a man's life just because he made you look foolish. Just because when he walked into a room he could solve a case that you've spent weeks trying to work out. Destroying all of his works, his name out of petty jealousy. That's not what you are sorry for, just the pain I'm in."
He looked around the sidewalk. "This is where my pain comes from," He continued as he picks up the tumble weed tabloid on the ground, Sherlock's photo with FAUD, in big capital letters, scrawled across the top. "This is where I'm suffering. I'm not allowed to grieve my best friend because I have to find a way to clear his name. Both you and Anderson allowed your petty suspicions to tear down a man who's not even hear to defend himself, because you didn't believe he was that good. Well he was that good and I will prove it."
Sally fought not to say the next words out of her mouth but her pride was too much for her. "He told you, that he was a liar and a fraud. Those were his last words to you before he jumped." The words came out louder then she wished. In fact she wished they hadn't come out at all.
"Yes, good point, let's talk about the last words he spoke to me. That showed up on a recording. How does that happen unless my phone was bugged? Which since its mysteriously missing can't be proved? Sherlock does everything for a reason and that conversation was completely fabricated on his part for –"
"Don't say it." Sally insisted shaking her head.
"Jim Moriarty"
"There is no James Moriarty." She yelled with absolute certainty.
"Then how do you explain the corpse on the roof."
She took a step back feeling the anger build up in her. This is exactly what she was trying to avoid. "We're not talking about this." This time Sally was trying to leave.
"You think Sherlock killed him don't you? Why on earth would he do that and kill himself?" John was exasperated by the conversation he's had a million times before. "The medical examiner even said the wound was self-inflected. That Sherlock didn't have the gun residue to have pulled the trigger."
She turned fuming. "You said he's brilliant. I'm sure he would have –"Sally stopped herself, "this isn't why I'm here. This isn't what I want—"frustrated, she covered her face with her hands, recovering from her outburst her eyes met his. "I'm sorry, that's it. That's all. I am truly sorry." She put everything she could into those words hoping he would just see that she meant them. But the hate she felt from him, she knew that she didn't reach him. So she just gave up. "Tell the Inspector the Commissioner expects him in the office 10 minutes ago and I can't keep covering for him or we'll both be out of a job." She walked away and John watched her leave. He couldn't move with the fury raging in his body. So he counted to 10. It almost made him smile thinking of all the times he had to count not to strangle Sherlock for whatever lark he was in the midst of doing.
John turned to go back in and almost collided into Molly, Lestrade and Mycroft. Molly faces couldn't hide what she was thinking or feeling. Pity, sorrow, remorse. She bit her lips and turned practically running to the ladies room.
Lestrade took the reins though. "I do have to get back to the office. Case files are piling up and well you know."
"Without Holmes it's just a little harder." John stated smiling a bit.
"I meant what I said, he was a good man." Lestrade clasps John's shoulder. "He will be missed and he will be remembered fondly by the people who loved him."
John and he shared a hug and Lestrade turned and raced toward Sally in the waiting car.
Mycroft stood on the steps watching the entire scene unfold. "Do you want me to have her demoted? I can do that you know."
"No," John replied with a genuine smile. "You heard what she said. They are calling for Lestrade's head and Sargent Donovan may be many things but her one grace is her loyalty to Lestrade. With her there I'm confident that this storm will pass for him." John seemed to take a moment and mull it over in his mind. "But I'm not above making sure that Mrs. Anderson finds out about the two of them if Donovan every shows her face to me again."
Mycroft filed that away for later use, knowing that if John was above using that information he on the other hand, would not be.
A/N
Study in Pink:
Watson: So why do you put up with him?
Lestrade: Because I'm desperate, that's why. Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day—if we're very very lucky—he might even be a good one.