Dance With Death

Disclaimers: Hmm do I own anything? Interesting question.

AN: This is based on Sherlock BBC with Benedict/Martin, but an AU. Takes place after "The Reichanbach Fall" & will contain dark themes/magic. (Inspired by the picture shown here actually.)

Summary: "I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second! That I am one of them."

(1) I Walk Alone

Sherlock was flying through the air in one direction. Downward. John tried to run around the building, not knowing what to do. Catch his friend before he hit the ground? Cushion his fall? Whatever. John knew there was no time but he had to try something. Anything.

Something slammed into him almost the same moment he heard the sickening thud of Sherlock's body slamming the cement. John went down hard.

Next moment he was sitting upright in bed. John shook his head & buried his face in his hands. "Not again. Not that dream again!" He looked at the clock. It was 4:35 AM. He habitually checked the date even though he knew what it was. That dream always came on that date in mid June. It was three years precisely since Sherlock had killed himself before John's very eyes.

John got up, put on the tea, went to the washroom for a quick shower & then sat in his chair, tea forgotten in the pot. Alone. He stared across the room at nothing. It was his routine every day; though, this day was much earlier than usual. He had tried several times to get out of the slump he was stuck in but soon gave up. His therapist had told him that there was probably one way to move forward but John stubbornly refused to do it.

"Go back to the flat, John," she had said. "Perhaps seeing it will help you come to terms with this. Keep in touch."

John had done neither. He did feel a growing guilt for not even checking on Mrs. Hudson. Was she even still alive? Well, maybe he could do that much for the kindly old lady. Check up on her at least. He didn't have to go into the actual flat right? Lestrade had checked in on him often enough. John should start looking into how other friends of Sherlock were doing.

"Dammit!" John grabbed his cane & left his suite. He had moved to a small room in his sister's home in Cardiff & had never gone back. Harriet & Clara had both tried to help him. It was enough to have the little room to himself.

Harriet heard her brother thump through the house & got up. "Hamish, what are you doing at this time?"

John glanced around. "Nothing. Can't sleep. It's that time again you know."

Harry swished back her mahogany hair over her shoulders. "What am I going to do with you?" She took her brother's hand & pulled him close.

"What am I going to do with me?" John muttered into her shoulder. "I can't … heal …Harry. I just can't."

"Time heals everything."

"It's been three years!" John shot back, pushing away.

"So it'll be another three years," Harriet said. "Or even three more. I'll hang on to you until then."

John half smiled at his sister, feeling bad for shoving her off. "Thanks." After a moment of silence, he added, "I was thinking, I ought to go see Mrs. Hudson. I don't know why but, I haven't been very good to her. Never once called or checked up on her."

"She's still running her apartment block," Harriet said.

"She is? You?"

"Someone has to keep tabs on everything while you're healing," Harriet crossed her arms. "I told you, I'll hang on to you as long as is needed."

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," John waved her away with one hand. "I kind of miss the old lady."

Harriet half-smiled before asking, "Are you going to visit Sherlock today too?"

John glared at her. "I won't be caught dead in that cemetery! I only went that one time with Mrs. Hudson & that was it."

"That's why you can't heal," Harriet glared right back. "You're still angry!"

"Damn straight I am!" John exclaimed. "We had a fine life running about England. I told him several times that day he jumped to seek help with his brother Mycroft. Oh Gods, Mycroft! I haven't even thought of him until now. If Sherlock had just swallowed his damned stubborn pride, he wouldn't be daisy food this very moment! Why didn't he just listen to me?"

Harriet turned to enter the bedroom again as Clara came looking for her. Harriet put one arm around her mate's waist & held her close. Clara's raven hair fell loosely down to her hips. "Are you alright John?"

"Fine!" John replied flatly. "Sorry I woke both of you."

"I know what day it is," Clara said. "I understand."

"All I want to do is wring Sherlock's neck & demand of him, why?" John said under breath, turning on his heel to head for the living room.

John flopped onto the futon & sighed. He dozed off until it was about 5:30 AM & then took an early cab into London. It was late in the morning by the time he arrived. He stood on the steps staring up at the familiar place for several minutes before going to the door. He was just checking on Mrs. Hudson. That was all.

"John?" Mrs. Hudson gaped before grabbing him tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm…sorry I didn't check up on you sooner."

"Your sister has been keeping me updated on you," Mrs. Hudson pulled him inside her own flat. "How are you?"

"I don't know," John shrugged. "I still have nightmares of that day."

Mrs. Hudson bustled about her kitchen, fixing some tea & biscuits. She sat down at the table as the water boiled. "Would you like to visit the flat?"

"What? Oh, no," John shook his head. "I don't want to bother whoever else is there now."

"No one is," Mrs. Hudson said. "Everything is as it was. All your old things. His to, still in the boxes I put them in. But with a lot of dust on it all, I'm sure."

"Dust is eloquent," John whispered to himself. "You didn't rent it out again?"

"I couldn't bear to," She got up to take the water off the burner, forcing back a need to start crying. "You can go back any time you like."

"No I can't do that," John accepted the teacup she offered. "I just came to see you. Have you ever heard anything from Mycroft?"

"No," Mrs. Hudson sat down again with her own teacup. "But for Greg & your sister, I didn't really keep tabs on anyone. I've gone to see him a couple more times though. Sherlock I mean."

"Oh I never went back," John said. "I wonder if Mycroft ever goes there?"

"I'm sure he does," Mrs. Hudson passed over a biscuit. "Though, I've never run into him yet. He's probably out there somewhere, working the government to his wishes as usual."

John laughed softly, thinking of the first time he had ever met the man with the brolly & wondering what that man was doing now.

Mycroft stood up shaking his head. "Are you insane?"

"Mycroft! We have to tell him."

"Sherlock, Sherlock," Mycroft cupped the youngest Holmes brother's face in both his hands. "When we first had this discussion, I thought you simply meant to tell John that you faked it all just to get at Moriarty. We're not telling him anything other than that."

Sherlock shoved his brother's hands away. "I'm not taking no for an answer! I've been watching him theses past few months. He's acting just like how one of them would act when they feel like they've lost everyone. Mycroft you know he has the gene."

"It's dormant."

"It can be activated easily & without warning," Sherlock crossed his arms, glaring. "Not knowing would make him dangerous."

"It can't be activated that easily & knowing could make him just as dangerous," Mycroft returned flatly. "You just keep watching him. Go back as that Consulting Detective persona you seem to like so well if you wish. But don't bring him into this. Ever."

"He's a Watson!" Sherlock thumped his foot.

"We've been betrayed by a Watson before, remember?" Mycroft glared.

"Only once," Sherlock said. "In all the time we've ever known that family, only once & that Watson was basically tricked into betraying us to begin with. Mycroft. Bring him to me. Now!"

"My brother, you have no sense! You act like you do but you don't!"

"I've found something while disabling Moriarty's web," Sherlock defended. "If it ever gets back to John, he will be affected by this."

"Sherlock, that gene has been dormant in the Watson family for generations," Mycroft said. "John wouldn't know about it by now except in legends. Urban myths. There is very little chance of him becoming fully aware. Especially if you keep him busy on those little cases like you used to do. Away from…from them."

Sherlock thumped his glass onto the table. "Either you bring him to me or I will go over there myself. Mycroft, I won't let another Watson hurt you or anyone else in this family. John's ok. He'll be fine."

Mycroft sighed heavily. "We need to have a family meeting about this first."

"Fine, I'm still telling John eventually."

"Due to the last Watson's betrayal, our sister was nearly destroyed," Mycroft said.

"That was ages ago."

"We never came in contact with that family again," Mycroft said. "Until you screwed up & picked up one of them for a flatmate a few years ago."

"That was purely an accident, or perhaps a coincidence," Sherlock defended. "Mike Stamford set us up."

"I know," Mycroft rubbed his brow with two fingers.

"I've been with John for a few years," said Sherlock. "I've been watching him even now. He's nothing like that one."

"You had better be right about him!" Mycroft held an accusing finger in Sherlock's face.

"I am."

"Let me talk to the others first."

"Fine."

Mycroft spent the next few days rounding up the Holmes family. It was only the four of them. Besides Mycroft & Sherlock, there was also Enola their baby sister, even younger than Sherlock & the eldest, Sherrinford. Sherlock appeared quite bored with the conversations, often picking or buffing at his nails. The only words he would offer were the same threat. He would tell John eventually so deal with it.

Sherlock headed down the hall to the stairs, past medieval murals on the right-hand wall of knights in shining armor. He was halfway up when he heard someone calling to him. He glanced down to find Enola at the bottom of the stairwell. "What do you want?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Enola came up the stairs to stand beside him. She fiddled with a silk shawl draped over her shoulders & pushed a row of bracelets up her right arm.

"Ever the Gypsy Princess."

"How astute of you," Enola slapped his shoulder. "I try to stay away from this crap as much as I can."

"You can't though," Sherlock protested. "It's in your blood."

"That is so not funny William Sherlock Scott Holmes!"

"I thought it was," Sherlock snickered at her.

"Do you want to destroy me or something?" Enola got right to the point.

"John won't do that," Sherlock said. "It'll be fine. It's ok Enola. He won't try to kill you."

"You're really stuck on that guy, aren't you?"

"Holmes & Watson used to be the strongest families when together," Sherlock explained. "John isn't a traitor. Not like…like him at all."

Enola lifted her wrap to cover her head before answering. "To this day I can't stand to have …his name…spoken around me. Not after what that creature did!"

"That's why I didn't mention it."

"Are you sure about this friend of yours?"

"Enola if he so much as looks at you in a way you don't like, let me know," Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll take care of him."

Enola looked up & down the stairs, thinking. "Fine. But don't make me regret this, or I'll be taking care of you."

"Noted!" Sherlock took a step back from his baby sister's violet stormy glare. Enola headed back downstairs without another word.