*an ambulance wails in the background*
Blood… there's so much blood…
"ALEXIS!"
"I love you…"
XXX
Sherlock Holmes woke with a start. He was confused – he never dreams… let alone have a nightmare... except on one day of the year. He grabbed his mobile to phone to check the date – it was as he feared – the 22nd of November. 'So it's that time of the year again…'
XXX
John Watson was comfortably seated with the morning's paper and cup of steaming black coffee, enjoying the bleak November sunshine in the living room in 221B Baker Street. There hadn't been much activity lately, no new cases, and John had begun settling into this lazy routine of tea, Mrs. Hudson's cooking and crap telly.
He had begun mentally listing the shows to watch today when his thoughts were interrupted by Mycroft Holmes, who barged into the living room – a departure from his usual polite knock. "Where is Sherlock?" he asked, nervously twirling is grandfather umbrella.
"Mycroft…?" John fumbled, shocked by the senior Holmes' presence in the flat. The brothers mostly couldn't stand the sight of each other, but now, here is the elder one, asking about the younger one. Something told John his peaceful days of lazing around would end today.
Mycroft didn't wait for John to get out of his shocked stupor and strode off into Sherlock's bedroom, again, without bothering to knock. John could hear the Holmes boys exchange a few words and then Sherlock's classic 'Say that again…' followed by the unmistakable scuffling of Sherlock messing up his room to find whatever he was looking.
Sherlock then came storming into the living room, yelling, "MRS. HUDSON!" "Sherlock…" John began, but he shot back at him, "Don't ask me if I'm fine John and no I don't need your help and no I don't want any breakfast and no I am not fretting about my cigarettes. So sit down and continue with your telly list and let me be!"
John was angry now… he was just worried about the only friend he had, he didn't deserve that outburst. But something about Sherlock's behavior told him that now was not the time for anger but was the time for patience. Now that John had calmed down, he realized that he had never seen Sherlock so haggard – he was pacing around, scratching his head nervously.
"Woo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson announced as he walked in. Sherlock didn't even waste a single second to grab her by her shoulders. "My purple shirt!" he yelled, shaking her violently, "Where is it?" "Eh? You mean the one you gave me to launder yesterday? It's on the dry…" she whimpered. Sherlock sprinted downstairs, leaving a bamboozled John and Mrs. Hudson and a pensive Mycroft. "Oh… it's that day is it?" Mrs. Hudson said softly, tearing up a little. Then, without waiting for a reply, she walked out, sniffing a little.
In no time, Sherlock was back up in the living room, out of his pajamas and into his usual attire. John recognized the shirt – it was one of Sherlock's oldest – or so he guessed, by observing its condition. It had faded a bit and the stitching had begun to fray out.
John never understood why Sherlock hung onto this particular shirt. There were lot of other shirt's which he threw away even when a single thread came out of place. John always told him it would take minutes to fix it up but Sherlock would have none of it. "I would rather utilize the energy I would use to fix it on something far more interesting. Stop being so ordinary John" he would say in a single breath. But that one shirt – he took extremely good care of it… as if it was… 'No…' John told himself, smiling at his own foolishness, 'He is always above sentiment'
"John" Sherlock called, bring John out of his own little mind street, "If any clients come calling, tell them I'm unavailable today…" "What?" John said in shock, refusing to believe his ears. The world's only consulting detective was refusing to see clients! He never did that! Especially when just yesterday he brandishing his harpoon and cursing the inactiveness of London's underworld! "You heard me perfectly! No clients today!" he said impatiently as tied his scarf into a Parisian knot. Then with a curt nod to Mycroft, he walked out.
John just kept staring at Sherlock's retreating back. "What the bloody hell was all that about?" John asked Mycroft, who was still pensive. "Well, by judging your reaction I'm guessing you know nothing about the events that took place on this very day six years ago?" he replied. "Oh no, I know everything since Sherlock is always in mood for chatter!" John said sarcastically.
"You were right you know John, about that shirt" Mycroft continued thoughtfully, ignoring John's outburst, "He has kept that shirt for almost six years… sentiment John…" John just stared at Mycroft, his mouth partly open. He then regained his composure and managed, "Sherlock… and sentiment! You know your brother; you know he's not capable of that!" "He's not capable now… yes…" Mycroft said in his patronizing manner as he began rummaging the bookshelf near the fireplace, "But are you so sure about the past?"
"What do you even mean by that? Can you stop doing this please? Just tell me what's going on!" John retorted: he hated being treated like a child. "Sit down John," Mycroft said calmly, pulling out a dusty old diary from the shelf, "It's going to be a long story."
John didn't like to be told to sit down in his own flat, but he swallowed his pride at did it anyway – something told him whatever was coming next was important. "Have you ever heard the name Alexis McCalman?" Mycroft said, sitting down on the chair opposite to John. "McCalman…" John thought, racking his brain, "No I'm afraid not…" "Alexis McCalman was the last victim of a vicious serial killer whose tabloid name was Dr. Death, real name Harold Shipman."
"And this is significant because?" John said, unable to make the connection. Mycroft handed a picture which he had removed from the diary to him and said, "The woman in this picture is her." 'She is beautiful…' John thought – Alexis McCalman was petite with waist length jet black hair and ocean blue eyes. In the picture, she had her arms wrapped around an unusually tall, fair man with curly hair and prominent cheekbones… "Why… why is she with Sherlock!?" John exclaimed in shock as the realization hit him.
"That picture was taken just a few days before her death," Mycroft, his eyes speaking of the grief his words couldn't express. John stared at the picture; Alexis held Sherlock close to her, a natural smile adorning her fair face… as if hugging Sherlock Holmes was the most natural thing in the world. And what surprised John the most was that Sherlock wasn't bothered by it all… he seemed… relaxed… an amused smile tugging on his lips – Sherlock looked genuinely happy. John felt a sudden emptiness inside when he realized that didn't know Sherlock as well as he thought he did.
"Who is she Mycroft…?" John asked softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture. "Alexis McCalman is the only one who managed to show Sherlock that he wasn't as heartless as he thought he was…" Mycroft said gravely, "The only one with whom he was genuinely happy…"
XXX
A/N: Ohhhk… Not my best… but it IS the Prologue, so I really can't say much of the story. This proved be a lot harder to write than I thought, I hope you guys liked it. The next chapter should be up soon… I don't intend to keep you guys waiting
A fair warning – there might be a few mistakes in the way I depict London life – I have never been to London ever and everything I know is from internet research, which can be far from the truth. So please bear with me on that. If there is a huge, as in a HUGE mistake, please do review and let me know.
Also, about reviews, I would really appreciate that all of you reading this story write a review – it's important! Reviews are the only way for me to know how my story is being accepted – even if you guys hated it, just tell me! Everything from criticism to what you guys like or don't like about the story, I request you guys to pen it down in the review section, it will only me help put up a better story. So please, please review!
P.S: A personal note to my best friend who is reading this story – I know I'm a little late to put up this story, but I hope you liked this chapter. Don't shoot daggers now, I'll put up the next one soon :P