Who Locked the heart of a soldier

For quite some time now I've wanted to do a Johnlock ff. Finally got some time in my hands. So here it is, no spoilers, no clues, and no straight plot to where this little adventure will lead. Would you like to see just how twisted it all becomes?

Ch: 1

Something About Tratalgar

Days of avoiding turned into months, fourteen and a half months to be exact. Months of avoiding London, thirteen of those months avoiding Baker Street. But now, just like in a good mystery novel, his hunting past was calling for him to return.

'A helicopter should be there soon.' MH

Well in his case the past was texting him. With a sigh John dropped his bag, walking over to the dining table, he placed a yellow envelope with only two words written on it. 'To Harry.' Not long after a somewhat loud knock came from the front door, together with the heavy sound of wind and a heavier one from an engine. John opened the door to find Anthea in front of the door and a helicopter few meters away, waiting for them.

"Hello" greeted John, closing the door behind him.

"Hi."

The two rode in silence, an awkward silence that John had missed.

"He knows…." Said John looking out the helicopter, noticing how buildings and cars were becoming frequent to the eye. This indicated that their arrival soon approached.

"Eh?" came as her response.

"Mycroft. He knows I will not speak to him in person, so why is he in a hurry to speak with me?" John said looking back at her. "He is well aware of that, that is why he summon you. He will tell you in person once we arrive." Came Anthea with a smile.

"Of course."

Sure enough within fifteen minutes, they reached London.

'Welcome back, Doctor Watson.' MH

With yet another sigh John put his phone away. Now why was he doing this again? 'Oh right, Sherlock had left something for me. Or so Mr. Hudson said.'

"From here on, Dr. Watson you will travel alone." Said Anthea as they exited the helicopter, a black Jaguar already waiting for the ex-solider. "He will know where to take you." Were her last words, before she walked away. "Thanks…I suppose." He said trying to sound sincere, failing miserably of course. With a heavy exhale he went into the back sit of the vehicle.

Silently John watched several familiar shops and flats pass them. He flinched a little as he notice where he was being taken. 'So Mycroft wants to play this game.' The vehicle pulled up, John made his way out; once he did the car was gone, driven ahead next to a similar car.

There near by, the ever growing, tree was a coal color tombstone, standing beside it was Mycroft Holmes. " Good morning John. I see you are back with your walking stick." Comment Mycroft as his umbrella hang from his arm. "I see you are still waiting for precipitation to drop." Came John, the two fell silent.

" Now that was bloody awful john, I know you can do better then that."

"Huh…yeah well not in the mood for that." Said John as he made his way towards the grave. " Care to tell me, WHY the need to drag me all the way…of all the places. Why here."

"It was quite a waste, if you ask me, but Sherlock requested it this way. For you to be brought here and for me to give you this." Said the older male, reaching behind the tombstone. Retreating an item. A briefcase. "He says that 'it rightfully belongs to him.' And that you 'should be the only one able to figure out the password.' Mycroft said giving John the briefcase.

"P..Password, what did you just give me?"

"What do you think I gave you?

John decided to ignore the morning sarcasm coming from Mycroft, and instead directed his attention into the, now open, briefcase. It was Sherlock's laptop.

"I_." " We already fixed for you to return to Baker St. I highly doubt you would want to leave the same day of your arrival." Mycroft cut off. " We fixed, you mean you went to flat before coming here? So I take it that the item Mrs. Hudson wished to give me was…this briefcase." Stated John looking back at Mycroft, who silently nodded. "Who you like us to drive you home?"

"…"

"John!"

"Huh...ye_No no. It's quite all right, I will go my own pace, I suppose. But thank you." Said John looking at Mycroft in the eye, once again, he just nodded; he turned towards the two waiting. John watched him in silence, mesmerized by the ability the Holmes' held. Had they no heart_no he knew better, Sherlock had a heart. He held the single most obnoxious, pure heart. True he was the 'highly functional sociopath' of Baker Street, as well as the hero many will never get the chance to meet. Unconsciously the ex-soldier let out words, words that the wind carried until they reached Mycroft and his driver.

"I still believe Sherlock. Don't let this aging doctor die, before you decide to show." Said John standing over his friend's grave. The only sound after was the sound of Mycroft's door closing, as well as engines turning. And so the two drove off.

Time had become irrelevant; well it was never really relevant. Not to him at least. Specially now, that he sat besides his friend again, after all those months. "I guess this is the only way to keep you from thinking too much." Came john with a smile and the driest of chuckles.

"I never stopped blogging, you know. It migh_No it is not as exciting as before…but many still read. Many still believe in you Sherlock." A moan was heard, low and soft…and echoe. A woman's moan escaped the briefcase Mycroft had given him. He recognized the moan as Irene Adler's moan…well at least ring tone. He dug up the cell phone, before opening it he turned towards Sherlock. "She meant a great deal to you, did she not?" with a sigh and a smile he read the text.

'Guess who?' IA

' I know it's you Irene.' SH/JW

'I know you do. He never change the ring tone, did he? IA

'I do not wish to be rude. But what do you want, you know he is gone.' SH/JW

'Yes and no. There is something you must know, about what happened. There is someone in Tratalgar Square, who will show you what happened 14 months ago.' IA

'Beg your pardon? SH/JW

'That's all I can say.' IA

' How can I trust that I will not be kidnap… again?' SH/JW

' I am only passing a message from Sherlock. You trust him.' IA

'He said in the letter.'

'They are both sentimental, I trust John can cope with him as well as he did me.'

Do remember John, he trusted no one before he met you. It could be dangerous.' IA

John smiled at that; one of Sherlock's first texts for him said the same thing at the end of it. Before he could put the phone away he heard the female moan, once again. He really needed to change that sound.

'There is more that you need to hear.' IA

'Wait how did you get that phone back? Wait you and Sherlock exchanged letters!' SH/JW

'Don't be jealous, John. He only sent me one, and in the end it was all about you. (The phone came with it.)' IA

John didn't respond, instead waited. Waited for that that he needed to know. Soon enough the moan came from his hand.

'It was an accident John, accidents happen for a reason.' IA

'That's not something Sherlock would say.' SH/JW

'It is something you would say.' IA

'You said to go to the National Gallery. Now?' sh/jw

'NOW!' IA

With that John stud up, have one last glance to the grave, and ran. Ran as fast as he could outside of the cemetery.

That is it for this chapter, hope you liked it. Leave thoughts and comments if convenient.

Next chapter: He said you were clever.