Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired.
When he still lived in London he usually slept in between cases, but seeing that he was busy taking care of Moriarty's network, sleep wasn't something that came by easily. Not to mention the nightmares that he started to have as a result of a few missions… not going as planned.
Shaking off those memories Sherlock looked out the airplane window. It had almost been a year and a half since his 'death' and he has been moving around ever since. Going from country to country taking down Moriarty's men and making sure that things were being taken care of personally. If it were up to Mycroft though, he would've been kept somewhere save while making his men follow his instructions and taking care of all the dirty work. That's why Sherlock had made it clear from the very beginning that things were going to go his way.
He'd track down the people, make sure that things got taken care of and let Mycroft's men take care of the rest. The unimportant things, he thought to himself with a smirk. If you want things done well you have to do it yourself, as the saying goes. Although things haven't always gone his way, he's made it out alive and he'll take that as a victory. No matter what Mycroft said. And John would definitely have a few things to say about that as well.
John. Sherlock found himself thinking about him more and more these days. Who he might be dating now. If he were limping again or not. After leaving London he deliberately tried not to think about him. It wouldn't make things easier and it definitely wouldn't help. Why bother then? Yes he would miss someone fussing over him from time to time. Telling him that he needed to eat or to sleep. Usually when that happened he would open a file and go through the motion of looking over the plan once again making sure everything went as planned.
He also started to think more and more about the others. What Mrs. Hudson would be doing. Knowing her, probably being a mother hen to John. Would Lestrade still be as incompetent as he used to be? Most likely. He's sure that Molly would be the same though. He could definitely count on her to be steady. Sherlock would probably never say this out loud, but she was his rock.
Sherlock smiled. He was amazed at what his sleep deprived brain could come up with. Yes he though about them more. Especially now that he was almost reaching the end of his 'quest'.
He looked down at the file in his lap and at the face he has been staring at for almost 18 months. Sebastian Moran. The last person to take care of. And the most dangerous. Being Moriarty's right hand man, he was the most difficult to track down. Sherlock wasn't naïve. He knew that Moran was aware that he was looking for him. 'Good. It makes things more interesting', Sherlock thought with a smirk.
His phone started to go off. Picking it up Sherlock said: 'Mycroft this phone is for emergencies only. You do know the meaning of that word, don't you'?
Sherlock heard him sigh from the other end. 'Sherlock, I only phone you once a day to see how you're doing. You know how worr…'
'Yes I know how worried Mummy gets', Sherlock snapped. 'Do you have some new info for me?'
After hesitating for a moment Mycroft said: 'Yes. I have a few files waiting for you at the apartment where you're going to stay for the time being. Everything you need to know about the people working closest to Moran. I want you to especially look at the file labeled A.G.R.A. His best assassin apparently. Has been working with him for years.'
'Fine. I'll look at them as soon as possible', Sherlock replied.
'Not after you've had some rest! I know you haven't slept in days Sherlock. Try to sleep a bit on the plane at least. You still have 4 hours until you land', Mycroft said.
'Nothing escapes you does it, Mycroft?' Sherlock said sarcasm dripping from each word. 'Tell mummy I'm fine. And try not to eat that last piece of cake Mycroft. You were doing so well,' he added trying to sound disappointed and ended the call before Mycroft could reply. He couldn't help himself. He always needed to aggravate Mycroft one way or another. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked bantering with Mycroft like this. It kept him sane to have someone to talk to once in a while.
Sighing he put the files away and tried to get comfortable. He would need sleep if he were to function well these next couple of weeks. It wouldn't be easy, but then again that's how Sherlock liked it. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his brain as much as was possible. After a minutes, he drifted off to sleep.