Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock
FYI: Here, in my head, Molly doesn't know that Jim (her gay tool for jealousy)was really Moriarty... in fact, he's not even mentioned here.
Also, This can be considered a sequel to my another of my two Sherlock stories: The End of the World, Maybe and The Bloody Case of Sherlock Holmes. And a jolly 'way to go' to those who have read them!
Miraculous Return
The dim light in the mortuary lab was just barely sufficient for the two people working over the dead body of a man to see.
"How was he killed?" Asked the first; John Watson.
"A knife stab to the heart. Pretty mundane." Replied Molly Hooper.
"We'll see."
Most people, if they saw John's present state, would say that he has recovered from the shock of Sherlock's untimely death. But Molly knew better; just a few days back, Mrs. Hudson had called her to pick up some groceries for the doctor. When Molly entered 221B, groceries in hand, she encountered John for the first time since the death of his friend. The flat was messy... messier than Sherlock would have approved of. John had clearly not been bathing regularly and had obviously lost weight. His jumpers were fitting a fraction looser and it worried Molly. She didn't want to wake up one morning, come into work and find John on one of these tables.
Just like John, Molly would deny any sadness or depression about Sherlock's death. After all, he was the only man she ever cared about. Jim didn't count, he was just a ploy for the emotionless detective's jealousy. Neither did Dylan in tenth grade, Molly had just been so excited that someone liked her that she forgot to care for the boy in return until he decided to brake up with her.
Truthfully, Molly missed Sherlock more than she was able to express. She missed his cheeky smile, his pale skin and the way his eyes shimmered when he solved a problem. And, God forbid, she even missed his cheek bones and the way his coat swooshed when he made his dramatic exits.
The whole experience of being told by DI Lestrade that Sherlock was dead and she did bloody nothing to help. She backed out when he needed her – when she promised to be there for him. It was all so traumatizing that she didn't see sunlight for an entire week until the mortuary manager called telling her that she'd be fired if she didn't show up for her shifts.
John pulled her from her thoughts as he spoke again, "I doesn't even look like the wound was a fatal one, it missed the heart organ and the major arteries."
"Really?" Molly said, shocked.
"Yes. He was killed another way..." John trailed off, muttering to himself.
Sheeeeiiiik. Click.
Molly heard the laboratory door squeal as it was closed softly.
Turning, she saw a tall, lean man standing there, his back to John and Molly. The glow from his mobile phone reflected on the windows of the door.
He was wearing loose, dark jeans, brown hiking boots, and a blue fleece with black elbow patches. His hair was black and cut shorter than Johns; an army crop cut. From the sliver of his face that was visible, Molly could see the vague shadow of a thin beard and a pair of black aviator sunglasses.
From over his shoulder, the man spoke in a slight French accent without turning, "Mind if I smoke?"
The voice sounded familiar, but Molly couldn't remember where she had met anyone French before in London.
"Not in the slightest." Came John's soft reply, hardly looking up to study the man before turning back to the corpse.
Molly shook her head, blaming the occurrence on a trick of the mind and the room's strange acoustics.
"He was poisoned by his brother, that man." The figure said, his low voice vibrating off the walls.
Looking up, John sighed, he didn't need another crack detective in his life right now, "Sorry. What?"
The man turned as he shoved his Blackberry back into his pocket before looking up and removing his sunglasses in the dark room.
"Sh- Sherlock?" Stuttered John. Molly forwent any words in favor of running at the man and tackling him in a vicious hug.
"Sherlock! You were dead! They didn't find your body!"
Looking down upon the young woman who was on the verge of shedding tears, he lost the accent and replied with a small smile, "Never believe what you hear, Mrs. Hooper, there is always something incorrect unless you see it with your own eyes."
Then, gently trying prying Molly off, he looked fondly back over to John, who was standing in shock as he watched the impossible event play out. There was no way the Sherlock could have survived that fall, no one could have.
"John." Sherlock greeted simply, waiting for his best friend to come out of his daze and partake in the conversation.
"Is that all?" John asked quietly.
"I'm not a mind-reader, John. Please complete your questions." Sherlock lightly teased back.
"'John.' Is that all I get for suffering after you left. My life has been in turmoil!" John exclaimed, his voice rising.
"My reasons were sound, and necessary." Sherlock assured.
"Of course they were, Sherlock. It's always in a friend's best interest to fake his DEATH and not tell his FRIEND that he was still ALIVE!"
"John," Sherlock urged, trying to calm the doctor again.
"Don't start! I have been miserable! I've been having nightmares at night and have been plagued during the day of thought of how I could have prevented this!" John begun using his arm's for emphasis. He even managed to slap the dead man once on the face in the process, "Do you even plan to tell me how this happened or why it was so BLOODY NECESSARY?"
"I believe so, John, but I feel that you should call DI Lestrade and have him meet us here. I'll need him to know that I'm back as well."
"Why can't you just text him? Surely even you can do that."
To prove his point, Sherlock's mobile buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out and looking at Mycroft's response on his phone - Come to your next hideout and well talk further. Be quick with your friends - Sherlock explained,
"Not possible, My messages can be intercepted by the very person that I'm avoiding. I was informing Mycroft on a secure line that I was alive and back in London – he's been funding my survival out of the country during my disappearance."
Molly, who was still managing to cling onto Sherlock's chest as she silently cried, paused for a moment to ask, "Followed by who?"
Looking back to Molly, he said, "A loyal servant of Moriarty named Sebastian. I believe that you know of him, John? He was dishonorably discharged while you were still in the army."
"Sebastian...," John muttered, trying to place the name, " Colonel Sebastian Moran? The sniper?"
"The same, he saw Moriarty's death and my escape. He's been trying to assassinate me since I left. He's been hanging back since I made it to the outskirts England, but I'm sure that he's still watching. I can securely call him "The second most dangerous man in London.""
"Indeed?"
"Yes, quite. So, my stay in one spot will be as brief as possible. As soon as Lestrade comes, I'll be off again for two days before I come back to flat. Please, do clean it up John – do you plan to call Lestrade today?"
"How do you know... never mind." John muttered as he pulled out his cell phone to call the DI.
John turned his back to Sherlock while he exchanged words with Greg, leaving Sherlock with his 'Molly-sized koala bear'."
"Molly," Sherlock said as gently as he could with out upsetting the crying mortuary worker, "I understand that you are upset, but I promise I'm not leaving again for a good bit of time – you'll see me again. So, please let go, I can't tell my tale in a serious fashion to Lestrade while you're wrapped around my waist." Sherlock shimmed out of her arms and she let out a small whimpered at the loss.
"But you just said that you'd be gone for another couple days." Molly whispered, drying her tears as best she could. Sherlock stepped in to assist.
Wiping her cheeks with his thumb, Sherlock said in a smooth tone, "It's only two days, Mrs. Hooper. I have faith in your survival skills."
"Too long." Molly said to herself as John ended his call.
"Lestrade will be here by himself in five minutes, he even said that he'd put his lights on."
"Idiot. That will draw attention." Sherlock grumbled.
"He also didn't believe me. I'm about to win twenty pounds off of him when he shows up and sees you alive." John smirked for the first time in a month.
"I'll take that... and you still owe me another thirty."
"Come again?"
"In Dartmoor, I gave you fifty pounds in a false pretense. I want it back."
"That was fair! You risked your money to get information."
"I still want it back. I could have bought a few packs of cig-"
"No." John said narrowing his eyes.
"I'm back from the dead... and suffering without my patches. Mycroft's funds don't include patches."
"Glad to see you got some karma for making me suffer, then."
"Karma doesn't exist, John. I proved it. On my blog. Which you should have read so that you know things like this and don't ask questions like that."
John puffed out his chest then let it out in a long groan, "Back to that, are we? What's next, Cluedo?"
"I'm right about that too." Sherlock retorted.
"No yo-... forget it."
Sherlock, perked his head up to listen.
"Lestrade's here."
John gazed at Sherlock, "How would you know, you can't hear one car out of the hundreds that pass by on the main road outside."
"His stopped and the engine. Is a very recognizable motor with a specific sound when its turned off."
Giving up, John said, "Of course, how could I have missed it."
"Not sure. It's nearly impossible to." Sherlock said evenly as he turned to the doorway as Lestrade came marching in.
"Sherlock!" He shouted as he say the familiar eyes gazing at him.
"Hullo, Inspector." Sherlock casually greeted.
"We thought you were dead! We were sure of it!" Greg insisted.
"Don't trust your instincts until you see the actual body. I would never die in such a boring way." Countered Sherlock as he heard John snort behind him.
"Then tell me where I went wrong and how in the world you survived!"
"All will be told after John gets my twenty pounds." Sherlock looked down his nose at John.
Lestrade looked between the two men before following up on his bet and handing John the money. Instantly, Sherlock swooped in and took in from John, "For safe keeping." Sherlock explained simply.
Shrugging his shoulders, from afar, Lestrade looked Molly over, who had found her way to a chair before collapsing in it and staring at Sherlock. Seeing that she would be fine, he focused back on Sherlock, who was in the midst of turning on the remaining lights within the lab.
In an uncharacteristic fashion, Sherlock walked back over to the group and hiked himself onto one of the nearby empty autopsy tables. He waited patiently for the group to proceed with their questions.
John took up initiative and spoke, "Tell us what happened. All of it – from how you survived and how you made it back here."
"Full version then? Predictable. I had in my possession at the time of the fall, a prototype of an experimental device that my brother has been working on with his agents. I was able to use it to my advantage – no I can't tell you what it is, John, it's a secret... along with how I managed to escape." Said Sherlock at John as he opened his mouth to ask the question that Sherlock just answered, "I was able to make my escape with an intricate plot of steps, only as I was leaving did I realize that I has being tracked and monitored. I made my way across the country trying to throw my stalker off, and Mycroft was able to intercept me numerous times to give me the funds that I needed to survive. Covertly, I was able to assume a new identity as I traveled of, Everett McKnight."
"Not Kcolrehs Semloh?" Lestrade interrupted, chuckling.
"No. Don't be obvious detective. As I was saying; I made my way through towns and cities under my alias all the while avoiding assassination attempts. Let me tell you, it was rather endearing that someone cares enough to follow me across the country this long."
John gaped and Lestrade asked, "We're still talking about the man who's trying to kill you, right?"
"Yes. A man like that had got to have a back story. From what I saw, he bone structure and rigid movements suggest..." Looking at his crowd, Sherlock sensed that he should keep his deductions for later, "He is admirable for his efforts to quiet me. Covertly as possible, I managed to make my way here with ploys that would decompose your brains if you tried to conceive them yourself. In a nutshell, I made it here, all safe and sound."
"I don't want the nutshelled version, Sherlock!" Said Lestrade.
"But the full story is boring. Nothing of importance happened," Sherlock said whined, "If that is all you wanted, I'll take my leave, I can't stay here much longer and I'm in a hurry to meet my brother."
Knowing he couldn't keep Sherlock from what he wanted, John did his best to contain him as long as he could.
"You said he was poisoned?" John asked, gesturing to the corpse.
"Yes. The wounds was made after death. It was inflicted to cover up the trace that alternative methods to murder were used. Elementary."
Clapping his hands once in a fashion of saying that the matter was resolved, Sherlock continued, "Now, Gentlemen, Ms. Hooper, I take my leave."
Sherlock strode intently for the door. John heard the protests made my Molly and Greg, but he chose to follow the consulting detective personally.
"Sherlock!" John called as he caught up with Sherlock in the hallway leading to the back entrance.
"John, if you're upset about the last thirty pounds, you can forget it, consider it a gift an buy a nice jumper."
"No, I just wanted to say..." realizing he had nothing to say the man, he hugged him.
For the briefest of moments, Sherlock was stunned before returning the friendly gesture. Wrapping his long arms around the shorter man, Sherlock embraced as best he could. Sherlock found that John's hug was much different from the one that Ms. Hooper so kindly administered to him. I'll have to study up on hugging fashions, thought Sherlock. Feeling John lift his head, Sherlock took the cue to release his flatmate.
"So, how does this disguise reflect your inner self?" John quipped.
"Sorry?"
"Well, what Irene said abou-"
"I know what you meant, John. I was asking why you felt the need to bring it up."
John had no response for this. He had noticed Sherlock's refusal to give an answer, but he let it slide,
"No reason. Just curious."
"Ah, you can't keep a curious mind from thinking." Sherlock mused.
"Yeah." John said awkwardly, having the fact finally set in that he just hugged Sherlock.
"I'll be in touch soon, John. We'll talk again later." Assured Sherlock as he turned on his heels and made his way to the double doors. Sweeping through them, John was left alone, standing in the deserted hallway as he lost visual on his best friend.
Thankfully, he had enough self-control to forgo any verbal exclamations of joy to the fact that Sherlock was alive and walked back to the mortuary lab to continue talking with his colleagues.
A/N: I found a quote by Sherlock saying "The second most dangerous man in London" in my Sherlock books while he talks about Sebastian, so I incorporated it.
"You can't keep a curious mind from thinking." = mine, back off.
This story was suppose to be about Molly and Sherlock, but I already wrote two like that, so, I had John be a bit more prominent. I reached this decision when the point o view leaves Molly and goes to third person... obviously.
I may continue this, but I would have to get a great many reviews asking for it because I am working on other projects and will only spare time if necessary. If I continue it, there will only be one more chapter about Sherlock meeting with Mycroft and discussing and planning everything.
I just watched the finale after I edited it, so I went back and tried to relate this back to the episode best I could, any inaccuracies – let me know.
Review to your heart's content, because frankly, that's what those amazingly, beautiful buttons down there are for.