Chapter 2

Temporary Home

Olivia's black car pulled up to the service door behind the hospital, and to Sherlock's surprise he found her driving. Making a quick dash for the passenger side he jumped in the car. Before he had a chance to pull his coat tails into the vehicle she was already moving. Olivia whipped the car around with ease speeding down the back alley with determined haste.

"Here put these on." she said handing Sherlock a black knitted hat and a pair of sunglasses. "And you should really remove that iconic coat of yours. You need to do this before we hit the main street. It would be a shame for someone to recognize you before the game has even begun."

"Of course, that was smart of you." He replied as he pulled the hat down passed his ears. "How did you get rid of your driver so effortlessly?"

"Please" she scoffed. "I employ him. I explained I needed to be alone after the events of today, he seemed quite understanding. I gave him fare for the journey home and that was that." Sherlock hummed his response.

"Do you even have a driver's license? I can't imagine someone of your position driving often." Sherlock stated. Suddenly he was watching her actions maneuvering the car more closely.

"So how have you faked your death so effortlessly might I ask?" she said mocking Sherlock's tone and quickly changing the subject. "Aren't people going to be poking around?"

"Molly is taking care of the records; my death obviously a suicide will be easy to forge on the autopsy report. John and Mycroft have already seen my body, and my funeral a closed casket be it an empty one. Molly is in place to stop any other investigations."

"And you think such a timid girl can do that?"

"She got you here didn't she?"

"Point taken" Olivia said smiling. "The girl is in love with you I am sure she would do anything to protect you. Which makes me wonder why not just stay with her, you've trusted her this far."

"Yes I know." Sherlock said boredom creeping into his tone. "The thought had entered my mind, but Moriarty's people would surely be watching her. She did date the man for a time." Giving Sherlock a side glance Olivia had a hard time believing it; maybe she wasn't as innocent and timid as she'd looked.

"And your mother?" Before Sherlock could answer Olivia pulled onto the main street. Reporters littered the area, some standing on the very spot Sherlock fell, while others across the street. It was a madhouse. Only the queen would have gotten more media attention. Ducking down in his seat Sherlock covered his face as much as he could.

Olivia could only imagine the stories they were spinning. 'Coming up the discussion of how the fake genius Sherlock Holmes killed himself and the shocking reasons why' the news anchors would say. Glancing over to the man in question she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She could try to keep the news broadcasts from him. Hide the newspaper stories about him. but she knew Sherlock, somehow he would find out the truth.

"What about her?" he finally answered when they were away from chaos.

"Sherlock, this will break her heart. Isn't there a way to spare her that, maybe we could drive to Oxford? Tell her your plan?"

"My mother is not an actress; and people will expect a grieving mother. If she knows the truth no one will believe the lie, and I doubt she could keep it from Mycroft." Olivia laughed having to cup her hand around her mouth to stifle the sound. She received a confused and yet irritated look from Sherlock.

"What is amusing?"

"The Holmes boys aren't exactly known for their compassion. Mycroft will be back in the office by this afternoon, and no one will think it odd. So I truly doubt people would have a hard time believing that your mother would not act the same."

"Those who know her would. It is a risk I am not willing to take."

"And that goes for your friends as well? No attempt to spare their feelings either?"

"Olivia if you weren't a person I know they're not watching. You wouldn't even be privileged to the fact that I am not dead."

"Oh what a privilege it is." Olivia stated sarcastically. A silence fell over the car for some time. Olivia welcomed it; it allowed her to think of what she was going to do. She still didn't completely know why she had accepted Sherlock's demanding plan. When everything else told her this was foolish. There was nothing stopping her from driving straight to the Diogenes Club and just dropping Sherlock off. She was sure Mycroft would relish in the fact that he hadn't actually been a direct cause of his younger brother's suicide. And here was her moment. Just as the thought had entered her mind the traffic light had turned red. Truly fate wanted her to make a decision. To her left the Club, and to her right the highway access that led straight to her home.

Sighing she couldn't bring herself to do it. Was it because she missed him? Or felt some sort of loyalty to him, she couldn't be sure. All she knew, as the light turned green, was that she couldn't betray Sherlock at that moment not when he had just sacrificed everything. His home, his friends, but she knew what affected him the most, his reputation. Not what people said about him, he never cared for people's opinions, but the fact that his mental prowess was now rejected. His truly fantastic mind was thrown in the gutter by people unworthy of even speaking the name Sherlock Holmes, yet alone making judgments about him. Turning right Olivia relaxed in her seat, resolute in her choice.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock stated loudly. Olivia looked at him shocked 'he couldn't have known what I was thinking about.' She thought.

"My home, where else should I be going." She replied, an arrogant tone creeping into her voice.

"My funeral is tomorrow we should stay in London."

"You can if you wish but I can't Sherlock. I am going home."

"It is a waste for us to drive all this way again tomorrow." Sherlock stated as if he were speaking to Anderson. 'Wasn't it decipherable why it would have made sense to stay in London?' he thought.

"Us? What's stopping you from coming back by yourself?"

"I thought you would go to my funeral."

"I would say you were joking if I knew you didn't have a sense of humor."

"I see." Sherlock said turning his head to look out the window at the blurring city. Olivia knew instantly by his tone that she had somehow upset his not so delicate sensibilities.

"What?"

"If I died you wouldn't go to my funeral. I knew I'd upset you but I believe I failed to grasp the depth of it. Human emotion sometimes truly does surprise me."

"I would go."

"But you have just so clearly stated you are not."

"That's because you aren't dead Sherlock!" Olivia said exasperated, her hands tightening around the steering wheel.

"I am to everyone else." He replied, his voice suddenly somber.

"I'm not going Sherlock." Olivia said sighing. "I can't play a role in this; I won't be your actress this time." Olivia glanced over to Sherlock who had yet to turn from the window. All about him looked well except his hands were in tight fists, his knuckles going white. Sighing she fixed her attention back to the road. "We're not children anymore Sherlock."

"On second thought, perhaps it is better you don't go." Sherlock stated quickly, overshadowing Olivia's last statement. "Lest unsavory characters should see you and chose to investigate."

"Okay" she answered slowly, his statement sending a spark of fear into her belly. "When you say unsavory characters does that mean assassins?" Gawking at Sherlock she waited for his answer. Hoping that he was merely being a drama queen as he usually was. However silence wore on, dragging out every second.

"Yes." He finally answered looking her directly in the eyes, his dazzling blue pools penetrating her dim hazel. The pit in her stomach twisted tighter as she broke their gaze to focus back on the road.

"Great." Olivia replied sarcastically.

"However we should just stay in London." Sherlock stated again.

"I already told you I can't." Olivia said, saying each word slowly as if talking to a child.

"Ah yes, the husband." Sherlock stated sarcastically, as if he had forgotten. "I assume you will need to inform your husband of our impending arrival. Bringing a random man home with you is a bit odd for a married woman. Though I would advise somehow getting around the fact of who I am."

"My husband died Sherlock." Olivia said softly, fearing that her voice would falter.

"Well you did marry a man twice your age, it was to be expected."

"Yes Sherlock, I guess I should have expected it. I did marry him for position and financial support. So I can't see why his death would have affected me at all." She replied coldly. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened again as she resisted hitting the man to her left. "He died in a car accident six months ago."

"I see. I was unaware. You still where your wedding ring and your clothing suggests you still dress for someone. Otherwise why still wear that uncomfortable lingerie. I know you aren't the sort of woman to even entertain the idea of a lover, so who else would you dress for, your husband. And the fact that you keep checking your mobile phone, communicating briefly through texts implies a personal relationship. And your constant checking of the time, someone worried you'd be home late? "

Exhaling Olivia replied. "I am not even going to ask how or why you know what undergarments I have on, or that you have been keeping track of my texts."

"Perhaps given the situation you would like me to drive, seeing as you don't have a license. It would be a shame to have you kill us both in the same manner your husband died." Olivia wasn't sure she wanted to surrender control of the car, but he did have a point. Sighing she pulled off to the shoulder.

"Just because I am doing this does not mean you were right. I had complete control." She said as she unlocked the doors to switch seats.

"I never said you didn't."

Sherlock eased down into the driver's seat adjusting everything to his specifications. He glanced to Olivia to see her watching him.

"What?"

"You… When did you get a license?" Olivia said skeptical.

"I got bored while at university, wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Really quite elementary, apes could just as easily get a license." Sherlock said putting the car in drive.

"I would like to see them try" Olivia laughed. Sighing deeply she relaxed in her seat, it was the first time she had realized she had been so tense for the last few hours.

As the sun began to set London gave way to lush hillsides and salt laden air as they traveled south to Eastbourne. The seaside town was a beautiful one. Old hotels and luxurious town houses dotted the coast. And long antique piers jutted out into the ocean. Large dark blue waves crashed upon the rocky shoreline. But this was not what made Eastbourne beautiful; it was the massive stunning white chalk cliffs. Thousands of feet high of stark white hills adjacent dark blue waters as far as the eye could see.

It was no surprise to Olivia when Sherlock didn't ask for directions to her home. Of course he would know. Driving along a hillside the town was far behind them. Then finally out of the darkness arose The Cavendish manor. The estate was large. A long gravel park led to the substantial home. Built on one of Eastbourne's white cliffs the house was equal in beauty. The large neoclassical manor stood strong against the black sky. Its white façade bright with large columns lining the front entrance, however the only signs of life inside the house came from the few lights that illuminated scattered rooms. This house was built for a large family and staff, but was so clearly inhabited by few.

"You've done well for yourself." Sherlock said as he stepped out of the car.

"This isn't mine, if I hadn't married a Cavendish I would still be living near my father. This house has been in my husband's family for ages. I'm just glad the rest of them haven't decided to boot me out of it yet." Rounding the corner she led Sherlock through the front door into the greeting hall. And what a hall it was. Large tapestries covered the walls depicting ancient scenes of knights on their horses. An enormous chandelier illuminated the room, revealing the massive staircase. The antique furnishings scattered the walls. Someone had decorated this house but it had been a century or two ago.

"Ah Ma'am your finally home, I was starting to get quite worried. When your driver informed me that you wanted to drive back yourself I didn't know what to think. Are you alright?" Helen said, the old woman was a brittle old thing, but stood tall. Not even the third world war would have stopped this bird. She had a strong-minded look about her.

"Yes I am fine, nothing to worry about I assure you." As she spoke Sherlock closed the door loudly behind him. Poking her head around the corner of Olivia, Helen looked skeptical as she glanced between Sherlock and her employer.

"Who's this?" Helen asked adjusting her glasses.

"A guest." Sherlock answered. Before Helen could inquire further hurried footsteps came from the hall above.

"I am sorry ma'am; Christopher wanted to wait up for you. If I had known it would be so late I would never have allowed it." Helen said looking Olivia dead in the eyes daring her to even think about questioning her judgment.

"It quite alright, thank you for staying up so late, if I had known I would have made arrangements"

"That's my job" Helen said smiling.

"MUMMY!" screamed a small voice from the top on the rather large staircase.

"Darling!" Olivia yelled back, going up the stairs to grab the little boy before his struggling little limbs resulted in him falling down the stairs. "Thank you Helen you can go home for the night, I think we can manage."

"Of course. Please if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, goodnight."

"Goodnight ma'am" as she headed to the front door Helen gave Sherlock a final glance, trying desperately to figure out the new arrival. Olivia could honestly say she had never seen the man so silent. There he was standing against the wall, he hadn't moved once since he had entered the greeting hall.

"You have a son." His deep voice resonated in the room. He had said it more to himself than address Olivia; however she answered his statement nonetheless.

"Yes, this is my son Christopher. Say hello sweetheart." In response to being on display all the sudden the dark haired boy hid his face with his mother's neck. "It's alright, trust me, he won't mind rudeness." She said glancing at Sherlock. Before another word could be said she was carrying Christopher back up the staircase toward where his footsteps had come. Not entirely sure of where to go in the massive manor Sherlock decided to follow his rude hostess. He followed the sounds and light until he was at the door of what was obviously a child's room. Various toys littered the floor and maps old and new were plastered on the walls. Olivia was sitting on the bedside of the little boy trying to get the squirming figure to lie still.

"It's time for bed now." She said smoothing down his wild curly locks.

"But Mummy where were you?"

"I had to pick a man up from London today."

"Daddy?"

"No not daddy sweetheart, you need to go to sleep now, because how about tomorrow I get Helen to take you to the beach. You can get more seashells for your collection."

"I want you to go."

"I know, but I can't tomorrow. Next time okay."

"Mm-kay" he replied as she tucked the covers in around him. Before she had even turned out the bedside table light the boy's eyes were already fluttering in exhaustion. Sherlock stood in the doorway fascinated by the little one. Olivia really wasn't the same woman he once knew, just as he wasn't the same man. Sidestepping to allow Olivia to silently close the door Sherlock watched as the happiness from her eyes faded with each passing second.

"He still doesn't seem to understand that his father isn't coming back. I've tried to explain but he just seems to think he's on holiday."

"I didn't know you had a family." Sherlock stated catching Olivia off guard. She had dealt with the man all day through more emotional situations then she cared to think about and now was when he sounded sincere. Now of all times did she know he meant it.

"Of course I do Sherlock. You couldn't expect me to just stop living because you weren't in my life anymore. Granted my life isn't straight out of a detective story like yours is. I can't solve crimes and roam the streets at night solving puzzles. My life is now common mediocrity, but I'm okay with that."

"Olivia I swear to you I wasn't aware."

"I honestly didn't expect you to. Your mind is full of solutions I don't imagine you have room for my personal life." She said lightly touching his arm. "Sherlock it has been a long day. I'll show you your room then bid you goodnight."

Walking down the long dark hall Olivia led Sherlock merely two rooms away from Christopher's. The room was spacious with large bay windows. A large bed flanked by draped windows was the only focal point. No art scattered the walls, nothing to take away from the breathtaking views. Even in the darkness Sherlock could make out the white cliffs and sea not far beyond that.

"This will do nicely."

"I thought so, at least for the time being. My room is the last on the right, which I am sure you're already aware of; and I do believe you can figure out the layout of my home yourself, if you haven't already. If you need anything help yourself."

"Yes"

"Goodnight Sherlock." Before he could reply she was already walking down the hallway to her room.

Sighing he looked around his own room. It was nothing like 221b. Closing the door behind him he tried to settle in. But this was a house that wasn't his, a bed that wasn't his own, and housemates that didn't want him there. It was now that thoughts of John crept into his consciousness. What was John doing now? Was he in their flat? Could he bring himself to go back there? Hopefully Mrs. Hudson was taking care of him, bringing him tea and biscuits as she always did. Then suddenly like a ton of bricks it hit him. John's sorrowful voice 'please he's my friend, my friend.' John desperately trying to take hold of his hand, begging the heavens that what was before him was not reality. Sherlock felt the sting in his eyes. Sighing deep he let his head fall into his hands. A sob raked his body. This was to be a long sleepless night.

Author's Note: I promise young Sherlock tales ahead! I am just setting things up for now.

Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I recently decided to revamp this story and plan to update soon. If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat my inbox is open! :D (Or drop me a line on tumblr! * ask ) I would really love to get some feedback since this is my first Sherlock fic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... no really, nothing. It's quite sad. Owners are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I assume chaps at the BBC.