Chapter two
John moved a bit in the couch, feeling a slight ache on his left shoulder. The voices were getting clearer.
"You really are such a drama queen." Said a woman's voice, but seemed amused "Couldn't you just leave him a note? Nope. Waiting for the perfect time to make it… dramatic. I hope he kills you for real this time. I thought you said he was a war doctor. Quite a fragile one I must say."
"He will be okay. He's moving." said Sherlock.
Sherlock.
John opened his eyes, letting the blurred vision fade away. There he was, right in front of his eyes, kneeled on the floor and shaking him slightly. Sherlock Holmes.
"John, are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
"You!" John shouted, raising his back from the floor. "You are here! You… I thought you were dead!"
Unexpectedly John punched Sherlock in the face. Sherlock's head went backwards and forth again and john grabbed his throat, trying to hurt him. He did not want to kill him. But pain seemed like a fair trade for what he had done.
"You lied to everyone! Me! Mrs. Hudson! Mycrof and Lestrade!" shouted John, over the incomprehensible words Sherlock tried to mumble.
"John!" Sherlock managed to say "I can explain."
"Explain? I don't want any explanation. You were not dead but I am going to kill you now!"
The young woman came in from the kitchen with a mug in hand, a huge smile.
"Here, drink this after you finish him. It's going to help."
John let go of Sherlock, who fell to the floor, holding his throat.
"What is it?" He asked the girl, picking the mug and getting up.
"Good old tea. Don't worry, it's not poisoned. There was nothing stronger. Actually, there is hardly anything to eat or drink in this house." She said as she left for the kitchen again.
Sherlock got up, cleaning his clothes and stepped away, staring at John. John stared back, drinking the tea, a look full of hatred.
"I am sorry." Sherlock said, still feeling his throat.
John didn't say anything for a while. He drank the tea. Then he paced back and forth, still drinking.
"How…" he said "What were you thinking?"
"I had to do it. Everyone's safety was at stake. It was necessary."
"You… do you have any idea what have been going through these last months? Do you? I saw you jumping from that roof! I saw you covered in blood on the floor. You said you were a fake. You said "Goodbye John". I was there, at your funeral. I…" The words got stuck in his throat and John sat on the chair, catching his breath. "And all this time, that I was here, looking for a flat-mate, going to my therapy sessions, trying to figure out why… you were alive."
"I said I am sorry." Repeated Sherlock. He approached his chair, rearranged its place and sat. The girl came from the kitchen with two more mugs of tea, passed one to Sherlock, sipped from her own and Sherlock asked her "Can you please tell him I am sorry? He doesn't seem to believe me."
"Oh, you're begging." She noted. "I will, but only if you let me crash in your couch for a couple days. 221C is not yet suitable to move in and I am going to need a few days to put things in place.
"Okay." Sherlock agreed. "Why are you renting the other apartment? How long are you staying?"
"Indefinitely. I got a job at the university."
"So, you're coming back?" Sherlock's voice was different, an edge of hope to it John never heard before.
"Yes!" the girl said, a big smile on her face.
Sherlock got up and hugged her and kissed her on the forehead, as a happy person who was not a highly functioning sociopath would do. John was quite shocked.
"Oh, stop it or I will leave! Pretend to ignore me before, as if I haven't been away for so long. " she threatened, trying to get rid of him.
She got away and sat again and looked at John. He asked.
"Who are you? How did you know he was alive?"
"I had reasons to believe so. And then I got here and I knew he was not dead. The cigarettes, the violin… He had to be alive." She lifted herself from her chair a bit and offered him her hand "My name's Dylan." She paused and added "Dylan Holmes."
John stared. Was it national joke day? Had he finally gone crazy? Was he imagining things?
"Dylan Holmes?" he repeated, ignoring her hand.
She let her hand fall.
"Yes."
"She's my sister." Sherlock answered for her, looking up.
"Sister?" John repeated the words, trying to make sense of them "You have a sister?"
"Oh, he never told you about me? Hum, now I am a bit disappointed. Not surprised, though." She said, a smileplaying on her lips.
"No, he never said he had a sister."
"Well, he does. That's me. Nice to meet you Dr. Watson. He certainly told me all about you."
John grabbed a small bench that was next to the kitchen table and sat. That was a bit too much for one day.
"So," he started, looking at her "you're his sister. "
"Yes." She said, smiling with his behaviour.
"Well, that's…new."
"I left a few years ago to go study in the United States. That's why you never saw me. Sherlock never admitted but he was a bit upset I left. I was the only person who actually enjoyed putting up with him. "
"But you were not at the funeral." John stated.
"No. You see, I hate funerals. And I never really believed he was dead. I think Mycroft is still upset but I hope he will forgive me."
John nodded and turned to Sherlock.
"And you. Where have you been hiding? How did you survive? I saw you fall."
"Molly." Sherlock said, "She helped me. I've been at her place ever since."
"Molly knew?" he seemed angry again.
"Yes. She was the only one that could help me. She had the means to do it and was willing to. She's been keeping me away from everyone, giving me a place to stay."
John still thought it was incredible. It was a lot to take in.
"I… I don't know what to say."
"I said I was sorry. I left you all those clues…" Sherlock said.
"Sorry it's not going to make it okay. And I am sorry I didn't think about looking for cigarettes and violins and what-not!" John said, sarcastically, getting up and pacing angrily.
"Amazing." Dylan said, looking at him.
"What is?"
"The cane. You don't need it anymore. When you came up the stairs I could hear your limping, you and the cane walking together. But now you are walking perfectly well again. Sherlock was right."
"How do you know all those things?"
"I've been keeping in touch with him." She said looking at her brother, "We write letters to each other. He told me all about you." And she turned to Sherlock, getting up "You. You need to let John here settle down a bit. He's quite shaky with all of this. Go get your things. You will need to talk to Lestrade… So, go get your things and bring Molly too. I am cooking dinner as soon as Mrs. Hudson gets home with the groceries…"
"She's dating the owner." Sherlock said, a sassy smile on his face.
"I know." Dylan said back, giving him a hug. "Now go. I will message Mycroft."
"Do you really have to?" Sherlock asked, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, I do. Now, off you go."
Sherlock got up. He looked at John, who was still gazing him, unsure of what to do. He raised the collar of his coat and left, turning around with a flare.
"Don't you hate when he does that?" Dylan asked, following Sherlock with her eyes as he was leaving. "Putting the collar of the coat up, all cheekbones and mysterious…"
John laughed for the first time. He was not the only one to notice.
"Yes. Yes it does."
"Listen, Dr. Watson…"
"John, please."
"John." She agreed. And continued, "What Sherlock did was not okay. But I am sure he had a good reason to do it. He is quite of an… idiot sometimes, to put things nicely, but he does have a good heart. Not many people know that. Because he does not have a good heart to many people. I mean, he believes he has no heart at all. But he does. Sometimes. He is your friend, and you are the only friend he ever had. He wouldn't hurt you if he didn't have to."
John nodded.
The door downstairs opened and a pair of heels came up the stairs.
"Mrs. Hudson." She shouted, going to the door.
"Hello dear, did you find John?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for the groceries. I am going to make dinner. Would you care to join us? Around seven?"
"Oh, yes darling, it would be lovely not to have to be the one cooking for a while."
"Okay, then. Seven, then." and added "Sherlock will be joining us."
"Oh, wonderful! I am going to get ready then!"
John heard Mrs. Hudson go to her own appartment. Dylan walked in the room, carrying the bag of groceries.
"Mrs Hudson knows?"
"I told her before she left. She took it pretty well, I must say."
John laughed. He had seen the war and fainted and Mrs. Hudson, as usual, took it all without a single shake.
John was putting the groceries in place when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Hudson opened the door and a pair of steps came up the stairs. Dylan was already cooking dinner.
Molly came in, carrying a huge suitcase.
"Molly, I assume!" Dylan said, getting close to her.
"Are you moving in too?" John asked, helping her with the case.
"Of course not. That's Sherlock's, right?" Dylan asked.
Molly looked at her.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Oh, I am sorry. I am his sister."
Molly smiled and shook her hand.
"Oh, so you are the sister. Nice to meet you, I am Molly."
"Nice to meet you too. Get in, sit down. Dinner's almost ready."
"I will help you set the table. Hello John."
"Hi, Molly. Let me help you with that."
There were more steps on the stairs.
"So, you are back."
Dylan left kitchen and walked toward Mycroft, hugging him.
"I am!" she said, exited. Mycroft kissed her on the cheek, and looked at her, proudly.
"I knew you would miss London. Took you a while, though." He said
"Oh, don't be resentful. I won't be leaving for a while. Got a job at the university."
"So fast?"
"What can I say? They want me."
Mycroft laughed. John looked in awe. Mycroft was actually laughing. A genuine laugh, not a sarcastic one. That was a first.
"I talked to Sherlock." Mycroft added.
"Oh, you did already?"
"Yes. Quite clever of him. And Molly, who would have said." He looked at her and she smiled, ashamed.
Then he looked to the side and noticed John's presence.
"How did he took it?" he asked Dylan, pointing in John's direction with his head.
"Quite well, I must say. Tried to kill Sherlock."
Mycroft laughed again and John looked at Dylan, thanking her silently for not mentioning the faint. He would be ashamed of that for the rest of his life.
"Dinner is on the making." She said. And frowned, looking at Mycroft's face "Have you've been sleeping in the guest's room again?"
"The lady has been a bit upset with my late schedule."
Sherlock walked in bringing Mrs Hudson who was complaining:
"You had everyone worried, how could you do that, Sherlock."
"I already said I had too. I will explain to everyone later." He was saying to her.
"Maybe now is the right time." Dylan said, putting the pan on the kitchen table. Mycroft, John and Molly were already sitting. Mrs. Hudson joined them.
His sister pointed at a chair.
"You are going to sit and eat, because if you don't, I will kill you. No tricks this time."
Sherlock smiled and looked around. John looked at him, smiling too. He had forgiven him. And they were all there. He, the highly functioning sociopath had a house full of people. People who actually cared about him.
Across the city, on an abandoned warehouse three pictures were passing hands. First Dylan. Then John Watson and last Sherlock Holmes. The suited man pointed at him, circling his face with a black marker.
"He's back." He said. "And so is she."
The other man was bleeding, leaning against the wall. Scared. His face was bloated, wet with tears and sweat.
"We can't fail this time. You will make sure we don't fail. Because if you do I will skin you. Do you understand?"
The man nodded, crying a bit more.
"Ah, don't be such a baby! You will enjoy it, you'll see. Games are fun. And this time we can kill two birds with one stone. And if the doctor gets in the way, which he will, we'll kill him too." There was a sick joy in his words. "Now you will take this with you," he gave the man the photos "memorize the faces we will annihilate. Don't try to run or fool me, or you will be amongst them."
He turned his back and picked up the phone as it started to ring.
The man sat there for a while, holding the pictures in his hand, with the sound of the ringtone playing in his ears… "Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive…"