Trial Gone Wrong
One Week Later
Even after John had been called in and despite the fact that every single witness who had worked at Scotland Yard, except for Lestrade, seemed to be pretty sure of the fact that he was a fake, Sherlock was still confident that this was all going pretty well. Anyway, all he could do now was hope, as the jury was now deciding.
He sat on the bench, nervously fumbling his fingers. They'd already been in there for hours. John came back from his quick walk outside and sat beside him.
"You all right?"
"Yeah..."
"How long have they been in there?" John said looking back at the closed door.
"Four hours and twenty-eight minutes, I believe."
"This is ridiculous. They should just find you not guilty, the prosecution doesn't have any proof."
"But neither does the defence."
"Sherlock, don't go that way."
"I'm not. I'm just stating the facts. That doesn't mean I think they'll win. It would be absurd."
John nodded and they both sat there in silence for a good half hour, then finally someone opened the door. John and Sherlock turned around simultaneously and looked at him.
"The jury has made their decision."
Five minutes later the court was full again and Sherlock was back on the podium. Somehow he managed not to let out any deductions as his eyes flashed around the room. The judge got the room to fall silent and everyone looked at the jury representative.
"After having listened to the entire process we have come to making a hard, but fair decision. We have found Sherlock Holmes,"
It seemed as if the entire room leaned forward to hear what the answer was. In that time one could've heard a pin drop as the 'actual' trial of the century as some journalists called it was about to end.
"...Guilty."
What?!
"And what have you decided would be the punishment?"
"We have decided that the only fair punishment, for the organization of a minimum of fifty-six murders, and damage of an estimated thirty million pounds, including the theft of 'The Reichenbach Falls'-"
"No! I recovered it! That's all!"
"You will cease interrupting!" the judge commanded. Sherlock closed his mouth for the first time ever after having been told to.
"Please continue."
"Thank you Your Honour, -as well as the faking of his own death, is a lifetime imprisonment."
"Objection!" The entire courtroom turned their heads to where that scream had come from. John stood up.
"Your Honour, this is ridiculous!"
"The jury has spoken", the judge took the hammer and knocked it down. John remained unimpressed.
"But Your Honour-"
"I would be quiet if I were you, Dr. Watson. You've already caused enough trouble." John sat down and looked around seeming lost and immediately the room started emptying itself.
Sherlock was numb everywhere. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. He was innocent! John knew that. Sherlock knew that. But no one else seemed to. He didn't even notice the cuffs being put on his hands; only when someone suddenly pushed him forwards and he nearly tripped down the step did he really grasp what was happening.
No, no, no. This wasn't meant to happen, it wasn't supposed to go this way. Everything was supposed to go back to normal!
"Where are you taking me?" he asked one of the five guards who were walking him out the room.
"Pentonville", he snorted. Sherlock stared at him in shock for a couple seconds then resumed walking while staring at the ground. It took quite a while to exit the room as everyone was trying to leave it as fast as possible all at once. Just as they were getting to the door, Sherlock felt someone grab hold of his arm. He looked up in that direction, and at first could only see an arm holding his as the rest of the person holding him was blocked off by the guards.
"Let me through to him!" a familiar voice called out. A guard rolled his eyes and stepped out of the way.
"Thirty seconds!"
John pulled himself to Sherlock and brought his face right up to Sherlock's.
"Don't worry, we can figure this out. I'll get you out of there." Sherlock looked at him for a couple seconds.
"Figure out what? It's done." John stared at him until the guard cut them off:
"All right, chit-chat's over! Keep moving!" A guard pushed Sherlock ahead. They brought him all the way to police car that was waiting outside and the guard who was in front of him the whole time opened the door. Sherlock looked back and noticed that John had followed him the entire time but had just stayed back a little bit.
"Goodbye, John", he mouthed and the guard pushed his head into the car.
Four Hours Later
He had been registered, forced to change into a dull grey tracksuit-like one-piece outfit, given a bracelet that was implanted with a traceable security-chip and couldn't be taken off, and now another guard was leading Sherlock through the many halls of Pentonville Prison to his cell. After a five-minute walk, the guard stopped at door 221, swiped a card through the small slot, and placed his thumb on a small screen. The door unlocked and he turned the knob and opened it.
"Get in." Sherlock obeyed and he looked around his new home for the rest of eternity.
It was a small 12-by-10-foot room, with a bed, a toilet, a sink, a desk with a radio and some magazines on it, one wooden chair and a two-drawer nightstand on which a plastic alarm clock was placed. It wasn't even comparable with the comfort of 221B Baker Street but the fact that by chance he'd got cell number 221 comforted him a little.
"Breakfast is at eight tomorrow. Don't be late." And with that, the door closed and locked behind him. Sherlock let himself fall onto the bed and closed his eyes, murmuring "Well, this is it, then" over and over again to himself until he fell asleep from exhaustion.
One Day Later
REVIVED CONSULTING DETECTIVE FOUND GUILTY
As predicted by most, Sherlock Holmes, the man who ten weeks ago made history by revealing his fake death has been found guilty of-
John didn't finish reading the sentence before he threw the newspaper on the carpet of the living room of 221B. He had never been this furious. His best friend hadn't even been in Pentonville for twenty-four hours and he already couldn't take it anymore. There was too much wrong surrounding this whole situation for him to ever accept it. John walked over to the door where two coats hung: his own and Sherlock's; a policeman had brought it there as he didn't need it. John slowly patted it, feeling some of Sherlock's possessions neatly placed in the pockets. He stamped over to his desk and opened his laptop and then started typing on something he'd once believed he'd never write on again:
8th October 2015
The Two Trials
I have to say that in my entire life, there were only two really important court cases. Both went the wrong way for me. Some time over three years ago, James Moriarty, as he was still called at the time, walked free after having committed the crime of the century, and not just that: after having built an entire global network, basically responsible for every major crime in Europe.
Yesterday, Sherlock Holmes, a man who tracked down countless criminals, recovered lost valuables and even people, did more for the greater London area's security than Scotland Yard could've dreamed of, and not to mention, is my best friend who like a miracle came back to me after three years, didn't.
Just like that. Because the world prefers the thought that no one should be able to out-smart it, to the fact that maybe some people are in fact brilliant, and these people can turn out good or bad. I knew two such people, one against everyone and everything this world had to offer, the other torn between good and bad, a little misplaced but who then did choose the path of good.
James Moriarty is dead now. I know that's a good thing, but the fact that Sherlock is in prison is a fact I will never come to accept. He was my friend, or better said, still is. That's right, world, John Watson has friends in prison! So if you just came on this website three years after my last post to see what I've been up to, I'm sorry. But if you also still believe in him, believe in my best friend's innocence, and know what unfairness that is in this world right now, you're very welcome to stay. If not, just remember this, you all helped make this happen, and I am holding every single one of you responsible for why he is now in Pentonville instead of at home, in our flat in 221B. You'll be hearing from me, world.