Chapter 2: The Cat and Doctor watch the Detective Fall
"He's getting away!" Lestrade shouts as the culprit, a running athlete with a hobby of herbology, runs away from the police, Sherlock, John, and Leotie. The athlete was tired of losing the majority of his competitions and decided it who be a great idea to experiment with herbs to make the other runners slow down. Too bad his experimentation went sour and caused one of the runners to die.
"Why do they always run?" Leotie asks as she, John, and Sherlock all give chase, the two following the consulting detective the whole time.
"They don't always run," John countered. "Just most of them." They continued their chase for several long minutes before Leotie finally got bored of running on the ground. She grabbed the next fire escape ladder that they passed and parkoured her way to the roof and began chasing the criminal from there. Because she was using different a method of speed, she was able cut off the runner as he nearly collided with her. Now she was in front of the runner while John and Sherlock were coming in from behind. It was strange but Leotie suddenly felt a little dizzy, much like back home when she would eat…
'Oh no…' Leotie thought. Of course the herbalist athlete would also be experimenting with catnip. She was just thankful that it was just a small amount of catnip, but that doesn't mean that Sherlock didn't see her slight waver for a split second. Leotie quickly recovered and got into a fighting stance before anyone else could see her waver. The athlete, seeing that he was surrounded, fell to his knees in defeat until the police showed up to handcuff him, allowing the cat girl to relax her stance. John and Leotie, once again, followed Sherlock as he sauntered away from the scene.
"We'll be at the Yard at noon tomorrow to give our statement," Sherlock shouted to the DI over his shoulder. They had just made it out of the alley when Leotie stiffened suddenly. John was the first to notice her lack of steps and stopped to turn and look at her before grabbing Sherlock's attention as well.
The detective noticed her eyes first, they were cat-like just like back in the interrogation room of their first meeting, then he saw her stance, as though she was getting ready to either run or fight. He could tell that she wasn't looking at anything in particular, only that she could sense danger coming, so he began to examine everyone around them on the busy sidewalk. Then he spotted them.
"Leo?" John asked, trying to grab her attention. Her response was to growl at the noise and slink back into the alley. John followed her with his eyes as she continued to move back until she was successfully hidden on the ground behind the dumpster. "Leotie?" John was worried now, not having seen her like this before, and was about to go in after her when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. The doctor turned to look at his taller flatmate and noticed that his eyes weren't on him or Leotie, but farther down the sidewalk.
John followed his gaze and was met with two men weaving through people with a strange looking device in one of their hands. One was short and stubby with light brown hair that was thinning while the other was tall and thin with red hair. Both of the men wore a lab coat over scrubs and didn't care about bumping into other people. They were muttering, either to themselves or each other John couldn't tell but he could tell that they were arguing, and seemed to slow down a little when they got near John and Sherlock only to continue on until they rounded into the next alley.
John felt a rush of wind fly passed him before he noticed Leotie running towards the flat, which he would later realise was in the opposite direction that the two men left, like her life depended on it. Sherlock and John chased after her but she was considerably faster than them, despite only learning how to walk and run on two legs in less than a month, and made it to the flat long before they did, giving her time to hide. When the detective and doctor finally reached the flat they began their long search; Sherlock couldn't even deduce where exactly she had gone. All Sherlock could figure out was that she would be under something, much like a cat would when frightened. They were able to rule out Mrs. Hudson's room and the basement, the older woman had informed them that she heard someone running up the stairs to their flat. They began in John's room and the kitchen; looking under tables, chairs, under the bed, in cupboards, and in the closet. No Leotie. Then they checked every possible hiding spot in the living room/study. Again, no Leotie. Sherlock sat on the couch and went into his mind palace to interrogate the Leotie in his head as John recheck every hiding place before the doctor finally stopped with realization and turned to Sherlock. Leotie was smart, she would have hidden where she thought no one would think to look. Once the detective became frustrated with imaginary Leotie, he exited his mind palace and met the doctor's eyes, he took notice of the doctor's face and could see the realization in his eyes.
"Your room," John said before running off, Sherlock following. They made it in the messy room within seconds of John's words. Even from Sherlock's eyes, nothing looked out of place. John went straight to the bed and kneeled on the floor, lifting the blankets and seeing a shivering Leotie underneath. She shook more and flinched at having the cover of the blanket being removed as her cat-like eyes locked onto John's, who has never really seen her eyes like this before, and portrayed all the fear of the world in a single glance.
"Please don't let them get me," Leotie whispers. John slowly reaches his hand under to help her out and she slowly accepts it. Sherlock helps bring her back to the living area and set her down on the couch as she continued to find the floor more interesting to look at. John left to go make some tea for her while Sherlock questioned her actions.
"We'll start with something easy. You wavered slightly when we caught the runner, why?" Sherlock asked as he sat in his chair and threaded his fingers together, making deductions as he stared at her.
"I could smell catnip on him," she answered, not looking up yet. "It wasn't much but it was still enough to make me a little dizzy."
"Do you know those men, the ones you hid from?" Sherlock asked. She shook her head 'no'. "Then why were you scared of them?" She slowly looked up and straight into the detective's eyes, her cat eyes slowly fading back to human ones as she thought of how to explain.
"How were you so sure that John would end up being your flatmate and not run off after all you've put him through? How are you so sure that John will come running to your aid even if he's on a date? How are you so sure you're fighting on the side of angels? You could spend two seconds looking at a menu or even fifteen minutes and still not know what to order. Idiots will be sure of what they think they know, but true intelligence will always come from wondering. So tell me, Sherlock Holmes, how can birds know when to migrate south for winter? How can a dog or cat tell when a large storm is coming?" She asked, her shaking slowing down.
"Simple magnetic pull and and atmospheric pressure," Sherlock countered, trying to understand why she was saying all of this. The whistle of the kettle could be heard from the kitchen.
"Perhaps when electronically measured by you two leggeds but how can an animals do such a thing? With our 'sixth' sense? We can't tell you if the magnetic pull has changed or if the atmosphere has shifted. We rely on what we feel in order to move in the correct direction. You two leggeds wish to always make everything about science and fact or faith and religion when really, the fact of the matter is that feelings can be more powerful than you can imagine. You can find things by seeing while I can find them by feeling. Once you realize how powerful a single feeling is, you'll never think anything is impossible." John, having been listening to the whole thing, finally came back with the tea for Leotie, who quickly took a sip of it and immediately felt the last of her nerves disappeared.
"Are you saying you could find out where those men went based on a mere feeling?" Sherlock challenged. Leotie eyed him and opened her mouth to reply when Mycroft sauntered into the room with a folder under his arm.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, getting up and going to his violin.
"Obviously he has a case for us. Or, more specifically, an interesting lab the belongs to the men from before for us to investigate," Leotie informs, causing the two brothers to stare at her. John just groaned and shook his head, silently complaining about how she's actually taking the challenge. "Feelings can be a very powerful thing, Holmes brothers." She then busied herself with studying Mycroft. "Sherlock will deny the case for now because it is not yet time for us to pay a little visit to the lab yet. Also, Mycroft is also planning to propose to Lestrade within the two months after he has his parents meet him."
"Brother mine!" Sherlock shouts in a teasing manner, a wicked smirk on his face. John knew what was coming next and just plopped down on the couch next to Leotie while the Holmes brothers argued and teased.
"One day they'll be doing this because of you," Leotie said to the doctor, who just nodded before realizing what she just said. He turned to ask her what she meant but found that she had curled up to meditate while her empty cup was on the coffee table. An hour passed before Mycroft finally left and Sherlock did refuse to go check out the lab for his older brother for now. Leotie knew, though, that they will be going to the lab one day. It's use a matter of when.
SHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJW
One week
"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact," Lestrade announced. Sherlock smiled briefly at the DI's speech.
"Sarcasm," John and Leotie both whispered to him at the same time. John stood to Sherlock's right while Leotie stood to the consulting detective's left.
"Yes," Sherlock said, his smile falling from his face. The press applauded as Lestrade brought over a wrapped gift for the consulting detective.
"We all chipped in," Lestrade explained. Leotie turned her head to hide her face from Sherlock, knowing she would never be able to hide her grin from the present's contents. When Sherlock finished opening the present, he took out the deerstalker hat. Sherlock tries, and fails, to smile at Lestrade as a thank you for the present. Leotie starts shaking with held in laughter at a few of the reporters demand Sherlock to it the hat on.
"Just get it over with," John whispers, glaring at Leotie's shaking form. Sherlock shoves the hat on and gives the press a smile with gritted teeth before glaring at Lestrade as if planning his murder. The trio returned to 221B Baker Street afterwards. John decided to sit on the couch reading the papers while Sherlock, who put his blue dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, stomps across the room and throws the Daily Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table.
Leotie was busy making tea and baking cookies for the two men.
"'Boffin'. 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes'," Sherlock complains indignantly.
"Everybody gets one," John states, trying to defuse Sherlock's irritation.
"One what?" Sherlock asked, becoming more irritated by the second.
"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick.' Shouldn't worry – John will probably get one soon too," Leotie explained as she pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven.
"Page five, column six, first sentence,"Sherlock barks out. John turns to the relevant page as Sherlock goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker, holds it up and punches it angrily. "Why is it always the hat photograph?"
"'Bachelor John Watson'?" John says out loud for Leotie to hear as she prepares the tray for them. The cat woman unsuccessfully hides a snort at John's Tabloid nickname, earning her a glare from the doctor.
"What sort of hat is it anyway?" Sherlock questioned.
"'Bachelor'? What the hell are they implying?" John grumbles as Leotie enters the living room with the tea and cookies. Sherlock is holding up the hat and twisting it back and forth rapidly
"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?" John glances up briefly to look over at the consulting detective as Leotie places the tray on the coffee table and grabs a cup before seating herself next to John. She love watching their 'conversations'.
"It's a deerstalker," John explained before turning back to the the article and reading allowed. "'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson …'" Leotie nearly snorts her tea but was able to stop herself this time.
"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?"
"'... confirmed bachelor John Watson'!"
"Some sort of death frisbee?"
"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."
"It's got flaps ... ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John." Sherlock accurately skims the hat across the room to Leotie, who doesn't have to do more than bend her wrist to catch the flying object.
"What do you mean, 'more careful'?" Sherlock asks, turning to the two on the couch.
"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore." John holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You're this far from famous."
"John just doesn't like being called a bachelor in the newspaper," Leotie mumble, just barely loud enough for Sherlock to hear. Sherlock smirked at her while John just glared at the female human cat. "Oh, did I say that out loud?" She questions with fake innocence in her voice.
"Oh, it'll pass," Sherlock reassured as he slumps down into his armchair and folds his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth. As John just grumbles to himself.
"The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you," John warned his lowers his hands and looks more closely at John.
"It really bothers you."
"What?"
"What people say."
"Yes."
"About me? I don't understand – why would it upset you?" John holds his gaze for a moment, then looks away.
"Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news." John starts to adjust the pillow nearest him.
"Awe," Leotie coos as she leans forward and places her cup down while grabbing one of the, now warm, cookies. "Johnny boy cares so much about his detective." She placed the cookie in her mouth just as a pillow hit the side of her head due to a certain agitated ex-soldier. A phone in the living room trills a text alert a few hours later. Sherlock had moved to sitting at the table in the kitchen, looking into his microscope. John comes along the corridor from the bathroom with wet hair, wearing a bathrobe and rubbing the back of his neck with a towel.
"It's your phone," John states.
"Mm. Keeps doing that," Sherlock informed with disinterest. John walks into the living room, goes past the body in a suit which is hanging by its neck from the ceiling, sits down in his chair and picks up a newspaper. The body sways gently as Leotie paws at it while sitting on the ground.
"So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?"John asked. "Leo, stop doing that. You're not a cat." She just snickers at his comment and continues to paw at the swinging body. Sherlock looks up and glances across to the body where the mannequin continues to swing.
"Oh. Henry Fishgard never committed suicide." He picks up an old hardback book from the table and slams it shut in a flurry of dust, making Leotie pause for a moment, before going back to his microscope. "Bow Street Runners: missed everything."
"Pressing case, is it?"
"They're all pressing 'til they're solved." Leotie rolled her eyes before going back to her game. Sherlock's phone pings and the human cat gets up off the floor.
"I'll get it," she announces before walking over to the table and grabbing his phone. She opens it up to look at the message. She read it once… then twice… and then once more. She swiftly changed from cheerful to horror to sorrow. "Oh no…"
"Leo?" John asked, seeing her change in mood. "What's wrong?"
"I forgot…" She said, starting to shake. She knew what was coming. He was back. The phone fell out of her hand and she stayed standing, looking straight ahead and shaking. The thudding of his phone on the ground caught Sherlock's attention. While John tried to get Leotie to return to her normal state, Sherlock grabbed his phone and read the message that paralyzed his friend.
Come and Play.
Tower Hill.
Jim Moriarty x
Sherlock sat back in his chair and gazes into space. This grabbed John's attention and he started to try to attend to Sherlock.
"Not you too," John complained. When Sherlock and Leotie recovered, Sherlock informed John of the text they turned to Leotie to tell her to come with them to the tower only to find that she had disappeared. They shrugged it off, thinking that she already started making her way to Tower Hill, and left the flat. When they got there they began to watch the security footage, after finding that Leotie was not there at all.
"That glass is tougher than anything," Lestrade informed.
"Not tougher than crystal carbon. He used a diamond," Sherlock said, studying the video further. Greg adjusts the footage, which shifts to a recording taken from the other side of the glass. The footage also goes into reverse, showing the glass rising back up into place before it shattered. As Jim pulls back the fire extinguisher again and the glass becomes whole, the message which he scrawled onto it becomes clear. He deliberately wrote the words backwards on the glass so that they would be seen from the camera on the other side of the case. With the smiley face inside the "O," the message reads:
GET
SHERLOCK
John turns and stares at Sherlock, worry evident, but his eyes are fixed on the screen. Later, the two men return to their flat, Leotie still had not returned but they ad other things on their mind in that moment.
The next day, John is standing in front of the mirror in the living room. He is wearing a suit and finishes tying his tie before putting on his jacket. Near the sofa, Sherlock is buttoning up his own jacket while watching John's reflection. Sherlock leads the way downstairs and goes to the front door, then stops and turns to the side to allow John to pass him and reach out towards the door just as it opens to reveal the missing Leotie finally walking in. She looked tired and out of breath but seemed to be fine otherwise. She waved at the two men, clearly not in the mood to talk and explain, before slowly walking up the stairs to rest. John turns to Sherlock then.
"Ready?"
"Yes." Bracing himself, John opens the door. Police officers are trying to hold back the large crowd of journalists who immediately start photographing the pair and calling out questions as the police clear the way and allow the boys through to the waiting police car. John points Sherlock towards the nearest rear door of the car.
"Get in," John orders. As Sherlock does as instructed, John goes round the back and gets in the other side and the car pulls away and races off with its sirens wailing.
The boys walk into the living room after the trial and find Leotie asleep on the couch. John sits in his chair while Sherlock begins to pace the room.
"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why," John lists. "All we know is …"
"... he ended up in custody," Leotie said, not moving from her spot right away. Sherlock stops and turns to John. John takes a breath.
"Don't do that," John ordered.
"Do what?"
"The look."
"Look?"
"You're doing the look again."
"Well, I can't see it, can I?" John points to the mirror above the fireplace as if Sherlock's an idiot for not realising it's there. Sherlock turns his head and looks at his reflection. "It's my face."
"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'we both know what's really going on here' face."
"Well, we do."
"No. I don't, which is why I find The Face so annoying."
"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there," Leotie explained for John. She stretched before sitting up and sitting crisscross on the couch while Sherlock starts to pace again.
"How do you know Moriarty?" John asked Leotie. "You really shouldn't be effected by him." The human cat rolled her eyes.
"Because, little cub, I know centuries worth of information," she said. She knew it wasn't time to explain her kind's culture. Not yet. Not until Sherlock came back. Two years. That's all they had to wait for.
"Somehow this is part of his scheme," Sherlock mumbled, ignoring their conversation. The more John tried to ask about Leotie's involvement, the more cryptic she became. Later Sherlock – who didn't go to court for the next two days– sits sideways on the sofa with his back against the arm nearest the window. John left to watch the court while Leotie had disappeared again. Wearing his blue dressing gown over his clothes, he softly recites the only words that the judge can possibly say in his summing-up speech. His recitation is interspersed with the actual words from the judge, and frequently their lines overlap. Sherlock closes his eyes. "Guilty," Sherlock whispers. His phone rings and he answers it to hear his male flatmate's voice.
"Not guilty. They found him not guilty. No defense and Moriarty walks free!" John was furious as he hailed a taxi to come home. "Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. You-you know he'll be coming after you. Sher... " Sherlock switches off the phone and gets up off the couch. In the kitchen he switches on the kettle and slams down a small tray beside it, putting a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, a teapot and two cups and saucers with teaspoons onto the tray. The kettle comes to the boil and switches off and Sherlock, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, makes the tea and takes the tray to the table beside John's chair, then walks over to his own chair and picks up his violin and bow. Downstairs the front door is expertly lock picked and pushed open. Jim's easily-recognisable shadow precedes him as he slowly walks along the hall and up the stairs. Partway up, one of the stairs creaks noisily and Jim pauses for a moment, as does Sherlock's playing. A couple of seconds later Sherlock resumes from a few notes before where he stopped and Jim starts to climb the stairs again. Sherlock, standing with his back to the living room door, keeps playing until Jim pushes open the door, then he stops but doesn't yet turn around.
"Most people knock," Sherlock informs. Moriarty just shrugs. "But then you're not most people, I suppose." Sherlock gestures over his shoulder with his bow towards the table. "Kettle's just boiled." Jim walks further into the room and bends to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table.
"Johann Sebastian would be appalled," Moriarty says, tossing the apple and catching it, he looks around the living room as if searching for a seat. "May I?"
"Please." Sherlock turned to face him as he gestures with the end of his bow towards John's chair. Jim immediately walks over to Sherlock's chair and sits in that one instead. Sherlock looks slightly unnerved. Jim takes out a small penknife and starts to cut into the apple while Sherlock puts down the violin and begins to pour tea into the cups.
"You know when he was on his deathbed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ... "
"... and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.
"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."
"Neither can you. That's why you've come."
"But be honest: you're just a tiny bit pleased."
"What, with the verdict?" He picks up one of the teacups, adds a splash of milk and turns and offers the cup to Jim, who sits up straighter and takes it.
"With me ...back on the streets." He gazes up into Sherlock's eyes, smiling. "Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain." He grins. Sherlock turns away and adds milk to his own cup. "You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I – except you're boring." He shakes his head in disappointment. "You're on the side of the angels." He sips his tea as Sherlock picks up his own cup and stirs his drink.
"Got to the jury, of course."
"I got into the Tower of London; you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?"
"Cable network."
"Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen ... and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy-peasy." Sherlock has unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in John's chair. In a perhaps unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too has his cup lifted close to his mouth.
"So how're you going to do it …" He pointedly blows gently on his tea. "... burn me?
"Oh, that's the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?" Sherlock has taken a sip of his tea and looks across his cup to the other man. "What's the final problem?" He smiles across his own cup. "I did tell you but did you listen?" He takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Sherlock's eyes lower to watch the movement. "How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?" Sherlock puts his cup into its saucer and shrugs.
"I dunno."
"Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; awfully clever." He chuckles in an upper class tone. Sherlock smiles humorlessly while putting his cup back onto the tray. "Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?"
"Told them what?"
"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything."
"No."
"But you understand."
"Obviously."
"Off you go, then." He has carved a piece off his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife. A switch blade knife suddenly appeared in Moriarty's apple, forcing him to drop it and make the two men involuntarily jump.
"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do," Leotie informs as she walks into the room. She picks up the apple by the knife and starts to snack on it, causing Jim to pout slightly. "You find joy in watching all of the bidders compete."
"Who is this?" Moriarty asks, getting up to take a good look at the woman.
"I am nobody," she states. "At least, in this world I am nobody. Now if you don't mind, I have a doctor and consulting detective to prepare. They do seem to have a fall coming their way." She glares at the consulting criminal, her human eyes changing into that of a cat for a little bit before returning. Moriarty twitched, almost unnoticeable. "Oh yes, ally cat. I know what is coming. I know your plan. All of it. You will die far before either of the Holmes children do. Now, get out," she growls out at him. Jim turns to Sherlock.
"Call me," Jim teases before walking off and out of the flat. Leotie tosses the remains of the apple to Sherlock after taking the knife out. Jim had dug a large circular piece out of the apple, and on the left of the circle he has carved an 'I' shape while on the right of the circle is a 'U' shape, forming the letters 'I O U'. Sherlock's mouth twitches into the beginning of a smile when he sees that Leotie had nibbled around the letters. Leotie looked out the window before walking over to the door.
"I've got work to do," she states before walking out of the flat again. Sherlock was then left alone to his own devices until John came home.
SHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJW
Two months later
John goes to a NatWest cashpoint machine and inserts his card. Typing in his PIN, he then selects a transaction. After a few seconds he is greeted with the onscreen message:
There is a problem with
your card
Please wait
John grimaces and a second later a new message appears:
Thank you for
your patience.
A moment later the message adds:
John
John frowns and behind him a black car pulls up to the kerb and stops. John turns and looks at it, then turns back to the ATM, sighing in exasperation. However, he still hasn't learned his lesson about getting into strange cars and apparently meekly gets in and allows himself to be driven to an elegant white painted building which has a brass plaque outside declaring the venue to be THE DIOGENES CLUB. He goes inside and enters a large room which was probably a drawing room. A large marble fireplace surrounds an unlit fire and the walls have heavy wooden panelling and ornate white plaster coving. The room contains five small round tables, each with a single armchair beside it, and four of the chairs are currently occupied by smartly dressed middle aged or elderly gentlemen reading newspapers and taking no notice of each other or of the new arrival. John looks around and then walks over to one of the older men sitting at the far end of the room.
"Er, excuse me. Um, I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes," John asked, feeling out of place. The old man's face becomes appalled but he doesn't look up. "Would you happen to know if he's around at all?" Some of the other inhabitants of the room behind John look round at him but don't speak. "Can you not hear me?" The old man looks up at him, huffing indignantly. John holds out a placatory hand to him. "Yes, all right." He turns around to the others in the room. "Anyone?" The others turn their faces away from him. "Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? I've been asked to meet him here." The old man lifts his walking stick and pushes the end of it repeatedly onto a button on the nearby wall. A distant bell rings. John looks around in confusion while the gentlemen either ignore him or look at him in annoyance. "No takers? Right." He raises his voice. "Am I invisible? Can you actually see me?" Just then two men wearing dress coats walk into the room. John turns to them. "Ah, thanks, gents." Behind him, the elderly gentleman flaps his hand frantically at the new arrivals as if to say, 'Get him out of here!' The dress coated men, wearing white gloves and soft white overshoes to muffle their footsteps, walk briskly over to John. "I've been asked to meet Mycroft Holm…" He breaks off as the men walk either side of him and firmly seize his arms. "What the ...? Hey!" As they almost lift him off his feet, one of them puts his other hand over John's mouth to silence him. His muffled protests continue while they rapidly bundle him out of the room. Shortly afterwards John has been taken to a smaller room and the door has been closed firmly behind him. Mycroft is in the room with him and pours himself a drink from a crystal decanter.
"Tradition, John. Our traditions define us."
"So total silence is traditional, is it? You can't even say, 'Pass the sugar.'" John comments with much needed sass.
"Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley. It's for the best, believe me." He smiles round at John but then his face becomes more grim as he walks towards a pair of armchairs in the middle of the room. "They don't want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here." John walks to a small table and picks up a copy of "The Sun" which is lying on it. He brandishes it at Mycroft.
"You read this stuff?" John asked in disbelief.
"Caught my eye," Mycroft answered. John sits in an armchair.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Saturday: they're doing a big exposé." John reads the announcement at the top of the front page. The headline reads: 'SHERLOCK: THE SHOCKING TRUTH' with the strapline 'Close Friend Richard Brook Tells All'. The article reveals that it is an Exclusive from Kitty Riley and the text reads: 'Super-sleuth Sherlock Holmes has today been exposed as a fraud in a revelation that will shock his newfound base of adoring fans. / Out-of-work actor Richard Brook revealed exclusively to THE SUN that he was hired by Holmes in an elaborate deception to fool the British public into believing Holmes had above-average 'detective skills'. / Brook, who has known Holmes for decades and until recently considered him to be a close friend, said he was at first desperate for the money, but later found he had no" at which point the text just stops.
"I'd love to know where she got her information," John grumbles.
"Someone called Brook. Recognise the name?"John lowers the paper and shakes his head.
"School friend, maybe?" Mycroft laughs in a snide way.
"Of Sherlock's?" He chuckles again." But that's not why I asked you here." He walks to a side table and picks up several folders. Returning to John he gives him one of them. John opens the file and looks at the photograph on the top page.
"Who's that?"
"Don't know him?"
"No."
"Never seen his face before?" John looks at the photo again.
"Umm …"
"He's taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you."
"Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours." He smiles sarcastically up at Mycroft who looks back at him straight-faced.
"Not sure you'll want to." He nods towards the folder. "Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door."
"It's a great location. Jubilee line's handy."
"John …"
"What's it got to do with me?" Mycroft walks over and giving him another of the files.
"Dyachenko, Ludmila." He sits down opposite John, who lets out a long tired groan as he opens the file and looks at the photograph inside before frowning a little.
"Um, actually, I think I have seen her."
"Russian killer. She's taken the flat opposite."
"Okay ... I'm sensing a pattern here," John states nervously. Mycroft hands him the rest of the files.
"In fact, four top international assassins relocate to within spitting distance of two hundred and twenty-one B. Anything you care to share with me?" Looking at the photographs of the other assassins, John chuckles, then looks up at Mycroft.
"I'm moving?!" Mycroft looks back at him unamused, then narrows his eyes.
"I don't think you have much to worry about. There were more but they've been slowly disappearing, cat like scratches were the only things left other than a mess. It's not hard to guess the common denominator though, is it?"
"You think this is Moriarty?"
"He promised Sherlock he'd come back."
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"So, still got some friends on the Force. It's Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people," John informed Sherlock as he lowered his phone. Sherlock appears to be taking no notice of him, and now Mrs Hudson knocks on the closed living room door with her customary 'Ooh-ooh!' and then comes in, still in her nightwear. The older woman can feel the tension in the room.
"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?" Sherlock rolls his eyes and looks away. She turns her attention to John. "Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'Perishable' – I had to sign for it." John takes the Jiffy bag from her and immediately realizes that there's a wax seal over the flap. Sherlock looks across and also sees the seal. "Funny name. German, like the fairytales." Sherlock rises to his feet and walks forward, his gaze intense and locked on the Jiffy bag as John opens it and pulls out the contents. Outside, the sirens of several different vehicles are approaching. In John's hand is a large gingerbread man but it's an unusual colour. He tilts it so that Sherlock can see it better.
"Burnt to a crisp." The vehicles pull up outside and the sirens stop, and doors start to slam as people get out of the cars.
"What does it mean?" John asked, referring to the burnt gingerbread. The doorbell rings and at the same time someone pounds on the front door knocker.
"Police!" Someone shouts from outside
"I'll go," Mrs. Hudson informed. She turns and hurries down the stairs as someone continues to knock on the door. Voices can be heard as she opens the door.
"Sherlock …" Donovan calls, not yet reaching the living room.
"Evening, Mrs Hudson," Lestrade greeted politely.
"We need to talk to you!" Donovan shouts up the stairs. John puts the gingerbread man back into the envelope and puts it on the table before heading out of the flat. Downstairs, Mrs Hudson sounds angry.
"Don't barge in like that!" Mrs. Hudson shouts at the unexpected guests. Feet can be heard trotting up the stairs. Calmly Sherlock turns around and picks up his scarf and loops it around his neck. John is blocking the stairs partway up.
"Have you got a warrant? Have you?" John questions, not too happy with what's going on. Lestrade comes up to him, not knowing that Sherlock has started to put on his coat and knowing full well what is about to happen.
"Leave it, John," Lestrade gently orders the ex-soldier, Mrs. Hudson complaining about manners in the background. Shortly afterwards Greg stands in front of Sherlock while one of two armed officers attaches handcuffs to his left wrist. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping." John gestures towards Sherlock while looking at Greg as the officer pulls Sherlock's left hand behind his back in order to cuff his other wrist.
"He's not resisting," John comments.
"It's alright, John," Sherlock tries to smooth over.
"He's not resisting. No, it's not alright. This is ridiculous," John complains.
"Get him downstairs now," Lestrade orders. The officer spins Sherlock around and marches him out of the door. Mrs Hudson stands nearby almost in tears.
"You know you don't have to do …" John informs Greg.
"Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too," Lestrade warns. He turns and leaves the room. John turns to Sally who is standing near the door.
"You done?" John growls out.
"Oh, I said it," she says looking smug at the doctor. "First time we met."
"Don't bother," John warns, not in the mood to deal with her.
"'Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line.' Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?" Donovan asked, ignoring John's warning. Mrs Hudson gasps just when the Chief Superintendent walks in.
"Donovan," the chief spoke.
"Sir," she said respectfully.
"Got our man?"
"Er, yes, sir."
"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." John turns towards him. "Often are, these vigilante types." He had been looking around the living room but now turns and sees John staring at him. "What are you looking at?" Sally's eyes widen and she instantly lowers her head as if she knows what's coming and can't bear to look. John starts to move. A minute or two later, the Chief Superintendent walks out onto the street holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
"Are you alright, sir?" One of the police officers asks. Nearby, Sherlock had been leaning against the side of a police car, facing it. Now John is slammed up against the car next to him, to his left. Sherlock looks across to him with an amused expression on his face.
"Joining me?" Sherlock muses.
"Yeah. Apparently it's against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent," John informs, a small laugh in his voice. Behind them, a couple of armed officers unlock the cuff on Sherlock's right hand and transfer it to John's right wrist, chaining the boys together. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, watching what the officers are doing and where they're standing.
"Hmm. Bit awkward, this."
"Huh. No-one to bail us."
"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape." He looks down at the radio lying on the dashboard of the car they're leaning against. The radio squeals as the dispatcher speaks.
"All units to two-seven," the radio dispatcher calls. John looks round at Sherlock's previous statement.
"What?" John asked
"All units to two …" Rapidly Sherlock reaches through the open window of the car with his free hand and presses down on the Talk button. Instantly the officer behind the boys doubles over in pain and grabs at his earpiece when a high-pitched squeal of feedback rips through it. Sherlock reaches behind him and pulls the officer's pistol free, instantly raising it. Because it's in his left hand, John's shackled right hand is yanked upwards as well and he gasps in surprise at the rapid turn of events. Sherlock calls out as he aims the pistol towards the nearest officers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" Nearby, Greg's whole body language says, 'Oh, FFS ...' When nobody reacts very quickly, Sherlock raises the gun skywards and fires it twice. "NOW would be good!" He lowers it and points it at the police again.
"Do as he says!" Lestrade orders. He gestures everybody downwards and all the police start to kneel. The boys start to back away.
"Just-just so you're aware, the gun is his idea. I'm just a ... you know …" John was thinking of a good word. Sherlock transfers the pistol to his right hand and promptly aims it at John's head.
"... my hostage." Sherlock finishes as John gasps.
"Hostage! Yes, that works – that works," John agrees, going along with it. They continue backing away from the kneeling police. Behind them and probably unnoticed in all the excitement, a piece of artistic graffiti has been sprayed on the wall of the house on the street corner. In red paint, huge letters spelling out 'IOU' are at least three feet high and are surrounded by an elaborate dark set of angel's wings. The boys begin to back carefully around the corner. "So what now?"
"Doing what Moriarty wants – I'm becoming a fugitive. Run." He turns and begins to race off down the road, dragging John with him. Back at the police cars, Greg buries his head in his hands. The Chief Superintendent gets to his feet and turns to him.
"Get after him, Lestrade!" The chief shouts. Greg glares furiously at Sally as she begins to head in the direction the boys have gone. Greg is a lot slower in getting moving. Around the corner as the boys run along side by side. Suddenly a dark figure drops in front of them, making them stop. The figure ran towards them, slicing the chain between the two men before stopping behind them. The men turned to the figure and stared. They noticed that the person had metal claw like gloves on their hand.
"Why are you two still standing around?" The figure asked in a familiar voice.
"Leotie?" John asked. She turned and the only thing they could see were her bright cat eyes.
"Go," she ordered. "I'll hold them off." She then turned to where the boys had come from and crouched. The moment Donovan rounded the corner Leotie raced forward, sprinting like a cat, and tackled the Sergeant with a hiss. Sherlock grabbed John's hand and began running again with the doctor being dragged behind him.
"Now people will definitely talk," John complained. Sirens are approaching at the junction ahead of them. Sherlock swerves to his left and drops the pistol in the process. It clatters to the ground. "The gun!"
"Leave it!" He shoves John down a side alley as the police car races straight across the junction. They run down the alleyway and reach high railings blocking their way. Sherlock, with his customary flair, leaps up onto the top of a dustbin and vaults straight over the top of the railings. John, being an adorable short-arse and also not as close to the dustbin, is left behind; his right hand is dragged upwards and his face almost smashes against the railings as Sherlock drops to the other side.
"Sherlock, wait!" He reaches through the railings with his free hand and grabs Sherlock's coat, dragging him closer and glaring into his face. "We're going to need to coordinate, like say letting go of my hand." Sherlock quickly scans all around them.
"Go to your right."
"Huh?"
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John had left the lab, leaving Sherlock deep in thought while tossing the blue ball around. He had been going over his plan since John left. He knew what was coming, Sherlock always knew. The cat walks into the lab and stares at the detective until he stops his movements and stares back at her. Sherlock found it hard to deduce her today but he supposes that she purposely did that. She pads closer to him and sits on the floor in front of him. Neither said a word but the detective knew that she wanted to tell him something.
"You're in love with Doctor John Watson," She said bluntly. Sherlock opened his mouth in an attempt to give an overly long explanation about how sentiment is weakness but she cut him off with her words and glare. "Don't be a smartarse." Sherlock pouted and turned his gaze away from her. "I know what's about to happen, little cub. You're going to end up faking your own death, calling John and having him watch as you give him a fake suicide speech. Then you will jump. I know you will fake your own death but how, I do not know. Only your brother and a handful of other people will know about the fake death but John, Mrs. Hudson, DI Greg Lestrade, and pretty much everyone else won't know it's a fake. Then you will be gone, taking down all of Moriarty's underground men for the next couple years. During the time you are gone, John will have tried to move on. By the time you come back and try to meet up with him-"
"How do you know all of this?" Sherlock asked. There was a crack of skin slapping skin before Sherlock instinctively cupped one of his cheeks, which was already slightly turning red. He was silently glad she didn't have her metal claws on.
"I've seen it. Now don't interrupt again. We don't have much time left before he texts you back." Sherlock opened his mouth again to speak but decided it was better to let her talk and gather more information from her than to have himself talk and get slapped again. "When you meet up with John again, after taking Moriarty's men down, you will have interrupted his proposal to the woman he had found during the time you were away. That woman, I don't trust her. I know I could stop John from ever meeting her or ever considering proposing to her but it is not my place to decide. It is your's," she said, finishing her rant.
"Why me?" Sherlock asked, intrigued.
"You are in love with him, detective. A cat has absolute emotional honesty. Human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings. Be a cat and just admit it, even if it is just to me. If you want me to stop him from meeting her, I will."
"You're an actual cat, aren't you?" She nodded. "Then how are you human."
"I'm from another dimension. Now answer me." Sherlock thought for a moment before opening his mouth to answer.
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John and Leotie were standing in the street, staring at Sherlock as he gave his verbal note. John had the phone to his ear while Leotie listened in with her heightened hearing. Sherlock was about to toss his phone to the side when he changed his mind and brought it back to his ear.
"Take care of John for me, Leotie," Sherlock said. She smiled and nodded before taking the phone from John and holding the microphone side to her mouth so he could hear her.
"I'll make sure to keep him in trouble."
"Good girl."
"Sherlock," she interrupted just as he was about to toss the phone again. "Insults are the last resort of insecure people with a crumbling position trying to appear confident. You don't have to disrespect and insult others to hold your ground. If you do, that just shows how shaky your own position is." She knew that the sayings would come in handy for him while he was away, even if she didn't know why. She saw him smile at the help before he tossed the phone and jumped. John ran forward and was knocked over by a biker before Leotie followed after to help John up. She stood behind and watched John fret over his friend's body, trying not to feel guilty over the fact that she is deceiving the good doctor.
She finally pulled him away as the body of their friend was placed on a stretcher and taken away. She let John hold her for a while before she finally dragged him to the flat and laid him to rest for a while until the day that they, along with Mrs. Hudson, visited Sherlock's grave. As the cat stayed quiet she watched the landlady get emotional and return to the cab while the doctor talked, ignoring Leotie's presence completely.
"Um. Hm. You… you told me once that you weren't a hero. Um. There were times that I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man and the most human…. human being that I have ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so… there. I was so alone and I owe you so much. Please, there's just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be… dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this…" Leotie, depressed by his words, couldn't hold back her knowledge any longer from him but also knew that she couldn't tell him everything. So she started with placing a hand on John's shoulder.
"John?" He turned to face her. "He's alive, you know."
"I know. The whole 'he'll still be with me if I think about him or keep him close to my heart'. I know that, Leo-"
"That isn't what I mean, John. Give it a couple of years and Sherlock will be back with us," Leotie explained. John shook his head, not truly believing her words, and walks away towards the cab and Mrs. Hudson. Leotie shakes her head and follows him for a bit before stopping next to a tree. She waited for John to leave earshot before she spins back to look at Sherlock's gravestone. "Better take down Moriarty's men quickly, detective. I don't know what a depressed doctor looks or acts like but I'm sure I would rather not be exposed to it for a long period of time." She then turns back to the cab and races to catch up with the other two, not needing to look back to know that Sherlock finally came out from behind the tree to look out at his friends.
Hey! So I forgot to type up an author's note last chapter so I will for this one. As always, I'm going to thank my Beta, Alexisjames92, for helping with my horrible detail work. I would also like to thank LinkHolmes88 (guest) for the wonderful review!
I wanted to let all the readers out there know that I am going to try my best to update weekly. The only thing that would stop me is if something were to come up. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Remember: Review fuels the motivation of writers!
