Chapter 4.
The Empty Tower Flat.
Thanks to my beta reader librarianmum..
If the truth has been forbidden then we're breaking all the rules .Emeli Sande, Read all about it.
John sat down on the couch beside the two other guests. An American comic was seated on the far side and next to him, a beautiful English actress -now in a blockbuster Hollywood film. He noticed his book on the table in front. `Concentrate on the book', he thought.
"Now, Dr. Watson -John, if I may call you that?" He nodded. "Can you tell me why you have written this book?" The chat show host leaned forward and picked up his book.
This was it. John cleared his throat. "I wanted the world to know that Sherlock was not a fake. He was an amazing wonderful human being, a real genius, and the best and wisest man I have even known."
"Ah, now that's so sweet!" exclaimed the actress, looking at him. She was breathtakingly lovely.
He smiled. "Thank you, I very much hope you will think so too and you will find time to read it," he said, leaning towards her. He took a sip of his drink on the table. It was another gin and tonic.
"Sounds like you were besotted with the prat," butted in the comic.
John looked over at him, baffled. He felt himself becoming slightly irritated. "No, no, he was my friend. I really admired his powers of deduction. I want to make this clear as it seems everyone thought we were a couple. That was not how it was."
The comic looked on the screen above, where the last publicity photo of Sherlock was showing. It was a good picture. He could see John also looking up at Sherlock who, in the shot, was wearing `the hat'. He grinned salaciously.
"I bet that's not all you really admired!"
There were a few sniggers from the audience. The American became encouraged by their reaction.
John could not think of a retort to this. This was not going as he had imagined.
"Well folks," the host interjected. "We have an exclusive report here which has only just been released. It's the post–mortem and I am sure, John, you will see that it raises some questions about the state of mind of your late partner. We also have some photographs." John looked alarmed. "Only of an arm and leg, we are not going to show his face. I think I ought to ask you John, if we could have your permission to show them, as we wouldn't wish to do anything contrary to your wishes."
John was a bit upset but he nodded, swallowing, to allow the host to continue.
"You were not present at his post-mortem Dr Watson ..?"
"I didn't see him .. afterwards, I was ill and I.. I would have liked to have seen him- for closure you understand, but, I couldn't ever have been present at his post-mortem. His brother identified him and ….did everything that was necessary."
"So you have no idea what's in this report?"
"No. None at all."
"I will hand it to you, Dr Watson, if you could read it out?"
The Hollywood actress put her hand on his arm and looked at him sympathetically. Her brown eyes were huge and they showed concern.
He sighed and took the report and started to peruse it. He looked up shocked . "This can't be right?" he said.
Suddenly the paper was snatched out of this hand by the comic.
"Woo hoo! Look at this! It says, high levels of cocaine and heroin were in his system, also.." he screwed his eyes up to decipher the lettering , "amphetamines, antidepressants, tranquilizers and other prescription drugs. Yeah: uppers, downers, coke and smack, what a combination eh? He was a right pepped up rocker, your boyfriend! Probably out of his head when he took the dive."
He handed the report back to the host who took it gingerly and looked at John with a serious air. "A psychiatrist, who has seen this report, believes that your friend may have been affected by long-term drug use. This, already coupled with his sociopathic tendencies, which you have yourself described and his fragile mental health, put him in a psychotic `fugue state` unable to distinguish fantasy from reality." He paused for effect." He may have believed the actor he employed to impress you and the police actually was this` Moriarty`. Perhaps he drew you into a `folie a deux` John."
There was another pause. The interviewer looked gravely at the audience. "As his psychosis deepened, I'm afraid his behaviour became increasing bizarre, ending with kidnapping and poisoning children and eventual suicide."
The guests and the audience were stunned, John amongst them, frozen in turmoil at the host's remarks.
You could have heard a pin drop.
"Can we show the picture now?"
John took back the report. His hands were trembling . He managed to find a voice.
"This is a fake!" He croaked. "I ...I don't know where you got this from but it's totally untrue, he hadn't used since.." He looked at the signature in shock. It was signed Molly Hooper. "What the hell?" His face went white.
The screen behind him showed an arm, the veins clearly scarred with multiple needle points and tracks. John looked up in disbelief and despair. His face felt blotched and red and his eyes were stinging. Something was happening he didn't understand.
`Tell everyone who will listen, tell them, it's all true". He remembered the words but he had not done it. Could not do it.
John looked again at the photograph. Suddenly he laughed. No one else joined in. The room was in total silence.
"No, no," he said confidently. "That's not his arm. That's not his hand. Sh..Sherlock's hands are soft and elegant and he has long beautiful fingers. I know his hands so well. This is a fake, bit like his, but not his. I knew this couldn't be right. You can't fool me."
He looked up smiling and shaking his head. Everyone was staring at him in disbelief.
The American drew in a breath. Back to his talent time. Back to the focus on him, making the audience giggle at his jokes, so he could make it big in Britain as he had come over to do. This was getting way too serious. Time for some light relief.
"Yeah pal? You know his hand so well? Is that maybe because you used to run about London with him, holding it?" The comic snickered, not aware he had hit a nerve.
John gulped, knocking back the rest of his drink. "Oh that, right, somebody saw us then. That was only because of the handcuffs we were wearing at the time," he replied nervously.
"Handcuffs?" The comic gestured to the audience - an "I told you so` look. The audience duly erupted in laughter, glad to have a comic moment after the tension before.
The funny man continued to interact with them while John studied the report determined to find proof it was a fake. He looked up, hearing more laughter, even more angry with the American.
"Look, will you stop that, just stop it! Who do you think you are with all those silly reactive poses? That bloke from The Office? I am trying to think. This is not helping."
"Hey doc, I read your book on the plane and thought it was feasible but now? Oh, come on! Just admit it. Your lover was a druggie, a deadbeat and a weirdo. He played you for a fool as well if this book is anything to go by. You shot a cabbie with an illegal weapon because you thought your new best friend was about to die?" He mocked. "Where's your gun now, soldier? Your guy was probably just taking another upper. Ha ha! He took you in for sure. Hey bud! Kinda bet you took him in too if you get my drift, didn't you? What did you feel? What did you want? You`re a doctor, maybe you were the one giving him those drugs? We all know he was a freak and a fraud and .. this.? This is a just a silly work of fiction!"
He slammed down the book. Held out his arms to the crowd. The audience erupted.
John reacted. He couldn't help it. The tramadol and alcohol and the sleepless nights. Who was this man? He realised he'd never really heard of him before. "Don't you dare!" he spluttered. "Don't you dare! You don't know what you're talking about, any of you! He turned to the mob, now on his feet and shouted. "What he said, it's not true! You want to know how I feel? Like I want to kill anyone in this room who thinks otherwise."
He put his hand in his pocket scrabbling for his phone in a vain attempt to call Mycroft for advice. He turned to the actress for some support but she screamed, thinking he was reaching for a gun. The audience started to panic and several members started screaming too. People were trying to get out of their seats, scrambling over the tops of others. Two security guards came on set and dragged him off. He started struggling. Someone came on to calm everybody down.
...
Far away, a woman was watching the TV scene with a satisfied smile on her face. "Better than expected", she said rising elegantly and turning it off. Moriarty would have been proud.