Chapter Name: Fake


John woke up the next morning to the sunlight creeping through a opening where his curtains were slightly open. It was different for him, he was use to waking up in a cold sweat, and he enjoyed waking up comfortable for once. He turned on his side and pulled the covers up slightly, trying to hide the sunlight slightly. John was curious what he must of dreamed of for him to not of woke up scared. After awhile, he sighed and sat up, trying his best to remember, but nothing would come back to him. He moved away from his bed, stretching once he was fully standing up. He glanced over at his bathroom door, slowly letting his feet glide along the floor till he was in front of his mirror. He had to try and work today, so he got out his razor and some shaving cream and left it resting on the bathroom counter. He started to get a jar and filled it with water to fill his tub, continuing the process.

He kept trying to remember what had happened in his dream, but the only things that were coming back were doors and a hallway. He ran his hand along the tub water until it rested on the knee, letting out a soft sigh. He hummed at the warm water moving down his body, and stood up, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. He dried his hair off slightly with a rag and then moved to shave. He then glanced at all the water in the tuband grabbed his jar again, opening his window. It was luckily just a deserted back alleyway, so he started to lift the water out of the tub until it was empty again.

Once he was finished in the bathroom he moved out to put on his brown waistcoat, and grabbing his silver pocket watch. He sighed and glanced at himself in the mirror. His face contorted, and he moved over to his drawers and grazed through them pulling out a piece of cloth with some unique designs on it that reminded him of Lestrade's outfit that he had liked. He smiled and moved to the mirror tieing the cloth around his neck and then moving down the staircase to flip the sign to open, letting the customers come inside.


The day went by pretty slowly, but John was in a better mood because of the sleep he was able to get the night before. When it was time to close up shop he moved to grab his jacket, and turned the sign to closed. He decided to go on a walk through the night streets of London. It wasn't a very warm April, then again it never really was in London. He hummed softly as he walked smiling at some people as he moved. There were a lot of stage coaches moving through the streets the horses pulling them around with loud clacks along the ground.

John's face contorted when he heard a soft noise coming from the edge of the sidewalk. He paused and turned his head to the noise, a small box with one small black kitten in it mewing softly residing where he turned his gaze. He sighed, and leaned to the cat, and put his hand inside the box, but the cat didn't move toward his hand, it kept mewing like it didn't seem him. He glanced the cat over, seeing that it had bright blue eyes, he sighed.

"Are you blind little one? How tragic. ." He moved his hand to run over the cat's fur. The cat flinched at first, but then relaxed and leaned into his touch, he smiled gently.

"Well, I guess I have no choice," He hummed softly and he lifted the cat up running his fingers through it's fur gently, and checking for the cat's gender, and seeing he was a male.

"You'll have to come with me Mister," He said smiling gently, as the cat rubbed up against him. He chuckled softly, soon turning around to head back to his home. He moved across the sidewalk silently, keeping a comforting hand on the kitten to make sure he knew he was safe.

When he arrived back at Baker Street he came in and locked the door behind him, moving up the staircase. John moved into his room, placing the kitten onto his bed, as he undressed and started to get ready for bed. When he was dressed for bed, he moved over to lay down beside the kitten. He lifted him up and placed him beside him, running a hand along his fur.

"I wonder what I should name you. ." He hummed softly, glancing the cat over as he thought. The kitten mewed softly and moved to cuddle by John's chest.

"Mm, I think Edgar Allan Poe is a good name for you, Edgar for short of course," He purred in response, and nuzzled back agianst John's chest again seeming to be happy with the name.

John chuckled softly, and closed his eyes, "Mm. . I like it too," he spoke softly, falling into another deep sleep.


Gregory had had a long day at work, he was just now making his way out of the police deparment with some papers in his hands that he was wanting to take to the Holmes Manor. He sighed softly holding all the papers against his chest as he moved along the sidewalk, just plannig to walk home. He was wearing a suit that was slightly torn, and a tie that had some stains on it that he was trying to hide with the papers in his arms. He sighed softly pushing his hair out of his face as he moved along.

Gregory had noticied that that stagecoach was slowly pulling along beside him, but he chose to try and ignore it. He stole a couple of glances at it, and only huffed with annoyance. After awhile the person who was controlling the horses cleared his voice.

"Detective Lestrade, Please get in the Coach," He said and the coach pulled to a stop.

Lestrade paused, and sighed softly, moving over and climbing inside the back door, where the curtains were drawn tightly, shutting the door behind him. The carriage slowly started to move again once he was inside, and he moved the papers he was holding to his lap. He glanced over at the male who was resting beside him sighing at the fancy clothing he had on.

"I wish you coulda' gave me more outfits like you did for the Watson's party," Lestrade spoke softly, pushing a hand through his hair.

The male beside him crossed one leg over the other, and just glanced over at Lestrade from the corner of his eye. He had dark brown hair that had a slight red tint to it, and eyes that were grayish blue like Sherlock's.

"I am sorry to inform you, , that the outfit that I offered you was a one time thing," He said softly, a umbrella rested in his lap.

"I know, it was just a nice change, Mycroft" He mumbled softly, crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the door, "Now I know we arn't here to talk about fashion," he said glancing at Mycroft.

Mycroft ran a hand over the umbrella in his lap, his skin was a ivory color just like Sherlock's, also. "Mm, yes, I was wondering how our Watson was doing? With our current circumstances, I am sure you know how important it is for you to watch over him for us. . You are the only one that my brother and I have trusted to tell about our past," He spoke without looking at Lestrade, his outfit seeming to glow in the small light of the coach.

"Nothing really happened after your Brother left the ball, just some lady asked him to dance, that's about it. I haven't really talked to John since, considering it's only been a day since I say him," he mumbled softly, slight sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, maybe you should go visit him soon, these murders are going to start happening soon. I already know he will come to Sherlock, " Mycroft said, looking through a peek of the curtain on the window, the coach soon came to a stop, "Well, Mr. Lestrade, I do hope to seen you soon, and if you have a emergency you do know how to find me quickly," Mycroft spoke with such kindess that Lestrade could never tell if he really cared or not. He just had such of a 'evil villian' demanor that he couldn't help to think he had ulterior motives. Well, he was a-

"Detective Lestrade? We have arrived at your resisdance. . ? Unless you wish to come to the manor, for a bite to eat ?" He asked, a small smile coming onto his face as he spoke.

Lestrade's eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, picking up his papers, and opening the coache door, "No, no thank you, maybe some other time. , Bye!" He said rushing out and moving inside of his home quickly.

Mycroft chuckled softly, "How charming. . " he said softly, as the stagecoach started to ride off.


Sherlock was resting on the edge of his bed, when he ran a hand through his hair, and stood up, moving to open his window. Cold air drifted in, stinging his cheeks, as he leaned on the window pane glancing up at the stars in the night sky. He tapped his fingers on his thigh impatiently, when he heard soft crying and he glanced around the street surronding his home. A small boy, was rubbing at his eyes and crying softly, a small cat was laying motionless in his arms. Sherlock's face contorted slightly.

Death. Something that even he could not prevent. Life was something tragic that everyone was forced to live through, and he despised it. He moved away from the window, and over to his piano and placed a hand on it gently, running his fingers over the edge of the wood. The piano started to play itself, and he felt his feet gliding across the floor, the soft sound of the keys tapping coming out. He knew no matter what he tried to do he would always be dragged toward him, it was a bodily reaction, something he couldn't stop himself from doing. He turned in a circle, stumbling slightly as some harsh memories flooded through his head.

He remembered a time from long ago, when it was so easy for him to glide along the floor without faltering, but then things changed, and now Sherlock couldn't even remember which way to step. He tried to move his legs more gracefully but he kept failing, soon just falling back onto his bed in silence. He wished his brother would just let him do as he wished, but he knew he was just doing it try and protect him. He closed his eyes, and swayed his hand to the piano keys tapping away.

He would save John Watson this time. He had too, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.


2 Apirl 1888

Luckily for John, he didn't have to work to work on Tuesdays because April took care of it, so he could sleep in a little late. He didn't wake up till around ten. He stirred slowly, once again unable to remain what he had dreamed about. He sighed softly, slight movement had him blinking in confusion until he remember Edgar, and then he smiled gently.

"Morning,Edgar" He said softly, a soft meow returned, the cat sitting beside his head was swishing its tail happily.

He would have to go out and buy a cage and milk for the cat today. He sat up and stretched, yawning softly, and glancing to check the exact time before moving out of bed to get ready for the day.

Once John was dressed for the day, he glanced himself over in the mirror and nodded to himself in approval. He moved his gaze over to Edgar resting on the bed and then smiled. He moved to pick him up gently in his arms, letting the cat drape itself on his arm gently.

Edgar started to purr gently, closing his eyes and resting against John's chest. John started to move toward his door, knowing that most stores didn't care about cats so he could take Edgar inside. He opened the upstairs door and then moved down the stairs pausing to see the buisness wasn't too packed.

April was resting at the desk, flipping through some book. John cleared his throat and she flinched, and almost through the book across the room. He chuckled softly, and moved toward her slowly.

"Not very busy I see, April," He said softly, and her face contorted but she nodded. Her eyes moved to the cat, and then she spoke up.

"I told you to call me Molly, I wanna start going by it, please. ." She mumbled softly, and then she gazed at the cat more, making John raise his eyebrow.

"I didn't know you had a cat," She said softly and she reached a hand out to run over his fur gently, receiving a soft meow, and making her smile gently.

John explained about how he had found Edgar, and then that he had to go out and buy some things for the kitten, and then April just nodded gently.

"Cya, be careful, rumours 'bout some weird guy wondering around the streets last night," She said then picked up her book and started to flip through it gently.

John just nodded, now realizing the book was 'Dracula'.

John moved to the front door and pushed it open gently, the bell tingling gently as he left. John moved down the streets humming a soft tune as he did, and glancing around for a pet shop that allowed animals. It was a normal day, pretty cold, and people moving around the busy streets of London quickly to try and get to where ever they were trying to go.

His eyes soon fell upon a shop that stated that animals were allowed and he smiled gently. He let his feet move him over to the store quickly. He moved inside, a bell ringing and a thick scottish accent greeting him. He hummed softly, for once feeling happy for the first time in awhile.

He moved to the cage isle first, and glanced over the different kinds that they bell to the shop rang out gently, as another customer entered. John didn't really pay attention as he scanned over the different types of cages still, rubbing at his chin with his free hand, when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Well, are you stalking me now, Detective?" John said chuckling, looking over at Gregory who was standing behind him and smiling gently.

"Oh, of course, I love watching you shave every morn," He said joking, but he seemed a little nervous. John noticed that his clothes looked a little rougher then usual, but didn't really care about it.

"Oh, look at this beauty," Gregory said softly, moving his hand to scratch behind Edgar's ear gently.

"If he keeps getting attention, he's going to become conceited," John said as the kitten leaned into the touch.

They continued to have small talk, Gregory helping John to pick out some out a good cage, before they moved to the checkout. John was starting to get confused why Greg had even came to the pet store, when the male lifted up a small cage. He explained that he didn't have a cat, but that the police station had a lot of strays and when it got cold, he thought that he'd put a blanket in the cage and leave it open for them. John just smiled at that and then continued to check out.

When they had finished checking out, they had went to get some milk, and then Greg had walked John home. John invited Gregory in, but, Greg said he had some detective stuff to do, and then went on his way. John was now resting in his bathroom floor, putting a blanket in his cage so he could rest there in the day time. He then moved to pick up Edgar and let him smell the blanket and cage so he knew where it was. He did the same with his milk that he . He smiled as he watched Edgar exploring with ease, sometimes bumping into things, but other then that he seemed fine.

The day was slowly coming to a end and John had started go ahead and undress for the night. Edgar was running around and messing with a small piece of cotton. John smiled gently, and moved to pick up the small kitten and then moved to his bed with the cat in his arms. Edgar mewed softly, trying to paw at the cotton that was no longer there, making John chuckle.

"Time for sleep, little one," He said running his hands along Edgar's fur. He could swear the cat was pouting, but he laid down beside John. John smiled gently, he was happy he took the little Black Cat in, it had made his days a lot happier. He leaned over and blew out the candles on his shandiler and then laid back down running his hands down the cats fur gently. Edgar started to pur and leaned forward to lick John's cheek gently. John chuckled and closed his eyes, keeping his fingers running along his fur until he felt himself falling under.


John found himself waking the next morning pretty early, the sun was just starting to come up, and the warmth of Edgar wasn't beside him. He sat up slowly glancing around questionally. Soon something dripped onto his cheek and he moved his hand to wipe at it.

Blood. John's hand started to shake. He felt silence envelop him, before his head slowly raised to the shandalier above his bed. Edgar was hanging from a rope, no longer moving, one eye was gouged out. John covered his mouth so he didn't scream, but he didn't stop himself from falling off the bed. His breathing got heavier, and he stood up to open his window to try and and let the cold morning air calm his breaths.

But when he moved his curtains aside, he couldn't hold back the soft yelp that escaped him.

Scrawled across the window with Edgar's blood was spelled out.

'First is the Black Cat, Then comes the Fire. Cya soon. . '


R.I.P
Edgar
Apirl 2nd 1888

John's upper outfit: .
Mycroft's upper Outfit: .

I was kind of freaked out how much this song if similar to Sherlock's little POV. I highly suggest listening to it, and reading the lyrics, so maybe after reading Sherlock's little snip bit, stop to listen and read the lyrics.
watch?v=nlK0zYZLBGY