Chapter 4
John was driving his car, while listening to Sherlock who was giving him directions. Sherlock was in the backseat, hiding himself from the public eye. He was slouching so that the window wouldn't show his image to anyone outside. John noticed this and started thinking just what kind of trouble Sherlock was in. Well, it can't be that serious if he came to him at last. But then again, he's still in that silly disguise. But…Sherlock did like being dramatic. It was silent for a while. Sherlock had stopped giving John directions, so they must've been near.
"How…?" John began, but couldn't think of a way to phrase his question.
Sherlock had looked at John the moment he spoke, his eyes widening a little. But when John had stopped and didn't continue, he had resumed looking out the window.
"How did you manage to hide yourself for all these years?" John asked awkwardly.
Sherlock was silent for a moment, unsure just how much he should tell John of his little "adventures".
John sighed deeply, knowing he won't get an answer to his question. John wanted to know what Sherlock's been through. He wanted to know if he's been safe. Well, of course he's safe, he's here.
"I was at Molly's for a while but people started to become suspicious so I had to leave. I, then, started to travel around Europe, staying at random places. Eventually, Mycroft found out my little secret and wanted to help me. I refused and tried to escape from my brother's clutches. But as you can see, that didn't work out so easily," Sherlock replied.
"You were at Molly's? She knew?" John exclaimed, looking at Sherlock through the rearview mirror.
Sherlock groaned in frustration, clearly not wanting to answer anymore of John's questions. "Yes, of course Molly knew. She's the one who helped me fake my death," Sherlock answered.
John was taken aback for a few moments. Bloody hell, Molly knew all along and played him like a fool! She sobbed when she heard Sherlock was dead. She even examined his body! John was a little upset, feeling betrayed.
"How did Mycroft find you out?" John continued.
Sherlock groaned even more. "John, I really don't feel like answering any questions right now –"
"Why? I'm curious to know –"
"John, I'm going to be here all day and night. So quit bothering me!" Sherlock hollered angrily.
John was dumbfounded by Sherlock's sudden outburst. John just shook his head angrily and continued to drive straight. Sherlock knew he had hit a nerve. Great, he had just been reunited with John for two hours and thirteen minutes and already John's angry at him. Sherlock knew he had to make things right if he was going to gain John's trust again or just John in general.
"Listen, John," Sherlock began. "John… Will you look at me, please?"
John scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I'm driving –"
"Since when has that stopped you?" Sherlock snapped back.
John groaned and abruptly parked the car. Sherlock jumped a bit from the suddenness. John unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around to look at Sherlock. He gave him a face.
"Well?" John demanded, waiting for Sherlock to begin.
Sherlock calmed himself down and breathed deeply. "John, I didn't mean to…lash out at you just now. John, I know you want to understand what happened to me during those three years, but I'm tired and all I want to do now is be with – is sleep," Sherlock replied, quickly changing the ending.
"Is that all?" John sighed angrily.
Sherlock wanted to roll his eyes at John but thought now was not the time. "No, actually it's not. I promise you I will tell you everything…just not now. We've got to do more pressing matters at the moment. I don't have time to lollygag like I did before. My life's on the line. When this is over, I will answer all of your questions. I promise. I'm not going anywhere, not again," Sherlock said, looking into John's eyes.
John didn't say anything because there was nothing more need to be said. He just looked at Sherlock one more time before he turned around and started the car, driving once more. There wasn't any more talk unless Sherlock was telling John to turn left or right. Finally, Sherlock told him to stop and they were outside an abandoned building.
"This is where you lived?" John asked.
"Yes, problem?" Sherlock replied, getting out of the car.
"No, no, just expected a lavish mansion since Mycroft was hiding you, that's all," John mocked.
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Sherlock said, making his way inside the building.
"You can call it whatever you want," John continued, playing with the taller man.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, smiling, as he walked towards his room. John followed behind him, making sure he didn't get lost. John inspected the room, analyzing it with his eyes. The room was practically empty.
"Nice room," John joked.
"I move to different locations every month so I find it pointless to have unnecessary materials," Sherlock replied, taking off the wig and shaking his head. "That itches so much!"
John smiled but frowned again. "Every month? That must've been painful, leaving your stuff behind," he answered.
"Not really, all I ever cared about was back at the flat," Sherlock said, not realizing what he had just said.
"Yeah, must've missed your skull?" John joked again, not catching on to what Sherlock meant.
Sherlock sighed deeply. It was good that John overlooked some things. In fact, if John really wanted to, he could've figured it out since he had all the pieces. Sherlock tried to divert attention from the subject and replied, "John, I'm going to change…stay here."
John was looking at the room but heard what Sherlock had said. "All right," John said.
Sherlock made his way towards the closet and grabbed some clothes, marching his way out of the room. John was extremely bored. Everything in Sherlock's room was boring and nothing like him. His room, back at Baker Street, was different than this. But then again, John remembered what Sherlock had told him. Out of curiosity, John looked around Sherlock's room. Suddenly, there was a chiming noise. It was coming from Sherlock's laptop. John didn't want to be noisy, but then again, Sherlock had always taken his laptop and invaded his privacy.
John walked over to the desk and opened the laptop. It was a message to him from Mycroft. The message read:
Oh, brother, what have you done now? You do realize he'll be in danger now.
- MH
John furrowed his brows in confusion. What was Mycroft talking about? Who's in danger? Finally, John realized who Mycroft was talking about. He was talking about him. Great, now he's in danger. Just how much trouble is Sherlock in? Well, Sherlock did say it involved his life. John was going to close the message when he noticed two previous messages. They were the only messages there besides the recent one, and they were both dated today. One look couldn't hurt, he thought. John clicked the middle message and it read:
Have you decided yet?
- MH
Decided? Decided what? John scrunched his brows together to the point that it looked like he had a unibrow. John was going to close the laptop when he noticed the oldest message. John thought he was already invading Sherlock's privacy by reading the first two messages. Then again, they were both harmless messages and the oldest message would make more sense of the second message. John clicked the message and it read:
Did you think he would wait for you forever? I don't want to say that I told you so but I told you so.
- MH
John's face went white. Okay, there was no way that Mycroft was talking about him now. Who is this person that Mycroft was talking about? Why was this making him so flustered? John noticed there was an attachment. He clicked on it unconsciously and an image appeared. John was astonished to see himself. It was a picture of Heather and him. This was when he proposed to her two fortnights ago. John felt…weird. This was somewhat awkward. Did Mycroft force Sherlock to come out of his hiding place using him as leverage? If so, why did Sherlock agree? It's just a picture. It's meaningless. So why did Sherlock come to him?
John shook his head and closed the laptop, rising to his feet. John walked around in circles, taking the information in. This was making his body ache all over. His mind was numb and on fire. What was this all supposed to mean? Surely, it couldn't mean that Sherlock was –
Sherlock had walked into the room, wig in hand. He smiled, upon seeing John. Quickly, his smiled disappeared and his wig dropped to the floor. John noticed that and furrowed his brows, confused.
John began, "Sherlock, what –"
Sherlock was staring at a red dot, on John's forehead. He noticed more dots appearing into the room. Not again, he thought. Sherlock, without hesitations, sprinted towards John and knocked him down. John was taken aback by the sudden action and air left him as he crashed onto the ground.
"Sherlock, what the bloody hell was that for?" John exclaimed.
Before Sherlock could reply, there was immediate gunfire. The windows shattered as bullets came crashing through the building. Sherlock's laptop was shot multiple times, damaging and breaking it. Sherlock was covering John as the bullets came through. Sherlock grabbed John's arm and twisted it.
"Come on, we've got to go… Now!" Sherlock ordered, crawling onto the floor.
"What's going on?" John demanded, following Sherlock.
"Later," Sherlock replied, finally standing up.
John stood up but Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to him. Just in time as well, since bullets came towards John's directions if Sherlock hadn't grabbed him. Sherlock grabbed John's wrist and tugged on it.
"Let's go," Sherlock answered, running down the stairs.
John followed but the bullets seemed to be following them. Finally, Sherlock and John made it to an exit. Heavy gunfire splashed onto the door. Sherlock barely dodged one of the bullets. Damn it, they had to get out of there now. Suddenly, a black car appeared in front of them, bullets piercing it but no damage being done to it.
"Mycroft," Sherlock whispered. "Come on, John!"
Sherlock and John quickly marched into the car, trails of bullets following them. They both got in and the car drove off. Bullets had stopped hitting the car and it was silent. John and Sherlock were both panting from the rush.
John finally said, "What the hell was that?"
"They know," Sherlock panted heavily. "They know I'm alive and now I'm in real danger."
"Who knows, Moriarty's men?" John asked.
"Who else?" Sherlock snapped back, wincing.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"Nothing, I'm fine," Sherlock replied.
John noticed Sherlock's shirt was damp near his left shoulder. John looked at his shoulder then back at Sherlock. "Sherlock, no, you're not fine. You're hurt," John said.
"I'll be fine," Sherlock answered.
"I've got to treat it," John said.
"No, I said I'm –"
"I don't care what you say. It's not a suggestion, Sherlock, it's an order," John replied, looking at Sherlock.
