Chapter Four
"So how long are you gonna be gone?" John asked as he watched Mary bring yet another suitcase down the stairs.
"A week or two; however long it'll take to get my affairs in order and get out of my apartment."
John reached out and grabbed her as she walked by and pulled her in closer to him. She laughed and half-heartedly tried to get away. John kissed her neck and pulled her even closer against him and she stopped struggling.
"John," she said sadly. "I'm supposed to be on a train in an hour and the cab will be here in a few minutes."
"Well then, we have a few minutes." He kissed her neck again.
He felt her frown. "A few minutes, is that all it's going to take?"
He felt his ears redden and allowed her to break away. She giggled and pulled her suitcase closer to the door.
"So how has everything with Sherlock been? I mean, you said that you've been having a few rows with each other."
"Well, basically he's just been so…distant." John leaned against the wall. "Like he wants to try to get things back to normal but he just can't. I'm a little worried—"
"Well of course you're worried: your best mate, someone you loved like a brother, commits suicide after a course of events which were already taking a toll on you and then months later after you nearly die, you find out he's alive and you'd been lied to by the people you trusted most and now he just want's everything to go back normal, but of course it just can't, because he hurt you and now with this whole introducing him back to society plan you have to lie to everyone and you don't even know the whole truth yourself; you have every right to be worried and even angry."
John gave her a moment to catch her breath after her fast speech and then put his hands on her shoulders comfortingly. "I was going to say I'm a little worried he won't be able to pay his share of the rent for a while and Mrs. Hudson will kick us out."
Mary looked disappointed. "Oh."
John slid his arms around her waist and pulled her in again. "And then I wouldn't have a place to live…or would I?"
He leaned down and kissed her neck again and she giggled.
"John," she breathed. "We talked about this; we've moved too fast as it is. I mean we said I love you when we had only been seeing each other for three days. That's too fast."
He inhaled her vanilla perfume. "Well maybe we shouldn't slow down now."
Outside a cabbie honked and they both sighed.
"That'll be me." Mary said and hugged him.
"Call me when you get there." He hugged her back.
"I will. And you know Mrs. Hudson would never kick you out." She kissed him and tore away quickly. Before he knew it she was out the door with her three suitcases, asking him if he would lock up. Now he was alone.
John sighed. His mobile chirped, informing him he had a text message. He dug for his phone frantically, hoping it was Mary telling him goodbye or sending digital kisses. But it was just Sherlock.
At St. Bart's with Molly. Lestrade
on his way. Come immediately.
SH
John sighed again and left the house, locking up behind him. Here we go.
"Molly will you hand me that vial there?" Sherlock's eyes didn't leave the lens of the microscope as he pointed. He felt a cold glass tube in his hand and Molly's warm fingers. She pulled away quickly and Sherlock frowned.
"Are you worried about the press conference this morning?" Molly asked nervously a few minutes later.
"No." Sherlock said instantly. "Should I be?"
Molly got flustered. "No, I mean, I don't see why, but I'd be nervous."
"Why?"
"Well I…I'm not sure. But I would be."
"That is irrational." Sherlock observed, adjusting the lens with his long fingers.
"Yes I guess it is." Molly said quietly and turned around to fiddle with whatever she could.
Sherlock looked over at her, feeling slightly guilty. Molly had been through so much in the last few months. Helping him stage a suicide (even though she hadn't known it), his death, her kidnapping, finding out he was alive. And as soon as he made his debut back into society she would most likely be bombarded by the press.
He looked back in his lens. "But I suppose," he said, trying to sound casual but sure he was failing. "It's only human, to be nervous, that is."
"Yes I suppose it is."
Sherlock wasn't sure why but he looked back her and their eyes met. She was smiling sadly. Sherlock wondered why she was sad, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her even though he wanted to.
"Did I get here before Greg?" John asked as he stepped into the lab. Sherlock and Molly's eyes tore away from each other.
John could feel the sudden awkwardness in the room. "Should I, um, wait outside for Lestrade?"
Before either of them could give mumbled answers Lestrade came into the room followed by Mycroft Holmes.
"What are you doing here?" John asked him harshly.
Mycroft smiled. "Well, someone had to come up with a cover story for Sherlock's…misfortune."
John saw Sherlock's eyes roll.
John smiled as the sudden notion came across him. "You didn't know either."
Mycroft's smile faltered. "That hardly matters now."
"But it does matter that you sold your brother out to Moriarty." John couldn't keep the smile off his face.
"I didn't just hear that." Lestrade said. "I have plausible deniability."
"John, as much as I don't want to admit it, Mycroft can make this easier on all of us. So let's just leave it at that." Sherlock looked closely at the vial Molly had handed him.
"It doesn't bother you that he gave away all of your information to Moriarty?" John grumped.
Lestrade took a deep breath. "I'm going to wait outside. This is not my division."
"I will just be more careful in the future when I speak." Mycroft said.
"It's not that simple!" he looked at Sherlock, who wasn't paying attention. "Aren't you angry at all?"
He shook the vial twice and handed it to Molly without a word otherwise. "Shall we go?"
John placed his thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of his nose, trying to hamper the pain in his head. "You're all mad."
Sherlock pulled his coat on, the collar turned up and tied his scarf neatly in place. Molly opened a drawer and pulled out a deerstalker cap with a smile. "You might want this as well."
Sherlock grimaced but took the cap and placed it on his head. "Oh God, let's get this over with."
John looked at Sherlock. "Who did know?"
"As my brother already said, it hardly matters now, John."
"Just one name." John said. "I think you can grant me that."
He pushed the mortuary door open with his back. He grinned. "Lestrade."
"Lestrade knew!"
Lestrade put his hands over his ears. "I did not hear that and I am not affirming it."
"Lestrade?" John shook his head and followed Mycroft and Sherlock out into the hallway. Molly was now alone in the room once again. He caught her words just barely as the door shut.
"Good luck."
He looked at her through the small window in the door and nodded. They were going to need all the luck they could get.
"This is tedious." Sherlock said, leaning against the wall next to the door.
"Do I sense nervousness Sherlock?" John grinned.
"It is part of being human."
"Yes, but on you?"
Sherlock cleared his throat. "'You were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known.'"
"Excuse me?"
"That's what you said, at my grave."
"You were there? The entire time?"
"Not many could say they attended their own funeral."
"You are a psychopath."
"Sociopath, John, sociopath."
The door opened and Sergeant Donovan poked her head in. "You ready freak? Mr. Holmes is just finishing up with your…I don't even know what to call it."
"Why is he 'Mr. Holmes, and I'm 'freak'? I did a service to my country. Don't you think I deserve…forget it, I don't think I can finish that sentence. Let's go John."
Sally rolled her eyes and didn't wait for them to follow her.
"You know she was almost nice to me while you were dead." John said.
"Well, aren't you glad I came back to life, to save you from fondue parties at Sally's?"
John laughed and followed his friend out.
"As many of you would have heard," Mycroft continued. "There have been rumours that, my brother, Sherlock Holmes, is not quite dead. And I am here to inform you all that these rumours…are true."
The crowd full of reporters and journalist all gasped and began talking at once.
"What does this mean?" asked one.
"Sherlock Holmes has been on an assignment for Her Majesty's Secret Service. We arranged for the false report of the Richard Brook to be told to Miss Riley, so that we can put Sherlock off the map. Moriarty was a real man, dealt with by the government, with assistance from Sherlock Holmes. We needed people to believe that Sherlock was dead and a fraud so that he could help us with a case abroad. The facts of said case are classified."
"Where is Sherlock Holmes now?"
Lestrade cleared his throat. "He is in the building now, and will be joining us shortly. But first we would like to clear some facts for the public. Sherlock Holmes is not a fraud. Sherlock Holmes did not create James Moriarty for his own means. And lastly, no one on the force was aware of the government's intentions. Now, we'd like to bring out Sherlock Holmes and his associate, John Watson to answer some of your questions to the best of their ability."
Lestrade nodded to Donovan and she opened the door. When Sherlock stepped into the room everyone instantly started talking. John could hardly hear himself thinking over the dinl.
"Where have you been for the past three months?" "What was your mission abroad?" "Is it true that you have James Moriarty chained to the radiator in your flat and have been torturing him for three months?" "Can you confirm that you have been in a relationship with Cameron Diaz?" "When can we expect you to return to consulting with the police?"
Sherlock looked at the reporter who asked this. "As soon as possible."
The reporter looked to John. "Did you know that Holmes was alive?"
Mycroft had given John a few lines to say if asked this. "No, I did not. It is good to have my partner back."
"Are you two involved in a romantic relationship?"
"Why does everybody assume that since I call him my partner and I live with him, that we must be…no. No we're not. I'm actually in a relationship."
"With a woman?"
"Yes, with a woman." John could feel that headache coming back. He pointed at Sherlock and stepped back. "Look, he's alive!"
The reporters began to badger Sherlock again, who only answered occasional question while Lestrade and Mycroft spoke the rest of the time. Camera's flashed all around them. John looked up at Sherlock. He wasn't smiling. He was impassive.
"What are you thinking?" John asked quietly as Mycroft answered the question about Cameron Diaz.
"Molly."
"What about her?"
"I feel…like I've done something and forgotten. It was a bad thing. A mistake."
"That's called guilt, Sherlock."
"But what would I have to be guilty about?"
"Well you just about made the poor girl go mad over this whole situation. You should ask her out to dinner."
"What, like a date?" The idea seemed to repulse him.
"No. Like two mates who need to spend some time together."
"Isn't that just encouraging her fixation with me?"
"No. Make it clear that you're doing it as mates."
"Why is this so…difficult?"
"That's life, I'm afraid."
Sherlock sighed. "I think I liked it when I was dead."
"Well that went well." Lestrade said. "Better than expected at least."
"Who is Cameron Diaz?" Sherlock asked.
"American actress." John said.
"Why would I be marrying her?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I just arose from the dead, and all they want is gossip. Morons." He took off toward the lifts.
"At least he didn't say that in the press room." Lestrade said, going the other way.
"Wait, Greg." Lestrade stopped and John leaned closer to talk to him. "Did you have contact with him."
"I—"
"Don't say you didn't know. I know you did."
Lestrade sighed. "Yes."
"But why…why you?"
"I asked myself that question many times. I think it just comes down to the fact that I wasn't as…invested in him as you and Molly—though I know she had something to do with it."
"What do you mean invested?"
"You already saw him as a good man John. So did Molly."
"And you still saw him as a great man who could become a good man?"
"Greatness can lead a person to do many things John. That's what I'm chalking it up to."
"John," Sherlock yelled from the lift area. "I think I just figured out where Mrs. Hudson hid my skull this time."
Lestrade gave John a nod and headed back to work. John went to Sherlock who was standing in the frame of the elevator, keeping it open. Mycroft had disappeared.
"Are you ready?" John asked as he waited to push the lobby button.
"I think it's in the pantry behind the biscuits."
"What?"
"My skull."
"Oh, right." He pushed the button and the elevator doors closed on two men who were ready for anything.