AN /: We're almost there, just one more chapter after this one to go and then you'll all get to know whether Mim can die in peace or not. Alrighty now, on with the story!
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o
Tremble
Ch 7. Scavenger
When they arrive at 221b John ushers Mim to their living room where he produces a white cloth, a needle and some thread that looks suspiciously like fishing wire. He then sits her down in an armchair and pulls up a stool beside her as Sherlock bypasses them for the couch.
"You don't have to bother,' Mim says,' it won't heal."
"Yes, but I don't think it would be much good psychologically for you to have a hole in your head." John replies, and Mim does not protest further, and neither does she ask for pain killers.
There is silence as John stitches Mim's head together with scraps of bandages and Sherlock taps about on his phone, corresponding with someone that is either a potential new case or someone whom Sherlock deems worthy of being told that they're wrong.
John has just started to stitch up the back of Mim's head when he notices that Mim is staring at the skull above the fireplace.
"We'll find it soon." He says, and Mim starts.
"I've already found it,' Sherlock says, and this time Mim's eyes grow wide.
"You didn't think that telling me this earlier would have been nice?" she says, still facing the skull and sounding indignant.
"It didn't have anything to do with the case." Sherlock says in his defence.
"Where is it,' Mim asks, her voice verging on excited, frantic and hysterical and all trace of her patient indifference is gone,' can we find it soon?"
"That will require some grave robbing." Sherlock replies. The nonchalance in his sentence is astounding.
"My skull has been buried?"
"Creative and simple yet entirely predictable. All I had to do was look up some old newspapers."
"So we're going to be digging up a grave in the middle of the night?" John asks with a frown, not entirely sure that he approves of this idea.
"I've arranged that we won't be disturbed." Sherlock says.
"Wait, do you mean we're going right now?" John says, cutting off the excess thread and inspecting his work.
"Of course we're going now,' Sherlock replies,' my favour only lasts until tomorrow morning."
Mim looks excited, and there is something in her face that looks very alive as she and John rush to keep up with Sherlock as he strides abruptly out of the apartment.
O.o.O.o.O
The graveyard is textbook creepy. There is actually a light fog that impairs John' vision of the marble headstones, and the small lights that line a stone path past the graves look like fireflies, flickering in the gloom.
Sherlock is leading the way, looking every bit like a ghost with his long coat and paler than healthy complexion. It is quite ironic that he looks more at home in the graveyard than Mim does, who is right behind him and looking excited and calm at the same time. Eventually Sherlock deviates from the path and begins to weave between the graves, and he comes to a stop in front of a plain grey headstone. He hears Mim suck in her breath as she bends down to examine her grave, a small patch of grass and a headstone covered by moss and lacking flowers like so many of the other graves around them. She runs her fingers gingerly over the engraving, only a few words but written in love and grief:
Miriam Featherstone
1930-1950
Loving daughter and caring mother.
Below the engraving, in the very bottom left corner, is a small symbol. Once again, Sherlock has gotten it right.
John hears something behind him click and he turns to see Sherlock holding a small shovel that he hadn't been carrying before. John raises an eyebrow and Sherlock motions to his coat. Of course.
"It would probably be best if I were the one to..." Sherlock trails off but his point is clear. Mim nods and stands away from the grave, and Sherlock bends down and starts digging up the ground just under the headstone. "They never found the whole body,' he says as he digs,' just a skull. They buried the skull here, which is rather lucky because trying to dig up a coffin may have caused some unwanted attention to be drawn to us."
Mim laughs in a strangled, nervous way, and John let out a long sigh as he realised that he had been holding his breath. Eventually there is a thud, and Sherlock puts the shovel aside and shrugs off his coat to reach down into the hole that he has dug, withdrawing a solid wooden box from the hole.
He holds it gently, rotating it between his hands. There is no lock, it is just a plain square box that is wrapped with a thick piece of cord. Sherlock hands it over to Mim, who takes it slowly, holding it close to her chest and closing her eyes. She takes a deep breath and then pulls the dirt covered cord away, dropping it into the hole, and slowly, cautiously, removing the lid. John moves to her and peers down into the box to find a grinning skull nestled amongst a dull bundle of fabric. Mim bends down and places the box on the ground, and then slowly reaches into the box, pulling out the skull.
"Finally..." she whispers as the skull in her hands begins to glow white, then bursts apart and swarms towards her face like tiny supernatural fireflies. Mim closes her eyes and the small white sparks flow in though her parted lips. Her whole body becomes transparent once again, and John can see the sparks lodge themselves inside what was one empty space inside her head.
As Mim's body returns to normal she looks so very alive. Her skin is no longer pale, and her eyes are bright. She is almost there.
Sherlock looks happy as he picks his coat up, a rare glint in his eyes. Without a word Mim places the box back in the hole and then takes the shovel from where it is lying by the grave and begins to fill the hole in. The task is done in silence, and as Mim pats down the last bit of dirt she turns to look at John, and John knows exactly what she is trying to say.
"C'mon, let's go,' he says to Sherlock, grabbing his arm and ignoring his protests as they walk back towards the front of the graveyard.
"I'll be sad to see her go,' Sherlock says as they walk,' it won't be nearly as easy to get into crime scenes without her."
"You've managed without her for quite a while,' John says,' and besides, she'd probably like to have a rest after all these years."
"I suppose so, but I was so looking forwards to asking her to haunt Mycroft for me."
John laughs, but is abruptly cut short as Sherlock swings out an arm to stop him. They are at the gates of the cemetery now, and someone is leaning leisurely against the wrought iron gates.
"So lovely to see you again boys,' Jim Moriarty says with a grin,' it's been quite a while."
O.o.O.o.O
End- Part Seven