Hello everyone! I know I'm late (again) sorry about that, I hope the chapter will be worth it. I certainly take great delight in it (I love Sherlock, and we're finally diving completely into it!). This goes into season 1 & 2 of Sherlock, with some expected changes due to the additional people involved (as if Loki and Nightingale were the kind to stand aside and do nothing!).
My thanks to Ariane DeVere for the amazing scripts, as always.
The song in this chapter is "Never Knew I had a Heart (Until it Beat for You) created and performed by Karliene" (If you're a fan of Sherlock... and even if you aren't, you really, really need to go to youtube, look this song up and listen to it! It's beautiful!)
Never Knew I Had a Heart
Every heart has its own beat... and sometimes two hearts might beat in sync...
Both my Maverick and I had a lot of fun reading John's blog. It was proof that one didn't need to be supernatural, or gifted to have an insane life. We did worry sometimes, that something might happen to them. It didn't matter that we'd never met Sherlock Holmes, he was John's friend, he was helping John in ways no one else had been able to, no matter how hard we tried. Harry worried that they were becoming too close, too fast, but I couldn't help but feel that it was right, somehow... Maverick chose not to comment. I wondered if he was thinking of how close he and I'd become, very fast, once upon a time; how in less than a year I'd been willing to give up everything for him...
It was quite a surprise when I met John that particular evening, in the first week of May. I'd just finished a class in Italian with a couple of students, and he looked quite stressed out. So I asked if he'd like to go for a bite, hoping I'd be able to get him to talk to me, tell me what was going on. When he agreed I warned my match that I'd be eating out, with John, I felt his answering smile. He knew I worried about him, and that he was more likely to talk to me alone, than to the both of us together (which was why he didn't offer to join us).
I myself wasn't having a good day, had been feeling under the weather all day (all week really); which wasn't exactly a surprise, all things considered. We went to a little diner that had the best croissants with ham and cheese filling. Something simple but tasty.
"So, tell me what's got you so stressed out." I said as we were done with diner and drinking our second cup of tea.
"There's a case in progress." He began. "As you could probably guess. I... I really cannot tell you much, you understand."
"I do." I nodded. "It has something to do with those explosions, doesn't it? The one across the street from your flat, on on those apartments... the supposed gas leaks?"
"How...?" He obviously hadn't expected me to know that much.
"I can tell a government cover-up when I see one." I deadpanned. "Really, it's not the first time I've seen such things. You do realize that's going to complicate things, once you write up this case for the blog, right?"
"Yes." He let out a breath. "I suppose I'll deal with that once it's all over."
"If it's not over yet, why are you here?" I asked him, finally. "I've never known you to go far from Sherlock when the two of you are working on a case."
"I usually don't." John admitted. "He can get in so much trouble... but right now, I just. I needed some air, you know? I told him I was going to spend the night with Sarah... and that's yet another problem I so don't want to deal with right now..."
"I thought things were going well with Sarah." I commented.
Really, the woman had managed to get past the fact that her first date with John had ended with the two of them kidnapped and almost killed by a criminal group! And the fact that John, who was technically her employee, would up and leave the clinic, or simply not show up if Sherlock so much as called him... Perhaps that was it.
"They are, and yet..." He let out a breath. "I don't know, I just don't think it's going to work, long term I mean. You think I should keep trying?"
"I think you should do what you feel is right." I told him. "Only you can know how much you love Sarah, how much you're willing to do to make your relationship work. And if she's not the one... there's nothing wrong with that."
"I just... she's great and all but I cannot help but feel like something's missing." John explained. "It's just... I see you and Serrure, and there's something about you two, even when you're not touching, there's something in the way you look at each other, in the way you even stand, as if you angled yourselves towards each other all the time, like you're magnets, or bound in some inexplicable way... I want that."
I smiled, I knew exactly what he meant of course. I hoped he'd find it some day.
"So, that's Sarah." I nodded kindly. "But that's not why you're so tense..."
"No, it's not." He let out a breath. "It's... Sherlock."
He told me about the conversation they'd had, about not caring... it obviously bothered him a lot.
"I just cannot understand it." He finished. "How can someone honestly not care?! How can anyone be that cold...?"
"It has nothing to do with being cold John." I told him quietly.
"Ari...?" He obviously wasn't expecting that.
"You know how much I care about people. I've told you I'm an empath... I've also told you some things about my life, my past. Can you imagine what it was like? Being an empath, during the war? I was a nurse, it was the best way I could help people, save lives. And I was even in one battle, in the midst of it all. Have you any idea what that was like? The fear, the horror, the pain, the despair... it was excruciating..."
"How did you survive?"
"I had Serrure to ground me, always. He's more level-headed than me, also older, a lot more experienced, and more capable of compartmentalizing..."
"That means..."
"What your friend does... I don't think he doesn't care, not really. I think that what he does is compartmentalize. Push his personal feelings to the side, so they will not interfere with his work. You yourself admitted that caring wouldn't make him better at what he does, and he must know that. There's nothing wrong with emotion, but some people do find it easier to do what needs to be done when they can push it aside." I could see the way he was looking at me. "I'm not saying that he's wrong in what he does, or right. But everyone deserves to deal with situations in their own way. You deal with your PTSD by running after the world's only consulting detective, solving cases and chasing criminals; I deal with mine by playing the flute and singing..."
"And Sherlock solves cases, does crazy experiments, and when he gets bored shoots at the wall, with my gun!"
I couldn't help it, I laughed.
We finished our teas and decided it was time to leave. While I hadn't been sure at first if it was a good idea, I ended offering him his old bed for the night and he accepted. We'd barely walked a couple of blocks or so, when I sensed it, the danger. I spun around just in time to see one man rush John from behind, piercing his neck with a needle, before someone else did the same to me.
xXx
I spent what must have been a couple of hours or so in a state of near limbo. It was insane, the drug obviously hadn't affected me the way it should have, I hadn't stayed fully unconscious for long, but even when I woke up I had practically no control over my body, and even trying to pay attention to my surroundings required an almost extraordinary effort. Even my connection with my match wasn't enough. I knew it was that, and my own changed nature that made it so the drug affected me differently, but it wasn't enough. And not for anything either of us might have done. Then there was the day... I had died just a few days before, or rather my other self had, almost a week earlier; and just like I was able to sense when she was born, I sensed when she died. It'd be a few more days, I honestly couldn't remember exactly how many, before my younger self would be leaving Helheim, having made the all-too-important choice, gaining a new body and a new life. Until then a part of me couldn't help but feel like something was off, almost like I wasn't entirely 'there' so-to-speak. In the end it was a mix of all those things that made it possible for Moriarty to get his hands on me (and on John).
Most of that time I ended spending inside my match's head, it was easier. He had managed to track me, eventually, and was preparing a plan in case of an emergency. The idea was to let John and Sherlock handle things, unless my life was put directly in danger; then we'd intervene, and deal with the consequences of that (we'd heard John rant enough about not only Sherlock but Mycroft Holmes as well to know the man wouldn't take it lying down if we had to intervene).
I was pulled back to reality as I was manhandled across a slippery floor. I was wearing a dark top with a print of small, colorful flowers, dark jeans, calf-high charcoal-gray boots and a coat of the same color. My shoulder-length hair, which I usually kept in a small, tight bun in the nape of my neck (mostly to make sure I'd look nothing like my other self) was beginning to fall off its do. I didn't pay attention to that, instead I focused on the hands pushing me out of a hallway and quite close to a swimming pool...
"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't." A man, very close to me, said in a high, quite annoying tone of voice. "I would try to convince you but..." His laughter was sickening, and his voice took a sing-song quality as he began talking again. "Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." A second, deeper, much more serious voice replied.
And then I was stumbling out of the shadows, after a last push from the person who'd been manhandling me. About at the same time the drugs finally finished clearing from my body (probably thanks to the sudden rush of adrenaline). I found myself standing in front of a madman, James Moriarty I would guess, with a bomb-vest still blinking less than three feet away from me; and past it: John and Sherlock...
"Ari!" John exclaimed, apparently unable to hold back his shock at my sudden appearance.
"Hey John..." I greeted him, blinking rapidly as I cleared the last of the cobwebs from my head. "And I presume you're Sherlock Holmes..."
"And you're Arianna Hvedrungr, and I am Jim Moriarty, hi!" The 'consulting criminal' cried out dramatically. "Now that we've gotten the boring introductions out of the way..." He turned his full focus back to Sherlock. "Bet you didn't see this one coming, Sherl... See, she wasn't part of the plan, only Johnny-boy was, but when I saw the two of them... it just was so convenient! Now tell me Sherlock, you're willing to die, and to kill your little friend, and me... but are you willing to kill an innocent?"
"Why should I care about her at all?" Sherlock asked coldly. "She's nothing to me."
"No, but she's something to your friend." Moriarty replied, an almost giddy expression.
I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes. While I wasn't too worried about Sherlock deciding to truly shoot the bomb at my feet; I could sense his worry, for both John and myself, I wasn't just going to play damsel in distress, it really wasn't my style...
"So, we're at an impasse Sherlock..." Moriarty went on. "It's so... disappointing. I believed you to be more interesting, perhaps even my equal. And instead you're boring."
He probably would have gone on and on with his spiel, but by that point I just couldn't handle it anymore, I began laughing out-loud.
"What...?" Moriarty demanded hotly, pressing a gun to my neck. "What?!"
"You know, you've made so many mistakes, it's almost funny." I commented in a drawl. "First of all, you're underestimating me, acting like I'm a victim, someone that needs to be rescued. Why people always look at me and see a defenseless little girl I'll never know. Second of all, you keep focusing all your attention on Sherlock Holmes, you cannot see reality, the fact that you've lost control of the situation; if you ever had it in the first place." I've scoffed. "Tell me, Mr. Moriarty, how many red dots do you see?"
That called everyone's attention instantly, as they noticed that they had all disappeared.
"That's impossible." Moriarty hissed. "No one could find us here, no one knows we're here!"
"Yet another mistake." I pointed out evenly. "My husband always knows where I am, he can always find me. We'd actually agreed that we wouldn't be intervening with any of Sherlock's and John's cases unless we were pulled into them, or their lives were in danger... and guess what, you've managed to do all three!"
"Are you done?" It was obvious Moriarty still didn't believe me, he still thought he'd won...
"There's one more thing." I added, the beginnings of a smile appearing on my lips. "You allowed me to get too close."
The moment the last word crossed my lips I was on the move. Mentally cursing (not for the first time) my small stature, while thanking that yet another opponent had managed to underestimate me so thoroughly, I elbowed him as hard as I could before spinning on one heel and using the opposite arm to push his arm up, and eventually twist his wrist enough that he let go of the gun he'd been threatening me with. I didn't try to take it, guns really weren't my thing, very briefly considered pulling out the knife I hid in my ankle, but in the end I decided not to. So instead I dropped into a crouch and used one of my legs to sweep Moriarty's own from beneath him, causing him to fall hard enough his head cracked against the tiled floor.
I winced mentally at the sound, and the pain I could sense coming off him, even as another part of my mind became aware of the sudden rush of icy coldness behind me. I realized my match had decided to freeze the bomb, just in case.
It'd all happened in less than fifteen seconds. Then I stood, slowly but fluidly, staring at the man on the floor, he wasn't fully unconscious, but it was obvious he'd banged his head hard enough to at least stun him temporarily.
"Ari...?" John asked slowly.
"I'm fine John." I told him softly as he approached me.
In seconds he was all around me, checking me over, probably making sure I wasn't hiding an injury or something. I couldn't help but notice that he'd stopped trembling and he looked strong again, as if looking after someone else allowed him to ignore the effects the sudden low in adrenaline caused him.
"Really, I'm alright." I assured him. "I wasn't hurt. A bit drugged... but I'm alright now."
"You don't look like you're about to crash..." Sherlock commented, looking me up and down.
"To be perfectly honest, this isn't exactly the first time I've gotten into a bind." I shrugged. "People tend to underestimate me."
"You told him that." Sherlock commented.
I shrugged again.
"I don't even know why I am surprised." Sherlock admitted, with some hesitation. "You are John's cousin, after all."
"Oh... but is she?" The question called everyone's attention instantly.
"Mycroft..." Sherlock hissed. "What are you doing here?"
"Really Sherlock, announcing your meeting on your website isn't exactly conductive for privacy." A man that could only be Mycroft Holmes, said in an almost condescending tone.
"What makes you doubt that she's my cousin?" John asked defensively, as he stood beside me.
"Aside from the fact that until last June Arianna Kinross-Hvedrungr didn't exist?" Mycroft asked in a drawl, eyes fixed straight on me.
Instantly, Sherlock turned to me.
"We will be having a long, serious talk, as soon as James Moriarty is taken into custody." The elder Holmes announced in a stuck-up tone.
I shrugged, not like I wasn't expecting that already.
"You shouldn't forget the snipers upstairs." My husband spoke up as he joined us. "There were three, two men and one woman... regretfully, the woman managed to escape; the two men are unconscious. If you're interested the woman is about 5'3'', with dark, very short hair, and she's wearing what might be called a cat-suit. She escaped through the nearby rooftops." He made a pause before adding. "And no, I did not go after her. My wife is more important."
No one argued with that. Soon enough a team (that I was sure weren't with Scotland Yard) had taken the two snipers and James Moriarty (who looked like he might be waking up). Then Mycroft lead all of us to a car. None of us argued, we just followed.
We ended in a private office in what I would later learn was Mycroft's private office, above the Diogenes' Club.
"So, where shall we start?" My love asked.
He was on-guard already, waiting to see what Mycroft might try.
"How about we start with your real identity?" The man proposed, looking straight at me.
"My real identity?" I asked, feigning ignorance, I needed to know how much he'd been able to realize, to 'deduce'.
"As the illegitimate Salani child. The Kinross heiress." Mycroft clarified.
I couldn't help the puzzled expression on my face. As he soon proved, he'd managed to find out a lot more than I ever expected anyone to, and yet the way he put it all together... it was unexpected in many ways.
"This is Silbhé Salani." Mycroft stated, placing a picture of my younger self on the table, a copy of my SHIELD profile picture in fact. "Professor in European History, English Literature and Mythology, as well as certified in nearly a dozen languages."
"She works for SHIELD?" Sherlock asked, curious.
"She did." Mycroft nodded solemnly. "Until last week... The official version is that the cancer in her blood, which she'd been living with since she was fourteen years old, finally claimed her life... However, some of my sources say she was in New Mexico, where SHIELD just fought a second battle against the same alien invaders that attacked New York last year..."
Yes, Mycroft knew way too much!
"None of that so much as suggests that I am a Salani." I really wanted to know how he'd reached that conclusion.
"No?" Mycroft actually smirked at me. "One just needs to look at that picture, and at you, Miss Kinross. And that's not all." He pulled out my (younger self's) file next. "Silbhé Salani, daughter of Sebastian Salani, and Aislinn Salani nee Kinross, who in turn was the second and youngest child of Alasdair Kinross, Lord Brechin and Navar and last descendant of the Duke of Ross. It is known in certain circles that neither of Lord Kinross's daughters could claim the title, as they chose to marry beneath their station; but if one of their own children had married well..."
"I am already married, and Serrure is no aristocrat." I said simply. "And that still doesn't mean I am connected to her in any way."
"True." He nodded. "And about it meaning nothing.. one just needs to look at that picture, and then at yourself. You must be twins!"
I swallowed, mind working a mile a minute. I knew in that moment, without a sliver of a doubt, that Mycroft Holmes wouldn't be giving up on that line of inquiry. He knew that the identity of Arianna Kinross was a fake, and the mere fact that I'd come in contact with his brother meant I couldn't be allowed to keep my secrets anymore. Also, as convenient as 'twins' could be, it would not stand in the long run, not when one day I... we'd have to go back, to deal with Hydra, and SHIELD, and everything else that might yet come our way (and I'd rather not add the enmity of a man with the power Mycroft Holmes possessed to that list).
Really, even if I'd been away for a while, I knew who the Holmeses were. One of the oldest families in Britain. Technically they only had an earldom, but I knew their power went far beyond what the old peerage system could grant. Also, there was an instinct inside me that told me I might need them one day, and it was better not to lie to them... or at least not too much.
"You're so amazingly right... and at the same time so incredibly, utterly wrong." I finally said after what seemed like a very long time.
I could feel Loki's eyes on my temple, he was looking straight at me, wondering what decision I'd made, even if he'd followed most of my train of thought, he didn't know what I'd do exactly:
*Trust me...* I whispered to him mentally.
*Always.* He told me simply.
"The truth is..." I took a deep breath, before diving head first into my new 'lifestory'. "The truth is that I am no 'illegitimate Salani daughter', or an Evans for that matter..." I spoke, of course, of Aunt Siobhan's family. "Neither am I Silbhé Salani's twin... as interesting as I'm sure that particular twist would be."
"It's never twins..." John muttered.
I turned to look at John briefly, wondering about that comment, and noticed the way Sherlock smiled. I didn't find out until later, but he was quoting the consulting detective.
"I am she." I finally finished.
For several seconds no one said a word, I was beginning to wonder if they'd even heard me and then... total disbelief.
"That's impossible!" Mycroft stated.
"Not impossible, just improbable." I smirked at him, before spinning my own file around and pointing at a very specific line. "Why don't you read that part, very carefully."
"A name?" Sherlock scoffed.
It was John who read it in the end, out-loud:
"Silbhé Arianna Kinross-Salani." He smiled. "It's really that simple?"
"It really is." I nodded. "Most of my SHIELD records have me as Professor Salani, or Professor Silbhé Salani. But I've always used both my surnames, I'm as much my mother's daughter as I am my father's, even if she died when I was three." I focused on Mycroft. "If your contacts are as good as you implied, what do you know of Silbhé Salani's activities over the last year or so?"
"She was sent with Dr. Foster and her assistant to Tromso, Norway less than a week before the first invasion." The elder Holmes began enlisting. "All three women returned after it was all over. Two weeks later she took an indefinite leave of absence..."
I couldn't help it, I snorted.
"Then, near the end of the year she was admitted into the hospital, first in Maine, and then in New York, some sort of coma." He went on. "Official causes were never discerned, but it was the belief of several doctors that it might be the cancer... She eventually woke up and was discharged and taken to Stark Tower... or so it was claimed and then..."
"And then nothing, until her death several days ago, yes?" I asked.
He nodded. He still didn't seem to believe me, but I didn't mind that; I knew I was going to need to be
very careful how I spun the story, otherwise he wouldn't believe it. Sherlock... on the other side, I wasn't sure he believed any of it just yet, but he certainly was interested in it all. So I took a deep breath and went into the hardest part:
"You never go to work in an organization like SHIELD without an exit strategy." I explained evenly. "In fact, I'm quite sure Aunt Kathryn would have preferred that I never work with any government, but it couldn't be helped. In any case, this..." I signaled to myself. "Arianna Kinross, it was always my exit strategy. I actually began building the identity years ago, during my breaks from college. Though back then it was mostly a game, it was until last year that I became serious about it." I sighed. "Serrure... he almost died in New York, during the attack. I was supposed to be there, we were supposed to meet that weekend, but SHIELD sent us to Norway unexpectedly. And when I found out what was going on..."
I left the rest in the air, letting them assume that I had become 'discontented' with my employers because they hadn't done 'something' to protect my husband, and people like him.
"You say I took an indefinite leave of absence..." I snorted again at the mere words. "The truth is I simply left and didn't go back, but SHIELD wouldn't report that, wouldn't admit that I refused to dance to their tune... or maybe they just didn't care enough. I did end up in the hospital, though it wasn't quite as bad as the files make it sound. Still, it was useful, it put the idea in people's heads, that the cancer was coming back..."
"It wasn't?" Sherlock inquired, interested.
"The cancer hasn't been a problem since I was fourteen and lived past the three month deadline the doctors gave me." I deadpanned.
I didn't tell them how exactly I had managed that, it was easier that way, I didn't lie, and didn't risk them catching me at it.
"Still, it was convenient." I shrugged, then focused again on Mycroft. "If you manage to talk to someone who attended my 'funeral' they will tell you there was no casket, no body, only an urn filled with ashes, they will tell you those were my wishes... It was all part of the plan. My ticket out of SHIELD..."
"Why go through such lengths?" John asked, curious. "Why not just leave?"
"Because I'm one of two people in the whole world who specialize in the subjects I do." I explained. "The people in SHIELD call us 'Asgard experts'. Also, from the two of us I'm the only one who actually lived in the country, and was willing to be in their payroll... do you really think they would have let me go?"
All that was true enough, and at least I knew that the other times my younger self had been involved with SHIELD (after my 'human death') Had been top-secret, and thus there was no reason for the Holmeses to find out about them.
"So you're Silbhé Salani..." Mycroft began.
"I am Arianna Kinross-Hvedrungr." I corrected him calmly. "That's all that matters anymore." My eyes narrowed. "And do not even think about blackmailing me with this information, Mr. Holmes. I could disappear once, from underneath SHIELD's thumb, I can certainly do it again; but if you force my hand I will be quite annoyed... I'm so enjoying life here in England, and spending time with my cousin."
"The Watsons aren't related to the Kinrosses in any way." Mycroft shook his head.
"Our families are connected by something a lot more important than blood." I told him serenely.
"What?" He asked, frozen by that prospect.
"Choice." It was as simple as that.
xXx
In the end Mycroft didn't try to blackmail me, which was good all things considered. Though what I really wasn't expecting, was when, less than a month later, a courier arrived to our home, carrying a lot of papers for me to sign, the papers necessary for me to claim my title. I was shocked, but certainly not enough not to see the potential trouble. I phoned Mycroft.
"This isn't about me." He didn't even wait for me to say anything.
"I'm not going to owe you a favor Mycroft." I grumbled.
"Again, that is not the intent." He insisted. "But you've chosen to claim John Watson as family. Who, in turn has become attached to my little brother. It is my hope that, if it ever becomes necessary, you might extend your protection to him..."
"Exactly what do you expect my protection to consist of?" I couldn't help but ask, something just wasn't adding up. "A minor nobility title will not do much."
"Perhaps not in the hands of most people, but something tells me you can get creative with it." The politician stated. "Also, I might not be able to find out everything, but I know you have... shall we say, other capabilities..." His voice went very low before he added. "I know that bomb vest did not freeze by some sort of chemical miscalculation..."
I didn't reply, there was really no need. From the start we'd known we were taking risks, acting that night. My knowledge of martial arts, my ability to remain perfectly calm even with a gun against my neck, and then, of course, my love's gift with ice... We'd already decided to take things as they came. And apparently thus far that meant having Mycroft Holmes know and willing not to say a thing about it. All things considered, it could have been worse.
xXx
We became a bit more involved with Sherlock's and John's lives after that, though not too much. We still lived in the same house, still taught classes often. They knew I was a certified paramedic and had training as a field nurse (even if no one could pinpoint with any certainty when or how I'd gotten that training), which meant that when John got injured they came to me (since he had some difficulty treating himself), and there were times when a car would pick me up and I'd be taken to some secure location to treat one of Mycroft's employees (if he knew back then that I'd more at my disposal than training as paramedic and nurse, I have no idea). We also assisted, mostly by accident, on a few small cases (I was still quite good with linguistics, and my love was a superb strategist).
The time we got the most involved was the following year, in March, in a case John eventually called the 'Hound of Baskerville'. Apparently Sherlock had used Mycroft's security pass to enter a military facility, so Mycroft asked us to go make sure those two wouldn't get up in more trouble than they could safely deal with. I was even given security clearance of my own (and the fact that Mycroft had had that ready told me he was playing the long game, and planning for something... I wasn't sure I liked that).
In the end the case wasn't that complex, or dangerous; aside from the poor sod that pretty much blew himself up when he stepped on a landmine. I called on a shield on instinct alone, to protect us from the explosion, but no one seemed to notice, everyone too shocked to pay much attention to anything right then.
And then James Moriarty reappeared, and things really got complicated...
"Wasn't he in prison?" I blurted out after the daylight robberies. "He was supposed to be in prison after what happened in that bloody pool!"
As it turned out that wasn't even the worst part. No, because not only Moriarty wasn't in prison anymore, the two snipers that had been arrested that day were dead, had died under 'suspicious circumstances', and people were beginning to believe that James Moriarty had never existed, that Sherlock Holmes had made him up, along with his own reputation as a consulting detective.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" I snapped, mentally cursing in over half of the languages I knew. "How can people be so... so..."
"Blind?" John offered, as he was there with me.
"Stupid." I corrected, 'blind' just wasn't strong enough a word. "Blatantly stupid."
"They are so quick to throw accusations now." John agreed. "When just two weeks ago they were singing him praises..."
"And just wait and see what they do the next time the Yard cannot solve a crime!" I scoffed.
John just nodded and the two of us sipped at our teas.
"You know you have to stay away, right?" He asked me eventually. "For your own safety."
"I assumed as much." It was the truth, I had seen that coming.
"Moriarty... or Richard Brooks, as he keeps calling himself, hasn't mentioned you, at all." John explained to me. "We rather not give him a reason to."
I hated it, very much so, but I knew what he was thinking. It'd be dangerous to put me on the stand; if someone happened to realize that Arianna Kinross wasn't my original name... it would complicate things way too much. Even if we managed to get away with the story we'd spun for the Holmeses, what would I do... what would we do when our younger selves arrived to London with Thor, Jane and the Secret Circle to stop Malekith? We were almost a year away from that event still, and yet...
"We will stay away, as long as that doesn't put one of you in danger." I told him calmly. "The moment that changes, all bets are off."
He nodded, I knew he'd understand that, he was 'wired' pretty much the same way. Except he was a soldier, in ways I'd never been, not even when some had begun considering me a 'Warrior Lady' (in either life). It was in that very moment that I, for the first time ever, wished, truly wished, that I had killed... Perhaps if I'd chosen my knife instead of my own foot when I took Moriarty down he'd have died that night, wouldn't have been able to engineer a return, to torment John and Sherlock as he was doing in those very moments...
It wasn't in my nature, in fact killing downright went against my very nature. It was one thing to be willing to fight, to injure, but I had a hard time even thinking about taking a life. I knew my match had done it, not few times either, and I accepted it, didn't think any less of him because of it. But doing it myself was an entirely different matter.
The situation kept getting worse as summer passed, and we all knew it wouldn't be long before something snapped. Even then, nothing could have ever prepared any of us for what happened that late July night...
It was rather late and the two of us were wearing robes over sleeping clothes, sitting on a small bench in our balcony, watching the night sky.
"Rose is here." Loki announced abruptly.
I was about to stand, to go down and open the door, when I watched a creamy white hand take hold of the edge of the balcony, two seconds before the rest of a body followed. It was, indeed, our daughter, wearing a pale-red wrap-dress over a leather body-suit, a pair of boots hung over one shoulder, and her feet bare; her hair pulled in a braid and over her other shoulder.
"Did you just climb three stories?" I asked, unable to conceal my disbelief.
"Technically it was only two... and a half." She commented as she plopped down on the railing. "I really needed to get to you."
"Rose...?" My love murmured quietly.
He could see it as easily as I did, our daughter was strung tight, so much it couldn't be healthy. She looked like she hadn't slept in at least three days, and hadn't rested properly in a week, at least; and yet, even with all that, there was a sense of urgency about her.
"You need to stop it." She said, sounding completely breathless. "You need to... it's all going to go so wrong... again! You need to stop it before it's too late."
"Stop...? Stop what?" I really didn't understand. "What's going to happen? Is someone's life in danger? Your brother...?"
"Some things are worth more than a life..." She muttered, seemingly to herself. "This is not about Hakon, he's just fine, Peggy too, even Steve! No, this... your friends! John Watson and Sherlock Holmes... they..."
"Are their lives in danger?" Maverick asked instantly. "It's Moriarty isn't it?"
"This is not about life or death!" Rose shook her head vehemently. "It goes beyond that... They... they're like us." She waved her hand at us before a single word could be said. "Not from another realm, no. They're a match, perfect soulmates... and they don't know it. And everything's going to go absolutely wrong tomorrow. Not death, but worse, and they will never recover from it, not really. And it's happened before! Time and again. They always meet, and they always fall in love, but something always goes wrong and everything is ruined! And it's gonna happen again! And you need to stop it!"
Rose went off the railing right then, practically collapsing at our feet, crying almost hysterically. And all I could do was kneel beside her, hold her tight. My daughter was well past the edge and I had no idea how to help her.
I had a flash of memory right then, of my mother; not my human mother, but my elven one, back in my previous life, the last time I'd seen her, before everything had gone so wrong, before the Bloody Night, before I lost my sister, and her... I'd woken up to loud sobbing one night, and had found her in a corner of her room, crying hysterically, muttering under her breath. I'd just stood there, at her door, watching, not knowing what to do... I was but a child, I had no idea what was wrong, how to help my crying mother... Looking back on it, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd known, everything that laid ahead of us; if she'd known what would happen to her daughters... She'd had the Sight, just like Rose did, and I still didn't understand it.
"What can we do?" I asked, hoping that if I could help make things right, that would somehow be enough to help her too.
"I... I don't know!" She admitted in a sob. "I keep seeing them, keep seeing everything that went wrong, time and again, and I don't know how to make it right! I don't know if it can... but if it doesn't... It will be yet another wasted opportunity, two lives that will never reach their full potential. And it's not right, it's not right because the world needs them, the universe needs them, and they need each other and They Don't See It!"
"What if we could make them see?" The words coming from my match's mouth were enough to freeze us all in the spot.
"What...?" Neither of us really understood what he meant right then.
"You say you don't know how to fix it, but if this is a matter of them, of a match, then you're not the one who needs to fix it, not us either." My husband explained quietly. "They are the ones who need to do it. And if they don't know it right now, if they don't see it; that we can do. We can make them see..."
"Yes." Rose agreed immediately. "Yes."
And so a plan was made.
xXx
It was an insane plan, beyond that even, in ways that few could ever begin to comprehend. And yet, it needed to be done. So we went ahead and did it:
The easiest part of the plan was finding Sherlock and John. They were holed up in the basement lab at Bart's. Also, as we soon found out, there were warrants for their arrests, John's apparently was for 'interfering in an arrest', Sherlock's, as it happened; while Sherlock was a 'person of interest' in the kidnapping of two young children, the same children he'd just rescued earlier that same day. Added to the so-called news of 'Kitty Riley' about Richard Brooks, and Sherlock being a liar... it was absolutely insane.
In any case, Molly at least knew them well enough, she'd allowed them to stay inside the Lab. It obviously wouldn't work in the long run, which meant that something would have to give... I could see why Rose was so desperate that something be done. Our side of the plan was a bit more complex, but still we managed to make one.
From all three of us, Rose was the one who'd actually seen it. The way things would go, the way they'd gone in the past, all the mistakes, time after time, life after life... and yet she was no telepath, and no spellweaver, she couldn't share what was in her head (she cursed for not thinking about asking Charles or someone called Jean to accompany her... but there just was no time to get them to London). Loki was a spell-weaver, he had the ability of pushing his own thoughts onto other people, though it was hard, and if that person couldn't handle it, it could be very dangerous (which was why Thor had been so disbelieving the first time he'd shared his memories with me, back before he knew who I truly was). And then there was me, I couldn't use magic to pass on visions, and I couldn't read minds, but I could serve as a bridge... or so I hoped.
"How are we going to do this?" Loki asked at one point. "I mean, we cannot just show them everything and tell them: this is a mistake!" He made a pause, then revised. "Well, I suppose we could do that, but with the kind of men those two are..."
"It wouldn't work." I agreed completely with him. "Sherlock will go crazy trying to find the logic in something that has none, and John will be too shocked to act."
"Then we make it personal." Rose decided. "Don't let them see the whole thing as something that concerns someone else, but about them."
"How?" We didn't understand.
"A song." She explained, and it was obvious she had an idea already. "I can do it, I've done it before. I go so deep into someone else's life, the things I've seen of them... it's almost like I become them, for a little while. When I sing I'm them..."
I wasn't quite sure how that was supposed to work, I'd never sung for anyone other than myself. Even when the song was about my daughters, or a friend, it was always my own voice, my own heart behind it all. I couldn't imagine channeling someone else like that... then again, I didn't have the Sight.
It was easy enough to allow Rose to take the lead, agreeing that I'd join in when the time felt right. I would act as a bridge, between her and her Papa, between them and our friends; and hopefully we'd be able to change things for the better...
When the melody began, it was like none I'd ever played or sung before. Rose was sitting before the piano, her fingers slowly pressing keys, and yet the true rhythm lay in her feet, her bare feet which hit the floor (rather than the pedals), marking the real tempo of the song, even as the music adjusted, several seconds before her voice joined the melody. And it was until a fraction of a second before she began that I realized one thing: I'd never before heard my daughter sing...
"Total disconnection
Alone was my protection
Till you,
You walked into my life"
"Love was just a weakness
'till you left me speechless
Till you,
Opened up this heart of mine"
"And I'll never see,
What you see,
When you look at me"
"But I'll never cease,
Never sleep,
'till I'm worthy of your love
'till I'm worthy of your love"
The effect was immediate, images began flowing, between all three of us; and if all went well, on to John and Sherlock. There was a lot, whole lifetimes even, more than I could fully grasp in the seconds they took before being gone. Though there were some that stayed with me: like the moment a figure with sun-bleached hair (sometimes a wheat-white, others a dirty-blonde, or at times even a golden-brown) was hit by a projectile; it was one of the constants, which seemed to repeat in every lifetime. Then there was the other figure, with darker hair, standing alone, in the shadows, battling an evil that couldn't always be seen. In most of their incarnations they seemed to be men, both of them, but even that wasn't an absolute; there were variations, like with everything. The only constant was that it was the two of them always; and that whenever they stood apart, they were fragile, vulnerable, but when they stood together they were invincible...
"I've never been accepted
So loved and protected
Till you,
Your friendship knows no bounds"
"But I've been keeping secrets
Lodged in me like bullets
Can you,
Help me take these bullets out?"
"I must confess
Must express
What I think you know"
"But I'm so damn scared
Unprepared
To declare what's in my heart
To declare what's in my heart"
It was amazing, the partnership. I got to see the first meeting of those two so many times, in each incarnation, a moment came when I simply lost count. It was amazing, how two completely different individuals could meet each other one day and simply... trust. With no reason, no logic, no evidence, as if that trust in one another, in their partnership, were as natural to them as the beat of their own hearts...
Each pair we saw hailed from a different time and, I suspected, some might not have been human at all, or even from Earth. They were old souls, probably even older than the Realms as we knew them... they kept finding each other, and yet something kept going wrong. At some point during their lives, one of them made a mistake, and from that point on everything was forever ruined; metaphorical abysses and walls separating them, and nothing was ever enough to bring them together again. It seemed almost like a curse, one of eternal, irreversible failure. It reminded me of our old friends: Sharifa and Kontar, his belief of their own curse, and mine that getting the chance to meet and love each other every lifetime wasn't a curse; but what about meeting each other, falling in love, and never getting a chance to live that love as it was meant to be lived?
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
By the time Rose reached what I knew instinctively to be the chorus I felt like I could understand the melody she was weaving, enough to add my voice to it. Even then I did little more than provide a background chorus, an echo that might serve to emphasize certain lines. She was the one carrying the song, because she was the one who knew, who understood, she was the one with the power, and the belief to really help Sherlock Holmes and John Watson... I'd never been so proud of her as I was right then: Rose Alfdis, my daughter, my Goddess of Chaos and Faith...
"I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you"
And then I saw it, we all did. The mistake: a fall... sometimes off a waterfall, sometimes off a cliff, one of the pair would fall alongside their 'eternal enemy', and be lost. Sometimes that loss was permanent, but most of the time it would turn out that he/she had survived, only to keep that fact from their partner. And then came heartbreak, and loss, and grief... all which would morph into despair and rage once the falsehood was revealed... and by then it would already be too late. The wound too deep, having festered already, never to fully heal. The worst were perhaps those where the truth was never revealed, for the second half of the pair was lost (either to accident or on purpose) before the first one could return to reveal the 'magic trick'. A whole new tragedy...
Time and again, a cycle that always seemed to end in either grief and loss and death, or grief and loss and rage. And even the few times where they managed to push past that, to allow the wound to heal (as much as such a wound could heal...) the scar would always be there, on the surface, never to fade, an eternal reminder of what could have been, what will never come to pass.
"Shadows in your eyes say
I'm already too late
Now I have to let you go
Now I have to let you go"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
But I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you"
There was more, of course there was, scenes that belonged after the rip, and yet, deep down, I did not want to see them. I knew they couldn't be good. Yet some were just too strong somehow to really ignore. Like the one where an older John Watson returned to the flat he'd left behind to help his old friend deal with his last case, his greatest failure, before writing one last book, a 'corrected' version of events, and hiding the few pieces of evidence of what had really happened. Or the one where an elderly Sherlock Holmes, in his last days, looked back on his life, finally able to admit that his greatest regret was the way things had ended between him and his best friend, the way the two of them slipped away and could never truly settle their differences. They grew apart, and they died apart; even though deep down they had to have known that wasn't how things were supposed to be. Be it due to pride, grief, anger, sadness, disappointment, fear, or a combination of two or more of those, things were simply never made right between the two. A mistake that the current Sherlock Holmes and John Watson seemed to be cursed to repeat... Was there really any hope left when nothing had changed in hundreds of years, in dozens of lifetimes?
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you"
"Never knew I had a heart
Till it beat for you
I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you"
xXx 3rd Person POV xXx
The next morning Sherlock Holmes was standing on the edge of St. Bart's rooftop, phone in hand, saying goodbye to his blogger, his best friend, his partner... John Watson stood on ground level, across the street from the hospital, looking up at his friend, seemingly insane with grief.
"I'm a fake." Sherlock pronounced, a tone of finality such that it was like the end of something, something huge.
"Sherlock..." John seemed to not know what to say.
"The newspapers were right all along." The consulting detective said, voice turning tearful. "I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and your cousin, and Molly... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up." The doctor snapped. "The first time we met... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"
"Nobody could be that clever." Sherlock retorted.
"You could." John insisted.
Sherlock laughed quietly, a wet laugh, though John couldn't see him crying, he could hear it, and there were others able to see him, to see them both...
"I researched you." The detective said suddenly. "Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you." His voice turned quieter as she added. "It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."
If anyone was listening in, spying on them, they'd have thought those last words to be simply the end to the consulting detective's damning speech; that his so-called deductions were nothing more than lies, cheap tricks... for the two of them though, the words had an entirely different meaning, one only they truly understood:
John started awake, hands reaching immediately for another, one he knew wasn't there. It was a dream, just a dream, and yet... the moment he raised his head he saw his friend, his best friend, his partner, his... everything, looking straight at him, and the doctor could see tears hanging from his dark eyelashes. And then the words that came out of his mouth...
"I never knew I had a heart..." He whispered, voice hoarse.
"... until it beat for you." John finished, breathless. "It wasn't a dream."
"Oh, it was." Sherlock told him. "And yet I think it was also more, so much more..."
John didn't stop to think about it twice, not even once, he pushed himself away from the desk and off the chair he'd been dozing on and rushed to Sherlock, dropping to his knees before the other man. The two simply stared into each other's eyes for the longest time.
"Your cousin..." The detective began after what seemed like forever.
"Wha...?" The doctor didn't understand what that had to do with anything.
"You saw what I did, yes?" He didn't wait for an answer, it was obvious enough. "The voices in the background, the song... I do not recognize the main voice, but the other one, it was your cousin's voice. She's somehow involved in this."
"But how?" John didn't understand.
"I have no idea." Sherlock couldn't help but admit. "This is not logical John, there's no evidence and yet... and yet I believe it."
"As do I." The blonde agreed immediately. "God, I've been so stupid!" It looked like the dark-haired man would say something, but wasn't given a chance. "But then again, so have you!"
Sherlock never got the chance to interject anything, in his own defense, or John's... suddenly his mouth was busy, kissing and being kissed. It wasn't a first kiss, for either of them; and yet they couldn't help but feel like they hadn't experienced anything like it before. In that single moment everything was absolutely perfect. Though of course, such perfection simply couldn't last forever:
"He'll burn the heart out of me..." Sherlock blurted out suddenly, eyes reflecting a horror like none John had ever seen before.
"What...?!" Not for the first time John felt a bit stupid, not getting it.
"You John!" The detective snapped. "Moriarty is going to use you to destroy me!"
"Well, good luck with that!" The doctor smirked at that. "I'm not exactly a damsel in distress. Just let him try something, I'll destroy him."
"Not if you don't see him, see it coming." The younger man denied. "And you won't see it, John, not in time. He'll make sure of that."
"Sherlock..." The older man could see his partner was on the edge of a panic attack and he didn't know how to fix it, it wasn't like he was wrong, after all.
"If he hurts you... if he kills you... that'll destroy me John." Sherlock admitted, very, very quietly.
"Then we make sure that doesn't happen." John announced, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "We can do it... together we're invincible."
"Together." Sherlock agreed, then took a deep breath and confessed. "There is something..."
John couldn't believe it when he heard the plan, the plan the Holmes brothers had created together, without him...
"No John!" Sherlock cried out suddenly. "It's not that. I do trust you, so much!"
"Then why?" John asked, very quietly, almost afraid. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wanted you to be safe." The detective explained. "You need to be safe John, you need to. Otherwise it will be all pointless."
"But you can see it now, can't you?" The doctor asked, more kindly. "You can see how your choices would have destroyed me?"
They'd both seen it, the things that could and would have been... and the ones that had already happened. Even if none of them truly understood what it was they'd seen, or how, they believed in it enough to make a different choice this time.
"It will work John, you'll see." Sherlock assured him. "It will be like a magic trick..."
"The best magic trick ever." John agreed.
So there they were, one of them on a ledge, the other on the ground, performing for an unseen public they knew was around, preparing themselves to perform the greatest magic trick... so great most wouldn't know it was a trick at all, not until the time came, for the truth to be revealed...
"Keep your eyes fixed on me." Sherlock called. "Please, will you do this for me?"
They both knew he would, and they both knew they would hate it. The last thing Sherlock wanted was to hurt John, and the last thing John wanted was for Sherlock to put his life on the line like that. But they had to, they had to because there simply was no other way; and there were others whose lives were in danger as well, their friends... and they would protect them, no matter how hard it might be.
More words were exchanged, about notes... words John refused to process, even as his face showed how much he understood. It still wasn't easy for him, when Sherlock finally dropped his phone, opened his arms wide and then just fell... jumped. The scream that came from his lips was very, very real.
"No... SHERLOCK!"
It was hard, they'd both known it'd be hard. Even though the positioning of certain buildings, and even a lorry made it so John didn't actually have to see a body hit the ground, the mere thought of it was enough to make a flashback seize him. It took all his will to force himself to move. A bike almost hit him, would have if he hadn't tripped and half-fell right as he did. He was dizzy, and only the memory of the last kiss they'd exchanged in that lab, Sherlock's whispered promise about magic tricks, and his plea that John trust him, managed to keep him in the present.
The blonde man managed to stumble to where Sherlock's body laid on the pavement, blood all over and around his head in the most gruesome display. For all of two seconds John wasn't sure whether he'd cry or laugh at the absurdity of it all (he was a doctor, for god's sake, even if his PTSD was acting up and making it harder for his brain to work right, he knew that wasn't how a body would look if a person had really jumped... however many floors Barts had, he couldn't focus enough to remember right then). In the end he dropped to his knees beside Sherlock, mumbling nonsense and denials as he pretended to search for a pulse. The lack of it actually shocked him briefly, but the slight light in Sherlock's open eyes was enough to remind him of what's really going on. He'd seen into the eyes of the dead, he knew what they looked like, and it was nothing like Sherlock's eyes looked right then. It's all a magic trick...
Very quickly, being careful not to be seen by anyone, not even by those who were supposed to be on their side, John traced the base of the ring finger on Sherlock's left hand... It was a very specific move, one that, even if noticed, no one else would realize the true importance of. But Sherlock would, because he'd seen John's cousin and her husband, and the tattooed rings they themselves had, their wedding bands...
And just as fast as the touch happened, it was gone. A group of the Homeless Network, dressed like orderlies and nurses, picked up Sherlock and placed him on a stretcher, which was wheeled inside immediately. John stumbled a bit, ignoring the people trying to 'comfort' him, until someone finally guided him inside. He knew what was coming: eventually someone would go to him, tell him Sherlock was dead, catastrophic organ failure or something, he would rage, call out denials, shout his grief until he was left alone... and then he'd have to leave Barts, go back to Baker Street, face the world with the lie that had been concocted... Sherlock Holmes was believed to be dead, and it needed to be that way, for him, and Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, and John's cousin, and probably even Molly...
Some day the truth would come out; someday the world would know that Sherlock Holmes really was a genius, and a good man; but until then John Watson would keep his silence, he would play the part he was given, wait, and believe... he wouldn't be making the same mistakes again, neither of them would, never again... their hearts would forever beat together...
So, what do you think? The thing with the song went differently this time, but I thought it fit. While the original is performed by a single person, I wanted Nightingale and Rose singing together at least once. Also, the ones following Bouquet of Roses now know where exactly Rose went that day she went all crazy (at least the most recent occasion).
Also, in case you're interested, the scenes from Rose's visions come not only from the original season 3, but also from the Sherlock movies (the one with Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law), the Mr. Holmes movie (with Ian McKellen), and vague variations thereof. Also remember that in this universe reincarnations do not look the same (hence the various actors not affecting anything). I also made some implications that got a little Tolkien-ish, you can ignore them, I have no plans on going into that.
Next week we'll continue with Sherlock, a much different Season 3 (believe me, you have no idea what I've planned for that part, it's gonna be insane), a word of warning though, I'm not nice to Mary (it's actually very hard for me to be, ever since she shot Sherlock I despise her... which at least was somewhat easier than the first two episodes, when I couldn't help but like her, despite the way she interfered with my Johnlock...). Anyway, we're getting closer and closer to the end of the overlapped time, and to the part I'm sure you all must be waiting for... HYDRA's coming!