"Goodbye Greg." John closed the door and started up the stairs. Yes Moran was definitely at the crime scene, but why? And why had he left Sherlock's scarf there in the first place. John was almost sure Sherlock knew something about this that would make it all make sense.
He opened the door to 221b, to find Sherlock awake and alert on the couch, with Everton sat next to him, he was stroking the dog lightly. He had obviously been waiting for John to get home.
"You need to explain to me why your scarf was just found at a seemingly unrelated crime scene. And you better have a pretty good story for Lestrade."
…
"My scarf? I wondered where that had gotten to. Oh, but he's ruined it, I'm sure." Sherlock replied absently. "He must have gotten it when I-As for Lestrade, I've got everything wrapped up very nicely for him." Sherlock moved to sit up, then thought better of it. He gestured helplessly, frustrated with his weakness.
"John, if you would go and get me my jacket…?"
…
He snatched Sherlock's coat from the hook, and brought it over to him. "Yes your scarf is ruined. The letters IOU, were torn in it. That's why they suspect Moran for this. Also why they he thinks you have something to do with Moran's death."
He watched Sherlock struggle to put on his coat. He looked so weak and fragile. "Just stay there. I'll call Lestrade back. Just be happy if he doesn't arrest you."
…
"Oh, that's irritating. He's very right in thinking I had something to do with Moran, though. I did kill him. Oh, Lestrade's getting better at this. He won't arrest me, though. Not when he sees what I've got." Finally, Sherlock managed to get both arms in their respective sleeves. Everton had noticed Sherlock getting ready to leave and was standing eagerly by the couch with his leash in his teeth.
"No, Ev. Well, why not. Bring it here." Sherlock attached the leash and the two waited for John to come back, a little impatiently.
…
Sherlock ignored John's suggestion and got his coat on anyway. He then fastened the leash to Everton, and waited on the couch.
"Oh right!" John said moving towards Sherlock to give him a hand. He pulled Sherlock up gently, and then steadied him when he swayed slightly. They made their way down stairs, said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and then continued out the door. John hailed a cab and they climbed in, even Everton, but the cabbie didn't seem to mind.
"New Scotland Yard." Sherlock told the cabbie.
John noted the envelope that poked out from Sherlock's coat pocket, and decided not to ask. He'd just get a vague answer that would annoy him. It was a short ride, and John helped Sherlock out of the back when the got there. They walked in and John remembered that Sherlock hadn't been here in 3 years. Most of these people probably thought Sherlock was still dead.
"Sherlock?" Anderson almost yelled as he exited his office and faced Sherlock and John in the hallway.
"Jesus." Donovan added as she joined Anderson in the hall.
…
Everton growled slightly, Sherlock silenced him with a subtle motion.
"Anderson. Donovan. I see they still let you run loose." It was a weak jab, and he was fairly certain everyone there knew it, but Sherlock wasn't really in the mood to come up with anything better.
"Jesus, you're dead!" Anderson repeated. Donovan just stared, disbelieving.
"Obviously not." Sherlock ignored John's look. He was getting irritated. "Where's Lestrade? I have something for him."
…
"But?" Anderson questioned.
"Stop blabbering is Lestrade here? It's important." John asked finally snapping them back into reality.
"Yeah. In his office." Donovan answered; keeping her eye on Sherlock as though if she looked away he would disappear. Sherlock made a hand motion and Everton started to trot down the hallway. He barreled right between Anderson and Donovan; John had to force himself not to laugh at the look on their faces until they were at Lestrade's office.
"Oh Sherlock, glad to see you up and moving." Greg said getting up to shake Sherlock's hand. "John said you had something for me?"
…
"Yes, well, 'moving' is an improvement from yesterday. But yes, I've got something you might want." Sherlock pulled the envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the desk in front of Lestrade and enjoying the expression on the Inspector's face.
"Everything should be there. Forty-two men that have been wandering the city right under your nose. Now really, Greg, you have been slipping. And I believe there is a good deal on Moran, as well." Sherlock smirked.
…
"Uhh…" Greg obviously wasn't getting it. Neither was John.
"Yeah what exactly are you talking about?" He asked turning to Sherlock, and saw as the smirk feel from his lips. He sighed.
…
"Honestly. Open it up, you'll find enough evidence there to convict all forty-two men who were working for Moriarty that were never even suspected. As well as Moran. I had quite a bit of time to gather it all. Didn't want to go chasing after them all myself." Sherlock heard Donovan enter the room behind them. No Anderson, he must have had the good sense to return to his office. Sherlock leaned heavily against Lestrade's desk, suddenly tired, and vaguely hoping John wouldn't notice. The last thing he wanted was to appear helpless in front of Sergeant Sally Donovan.
…
Sherlock was supporting himself on Lestrade's desk, he needed to sit down, but John knew he wouldn't if Donovan was still there. John sat down in one of the chairs facing Lestrade's desk, hoping Sherlock would take the other. Thankfully he did.
They both sat, somewhat patiently, while Greg looked through the envelope. Everton kept an eye on Sally the whole time, looking very protective of Sherlock and even John.
"You're telling me you found every person associated with Moriarty?" He asked as he straightened the papers and put them back in the envelope sliding it to the side of his desk.
…
Sherlock jumped a little at the sound of Lestrade's voice. "Not only found, but more or less caught. It did take me three years, Lestrade." Sherlock impatiently tapped on the arm of the chair, too aware of Donovan staring at the back of his head. John was giving him a sympathetic look, probably the same one Lestrade would be giving him if he wasn't so occupied by the contents of the envelope Sherlock had given him. He reached down and patted Everton, who wagged his tail once. It was strangely reassuring to have the dog there. Perhaps because Ev was the only one not being either completely annoying or pitying him.
…
"Donovan, please leave." Greg ordered.
"But!" She nearly whined.
"Now!" He ordered more forcefully. She leaves slamming the door behind her. John can tell what Sherlock is thinking, what a child. "So what you're telling me is that Richard Brooke is fake, and you are innocent."
Sherlock nodded. John edged further on his chair. Praying that Lestrade will have enough evidence to clear his name. Greg picked up the envelope and held it out towards Sherlock. Shaking it as he talked. "If I get fired for this Sherlock I'm going to kill you."
…
"You won't be fired, Greg. Think about it."
Sherlock leaned forward, reading Greg's thoughts by his nervous tapping. The Inspector had two options, neither of which he appreciated much. He could either arrest Sherlock as regulation and pretty much the law said he had to, or let him go while he verified the evidence Sherlock had brought him and risk the wrath of his superiors. The only question was which Lestrade would choose.
…
"Trust me Sherlock I don't want to see you locked up either, but…"
"But nothing!" John interrupted. "Just let him go. You've got the evidence, it's over." He mulled it over for a second more.
"Alright. Ok, you're free to go then, I guess."
…
Sherlock cast John a grateful look that only the doctor would recognize. His shoulder was aching and the thought of spending a night in prison was hardly a pleasant one.
"I'll be going, then. Coming, John?" Sherlock braced himself on the arms of the chair and stood without waiting for John to help him. Not in front of Lestrade. It was a bit of a risk, but he only wobbled briefly before he found his balance. He felt rather than saw Lestrade and John exchanging looks.
…
John shared a worried look with Lestrade. Sherlock was over doing it, but John would never say anything to Lestrade in front of Sherlock.
"Yes, let's get home. I really need some sleep. I'm sure you do to." Sherlock just grunted, and tapped his leg. Signaling Everton to follow him.
When they got home John made sure Sherlock's stitches were still in place, and the redressed his wounds. Sherlock looked utterly annoyed with the whole process, but thanked John when he was done.
…
"John." Sherlock called as the doctor was about to leave for his bedroom. "Would you pass me my laptop?" He motioned to the device in question, which was sitting buried under papers on the dining room table, where it had been for three years.
…
It felt weird moving things. John had made sure to never move Sherlock's work, it felt wrong. He picked up the laptop and blew off the layer of dust that had collected on one corner that wasn't covered in papers, and handed it to Sherlock.
"I don't know if it will start up. It's probably dead." Sherlock hit the power button but it didn't turn on. John looked around the kitchen for the cord. After a few minutes of not finding it, he remembered seeing it in Sherlock's room. He found it on Sherlock's nightstand, brought it out to him and plugged it in.
"What do you need it for anyway?"
…
"Have to check on something. A few things, actually." Sherlock replied cryptically, ignoring John's look of disapproval. He needed to see if the trials of the men he had brought in while abroad had gone as they were supposed to, and make sure every man that he had caught stayed that way. Quite a few of them had a death sentence or life imprisonment awaiting them, Sherlock wouldn't have them miss that. "Thank you, John."
…
"No problem Sherlock. Just go to bed soon yeah?" John questioned, starting up the stairs to his room. "You need your rest. Nicotine patches aren't going to fix your injuries."
…
"I doubt you'd let me near a patch anyway. I saw you move them earlier, and frankly, I'm surprised you kept them." Sherlock replied absently, staring through the laptop screen as it booted up.
…
"I told you. I couldn't throw anything away. It hurt just thinking about it." And with that last stupid comment that left John feeling ridiculous, he went into his room. Closed his door, and feel into a deep sleep; for the first time in what felt like days.