"Oh, Sherlock... is there a new case? I hadn't received anything from Detective Inspector Lestrade."
The tall brunet glanced up from microscope. "It's a cold case. There are no bodies to be autopsied."
Molly slipped around the table to stand as close as she dared. "A note then...a suicide? Oh, of course not...where would be the challenge in that? Okay then, I'll leave you to it. If I can assist...I'll just...be...around."
She flashed a tentative smile and scurried away. Sherlock watched her leave then slowly turned his attention back to the scope. He was able to lift three different sets of prints. One would belong to Beth, there would be no question of that, another set would be her Aunt May's. It would be the third set he was most interested in. He would make a note of this when he found a way to run the prints.
The paper had been nothing special just standard, mass produced, note stock. The ink was also common and mass produced. The note held no other leads then the finger prints. Sherlock's lips quirked into a half smile. But that would more then enough. He slipped the note and print tapes into their own separate evidence envelopes. Those he slipped into the inside pocket of his suit jacket then he headed for the exit.
000
"What are you doing here."
"I am curious to know what, if any, progress you have made in your investigation."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as his head ticked slightly to one side. "You do not approve so why don't you simply leave. Make us both happy."
"Do you trust Lestrade to run finger prints and just blythefully hand the results over to you without question?"
Sherlock froze for a few moments then slowly turned to study his elder brother.
"And you would have no such objections?"
"I am willing to run the results of your day's work. I doubt very much that the Met would agree to do the same. I have access to data bases that regular channels do not."
"What do you want in return, brother mine." The words were clipped almost spat out in anger.
The elder pinned the younger as he slowly stood to his full height looking down on the mere inch that separated them in height.
"I know how you are when you get an idea into your head, Sherlock. You take no head of your health or well being. Nothing matters to you but the chase. In helping you in this I am hoping to keep you from harrying off on your own."
Then Mycroft dipped his head looking at his brother levely.
"More importantly they were family. Your, family. Would you have ever told me about them? Truthfully?"
Sherlock picked up this violin then moved to stand in front of the window. Mycroft winched, bracing himself for the screech and abuse of the strings, but was determined no to be driven off. But Sherlock did not, as yet, lay the bow to the instrument.
"It hardly matters now, does it."
"It matters to me."
"Why? Caring is not an advantage, remember?"
"As all lives end and all hearts are broken. But that does not stop people from caring nor falling in love. Maybe you would never have elected to tell me, but what about your young lady?"
Sherlock remained silent. Mycroft paused for a few long moments. Then resignedly started to move towards the stairs. Sherlock turned his head slightly towards his retreating sibling then reached into his jacket and held out his hand towards Mycroft who moved to take the packets. It wasn't until he had almost reached the stairs that Sherlock spoke again.
"She wanted to make a formal announcement on her 21st birthday."
Mycroft paused to look back but Sherlock had turned full to the window. The strains of the violin followed him down and out of 221 and, for once, it was not discordant scrapping.
000
Lestrade had fallen into a reflective silence since they had left Beth's aunt and then the grave. John watched the scenery turn from pastoral to metropolitan. It was a far less stressful drive then the one made earlier that morning but it was still difficult to find relevant topics of conversation. It wasn't hard for John to imagine the focus of the DI's thoughts. It probably the same as his. The ground before them was so unknown and Sherlock would not be helpful in assisting in it's navigation
"I'll drop you off at Baker Street. I'll see if he's still at St. Bart's. Maybe I can get something out of Molly, if he let her know what he was up to."
"Thanks mate."
Lestrade wasn't sure if he caught just a hint of sarcasm, or not, but then John not only worked but also lived with a man who could be so damnably secretive and prickly if he thought people were pushing him to hard and he decided no to play nice with others. But prickly or not, Lestrade knew that he was going to have a heart to heart with Sherlock and soon.
000
Lestrade entered the lab area and found Mike Stamford surrounded by a bevy of medical students and one pathologist, Molly Hooper. But there was no tall lanky consulting detective anywhere in sight. Molly detached herself from the group and greeted him with a smile and finger wave.
"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector. Do you need assistance?"
"I was looking for Sherlock."
"Okay...em...he was here but he left a while ago."
"He didn't say what he was doing, did he?"
"Oh no. He had a note of some sort. At first I thought it was a suicide note then I realized how silly that was. He just said it was for a cold case."
Lestrade nodded disappointed that he had missed the man and he was probably back at the flat after all.
"All right, Molly. Thank you."
"You're welcome Detective Inspector. But I have to get back now."
"Sure, don't let me keep you."
She smiled . "You don't."
Then she wandered back to the knot of students.
000
John went up the steps to 221B to find his flat mate setting at the kitchen table/lab bench. Sherlock sat with his hand resting on the slip of paper that had been used to entice Beth out to that field. A scene he had walked through but had never processed. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then taking a deep breath, he opened them and gracefully rose from the chair. Maybe it was time to breach the walls of those memories. But now there could be no place to run to. No drugs to resort to to dull the pain. He had made John a promise. Oh, yes, he had made Lestrade the same promise, more then once. But then, Lestrade had always made the ultimatum between drugs or "The Work", easy enough to get around if the need arose, he had never made Sherlock choose between the needle and companionship, human contact no matter how minimal. John had laid it all on the line. So now there could be no going back.
John heard the slight scrape as Sherlock stood and glanced up. He sighed seeing the far away look already settling into the younger man's eyes.
"Sherlock."
The only response was a vague shake of the dark curly head and a dismissive wave of graceful fingers
"No, really mate, I think there's an angle you should consider."
Sherlock gave a slight shake as his focus shifted from deep thought to give John his attention and sighed. "Oh alright. What is it?"
"What if the person who did...who killed your wife and child...what if he is dead?"
"Is there a point behind this brilliant observation?" The baritone was a flat monotone.
"I have worked with you on a lot of cases remember? I know how this works. You aren't satisfied in just knowing the who and how, you will do what ever it takes to learn the motive. It's not enough for you that there is one. Like that damned Jeff Hope and his poisoned pills. You knew it was him, yet you needed to know exactly how he did it."
"So you are under the impression that if the killer is deceased the motive is lost. Is that it?"
"Well, yeah. What if he never told anyone. He could have taken that information to the grave with him."
"They usually do tell someone, you know. Oh, maybe not blurt it out in the middle of a pub, but a hint dropped to a confidant hoping that someone will pick up on it. Maybe they want someone to tell them it's okay, it's not truly their fault. Or the guilt drives them to want to confess. So, even if this person should be so unfortunate to be dead, he will have had friends, acquaintances, co-workers and these people need to be found and talked to. It took thirteen years for the note to surface, it doesn't matter how much more time it take to find out the rest of it."