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Chapter 11
"Here." Jo-Ann exclaimed, holding out the well-wrapped dark purple present she kept hidden from her flatmate. Sherlock glanced at it, and slowly took it from her while keeping his eyes on her.
"You brought me out of the flat to give me a Christmas present?" He eyed his doctor.
"Yeah well, with the little scene you just had with Molly, I didn't want to end up the same." She said coldly, although she didn't mean to.
"How could you end up the same unless you-"
"Just open the gift Sherlock." Jo-Ann interrupted, afraid of where that was going. The detective nodded and untied the white ribbon. The present was neatly un-wrapped and opened, to reveal the brown journal she bought for him earlier. Sherlock untied the suede string and opened the book. Much to his surprise, there was a note on the first page.
"To keep track of our adventures, Sherlock… - Jo-Ann."
Sherlock felt his heart clench, although he would deny it. Jo-Ann fidgeted in the silence and spoke up.
"I-it's just a little journal to write stuff in… kind of like my blog but with paper." She joked… and then cursed herself for sounding stupid. "You can take it back if you want, it's just-"
"I'm keeping it." Sherlock interrupted firmly, much to Jo-Ann's surprise. "The gloves Molly got me will probably be thrown away… but this has…" he paused, gesturing to the journal, "reasonable purpose."
Jo-Ann was completely thrown off-guard as Sherlock wrapped his arms around her. They stood for a moment, the doctor completely frozen in the detective's grip. "Thank you." He said in a near whisper, much too close to her ear. She blushed a shade that nearly matched her dress as the parted from the hug.
"Getting sentimental are we?" Jo-Ann teased, "You don't have to you know, it's not like we're a couple or anything." She joked, waving her hands as she said 'a couple'.
"Well, it's Christmas." Sherlock smiled, pointing up the stairs to suggest getting back to the party. Jo-Ann nodded and made her way up the stairs.
"Oh! I almost forgot…" Sherlock spoke up behind the doctor halfway up the stairs. "Wait here." He told her, walking around her and running up the rest of the way.
"Wha-Sherlock?"
In the flat, the guests continued to chat, but couldn't help feel a little uneasy at the way Jo-Ann and Sherlock ran out the door. Things quieted down a bit when the said detective entered the flat without his doctor.
"Is everything alright dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked him, as he ran over to the desk.
"Just fine, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock smiled, rummaging through one on the desk drawers. He placed his journal on the desktop.
"Where's Jo-Ann?" Bennett spoke up, walking over to the detective. Sherlock eyed him, grabbing a gift neatly wrapped in blue paper.
"Worried?" Sherlock said, giving the boyfriend a teasing look. Bennett's eyes went wide as he was about to fight back, when Sherlock casually walked around him. "We'll be in soon." The detective said, walking out the door.
Jo-Ann waited on the stairs… leaning against the left wall and crossing her arms. She looked up the narrow stairway at the sound of footsteps. Sherlock happily trotted down the stairs, but suddenly grew nervous when he reached her. The stairway was narrow enough then it was just one person, but now they were face to face in awkward silence. Sherlock didn't look at her, and held out the small gift.
"Merry Christmas." He mumbled. Jo-Ann stared, shocked. But came to her senses and politely took the gift from the nervous flatmate and carefully opened it.
"Oh Sherlock! I love it!" she exclaimed, pulling a soft red scarf, much like the blue one Sherlock always wore. She set down the box and wrapped the scarf around her neck the way the detective always did.
"You… really like it?" he asked vulnerably. He never bought a present for anyone… let alone a woman. He could have just gotten her a gift card or nothing at all and she would have understood… but he knew she liked to be sentimental.
"Like it? This is the greatest gift." She smiled, "I needed a new scarf, and now we match."
Sherlock nodded and couldn't help a smile. The two made their way to the party, with Jo-Ann showing off her new accessory… more then she showed off the Amethyst necklace.
The party came to an end, and the friends all said goodbyes and thanks for the gifts that were exchanged. Molly left first, saying she took the night-shift for Christmas Eve.
Bennett stayed at the apartment, since he and Jo-Ann were going on a date later that night. Mrs. Hudson retired to her flat downstairs, but Sherlock took an object from the mantelpiece and went to his room.
"You alright?" Jo-Ann called out, sitting next to her boyfriend.
"Yes just fine." Sherlock said coldly, slamming his bedroom door. Jo-Ann jumped a bit at the unexpected noise, but continued to talk with Bennett.
Sherlock sat on his bed, slumped over. He stared at the small box he held in his slender hands. It was a little box, wrapped in bright red paper and tied with a thick black rope. The shade of red matched the lipstick that Irene Adler wore when they first met…
"An unconscious association…" Sherlock thought.
He untied the thick black rope and opened the little box. But the contents surprised him completely…
The camera phone.
This phone was Ms. Adler's life! She said so herself… so why would she possibly part with it? Sherlock stared in disbelief, making sure it was the correct device… it was.
Mycroft Holmes sat by the burning fire place in his large living room… alone on Christmas was not a foreign situation to him. However his deep thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his mobile ringing, the mobile that was now protected by a sleek cell phone case. Looking at the caller ID, he was quite shocked to see that his little brother was calling him.
"Dear Lord… We're not going to have Christmas phone calls now, are we? Have they passed a new law?" the older Holmes teased.
"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight…" Sherlock said, not paying any attention to his brother's sarcastic behavior.
"We already know where she is… as you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters…" said Mycroft, walking over to the large, snow-covered window that let in the moonlight.
"No, I mean you're going to find her dead."
Within minutes, Sherlock and Mycroft strolled into St. Barts hospital after receiving a call from Molly Hooper. They walked into the morgue, where Molly was waiting for them with a corpse on the examination table.
"This is the only body that fit the description; I had it brought here to your home away from home." Mycroft said.
"You didn't need to come in, Molly." Sherlock said to her politely, ignoring his brother.
"I was working anyway… since everyone else is busy with… Christmas…" She replied. But shaking her head, she changed the subject, "The face is a bit… bashed up. So it-it might be difficult…" she said nervously. She pulled the sheet off the corpse's head to reveal a broken and damaged face. It was hardly recognizable.
"Is that her?" Mycroft asked Sherlock. Sherlock ignored him and told Molly,
"Show me the rest of her."
Molly blushed a bit, but pulled the sheet completely off the naked corpse. Sherlock glanced over the body and turned to leave.
"That's her." He answered, walking out of the morgue.
Sherlock stood outside the morgue, looking out over the snowy city through a frosted window. Sure, he was upset over Ms. Adler's death… she was quite interesting… she managed to destroy every theory he had about her, and break into his flat twice. She texted him over fifty times in the past month, and seemed to flirt with him for no reason at all… her death was saddening…
…But that wasn't what he was really upset about…
It was Jo-Ann… she managed to do it again.
She said she didn't love him.
Each time she said it, it hurt. Each time she acted like it, it hurt. Sherlock knew he wasn't in love with her… he didn't care about her that way. But for whatever stupid emotional reason…
It hurt… badly.
"I'm not his date... I'm not his date!... we're not a couple!... Oh no, no, no! I'm only Sherlock's assistant!... I don't love him!... no reason at all… It's not like we're 'a couple' or anything."
Each phrase echoed in his mind, leaving an impression on his heart…
"N…No… I don't have a heart." He told himself. For his whole life, he learned how to lock out feelings and not be affected by others. No matter what anyone said it him, it hardly made any kind of impact. So why did Jo-Ann's words scrape the surface?
He didn't love Jo-Ann… He was incapable of love…
"She doesn't love you." The voice inside told him once again.
"Shit." Sherlock cursed. But his inward conflict quieted down when he saw a cigarette being held next to his face from behind.
"Just the one." Mycroft told him, holding the cigarette to him.
"Why?" Sherlock asked coldly.
"It's Christmas." The brother explained. Sherlock had been smoke free for the past two months, but in his emotional state, he wanted that cigarette.
"Smoking indoors… isn't that one of those… one of those law things?" Sherlock asked quietly, taking the cigarette from Mycroft.
"We're in the morgue… there's only so much damage you can do." He answered, offering Sherlock a light. "How did you know she was dead?"
Sherlock breathed out the sweet cigarette smoke and continued to speak quieter than usual.
"She had an item in her possession. One she said her life depended on… and she chose to give it up."
"Where is this item now?" Mycroft questioned. Sherlock continued to smoke, taking his time. Instead of answering, however, he looked through to door to the morgue in the distance, seeing the crying 'family' of Ms. Adler.
"Look at them…" He said, turning in that direction. "They all care so much…"
Mycroft followed the gaze of his little brother and turned as well.
"Do you ever wonder if there is something wrong with us, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked randomly. Mycroft looked over at his brother with curiosity, and looked back at the crying family.
"All lives end. All hearts are broken." He said coldly, "caring is not an advantage… Sherlock."
The detective heard those exact words constantly growing up. Hard enough as it was to believe, the Holmes' father was worse than either of them when it came to heartlessness. Their parent's marriage was arranged, and their father felt no love. Sherlock breathed in more smoke, and realized it tasted weak.
"This is low tar." He complained about the cigarette.
"Well… You barely knew her." The older Holmes replied. The detective snorted.
"Merry Christmas, Mycroft." Sherlock said quietly, and walked towards the exit of the door.
"And a happy New Year." Mycroft finished.
Sherlock reached the busy streets, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground and crushing it with his shoe. The harsh, cool wind nipped at his sharp cheeks, and every breath could be seen. His thoughts drifted back to his childhood… all those times being told by his father, 'caring is not an advantage. It's a waste of time.' every time his father said those words, it sunk to the core of his young heart. His father was heartless… he didn't love Sherlock, Mycroft, or Mother… then the detective thought of a different factor…
His mother.
Ms. Violet Holmes was not like his father. She loved her husband, although no love seemed to be returned. Whenever Mr. Holmes scolded the young Sherlock, Violet would wait until he left the room, and rush over to her son.
"Caring is an advantage Sherlock… a person can't live without friends or family. You see all the fighting on the telly don't you?" His mother said sweetly, putting her long, curly brown hair behind her ear, and staring at him with the crystal blue eyes they shared. Seven year-old Sherlock nodded his head in response to his beloved mother.
"Why do you think those people fight?" she asked her son.
"…Because they don't like each other?" Sherlock suggested.
"That's right… If people took a moment, and cared about everyone, there wouldn't be any fighting." She brushed some of his curly hair out of his eyes and stroked his cheek. "I want you to love somebody someday… love makes all the difference in people's lives. Promise me you'll love somebody when you're older?"
Sherlock looked up at her lovely face that told him he had a heart.
"But I already love you!" He exclaimed, giving his mother a hug around the neck. She laughed and held him tightly in her grasp.
"I love you too, my dear Sherlock…"
Sherlock smiled at the memory, riding in a cab towards 221B Baker Street. He never said he promised did he… his mother passed away when he was eighteen, so she didn't see him with a woman before. Well with any kind of date for that matter… A few people considered being friends with him through childhood but never stayed with him for very long…
Was Jo-Ann different?
"Of course she is different!" Sherlock yelled in his mind, "No one has ever stuck with me so long… besides Lestrade, but that's only because he needs my help and he'll be fired if he can't solve cases… Jo-Ann needs me too, but it's different…
Isn't it?"
Now that Sherlock thought about it… when did Jo-Ann ever be around him just because? They are flatmates so it's kind of unavoidable to spend time together. She helped him on cases, but that's because she enjoys danger… She doesn't mind him following her or deducing things about her because she has nothing to hide. She likes violin music, so she doesn't mind when he plays songs while he thinks…
But what about the things she didn't like?
She hated it when Sherlock shot bullets in the wall late at night… and she hated when Sherlock refused to eat or sleep because it affected her as well… she hated when he did experiments in the kitchen. She hated it when he strolled in the door all bloody. And she hated it when she found body parts in the fridge…
So what did Jo-Ann Watson truly like about Sherlock Holmes?