Warnings: bumps
CHAPTER 11
John stood at the front door to Mary's flat. She had buzzed a neighbour to open up, as her keys were in her purse which was still sitting at 221B, along with her new shoes. John had a hand on both her shoulders, but she wasn't meeting his gaze.
"Mary, I'm so, so, sorry. Please know that."
…
"Are you ok? You didn't step on any glass, did you? I can go up and make a prescription, if you need it."
Mary's feet didn't look bloody, but there were a few holes in her stockings.
…
"Mary please talk to me."
"Come on, John!" Sherlock called impatiently through the open cab door. "Lestrade is waiting."
"Go, John."
"Mary I don't have to go… I can take care of you."
"I know you can… but… I'm not sure you want to right now."
"How can you say that? You are my darling girl."
"But, he is your darling boy." She glanced into John's face… and saw him falter.
Ah…. Damn. She straightened her shoulders. "You told me you had lived through enough danger and turmoil to last a lifetime. But, you still crave it. I thought I had helped you, but this…. all this…." She waved her hands around towards the waiting cab, "You look more alive in this moment than any time I've been with you." She blinked as tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
"Mary… please… This has been a frightful experience for all of us. Get inside and have a good long soak in the bath. Then, I want you to go straight to bed. No work tomorrow. Call in sick. Doctor's orders. Call me if you need to, but you will be safe here. No one followed us and they don't know about you… because it's Sherlock they are after."
He kissed her forehead, as the flat door opened behind them. He steered her inside. "Lock the door. Don't answer it for anyone tonight. I'll come by tomorrow."
The door closed. He dropped his head and didn't move.
Sherlock watched John's shoulders rise and fall deeply.Sigh number seven. Was that number any different than any other day? Of course it was.
Gladstone hopped out of the open cab door and jogged over to John, nudged his leg with his stocky body. He gazed up at his owner, looking all happy and excited to be on an adventure, tongue panting in time with his tail. He started back towards the cab and turned back to give John a sharp bark. John shook his head with one side of his mouth twisted in chagrin. He got back into the waiting cab, alongside the bulldog. They pulled away quickly, heading for New Scotland Yard.
"How are you going to do this, Sherlock?" John wasn't looking at his companion. He remained fixed on the dark London streets whizzing by outside the cab window.
"You mean how am I going to reintroduce myself to those who fell so blindly into Moriarty's plans?"
"You should know, Greg really tried to apologize. He felt sick after you…. He tried to keep in touch. Even invited me to help on a case… very quietly, of course, because the Chief Super seemed to still have it in for him. But, I just couldn't. It was your area and I had no right to… to try to…"
Resurrect me… in your own way?
"I have thought this over many times, John. And, while I would like to use all my resources exacting the perfect revenge of embarrassment, defamation and demotion, our present circumstances are going to require a different tact."
"So, you're forced to ask for their help."
"Obviously."
"Who the HELL are we dealing with, Sherlock?!" John's hands were fists and his angry gaze had turned to this… bloody nightmare of a man… thought John.
"Sebastian Moran. Ring any bells?"
John looked like he'd been slapped. "Oh my, God. By reputation, yes! I think I remember… He was known to my unit in Afghanistan. He was a crack shot, I believe… but he had a temper. We'd heard he'd gotten a disorderly conduct and was sent home."
"Indeed. However, he never quite made it home. Moriarty snatched him up and he had been in his employ these last few years. I suspect he was one of our riflemen that night at the pool… But now, we've been very lucky twice, to have his aim not find its mark."
The cab bounced over a sleeping policeman* and Gladstone whined from his uncomfortable place on the floor.
* an asphalt speed bump on the road, for those in North America!
