Author Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my usual but since I'm not using the episodes any more they are going to be a lot shorter. At this point, I think there are only going to be a couple more chapters. We'll see if that changes or not.
Also...it was two years ago today that I first posted this story. WOW! I didn't plan that at all. The years sure fly by, don't they?
Warning: One last spoiler for series 3
Disclaimer: Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt
Chapter 11: The Unusual Reunion
"So…the caretaker poisoned him?"
"Yes. He increased the dosage of his medicine over a period of time and that is what caused his heart failure."
"Huh. If you're sure…"
"The motive was revenge. They shared some connection before becoming patient and caretaker. Look into their past history and you'll find what you need."
"Alright. I'll do that. Thanks for the help."
"Hmmm." There was a long pause and he knew just what was coming.
"…Is he…?" Lestrade trailed off. There was no real need to ask. L turned away, ready to head back to Baker Street.
"L…" Lestrade started to call after him but L didn't stop. He trudged on, heading for the main street. He slowed just long enough for his tag along to catch up. The man had kept quiet while L worked the case but as always he couldn't contain his amazement for long.
"Wow. All that from the creases and stains in his shirt. Amazing." Anderson praised, mostly to himself. L blocked him out, used to the man's manic ramblings.
It wasn't amazing, not really. Sherlock would have gotten so much more. Would have solved it faster.
L gritted his teeth but didn't let his blank expression falter as they passed some officers. There it was again. The lingering looks, full of pity and sadness. He could feel them boring into his back, burrowing under his skin and eating away at him.
Stop it!
He wanted to yell and scream. They didn't understand. He didn't need it. None of it. He was fine. Sherlock wasn't dead. He wasn't deluding himself. He knew he was out there. He was certain.
The former forensic agent thought the same but it wasn't true faith that drove him but guilt. He didn't want it to be true. He didn't want to be one of the causes of Sherlock's death. L didn't blame the man. The man blamed himself enough. It cost him his job and some of his sanity. He was loyal though, seeing L as Sherlock's legacy and substitute while the man was off in the world doing whatever the man theorized. L knew that he was safe with him. Lestrade couldn't always be there with him after all. The man still had a job to do and L wasn't going to tempt fate by wandering London alone. The wrongness never went away though.
"Isn't that…?"
The incomplete question broke through his thoughts. L looked up from the sidewalk to follow Anderson's gaze. His feet slowed to a stop without his consent but he barely noticed. He stared a moment then turned away, continuing on. He could hear the question forming in Anderson's head but he just sped up before he could ask it. The man scrambled after him, no choice but to follow.
The sight of John's solemn figure on the park bench wouldn't leave his head though. It was a familiar sight and yet it was becoming more and more rare. The pain in his eyes told him enough. The doctor wouldn't be home again tonight. It didn't even hurt anymore. He was used to it and he didn't blame him.
John had followed him on cases in the beginning. He didn't really want to but he did for L's sake. The proud smile would always turn sad. Every time he spotted the scarf and every time people stared at L in awe while he solved a case. L had hated it but let John think he didn't notice. He didn't have to pretend for long anyway. It was a short time before he caught only little glances of the doctor during the day and sometimes not even that.
The flat was so quiet without the clinking of beakers and the boiling of the kettle. There was no longer any wafting tunes from the violin or soft typing from the laptop. Both were left abandoned. Even those moments when John was in the flat, it was dead silent. At least there wasn't the clacking of a cane. There was a good long while when it seemed John was going to need it again. However, he pushed on and the limp in his step subsided. L wondered whether it was his refusal to show his grief to others that urged him on in that battle.
The doctor's absence was almost preferable in a way. This way he wouldn't have to see the grief he fought so hard to contain. John always turned away everyone in his usual polite, distant way and L was no exception. He couldn't really help even though he wanted to.
He got used to it all. The distance, the solitude, the frustration and the helplessness. He even got used to the stares and how he never saw Mrs. Hudson's brightest smile. It all fell away and he was left feeling empty. He wondered when was the last time he smiled but the same could be said of John. He didn't stop though. He kept taking on whatever cases came his way. There were still people desperate enough to rely on a child and Lestrade slipped him a small case or two.
The solemn, pained look on the inspector's face no longer got to him but that didn't stop it from coming back. Everyone he knew shared that look around him. It was something L couldn't help. Being so similar to the consulting detective was once something good, though some would argue otherwise, and it wasn't about to change.
It was impossible for John to be oblivious to the distance forming between him and L. It was all his fault really. He still cared for the boy immensely but…
It was just too much at times. That spark of genius in his eyes and the flash of dark hair as he passed by that always had him turning to look, hoping to see dark curls and sharp cheekbones. The intelligent monotone and his quirks, though different, brought memories of gunshots, experiments and rants to mind. It felt like the familiar once homely walls were crowding in on him, sucking the breath from lungs that already ached from the sobs he buried deep. He lost count of the times he nearly moved somewhere else and part of him wondered whether he would have even taken L with him. He was disgusted with himself but that didn't change anything either. Nothing changed for a good long while.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was about a year and a half after that awful day that the new normalcy shifted. John started to change. Healed might have been pushing it but he started to look softer and not from sorrow. L soon learned why when John introduced him to Mary Morstan. He was glad to finally see John's smile though it still wasn't as bright as it could be. He saw instantly what John saw in her. She was pretty and nice but it was the brilliance that drew him in. The sharp mind that reminded him of the one that he truly longed for and still missed with all his heart. He must have thought this woman was the key to moving on as much as he could. L sat there and observed her, doing just what Sherlock would have done.
The way she held herself was casual, showing a lot of confidence in what was supposed to be a somewhat nerve-wracking situation. That wasn't necessarily abnormal given how Sherlock was. She moved about the room too easily though, as if she had been there before. Even L sometimes bumped into things at the flat but she seemed aware of every little thing. She didn't trip over the rug, didn't knock her knees on the table or chairs or even displace anything.
Beyond all that, knowing John, there had to be something more to her. John tried but he just couldn't settle for someone ordinary. That's why he was Sherlock's best friend. The thrilling life they lived and loved wouldn't let him settle for the ordinary for long. Mary had held his attention for some time. There was something there and he had a good idea just what it was. It was a shame really but there wasn't much of L left to really feel the regret. He supposed he should've been concerned about that.
"Mrs. Hudson told me she made some snacks for us. I'll be right back." John said, heading for the stairs. L waited a second then finally dropped his friendly air.
"I don't know what you want but it would be best that you left John alone." Mary's smile fell.
"What are you-?"
"You're not who you say you are. I won't pry or even mention it unless I have to. John is grieving. I won't let you use that to your advantage."
Mary stood up and dropped the act. L saw in the way she held herself that she was really dangerous, more so than Irene Adler. However, she was rational enough to know that it would be foolish to do anything to him.
"My what a perceptive child you are."
"I learned from the best."
"Yes, I heard about this Sherlock Holmes."
"Then you know that John won't dismiss me so easily if I mention it and even if he does, I can get others involved."
"Mycroft Holmes, you mean." She was proud of how much she knew and L could admit it was impressive.
"You know a lot. Makes me wonder why you'd risk going for John."
"Would you believe me if I told you I simply liked him?"
"Perhaps…but even so-"
"You still won't leave me be?"
"No."
"Very protective, aren't you?"
"Nothing wrong with that." Mary smiled at that but didn't drop her guard. She paused for a moment.
"You won't mention anything if I simply leave?"
"As long as you don't give me a reason to."
"Don't worry. I've started over. You won't hear from me again." L nodded, satisfied.
"Be gentle, please."
"Of course. Dear John deserves as such."
Thankfully, it was very early in John and Mary's relationship so John wasn't hurt too bad when Mary faked a family emergency that led to her moving to another part of the country. John didn't have a full relapse either, which was a relief to everyone. He was able to spend time with L again.
It was never for too long or anything really meaningful. They never really talked and L was sure that neither was making much of a difference for the other. Still, he was there. It was something L was starting to think wouldn't happen again. It was nice but…not as moving as it should have been. Perhaps, John wasn't the only one that needed healing after all. Such concerns were often dismissed or perhaps he just couldn't work up enough worry to do something about them. Whatever the case, they continued on, falling into a new normalcy. This time it lasted even shorter than the last one.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It had seemed like such an average day when he saw him. Nothing hinted that such a momentous event was going to occur and yet it did. L couldn't even dismiss it as him seeing things. He knew it was real. He wasn't alone and John clearly saw him too when the doctor finally stopped to look.
Honestly, L was expecting some grand entrance. Something dramatic to bring back all the adrenaline of the old days. A sudden rescue or the man appearing out of thin air to solve a major crime at the last second when no one else could. Or maybe even just a disguise to test L and see if he would spot him. Instead they find him sitting on a bench in the park. He had clearly been waiting for them. It wasn't even a question how he knew they would be there.
Sherlock stood up to meet them but John couldn't seem to move. Sherlock spared L a lingering glance but he couldn't keep his eyes off John for long. He took in the doctor's face with eager eyes, face softening with warmth and fondness. The weariness that hung from his shoulders slipped away as he was finally reunited with his precious friend.
"Hello John."
Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity then…
"You bastard!"
John yelled, punching his not dead friend in the face. Caught off guard, Sherlock hit the ground hard. The detective tensed as John followed him down, anticipating another punch. His breath was knocked out of him as the man collided with his chest. He sat stunned as John hugged him tightly while straddling him.
"All this time you were alive and you never-" His voice choked off but Sherlock couldn't see his face to confirm whether he was actually crying or just holding it in like he always did. John clearly understood what it meant that Sherlock had faked his death but that didn't make it okay in the slightest.
"How could you go off on your own like that? I thought we were…we were friends."
"I was trying to keep you safe." Sherlock's voice was almost too soft to hear but John was close enough.
"So it's only okay if it's just your life at risk?" Some of the anger came back but John didn't act on it and it didn't last long.
"No, Sherlock, it's not. You could have died out there and I never would have known how or when." John gritted his teeth, clearly pained by the thought.
"I never want you putting your life at risk without me." Sherlock went to protest.
"We can watch each other's back like before…please Sherlock." He hugged him tighter. "I can't go through that again. I can't lose you."
The fact that John was admitting such a thing so easily really hammered in how serious he was, how devastated he had been. Sherlock carefully placed a hand on the doctor's back and caught L's gaze.
The boy's expression was blank but there was a faint spark of relief in his eyes. He had already heard from Mycroft that L firmly believed he was alive but even then it certainly wasn't the reaction he was expecting. It concerned him but he focused on John for the moment. It didn't look like the doctor was going to be letting go for some time. Sherlock didn't mind in the slightest. He wrapped his arm around him and relished the contact and warmth. He was never really one for physical contact but after all the beatings and torture…a simple hug soothed him to the very depths of his being.
John was still furious with Sherlock no matter how relieved and beyond overjoyed he was to see him. L was surprised he didn't kick him out of Baker Street for a bit. Instead, they made the journey back together. Their recent, long separation was clear to anyone in their closeness even with the lingering tension. They barely left room for their arms with how close they walked, as if they couldn't bear to be apart any longer. He almost expected them to trip over each other or even link arms. It would have been quite the sight to be sure.
Mrs. Hudson screamed when she saw Sherlock but the tears were of pure joy. She hugged him with all her might. Sherlock complained about it but no one bought it for a second. They all let him though, taking in the sight of him and the sound of his voice. Sherlock wanted to go right into explaining what happened with Moriarty on the roof but John wasn't quite ready for it yet. It made sense really. There was only so much the doctor could take and seeing Sherlock alive and well was more than enough.
It was early evening but John was emotionally exhausted so they retired for the night though John was reluctant to part with his friend. Sherlock's room had been left undisturbed. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't even go in there to dust so there was quite the buildup. Sherlock opted to stay on the couch that night and he did intend to use it. He put on a front for John but he was actually rather exhausted himself. He was still recovering from all that he went through. It really shouldn't have been a surprise then that his sleep was troubled and short.
Sherlock jerked awake in the middle of the night, panting and sweating. It seemed that particular memory was resilient to his deletion. He'd have to work harder with it. His still pounding heart jumped when he saw L watching him. The boy was crouching on the coffee table much like a gargoyle, staring unblinking at him with a thumb resting against his lips.
It was still rather jarring to see him again, to see how he had grown while he was gone. He was taller of course and was still rather pale. His face was starting to lose some of its roundness, starting its journey towards mature and grown up. The bags under his eyes were much darker and his hunch was more pronounced. John must have neglected his job of making sure L slept and sat properly.
Sherlock frowned at that, not liking the implications. The boy wasn't skin and bones though. It was a relief that he hadn't starved, which would have been impossible with Mrs. Hudson around and L's own ability to take care of himself. Sherlock still hated what he saw. The evidence of John's pain and one of the consequences of Sherlock's actions.
"Are you taking care of them?" L finally spoke. His voice was quiet, which was appropriate for that time of night. He didn't question the nightmare Sherlock clearly had and he showed no surprise.
"Of what?" Sherlock asked, sitting up.
"Your injuries. If you won't let John know then you have to take care of them yourself."
Sherlock stared, speech escaping him for a moment. L silently looked him over. Sherlock understood then what it felt like to be under his own piercing stare. He didn't doubt that the boy saw everything. The signs of torture and trauma. He could hide them from John but it was too late to hide from L. The boy really had grown, hadn't he? He was both impressed and ashamed. He didn't want either to see or know what he had been through.
"I won't tell John." L said, cutting into his thoughts as if he were a mind reader. He supposed in a way he was, though he always hated that comparison.
The boy stared coolly at him, taking everything in. Then finally his expression softened. Sherlock felt his heart ease, grateful to see it. He understood to a degree. Being surrounded by such grief must have been overwhelming, especially since it was expected for the boy to match it. It must have been so isolating. He didn't blame him for retreating into himself and getting lost.
Sherlock didn't address it right then. He knew L was aware. It might take time but…
He smiled and reached out. L didn't react but didn't pull away either when Sherlock ran his fingers through that still unruly hair. It was a comforting sensation that he hadn't even known he missed.
"How about a game of chess?"
It was still raw underneath but they fell back into a sort of normalcy seemingly unconsciously. John still had moments where he just had to stand and breath, as if he had to stop himself from unraveling at the seams once more. Sherlock would silently watch the doctor pull himself together bit by bit. He never said a word; he simply soaked up the sight of it all. He was responsible. He had to face it. He had to see just how much he had hurt John..
L learned that Molly had helped Sherlock fake his death. He wasn't exactly surprised but hadn't really gone out of his way to think about her enough to deduce it either. The poor woman clearly expected some kind of retribution from him and John for keeping it a secret.
John felt some of the anger come back when he learned she knew Sherlock was alive while he couldn't know. He didn't let himself be irrational about it so he kept it to himself and told her there was nothing to forgive. Whether she believed him or not was another thing. She always was hard on herself.
Sherlock started taking up cases again almost immediately. It was just the sort of thing L expected from him. Despite all they had went through, Sherlock just wasn't the type to sit around. It helped that Lestrade took his return so well. Sherlock certainly hadn't been expecting the hug and seem too shocked to refuse it. John was unable to jump right back into cases just yet. Sherlock didn't push him. He would give him a sad stare while the doctor's back was turned then leave.
L had no issue tagging along. Sherlock had been appalled when he learned that L had been stuck with Anderson of all people. The change in the man gave him pause but, even so, he wouldn't let the man tag-along, at least not officially. If the man happened to be there at a crime scene, Sherlock wasn't going to send him away but he wouldn't tolerate him for long if he got annoying. L felt excitement bloom in his chest, as much as he was able to. It was time for L to show Sherlock what he was capable of.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Why couldn't you just listen to me?"
"And let him get away?"
"I'm sure catching him was worth drowning yourself."
"I hardly drowned, John."
"Luckily. You jumped off a bloody bridge."
"He would have gotten away."
"Better than you catching pneumonia. Lestrade would have found him later."
"He-"
"Shut up and eat your soup."
John's voice was stern but there was such love and fondness in eyes. It was like it had never happened. Those two years were barely a memory anymore. They no longer hesitated to tease and joke with each other like they used to. It was something L didn't fully realize he missed until that moment. He watched John practically smother Sherlock with a large, fluffy towel as he tried to get the detective to eat his soup. Sherlock wasn't cooperating, making a fuss over the treatment.
"I'm not a baby to be coddled, John."
"I know many people who would disagree."
There was a stirring in L's chest. It grew and grew until laughter bubbled up from the pit and poured out uncontrollably. Tears soon followed it. The laughter and tears joined together, making a real mess. It seemed never ending and was beyond late but he felt so much lighter now that it was all finally coming out. John and Sherlock said nothing. They let him cry with soft looks on their faces. Soon they moved to him as if pulled by a string. The tears fell harder as he felt their warmth by his sides. Then he felt hands on his head and back.
It was real. It was good. It was how it was supposed to be.
Author Note: I struggled a lot with the chapter at some parts, so much so I feel mentally drained, so I couldn't think of anything else to write and that was the perfect ending for it so sorry if it felt too short or lacking.
I might repost the chapter if I'm hit with a brilliant idea so be on the look out for that.
I like Mary in the show but at the same time I don't like how she got in the way of the two. She did try to help them maintain how they were so points to her for that :)
But I still think L wouldn't let a former assassin stay with John. Lot of risk comes with that.
Also I don't know how i feel about all the uses of "normalcy" in this. Maybe I'll change that later. I didn't want to sit on the chapter any longer without posting it.
I like how the reunion was unusual because it was so normal :D
Please Review.
