Authors Note:So I had way too many troubles with this site trying to post this chapter yesterday, apologies my sweets. To prevent making a liar of myself, today will be the day I'll update twice instead! Look for the second part later tonight!
You already know more about how this argument plays out than I do
Of course he did. John had been mad about being used as a lab rat and it turns out those were amoung the last few days he'd get with the great detective. Thinking about wasting them being angry sent a rather nasty wave of nausea through him.
Wasted time. There was so much of it and you never said he thought bitterly.
"My brother was the one to send me to Florida, to a treatment center whose patient recovery percentages were much higher than average. Though I suspect his main motivation was to put as large a distance as possible between myself and some of my… less than savoury connections. I mostly got the impression it was moronically expensive but that's Mycroft for you, insufferable wanker. Florida didn't agree with me, I'll leave you to imagine what all that damn sun did to my complexion and sand is simply irritating without the proper equipment to test the mineral content. It's like my brother wanted my mind to rot. I do not want to bore you with stories from rehab, none of them are particularly good or interesting, I dare say even you couldn't make a blog about them. I would like to tell you about a particular woman I met on one of the out-patient trips about four months into my stay. You of course already know Mrs. Hudson now, but then she went by Mrs. Lawrence. "
John did not forget how Sherlock had explained his relationship with his landlady when they'd first met. Not the kind of thing one forgot easily.
"Yes John, that was more or less the first thing I deduced about her in the middle of the road. Said it was blatantly obvious her husband was abusing her and was most likely guilty of whatever he was in jail for. Do you know what she did? Patted me on the arm and had me round for tea."
It was just like the detective to sound so amused and pleased at finding someone who wasn't put off by the rapid fire deductions the man could make at any given second. Could have made. Tenses.
"Richard Lawrence was scum John. I know Donovan and Anderson and everyone at the Yard expects me to appreciate a good criminal but there was nothing respectable about that man. Scum John, absolute scum. Touching Mrs. Hudson like that, I find I am glad you will never have to live with the images of bruises as I do my dear doctor. Richard Lawrence was in need of a few falls out of window much higher than ours. Such a petty man, always trying to prove how much power he had. Money, muscle men to do the heavy lifting, a taste for the expensive things. All wrong for Mrs. Hudson but it was a marriage that had gone bitter long ago. The man just didn't like to let go of what he thought of as his property. It is intolerable to think about John, I'm going to choose not to dwell for both our sakes. It won't do to have you come home to more bullet holes in the wall. I'm trying not to make you angry, in case you haven't noticed where I am."
John hadn't, not at the time.
"Turns out she'd been fighting to get his sentence held but they didn't have much evidence. Nasty string of murders, typical of a man with a temper like Richard Lawrence had- absolutely no thought whatsoever he was relying on hired goons to clean up the mess. Mrs. Hudson had agreed to testify against him so obviously her safety was an important factor to consider. Even then I was rather against seeing her in distress, which was new for me. Fortunate really seeing as I was the only one who noticed the ring imprint on one of the victims stomachs, clearly matched the class ring her husband had. Apparently the stupidity of the police is not limited to London. Pity."
John couldn't help a small laugh at the amused wry voice that was only too pleased with the state of law enforcement. He almost didn't think about what the state of law enforcement would end up pushing the same voice into in a matter of weeks. Almost.
"I got her to convince her lawyers to get me the chance to speak with him and I deliberately agitated him. Apparently he has the same subtext as you but that was rather the point. I managed to get him to hit me with enough force to leave a similar bruise pattern and to place himself at the scene. Mrs. Hudson was rather unnecessarily grateful, gave me her information before she moved back here to be close to her sister. I found out much later, long after I'd be released that she was renting out a set of flats she'd purchased with what was left of her husband's money. One of them is that rather dreadful basement you saw, and the other was 221B. For which I feel I may be rather unnecessarily grateful for having found, as it was just about flatmates in the start wasn't it John?"
I don't know, we were just flatmates for all of five minutes before you dragged me off to that crime scene.
"Hmm perhaps not then, you were always the exception John and it doesn't do the story any good to forget that. My return to London, that was two months after meeting Mrs. Hudson and roughly five years before I met you. This was when I started The Work. The case in Florida gave my brain something to do, a puzzle to work out. Cleared away some of that sewage water from the Mind Palace, better almost than cocaine had. Better almost, the effects feel vastly different even if they are chemically similar. Puzzles are exciting, it's finding out how things tick. The drugs never amplified any part of me, if that makes sense to you. Puzzles do that, they make all my other pieces fall into place and make sense. Do you think of me as a puzzle in and of myself John? I've always liked the idea but it has seemed too foolish to ask in the past. It was just nice, to be good at something without having to sham who I was. I wanted more of them so I hacked into the Yard's security system and solved a few cases for them. Then I just started turning up at scenes, it was truly that easy John."
The doctor didn't doubt the ease with which Sherlock worked his way into Lestrade's good graces. No one ever really won an argument with Sherlock Holmes, especially when it came to cases.
"I would get there and stand behind that infernal yellow tape and everything would be so obvious to me. I couldn't imagine how they weren't seeing it, all the little details just floating around the body. Adulterer by the wedding ring, social anxiety disorder in the finger nails, primary teacher what with the bits of acrylic paint in the hair, not suicide if the cuts on the wrist were that deep. Obvious. What was lurking around their tiny little heads is beyond me. They weren't even interesting cases John, I just solved them to quiet all the noise," Sherlock told him without sounding annoyed about such an inconvenience the way John remembered. He tried not to imagine what the noise sounded like but that didn't really work. Then the doctor tried to imagine what it did sound like and that might have been worse. Remembering all the people in the pub, the dust in the flat, the creak of the windows as the wind beat against them outside.
Small distractions that most people missed. Sherlock Holmes was not most people and he most certainly never missed anything.
Authors Note: Please let me know what you think! Also, did I mention I've already written the last message? Because I have and I fear a few of you may hate me afterwards. Alas, there are still a few chapters before you need to worry about that!
