Numbness.
That's what he feels.
The only person who helps him when he needed someone the most. Is dead. Laura Watson is the mother he wished he had. She is kind, helpful, firm, playful, the perfect mother. She gets him to eat. She helps him in his problems. She is the only friend he had before he met John.
Dead.
She's dead.
"No." He says.
"Sherl-" John's voice cracks.
"No," he says quietly, standing up. His hands fly up to his hair as he paces around the corridor. "No no no! This cannot happen!" He tells Mary and John.
"Sherlock, sit, please..." Mary says, patting the space between her and John.
He does so. He buries his head on his hands and so he and John look the same.
Sad and horrified.
"This can't happen..." John says beside him.
"Your mother is beyond human. Maybe they got it all wrong..." He says to himself.
"I'm gonna be a doctor, Sherl. From what I've seen... this isn't... it's..." John sniffs.
The realisation of John's grief enters his brain.
"John! I'm sorry..." he wipes his face, trying to remove the tears in his eyes. "I didn't think..." he says. "Your mom..."
"I know, Sherlock. I know..." John nods.
"Your dad?" He asks.
"Driving here from Cardiff."
A flash of light distracts him from John. Seems like he isn't the only one who noticed. Mary looks around as well. John still has his face buried in his head.
He sees a nurse walk with a knife. He is ready to attack the man when the nurse pockets the knife and he takes out an envelope from his pocket. As he walks past them, he removes his grip from the envelope, dropping it in front of Sherlock.
A message. Another one. With the same woman's writing. Casmir scent again. "John..."
John sniffs, "Yeah?" John sits up in alarm when he realises what he has in his hands.
Is this James Moriarty's doing?
"Open it." John says in his murderous military voice.
He does so immediately.
'Did you like it?
JM x.'
"I'm going to kill that arsehole." John mutters and he knows John can actually do that. "I'm going to the back of the hospital. Get some air. Breathe it in." John stands up and leaves, leaving Mary and him alone.
He looks at her. She looks at John's retreating form with a sad look in her eyes.
"Who did you hear it from?" He asks. She looks at him, confused.
"Hear what?"
"About my relationship with John's mother?"
He can see she's hiding something but he doesn't know what it is. "John told me."
He laughs darkly, "Don't, Miss Morstan. Just don't. John doesn't even know his mother is my doctor... was my doctor... So, truth. Now."
Mary's eyes changes. Cold. Calculating. Uncaring. "One Mycroft Holmes."
"Mycroft?" he is going to murder his brother.
"Yes. Your brother told me she was your doctor."
"Mycroft kidnapped you."
"Yes. This morning, really."
"Why would he tell you that?"
"It was by the time Mrs. Watson was... you know... He told me to probably warn you."
"Did he say anything else?"
"No. Nothing else." Liar. The realisation hits him with full force. What does Mary want to protect to herself? He will find out what. Mary smiles at him. Her eyes soften and she rubs his back. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I am okay."
"Sherlock..."
"Really. I'm fine." He smiles.
"Sherlock..."
"I am in complete control. She's just my doctor."
"Sherlock, I'm not John. I can tell when you're fibbing."
"Fine. Fine. I'm not. I've grown fond of her." She helped me get through my parents' punishments and such. She had been my only friend until I met John. She talked to me a bunch of times. She stopped me from killing my parents.
"There's more, isn't there?" she asks him.
"John." He says and Mary's hand recoils.
"What about him?"
"I'm worried for him. He only gets out to breathe when he's completely depressed." He lets out a breath. "Thought it's only been a few minutes, I'd say let's go get him before he gets it..." He tells her as he stands up.
"Get what?" Mary asks.
Oh. He forgot that he is the only one who knows about John's possible alcoholism.
"Problems..." he answers.
As the two walks down the corridor. "Sherlock. You may not trust me but you can trust me on one thing. Trust my love for John. I would never let him leave me. Please understand. There is nothing in this world I would not do, to stop that happening." She tells him like a woman on a mission.
"You know who's writing for Moriarty."
Mary pauses for a nanosecond. He's right. Of course he's right. There is no doubt about Mary's slight pause.
"An old friend..." she answers. "We crossed paths."
"But you're not gonna tell me." he tries to use a little strategy.
"Why wouldn't I?" she asks.
"Because seeing that John is starting to spend more time with me. I'd say your obsession with John prevents you for accepting that I am a part of him."
Mary looks at him. "I'm not obsessed with him. I love him."
"Then, will you help me?"
"She's called The Woman. Her real name is Irene Adler. Not an alias... I'm just as surprised as you are. Not entirely violent... More likely... Dominant..." she shakes her head as she chuckles.
"You were actual old friends."
"Yes, we were. But a certain man broke things." She breathes. "Anyway, what do you mean about John's problems?"
"It'd be best if he tells you about it rather than I."
They finally get out of the hospital. He leads Mary to a nearby pub where John is standing near the door.
"JOHN!" He yells and runs to him.
John blinks at him and wipes his eyes. "Yes, Sherl?"
"Let's get you home." He tells him. "Mary, bring him to his house, if you please."
"I-I can't..." John says. "Dad is coming to the hospital. So's Harry. I can't just leave. I have to tell them the news." John looks at him and his eyes soften somehow. "I didn't, Sherlock. It's fine. I stopped before it happened."
'Good God. I've seen Harriet Watson drunk. Goodness knows a drunk Watson is not good.'
"Alright..." he says.
Mary wraps an arm around John and pulls him into a hug. John hugs her back and nuzzles his face on his hair.
He looks at the two. He smiles at the sight in front of him. John's gonna be fine. If it is with Mary Morstan - or whatever her name is - then so be it.
"No." John's father says.
"Don't shit with us, John." Harry says, pointing a finger at him.
"Why would I joke about this, huh?" John half-yells and breathes to keep himself calm. Always the composed soldier. He's fascinated with the way John moves. All the time. John isn't just a boring average man. He's more than that.
The three ends up whispering their arguments. He forgets that they're in the hospital and these three respect the patients.
The Watsons said their goodbyes to one Laura Watson.
John tells him he could say goodbye as well but he can't. It would be too real. One of the few people who defended him is dead. He can't bare to see her dead. Why? Because it's probably his fault. He became too obvious.
He practically gave her no choice but to tell Mycroft about his unfortunate life.
The guilt consumes him.
'It's not your fault,' mental-John says.
Mental-John has always been wrong. So he doesn't listen to him.
"I'm gonna get to the bottom of this," he tells John.
"She's dead, Sherl. We can't do anything about that." John answers him.
He feels himself deflate at John's comment. John gives up. "You'll get through this."
"I know. Why does it have to be like this though? The very moment my mother and I are finally reconnecting after all these years, she dies. No. she's murdered. There must be something wrong going on with my luck."
But the only thing he thinks is that this is all his fault. He got John's mother dead. Because of his enemies. This is exactly why he left John the first time.
He consults Mycroft and Greg's father. He tells them of James Moriarty and what he has deduced.
Greg's father has been helping him for the past weeks because Greg told his father what he is capable of.
He helps the police with a case. And now he has to stay clean. Of course, Mycroft doesn't know about that deal.
Solve Cases = Cold Turkey.
He'll never hear the end of it. Of course he finds out that Mycroft is already in the case.
He has to protect his friends and their loved ones.
(03:29pm)
The deed is done. JM.
(03:31pm)
Good.
(03:33pm)
I'll be checking what happens for the next few weeks and months. I'll make sure you're not a disappointment.
(03:36pm)
Rest assured, I am never a disappointment.
He has been feeling like shit. Good thing Mary is there to be with him. He's been staying at her house. He, Harry and his father had a... quite unpleasant conversation and so he left the house. A weight lifted. He's had enough of Harry's and his father's drinking problems and he would rather not disappoint his mother by drinking with them.
He's going to be a doctor now. He can't afford to be an alcoholic.
It's been weeks since his mother died. He's feeling okay about it all but something's not right.
He's been having nightmares.
Mary helped him get a therapist named Ella. They've had talks but she never got to help him.
The nightmares are usually gunshots, him running towards something, him chasing a bunch of people, him seeing James Moriarty in Sherlock's hospital room with snipers on his chest. Everything.
He wakes up with these dreams which keeps him awake all the time.
A new letter arrives:
'You did this.'
And this time. It's another person's handwriting. As far as he deduced, it's James Moriarty's handwriting.
He sneaks out in the middle of the night as Mary sleeps on the bed. He looks at her, seeing her beautiful skin makes him want to taste it again. He kisses her forehead and heads out of the house.
That is, he sees Kate, Mary's neighbour and friend, crying outside of their house.
"Kate?" he asks.
"I'm sorry. I know it's late. But..." she sighs.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"It's Isaac, my brother... He's gone again..."
"Oh no. Where do you think he's gone off to?"
She gives out a strong face, "Shooting up probably." Then her face breaks into a cry. "There's no hope for him. He doesn't want to be helped. I tried talking but he won't."
God knows what he felt when Sherlock was doing drugs.
Speaking of the man, he hasn't seen Sherlock for a long time.
"But where is he?" he asks.
She gives him a quizzical look but she looks at a distance, "There's a house. It's a dump. I mean, it's basically falling down."
"No, the address. Where exactly?"
And that's how he got into a drug den. He enters it with caution. He's a recent adult so he has to be careful. There are lots of junkies here. He knows what kind of reaction they'll have on seeing him.
A man stops him, "Oi. w'ere you a'?"
"Here for a friend. A very specific friend. I'm not just browsing."
"Leave. No one's allowed 'ere."
"Won't be long. Isaac Whitney. Have you seen him?" The man pulls out a knife and tells him to leave.
Then he loses his patience and thinks, 'Fuck this shit.' He them slams the man's right hand down to his arm. He wraps a hand around the man's neck and slams him to the wall. He uses his foot to sweep the man's feet under him.
Oh he misses doing this. Usually he does this to Sherlock's bullies. Moran. And recently, he wants to do it to Moriarty. Well, something worse than that, at least. After uni, he'll try to go to the army. That's a great idea.
He finds Isaac and helps him go home.
When he saw John in the drug den, he thought it was the end of him. But he was wrong.
John wasn't there for him. He was there for the person next to him. Isaac, he thinks his name was.
He sees how John interacts with Isaac. Calculating, like a soldier and a doctor.
He's fine. John is doing fine. That's good.
'Heard about how lovely your parents are. They're nice people.
I love them. Do you?'
The letter mocks him.
He always suddenly receives letters such as these out of nowhere. It's getting out of hand.
But this time it's different. There's a postscript.
'PS. Call me.'
Another piece of paper is inserted with James Moriarty's number, probably.
He knocks at the doors of 221B. He goes here a lot of times to eat and talk with Mrs. Hudson. The poor woman needs the company. Goodness knows her husband gave her quite the headache.
"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson exclaims. "What's wrong, dear?" she asks.
"Can I move in here? I'll ask for my brother to pay the rent..." he looks down in shame. He hates asking his brother for anything. But he's desperate. He doesn't want to live in the streets anymore.
He's been giving John some space. His mother just died. He can't help if they're both grieving.
No. He can't grieve. Dr. Laura Watson wasn't his mother. She's just his doctor. Nothing more. He doesn't have the right to grieve.
"Of course dear. It's all fine. Oh dear, what have you been up to?"
"Let's go on a date," John tells her all of a sudden.
"What?" she asks.
John laughs, "It's been two months since my mother died, Mary. I think I'm more than capable of leaving the house. Your house." he adds, laughing. "I don't know how you pay for a flat..."
"I have my connections..." she winks at him.
"Humour me."
"Nope."
"Fine. Tonight. Seven o'clock. Okay?"
"Perfect. Are you going to tell me where we're going or do I have to guess what clothes to wear?" she asks him.
"Just normal dinner. Nothing fancy. We're going to Angelo's."
"Oh. Okay." John leans to kiss her.
"Don't be late."
She laughs, "I won't. Promise."
"What have you been doing, Sherlock? You look absolutely terrible."
"I'm quite aware of my physical appearance, Mrs. Hudson. Your observation is unnecessary."
"You clearly need to hear it, young man. Now, go take a shower. I'm gonna make a cuppa."
He laughs and calls Mycroft.
"Pleasant day, brother mine."
"Cut the formalities, dear brother. Pay the rent in 221B."
"Quite demanding of you now, are we? Don't forget your manners, Sherlock."
"You're not my mother. Now, do it."
"Why should I?"
"Fine. Alright. I'm just gonna go to the nearest drug dealer and-"
"Ahhh, threatening me with your substance abuse. I see. Are you really that desperate to ask for my help but too egotistical not to actually ask me?"
"Mycroft. I am perfectly capable of standing up from the very armchair you see me in. Yes I know where the cameras are, dear brother. And you know I am able to find a dealer out there who is more than willing to get me what I need."
"And how do you think you're going to pay to said dealer?"
"I can be pretty persuasive."
"Use your charms again?"
"Is that what you call manipulation now? Why, Mycroft! How charming you are." He laughs.
Mycroft sighs in the other line. "I'll help you with this little problem unless you stay clean, are we clear?"
"Yes, sir..." he mocks and hangs up.
(07:26pm)
Hello, Sherlock. :D
(07:31pm)
Now now, Sherlock. Is this a way to treat friends?
(07:33pm)
Dear me, Sherlock. Stop playing hard to get to dear old Jim.
John sits in front of her, eating away with a relaxed look in his eyes.
"You look calmer." she tells him.
"I feel calmer."
"You were moping around last night..." he gives her a look. "Have to be honest, John. You look the complete opposite of how you looked like last night."
"If we're to be honest with each other. I ran out last night and found Kate's brother in a drug den."
"Why were you in a drug den last night?" she asks, stopping dinner. She crosses her arms and gives John a stern look.
John simply shrugs. "I was being neighbourly.."
"What if something happened to you?"
He laughs, "Mary. Sherlock and I chased gangs and some criminals when we were in sixth form. I think I can handle a few junkies."
"You fought last night, didn't you?"
"I only gave one a sprain."
She laughs, "Well, that sounds absolutely sexy. I hope one day I'd actually see you in action."
"Oh I think you're the one who's getting the action tonight," he winks at her.
All she can do is laugh it out. Eat faster. And go to anyone's house and spend the night with him.
She knows John loves the adrenaline. Probably why he went to the drug den last night. It's also probably why he seems calmer today.
Mrs. Hudson sits in front of him as they eat some biscuits.
"Where's John?" she asks. "I miss the man. He's always been such a good influence of you. Greg can be too much of a charmer," she laughs.
"He's busy," he shrugs.
"I hope the two of you would get things straight." she says as she leaves the room.
"That's if we even get the chance to talk." he whispers to himself.
(11:00am)
Good work.
(11:02am)
I am honoured to do such work.
(11:05am)
You're going to be a fine protégé, James.
(11:06am)
I'd thank you but gratitude is meaningless. It is only the expectation of further favours.
(11:08am)
Do I have your permission to make your son's life interesting?
(11:11am)
I don't care about him. Do what you wish.
(11:12am)
Thank you, Mr. Holmes.
(11:17am)
I'm sending you a treat.
(11:17am)
One that involves two mutual friends.
(11:18am)
You ready to seduce one Sherlock Holmes, Miss Adler?
-Pictures sent-
(11:19am)
The pleasure is mine, James Moriarty.