John Watson makes a brief return in this one and I keep to a promise I made in the last chapter. Enjoy!
"Are you ready, monkey?"
The wind blew leaves past my feet and I listened to them skitter down the mausoleum floor. I couldn't bring myself to stand. The priest had long since gone, as had a few of the couples James and I acquainted ourselves with. They'd muttered apologies, gave me tight hugs, reminded their spouses that this situation is one they wanted to avoid in their own lives when they thought I wasn't in earshot. Then they disappeared. It was just Sebastian and me. Just as it was, just as it had been the last week. The staff cleaned up. My chair was the last and they'd left it behind when they realized I wasn't going to move.
"Monkey, you've got to get up," said Sebastian while putting out his cigarette. He blew out the last of the smoke from his lungs. "C'mon. I don't want to have to move you. Let's go. It's done. He's...he's gone. He's in there now." He rapped his knuckles on a placard that said James Moriarty in a thick serif font.
The sound sent a surge of bumps down my arms. I silently willed myself to stand. Seb slid his arm around my waist. I didn't push him away. I thought back to two nights ago when we both were hit with James's loss in Seb's bathroom. Sleeping with Sebastian that night was gentle and perfect. He held me close as I slept against his body with my head tucked beneath his chin, his legs tangled with mine, our pelvises dangerously close. We nearly fucked the next morning. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I let him eat me out instead. It was momentarily satisfying, but did nothing to fill that hole. Sebastian wasn't James. He would never be James.
"One more miracle, Sherlock."
The voice caught my attention. No, it couldn't be. I stopped and scanned the cemetery. John Watson stood beneath a tree with his head bowed and his focus solely on the grave of partner. I felt myself running toward him. I needed to see Sherlock's grave. I slowed to a walk as I got closer, my breath easing by the time I reached the soldier. He willed Sherlock to not be dead, a sentiment I shared for James. Guilt rested heavy on my shoulders. If I hadn't managed to smear Sherlock's reputation, perhaps the fall wouldn't have ended this way.
"That's a lovely grave," I whispered. It was. The dark headstone reminded me of Sherlock. There was no doubt that the name etching reflected the stoic figure to whom it belonged. "Suits him."
John turned. "Nora?"
"Hello, John Watson. I'm sorry to pry. I was...James is up the hill. I was just…."
"Saying goodbye?"
I nodded.
His fatigue showed in the dips around his eyes. "About my behavior the other night, I was out of line."
"You were drunk and mourning. It's fine. I'd've done the same, I suppose."
"I guess we both lost someone we cared about." The saddened half-smile John gave hurt my heart. "If you ever need to talk sometime, I'm around. I also have a great therapist. I could refer you—"
"That's sweet of you, doctor. Really."
"It's nothing. Take care, Nora. I know they were enemies, but…" John's voice trailed off.
I glanced at my feet. "You gave me water and listened to me when I talked. Sherlock was like Jim, only wanted to play the game. You're human, John. Don't...don't lose that."
Walking toward the waiting car became a bit easier. There was a sense a finality washing over me. Sherlock was gone. Jim was buried. Sebastian and I were utterly alone; not as alone as John, but still empty just the same. It all made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. I hated it. I hated this silly game of theirs and where it landed us. I climbed into the back of the limo across from the marksman. The silence as the driver took us away made the air around me heavy.
I grabbed a remote from the storage area and flicked on the telly. A newscaster stood on Baker Street.
"...Sherlock Holmes, following his suicide earlier this week. The detective's credibility was called into question shortly after the Moriarty trial. John Watson, the detective's alleged partner broke his silence hours ago."
Previously recorded footage of John standing outside the front door of 221 began to air.
"I lost...I…." John struggled to say the words. He cleared his throat. "Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant man. I thank you all for your kindness even though many of you were also the ones to tie his noose."
Cameras flashed and reporters continued questioning him as he turned away and entered the flat. I couldn't take the press coverage of this mess anymore. Sebastian didn't like me watching it and I could see why. I switched it off. My mind raced with all that Jim left behind in regards to the intricate web he'd created as a consulting criminal. I'd known of at least four people he was currently helping, but Jim only let on to me about a small segment of his clients. Sebastian was the one that knew about every last one of his involvements. I chewed my lip. What would happen now that he was gone? Would Seb take over? Would I?
"What about his clients?" I glanced at Seb and felt myself begin to panic. "Jim's got too many clients, too many fucking pokers in the fire. I can't take them on!"
Sebastian shushed me. "Let me worry about them. I've been dealing with them much longer than you have. I can keep up. Speaking of which, what time is it?"
"Quarter past two. Why? Don't tell me you have a job."
"Yes, when we get back. It'll be quick." It always was, but that wasn't the point. He rubbed the back of his neck. "The problem, however, is you."
I blinked. "What about me?"
"I can't trust you alone. Not in this...state. Not after we just buried James."
I opened my mouth to retort when my mobile pinged. Slipping it out of my pocket, I half-heartedly checked the screen.
Happy birthday to you,
I furrowed my brow at the text. There was no name, and the phone number was unfamiliar to me. It definitely wasn't my birthday. Another message quickly followed.
Happy birthday to you,
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Who was this? A dash before a signature yet no name. I contemplated blocking the number.
"More condolences?" asked Sebastian. He'd turned his attention to me after my text tone went off for a second time. He tilted his head to get a look at my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Not sure. I think someone has the wrong number but—" The swoosh of the next text shut me up.
Happy birthday, dearest pet
Had I not already been sitting, I would've fallen. I stared at the text. Nausea churned my stomach while my throat constricted. No. No, it couldn't be.
"Nora, what's wrong?"
The final message came through.
Happy birthday to you.
- JM
My heart stopped. It was Jim. It couldn't be Jim. It was definitely Jim. "Sebastian?" I asked. He hummed in reply. I held out my phone so he could see the messages from the man we loved. "Did you know?"
"Did I know what?" Seb's eyes flicked from side to side as he read the screen. I watched his expression change. His slight annoyance melted from his face, along with the color in his cheeks. His eyes widened. "What the ever-loving fuck! What are you playing at?"
"Me?" I pulled the phone back in front of me in time to see three ellipses appear. Jim was actively texting me. Jim was alive. I felt a surge of anger and relief. How could he do this to me?
"Fuck!" Sebastian rolled up the partition. "Fucking...fuck!"
"Exactly."
Have I been gone so long that you don't remember who I am? Honestly.
- JM
I suppose I'll need to remind you about your master. Did you miss me, pet?
- JM
My stomach lurched and I swallowed vomit. I immediately text him back.
More than you know
- NM
The ellipses again.
Good girl.
- JM
Where are you?
- NM
Be patient, pet.
- JM
You made this hard
- NM
I'll make it up to you. You've been a very good girl
- JM
Or were you?
- JM
What do you mean?
- NM
I knew exactly what he meant and, if it was really Jim, he'd know that.
You're such a bad liar. I'll simply say that when the Master's away, my cats will play. And you, little kitten, have been playing with my tiger, haven't you?
- JM
Sebastian jiggled his leg, his arms folded tightly against his chest. He let out a breath. "Fuck it." He opened the sunroof halfway. I'd never seen him light a cigarette so fast. He took a long drag and held it out to me, smoke billowing from his nose. I declined.
You've been a naughty, naughty little girl
- JM
I was upset. I'm sorry. It happened twice. I thought..idk
- NM
That I was dead. I'm alive. You fucked Sebastian.
It's alright, I expected you to
Did you like it?
- JM
Not as much as I like it with you
- NM
Perfect. No harm done. Now go home. I'll be sending Seb directions about when to bring you to me
- JM
Oh, I'll need the riding crop when I return. Naughty little girls get naughty little punishments. And you've been incredibly wicked. I might need Seb's help for this one
- JM
Like you'd let him join in.
- NM
You know, pet, I've had quite a lot of time to think. How would you feel about including Sebastian more often?
- JM
Sex? Or everything
- NM
We already include him in practically everything. Sex and anything else he's left out of I suppose. We both know we need him. We'll discuss this more later, but I expect an answer when we do
- JM
I smiled and typed a reply.
;)
- JM
"Does he know?" Sebastian tapped a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette.
I looked up from my phone. "I'm not sure how, but yes. He knows about us."
"I take it he's pissed."
"Actually, he's still on about us all being an item."
Sebastian nodded silently. After two more drags, he put it out. "Would it be so bad?" he asked.
"I don't think so. Then again, I'm also not so sure."
"I agree."
I shrugged. "We have some time to think on it. He'll be texting you about when we'll reunite."
"You know it might not be him," said Seb. "I don't want you getting your hopes up."
"I know."
Sebastian's phone vibrated in his chest pocket. He reached into his suit, pulled it out, and scoffed with a shake of his head. "That bastard."
Before I could ask him what it was, he held out his phone. It was an image of James in his boxers with his lips pouted and his finger between his teeth in the corner of his mouth. Behind him was a mirror showing the intact back of his head. On the counter beside him was a newspaper from this morning. Laughter bubbled up my throat and came out as a half sob. I covered my mouth to suppress a grin. "How's that for proof?"
"His text? Back from the 'dead', and clearly not a fairy tale. Cheeky fucker. I ought to smack him when I see him for pulling something like that on us. " Seb sat back against the seat. "We gave him a funeral, mourned him...proper dick."
"Sebastian."
"Yeah?"
"He's back."
He matched my smile and gave a nod. "That he is."