Chapter 29: Moments in Time Part II

11 Years On:

Mary recognizes the tune Rosie's playing immediately: it's the waltz Sherlock composed and played for their wedding. But where on Earth did she get a hold of it? Mary remembers finding the little envelope left at the front of the room with hers and John's names on it. She'd brought it home and stowed it away somewhere safe. It must've been packed up and brought here when they moved to Baker Street.

She listens to Rosie playing—not as perfectly as Sherlock, but this is likely one of her first times attempting this piece—and her heart soars. Their wedding was one of the last days that had been a happy occasion for all three of them. Although, Mary can't help but think of the notecards she'd found so long ago that Sherlock had kept to remind himself not to toe the line. Maybe he hadn't been as happy as he appeared.

"That was beautiful," Mary tells Rosie as she finishes out. Rosie puts the bow on the stand with a flourish and turns to face her mother.

"Really?"

"Yes. Do you know what that piece was written for?"

"The music says 'Waltz for John and Mary,' so I'm assuming you two?" Rosie answers somewhat sarcastically.

"Yes. Sherlock composed that for our wedding."

"He did?"

"Yes. He played it live at the party and left us the sheet music. That was the same day he told me I was pregnant with you."

"He told you that before you even knew?" Rosie asks dubiously.

Mary chuckles at the memory, "You bet. He deduced it. Who needs a pregnancy test when you've got Sherlock Holmes?"

"How did he know?"

"He saw that I didn't even like the wine I'd chosen—change in taste perception—and that I was hungrier than usual. I'm sure there were other things, but I was so flustered those are the only ones I can remember."

"Dad didn't even notice? He's a doctor!"

"Just between you and me, not a very good one," Mary whispers, and they both laugh far more than they ought to. That night, Rosie plays 'Waltz for John and Mary' for both John and Mary.

12 Years On:

"They're doing what?" Mary asks. Mycroft had called her out of the blue with an announcement she hadn't been expecting.

"Creating a documentary about the life and career of my brother," Mycroft explains. "It's a relatively simple concept."

"I understand the concept, but why? It's been over a decade."

"And a person's fame only increases exponentially after their death; Sherlock is no exception."

"Why are you telling me this now?" she inquires.

"I was informed that they may want interviews with people who knew him, and I didn't want you or John to be caught off guard."

His logic is infallible as always. "Thank you for letting me know," Mary says. "Have they interviewed you?"

"Yes." Mycroft doesn't elaborate further, and Mary doesn't question him. Whatever they asked may have drudged up painful memories. He says a formal goodbye and hangs up, leaving Mary to relay this news to John. She has little idea why Mycroft always elects to go through her when informing them of anything important when he has John's number as well. She suspects there is lingering ice in the relationship between the two men that refuses to thaw with time. Anyways, she doesn't mind being their intermediary.

When she tells John what's going on, he is adamant he wants no part in it. "Absolutely not," he says firmly. "They're going to dramatize everything and blow it out of proportion. Sherlock would not want to be turned into some urban legend."

Mary tries to reason with him, "If you agree to be part of it, maybe you can ensure that they don't do something like that."

"Believe me, I'm very familiar with the media and how they treat people like Sherlock Holmes," John growls scathingly.

"John, these are not muckrakers like Kitty Riley. If there was something fishy or even subpar going on, Mycroft would've shut it down immediately, but he complied. He told me they're genuinely interested in immortalizing him as he really was."

John considers this for a moment, and eventually gives in. Mary smiles and tells him he did the right thing. This would be good for the public, too, she reminds him, as there are some that still haven't gotten over the scandal that led to his fake death.

John complies with the interview, answering all their questions honestly and completely. They thank him for his time and promise that he and Mary will get a preliminary version before the film itself is released. Mary is interviewed as well, but her knowledge pales in comparison to John's. She'll be surprised if her segment even makes the final cut.

Mycroft is the one to give her the disc. Apparently everything she and John ever do is run by him first, the bloody puppeteer. Rosie hadn't been there for their interviews, and is very excited to learn more about her godfather. The three of them sit in front of the television and watch the tape.

Most of it is stuff Mary has already heard from John, except for a bit about his childhood at the beginning. They show snippets of Mycroft speaking, impeccably dressed as always. They go through his early career, although any mention of his struggle with drug addiction is entirely omitted. Though it would've made for good entertainment, Mary knows Mycroft forbade any mention of that particular part of his brother's past. Eventually, they reach the beginning of his relationship with John. Her husband pops up on the screen, and she listens to him detail their first encounter, practically verbatim from the blog.

They alternate between narration and interviews as they go through his most famous cases: the serial suicides-that-weren't-suicides, the Black Lotus drug ring, and the infamous Hound at Baskerville, before getting into the period of his defamation. Although she knows the truth, Mary can't help but admire how convincing an argument Moriarty had fabricated. They have actual footage from the court case where Moriarty had been proclaimed not guilty. Mary hadn't entered their lives at this point in time, but she immediately recognizes Sherlock's snark and flair for the dramatic. Rosie's eyes light up watching her godfather go through the famous deductions she's only heard about.

John cringes and leans in closer to Mary when they go through the fake suicide in great detail. Mycroft had told them everything about how it was done, something John hadn't even known. Mary wonders if he ever felt any sort of curiosity. He's told her no, but she knows a man like John Watson usually isn't satisfied with such a massive unanswered question.

Of course they've told Rosie about this unfortunate part of her godfather's history, but Mary can see her discomfort and beckons her closer. Mary is now sandwiched between her husband and her daughter, both of which are clinging to her. They don't even release when the film moves on to the clearing of his name and his miracle resurrection. There's a clip of someone off-camera asking Mycroft what Sherlock was up to in the time he was away. Mycroft shakes his head solemnly and admits he's not at liberty to disclose that information, only that it certainly wasn't easy work. He hints that Sherlock was… different upon returning and leaves the rest open to interpretation. Ever dramatic, the Holmes boys were, Mary thinks.

There's not much story to tell beyond that, at least not what can be made public. They wouldn't bother to discuss his rocky reunion with John or his attendance of the wedding, for those have little bearing on his career as a detective, which is what this is all about after all. Nor can they discuss the dealings with Charles Augustus Magnussen because of the top secret status, or the case that had ultimately led to his demise. Mary's past was not something that could be discussed in a film that likely thousands of people would see. All they could say was that he'd been killed in a case-related shooting at London Aquarium.

Towards the end, they move into what they call his 'legacy.' Mary knows Sherlock would scoff at the mere suggestion of such a preposterous thing. But the next interviewee to pop up on screen is someone she never would've expected: Philip Anderson. Not only that, but a Philip Anderson who is now a Detective Inspector. John looks at Mary and actually bursts out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Rosie asks.

"Sherlock was not a fan of Anderson's," John explains in between huffs of laughter. "Anderson was not the brightest of people on Lestrade's team, and Sherlock made him well aware of that. I can't believe he actually got a promotion!"

But the best part: Anderson credited his success as a detective to Sherlock Holmes. Mary shushes John and Rosie as Anderson talks about how often they argued and insulted each other. "Honestly, there were days I didn't want to show up to work because I knew I'd be made a fool of," he describes. "None of us ever stood a chance; he'd just think circles around us. When he died," Anderson's tone turns solemn now, "Scotland Yard really suffered. We were swamped, deeming cases cold way before we should have because we didn't have a hope of solving them without him. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I drew on everything I'd ever seen him do and started to look at crime scenes differently. I know I don't see nearly everything he would've seen, and I make sure to follow protocol, but apparently I see enough. Not all the time, but enough. Unfortunately, it took his death to open my mind a bit. I only wish I could thank him," he concludes. John suppresses a chortle, and Mary punches him playfully in the bicep. She knows it's inconceivable for him that Anderson would ever thank Sherlock for anything. He'd been putting on a show for the camerapeople.

"Have you ever considered consulting, as he did?" asks someone behind the camera. Anderson shakes his head and smiles sadly.

"Never. I could never dream to replace him. He always boasted that he invented the job 'consulting detective' and was the only one in the world, and I wouldn't dare to take that title away from him." This elicits even more laughter from John, and Mary is forced to intervene if she has any hope of hearing the rest of the film.

"Stop it John, it's a good thing that he let Sherlock influence his way of thinking," she says.

"Mary, if everyone let Sherlock influence their way of thinking, this world would be in big trouble," he counters. She can't deny that he's right. Sherlock may have been a genius, but she certainly wouldn't want to live in a world full of people just like him. Mycroft was close enough. After the interview with Anderson, they conclude with a summary of everything they already talked about before some cheesy statement about him being the most famous detective in the world for centuries to come.

"Again, again!" Rosie cheers sarcastically.

"No. I don't think I will ever be watching that again," John announces.

"Why not?" Mary inquires. All things considered, it was a pretty good film. They didn't overdramatize like she feared they would.

"I don't need a film to tell me the story of Sherlock Holmes, I lived it."

"Can we keep it for me to watch?" Rosie asks. "That way I can hear the story without having to bother Dad."

"Of course," Mary assures her. "Did you like it?"

"Yes. But Dad does tell the stories better," she admits.

"You're saying I should become a filmmaker?" John says.

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because you're supposed to be Doctor Watson. Nobody would take you seriously as a filmmaker," she remarks.

"I guess you're right, but guess who's not helping you if you have to make a video for homework one day."

"You can help me with science when we get to the human body."

"That I can do, and I'd better not hear that you went to Molly for help instead."

"Never!"

Mary listens raptly as they continue to banter, laughing to herself. She glances to the picture of Sherlock in the deerstalker that sits on the bookshelf—which happens to be the image on the cover of the disc. As much as Sherlock tried to dissociate himself with it, he could never escape the legacy of the hat detective.

~0~

13 Years On:

John picks up his head from the book he's reading the second he hears it. He recognizes the tune from the first few notes, and it brings back memories of a dangerous and confusing time. An almost shrill whine, followed by brief vibrato, at least that's the description his minimal knowledge of music allows him to create. Had Sherlock heard him say that, he would've chastised him for pretending to be knowledgeable about something he wasn't.

John puts the book aside, stands, and follows the sound over to Rosie's room. He walks in unannounced, and her bow halts its passage across the strings as soon as she catches sight of him. She knows she's done something wrong by the look in her father's eyes.

"Where did you find that?" John asks. He doesn't remember storing any of Sherlock's compositions.

"In a folder," Rosie answers, placing the instrument down so she can wring her hands nervously. She doesn't often misbehave, but John is firm with her when she does. This doesn't count as misbehavior, but his long-dormant feelings about this time are awakening and making him lose control of his emotions. This music has almost as much power over John as the Woman did.

"Where did you find the folder?" he continues.

"In the living room. I asked Mum, she said she saved all of his compositions that she could find when you moved in here."

"Why did you decide to play this?" John is trying to keep his emotions in check, but is failing miserably. That song sounds like a heartbroken Sherlock, which is not a version John wants to focus on.

"It was at the front of the stack, so I pulled it out and thought I'd try it," Rosie explains. She looks frightened now, wondering why her father is so freaked out by a few violin notes. "I can stop, if you need me to."

"Please," he instructs. "You're welcome to play anything else in there… just not that piece."

"Why, Dad?" she questions.

"It's complicated."

"That's just what people say when they don't want to talk about something." Rosie is too intelligent for her own good, already able to think circles around her father. But he's used to being outsmarted.

"You're right," he relents. "I don't want to talk about it, because it is so complicated."

"Fair enough," she huffs. She stows the sheet music at the back of the folder and pulls out another one. She starts playing, and John vaguely recognizes the tune. It's one that Sherlock wrote during a particularly long dry spell between cases. Were John to return to the living room, he'd be able to pretend it was his best friend playing instead of his daughter. He didn't have a good enough ear to distinguish between their playing styles.

"Why did you want to pull out his old compositions?" John finally asks. This questions has been at the back of his mind throughout the entire conversation, but he'd been somewhat afraid of the answer.

"I dunno," she shrugs. "I guess it makes me feel closer to him."

"Well…keep doing it," John tells her hesitantly. "Hearing these pieces again is like having a piece of him back, and I can't even begin to explain to you what that means to me."

"Dad, you're getting sappy again." Sappy was to Rosie what 'sentiment' had been to Sherlock. They pretended to hate and misunderstand it, while secretly loving it. It was times like this when John wondered if Sherlock had somehow snuck some of his own DNA into Rosie's genes somehow.