Chapter 36: His Last Vow

Two Months Later: Christmas

We'd gone to the country to spend Christmas with Sherlock's parents. They'd insisted on it. Mary and John were invited of course and Mycroft was ordered to come by his mother. Sherlock brought Billy along "to be nice" he said which made me suspicious right away.

"Oh, dear god it's only two o'clock," Mycroft groaned over the sound of Hark the Herold Angels Sing playing on the stereo. "It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now. How can it only be two o'clock? I am in agony."

"You're overdramatic," I muttered as Sherlock straightened the newspaper he was reading. One of the twins kicked and I rubbed the spot on my stomach. I was just over seven months pregnant now. Mary was just about eight months along. I was a few weeks behind her. Getting around was officially difficult.

"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Mrs. Holmes questioned coming over to the table with a basket of Christmas crackers in her hands.

"Upon which depends the security of the free world, yes," Mycroft answered. "And you've got potatoes on it."

"Well you shouldn't leave it lying around if it's so important," his mother scolded him.

"Why are we doing this?" Mycroft demanded gesturing to all the Christmas décor. "We never do this!"

"We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital," Mrs. Holmes reminded him. "And we are all very happy."

"Am I happy too?" Mycroft sniped. "I haven't checked." Mycroft sounded like a griping teenager, an occurrence that I found highly amusing.

"Behave, Mike," Mrs. Holmes ordered.

"Mycroft is the name you gave me," he corrected her. "If you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."

"Mrs. Holmes," Billy said as he handed her a drink.

"Oh, thank you dear," she replied shifting the basket to one hand to accept the drink. "Not absolutely sure why you're here."

"I invited him," Sherlock answered without looking up from the paper.

"I'm his protégé, Mrs. Holmes," Billy added. "When he dies I get all his stuff and his job."

"Nope," Sherlock countered.

"Oh," Billy grumbled. "Well, I help out a bit."

"Closer." Sherlock still hadn't looked up from the paper. Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes looked back and forth between the two of them.

"If he does get murdered or something," Billy said to Sherlock's mother.

"Probably stop talking now," Sherlock advised him.

"Okay," Billy agreed. Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at me but I just shook my head. Sherlock hadn't filled me in on why Billy was really here.

"Lovely when you bring your friends round," Mycroft sniped at his brother.

"Stop it, you," Mrs. Holmes snapped. "Somebody has put a bullet in my boy and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous." She set her drink and the basket of crackers down and grabbed a cup of tea.

"Ah," she remembered. "This was for Mary. I'll be back in a minute." She bustled from the kitchen. Sherlock glanced at his watch. When Mycroft got up and wasn't looking I gave him a questioning look and tilted my head toward Billy who was messing with one of the crackers. Sherlock acted like he didn't see. With an annoyed huff I reached for my mug of tea. Without saying a word, Sherlock got up, walked over, and took my mug. My mouth dropped open and I stared at him as he dumped the contents onto one of his mother's house plants. He came back, put his hands on my shoulders, and leaned down so that he could talk into my ear.

"Don't drink the tea," he instructed in a low voice. John came in from the living room and headed into the sitting room where Mary was. From the look on his face I guessed that he was going to talk to her about the flash drive. He had it in his pocket and had been fiddling with it all day.

"Let's go outside," Mycroft suggested to Sherlock. He tapped his pocket and Sherlock nodded and went to get his coat.

"You shouldn't be out here," Sherlock said when I followed him outside. Mycroft passed Sherlock a lit cigarette.

"I'll stay back a bit," I told him. "It's fine."

"I'm glad you've given up on the Magnussen business," Mycroft said to Sherlock as the three of us walked toward the front gate.

"Are you?" Sherlock questioned.

"I'm still curious, though," Mycroft replied. "It's hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you hate him?" Sherlock turned back to his brother.

"Because he attacks people who are different," he answered sharply. "And preys on their secrets. Why don't you?"

"He never causes too much damage to anyone important," Mycroft reasoned. "He's far too intelligent for that. He's a business man, that's all. And occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil, not a dragon for you to slay."

"A dragon-slayer," Sherlock contemplated the title, turning his back so that we were all looking out over the fields around the house with our backs to the front door. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No," Mycroft answered. "It's what you think of yourself."

"Are you two smoking?" Mrs. Holmes' voice demanded from behind us. We all whipped around and Sherlock and Mycroft hid their cigarettes behind their backs.

"No!" Mycroft said at once.

"It was Mycroft!" Sherlock said at the same time. His voice was tight which I knew was because he had just taken a drag from the cigarette and was trying to hold in the smoke. I bit my bottom lip to hold in my laughter. I'd never seen them behave this way and I loved it. Their mother gave them a stern look as she backed into the house and shut the door. As soon as she was gone, Sherlock exhaled a steady stream of smoke.

"I love your mum," I snickered. Sherlock rolled his eyes at me and we turned our backs on the house again.

"I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline," Mycroft said as he rolled his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

"I decline your kind offer," Sherlock replied sounding confused.

"I shall pass on your regrets." Mycroft looked pleased that Sherlock didn't fight him on it.

"What was it?" Sherlock wondered.

"MI6. They want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that will prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months." Sherlock was about to put his cigarette back in his mouth but he stopped and turned to Mycroft.

"Then why don't you want me to take it?" he wanted to know.

"Because you're about to become a father!" I reminded him sharply. Sherlock glanced at me.

"Yes, but still. Why not?"

"It's tempting," Mycroft agreed before I could say anything. "But on balance, you have more utility closer to home."

"Utility," Sherlock scoffed. "How do I have utility?" He took a drag of his cigarette.

"Here be dragons." Mycroft shrugged. He took a drag of his own cigarette and coughed.

"This isn't agreeing with me." He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his shoe. "I'm going in."

"You need low tar," Sherlock reminded him as he strode back to the house. "You still smoke like a beginner." Mycroft stopped but didn't turn back to us.

"Also," he paused. "Your loss would break my heart." Sherlock was in the middle of taking a drag and inhaled sharply before coughing hard several times.

"What the hell am I supposed to say to that?" he demanded. Mycroft turned to us.

"Merry Christmas?" he suggested with a shrug.

"You hate Christmas," Sherlock pointed out.

"Yes," Mycroft mused. "Perhaps there was something in the punch." He smirked.

"Clearly," Sherlock agreed. "Go and have some more." Mycroft went back inside. Sherlock blew out a stream of smoke and turned to me.

"What's going on?" I asked. "What's in the tea?"

"Nothing harmful," he promised. "Everyone will be fine." I frowned and glanced at the house.

"Sherlock—" I began.

"Did you really think I would have taken it?" He studied me. "Even if Mycroft hadn't asked me not to?" I took a step back and circled my stomach with my arms.

"I thought," I answered slowly. "That you might try to take it just to spite Mycroft." Sherlock chuckled and put out his cigarette.

"I suppose that's fair." He put his hand on my stomach. "How're they doing today?" I smiled at him and laid my hands on top of his.

"They've been kicking like mad."

"Mr. Holmes," Billy's voice called. We turned and saw him leaning out the front door.

"C'mon." Sherlock put his arm around my shoulders and steered me inside. Once we were inside Sherlock went immediately to the sitting room and opened the door.

"Don't drink Mary's tea," he advised John. "Oh, or the punch." He grabbed his scarf from the hook by the front door. I followed him as he went into the living room where his father was passed out on the sofa. He put a hand by his father's nose and then swept into the kitchen. His mother and Mycroft were passed out at the table. Mycroft's head was resting on top of his laptop, Sherlock checked them as well. Billy was leaning against the sink, watching us.

"Did you just drug my pregnant wife!?" John barked as he stormed into the kitchen.

"Don't worry," Sherlock assured him. "Wiggins is an excellent chemist."

"I calculated your wife's dose meself," Billy put in. "Won't affect the little one. I'll keep an eye on her."

"He'll monitor their recovery," Sherlock said as he put on his scarf. "It's more or less his day job."

"What the hell have you done?" John asked quietly.

"Deal with the Devil." A faraway look crept into Sherlock's eyes. He explained that before he had set up his trap for Mary he had met with Magnussen and promised to give him Mycroft if Magnussen would show him Appledore.

"Jesus," John breathed as he rushed out of the room.

"Sherlock," he called. "Please tell me you haven't just gone out of your mind." Sherlock put on his gloves and slipped Mycroft's laptop out from underneath him.

"I'd rather keep you guessing," he called back. The sound of a helicopter coming closer filled the air.

"Ah," Sherlock said to me. "There's our lift."

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"You're not going anywhere," he replied. "You'll stay here and help Wiggins keep an eye on things."

"I will not," I snapped. "If you're going then so am I."

"No, you can't come," Sherlock scolded me. "You're pregnant."

"You can't go," I argued. "I'm pregnant."

"Infuriating woman," Sherlock grumbled as John came back into the kitchen and we went outside. I smirked as I followed after them. The helicopter landed in the field

"Coming?" Sherlock asked John.

"Where?" John demanded,

"Want your wife to be safe?" That didn't answer the question.

"Yeah, of course I do," John snapped.

"Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous," Sherlock answered." One false move and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be imprisoned for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered and the odds are comprehensibly stacked against us." Well that explained why he didn't want me coming along, not that that was going to stop me. I knew he thought that no one was worse than Magnussen but I still thought he was wrong. In my mind Moriarty was must worse. He would always be much worse.

"But it's Christmas," John complained.

"I feel the same," Sherlock sighed happily but then he realized what John was saying. "Oh, you mean it's actually Christmas. Did you bring your gun as I suggested?"

"Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner!?" John cried exasperatedly. Sherlock held out John's coat.

"Is it in your coat?" he asked.

"Yes," John groaned.

"Off we go then." Sherlock led us across the field.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"Appledore," Sherlock answered. At first, the pilot didn't want to let me on the helicopter. John agreed with him but Sherlock and I were insistent.

When we arrived at Appledore we were shown in through an indoor garden. Magnussen was sitting in an open room above the garden walkway. I'd seen several men posted around the house, clearly a security detail, but none of them checked us for weapons which I found odd. When we approached Magnussen he waved away the men who had let us in and we were left alone with him. There was a transparent screen showing some video footage but I barely glanced at it.

"I would offer you a drink," he said. "But it's very rare and expensive." He took a sip of whatever was in his glass. Sherlock sat on the long sofa beside him and set Mycroft's laptop between them.

"I suppose I should offer you my congratulations," he added nodding towards me. "You're simply glowing, my dear." I glared at him and none of us responded. Sherlock looked over at the video footage.

"Oh," he noted pleasantly. "It was you." I turned back to screen and saw Sherlock pulling John out of a bonfire.

"Yes, of course," Magnussen agreed. "Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes."

"Hmm," Sherlock mused. John turned and his shoulder muscles tensed when he saw the video.

"The drugs thing I never believed for a moment," Magnussen said. "Anyway, you wouldn't care if it was exposed, would you?" John moved closer to the screen. I turned back in time to see Sherlock shrug at Magnussen's question.

"But look how you care about John Watson," Magnussen pointed out. "Your damsel in distress. Well, one of them. Can't forget about Reilen, can we?" His gaze shifted to me and I looked away. I didn't want to try to hold his gaze.

"You…" John breathed turning back to Magnussen. "Put me in a fire for leverage?"

"Oh, I'd never let you burn, Dr. Watson," Magnussen replied. "I had people standing by. I'm not a murderer. Unlike your wife." He stood and buttoned his suit jacket. John, Sherlock, and I exchanged uneasy glances.

"Let me explain how leverage works, Dr. Watson." Magnussen moved over to the screen, swiping his fingers across it and making it disappear. "For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well, apart for me. Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie detective brother Sherlock. Sherlock's pressure points are his best friend John Watson and his girlfriend Reilen Turner. There's not much point in going after her as her pressure point is Sherlock. John Watson's pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson's wife, I own Mycroft. He's what I'm getting for Christmas." He sat back down on the sofa and held out his hand toward Sherlock.

"It's an exchange, not a gift," Sherlock quipped as he slid the laptop across the cushions. He stood and came to stand with John and me.

"Forgive me but…" Magnussen picked up the laptop. "I already seem to have it." He stroked the underside of the laptop and smirked at Sherlock.

"It's password protected," Sherlock told him and Magnussen's fingers stilled. "In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson."

"Oh, she's bad, that one," Magnussen remarked. "So many dead people. You should see what I've seen."

"I don't need to see it," John ground out.

"Well, you might enjoy it, though," Magnussen pressed. "I enjoy it."

"Then why don't you show us?" Sherlock questioned.

"Show you Appledore?" Magnussen responded. "The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"

"I want everything you've got on Mary," Sherlock answered in a low voice. Magnussen scoffed and started chuckling. The chuckling turned to laughter.

"You know, I honestly expected something good."

"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop…" Sherlock began.

"Include the GPS locator," Magnussen finished. "By now your brother will have noticed the theft and Security Services will be converging on this house. Having arrived, they'll find top secret information in my hands. And they'll have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind, then I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated. Restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath and your little girlfriend. Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He'll be a very, very proud big brother." He finished his drink and put the glass on the coffee table in front of him. I felt the blood drain from my face. He'd figured it all out. How could Sherlock's plan work now that he'd figured it all out?

"The fact that you know it's going to happen isn't going to stop it," Sherlock told Magnussen.

"Then why am I smiling?" Magnussen challenged. "Ask me."

"Why are you smiling?" John demanded.

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake," he explained. "Which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves and everything his holds dear." Sherlock shifted slightly so that he was standing further in front of me. Beside him, John did the same. There wasn't much they could do but if there was one thing I could always count on with the two of them it was that they would protect me, if they could. I resisted the urge to put my arms around my stomach. No need to draw his attention to the twins.

Magnussen stood.

"Let me show you the Appledore vaults." He led us into another room and over to a set of wooden doors.

"The entrance to my vaults." He indicated the doors. "This is where I keep you all." He opened the doors and stepped into the room. I had expected a staircase but there was only a room with a chair.

"Okay, so where are the vaults then?" John asked.

"Vaults?" Magnussen turned back to us. "What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building." He sat down in the chair, smirking at us.

"They're all in here." He gestured to the room and my eyes scanned the walls, looking for a place where a door might be hidden.

"The Appledore vaults are my mind palace." He tapped his temple. "You know about mind palaces, don't you Sherlock? And Reilen does as well if my information is correct." Sherlock swallowed hard.

"How to store information so you never forget it," Magnussen continued. "By picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes, and down I go to my vaults. I can go anywhere inside my vaults. My memories. I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson." He lifted his hand like he was going to open a drawer. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly. John's shoulders were rigid with tension. I couldn't breathe. What were we going to do? How could we stop him now? Magnussen's fingers flicked through the air like he was sorting through files. John cleared his throat and a tight smile crossed his face. I was sure, in any other circumstance, this would be funny. After all, I was fairly certain Sherlock and I looked just as silly when we rifled through our mind palaces.

Magnussen hummed and I looked back at him. He held up a hand as though he had chosen a file.

"Oh, this is one of my favorites," he told us, his eyes still closed. "Oh it's so exciting." He acted as though he was flipping through pages. He chuckled.

"All those whack jobs for the CIA," he added. "Ohh! She's gone a bit freelance now. Bad girl." He started laughing.

"Oh, she's so wicked. I can really see why you like her." He mimed putting the file away and closing the drawer. He opened his eyes and looked to Sherlock.

"You see?" he questioned. John cleared his throat again.

"So there are no documents?" he clarified. "You don't actually have anything here?"

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something if I really need it." Magnussen glanced at his watch. "But mostly I just remember it all."

"I don't understand," John said shaking his head.

"You should have that on a t-shirt," Magnussen remarked.

"You just remember it all?" John repeated.

"It's all about knowledge." Magnussen was looking at Sherlock again. "Everything is. Knowing is owning."

"But if you just know it then you don't have proof," John argued.

"Proof?" Magnussen scoffed. "What would I need proof for? I'm in news, you moron. I don't have prove it, I just have to print it. Speaking of news, you will all be heavily featured tomorrow. Trying to sell state secrets to me." He clicked his tongue in a scolding manner and checked his watch again.

"Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly. Can't wait to see you arrested." He walked away and left the three of us standing in front of the empty room.

"Sherlock, do we have a plan?" John asked but Sherlock just stared into the room. "Sherlock?" John stormed away leaving the two of us alone. Sherlock closed his eyes slowly.

"Sherlock?" I reached out and put my hand in his. "It'll be all right, won't it?" It had to be. Sherlock had to have a way out of this.

"I may have to do something," he answered in a low voice. "Something that will—I'm sorry, Reilen, for what I'll have to do."

"Sorry?" I repeated. My heart dropped into my stomach. I was going to lose him again.

'No,' I pleaded mentally with whatever higher power there was. 'Not again. I can't do this again.'

"I'm sorry." He took me by the shoulders and kissed the center of my forehead. "I love you." Then he let go and followed after John. There was nothing for me to do but to follow him.

"I just love your little soldier face," Magnussen was saying when Sherlock and I stepped out onto the stone patio. "I'd like to punch it. Bring it over here a minute." John looked over at Sherlock.

"C'mon," Magnussen urged. "For Mary. Bring me your face." John cleared his throat and moved closer to Magnussen.

"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out." John cleared his throat again.

"Please?" Magnussen requested and John did as he asked. "Now, can I flick it?" John scoffed and shook his head.

"Can I flick your face?" Magnussen asked again. John tilted his head so that his cheek was more exposed. Magnussen flicked it once. Twice.

"Oh, I just love doing this," he chuckled. "I could do it all day. It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed." He flicked John's face again.

"I know where to find people who hate her." Flick. Flick.

"I know where they live. I know their phone numbers." Flick. Flick.

"All in my mind palace. All of it. I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down. And I will. Unless you let me flick your face." Flick. Flick. Flick. Sherlock was staring at Magnussen with an icy look in his eyes.

"This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries." Flick. "Just because I know. Can I do your eye now? See if you can keep it open. Hmm?" He flicked John in the eye and John flinched, shutting it tightly. Magnussen chuckled and did it again. Again, John flinched.

"C'mon for Mary. Keep it open." He raised his hand again.

"Sherlock…" John ground out.

"Let him," Sherlock replied in a low torn voice. "I'm sorry. Just…let him."

"C'mon," Magnussen insisted raising his hand toward John's face. "Eye open." His flicked John's eye and John flinched again. Magnussen laughed and tired again.

"It's difficult, isn't it?" he asked. "Janine managed it once. She makes the funniest noises. Shall we see what sort of noise Reilen makes?" His gaze zeroed in on me and I froze. Everything in me went cold. The sound of a helicopter nearing broke in before anyone could say or do anything else. The helicopter came around the house and a spotlight landed on us.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Reilen Turner," Mycroft's voice commanded over a speaker. "Stand away from that man."

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes," Magnussen called over the noise. The wind from the helicopter blades whipped my hair out behind me. Our scarves and coats fluttered.

"To clarify," Sherlock shouted back to Magnussen, moving slowly over to John's left side. "Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind? Nowhere else. Just there."

"They're not real." Magnussen was smirking up at the helicopter. "They never have been." Sherlock nodded. I stepped up on the other side of John.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Reilen Turner," Mycroft barked again. "Step away."

"It's fine," Magnussen shouted, stepping toward the stairs that led into the yard. "They're harmless!" Men in black uniforms with helmets and guns surrounded the patio.

"Sherlock, what'd we do?" John demanded.

"Nothing," Magnussen called back. "There's nothing to be done. Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a business man, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them. Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock looked over at John. John wasn't looking at him and then he looked at me. Sherlock looked sad. Broken.

'Not again!' My eyes were burning with unshed tears. My head started shaking back and forth in tiny little motions. He couldn't go. He couldn't.

Mycroft was ordering us to get away from Magnussen again.

"Oh, do your research." Sherlock reached around John's back and into John's right coat pocket. John lifted his arm slightly so Sherlock could pull out the gun. Sherlock walked over to Magnussen, the gun hidden behind his back.

"I'm not a hero," he continued. "I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!" He raised the gun and fired a single shot into Magnussen's head. Magnussen's body fell over onto the patio. Sherlock tossed the gun down and put his hands in the air.

"Get away from me, John!" he ordered turning and looking at us over his shoulder. "Stay well back! Keep Reilen back!"

"Christ, Sherlock!" John shouted. My hands flew to my mouth, muffling the scream that filled my throat. John's hands flew into the air but I couldn't get mine to move from my face.

"Don't fire!" Mycroft shouted frantically into the speaker. "Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!" Red laser points danced across Sherlock's face.

"Oh, Christ Sherlock," John breathed. Sherlock turned to us again.

"Give my love to Mary," he requested. "Tell her she's safe now." He turned back to the helicopter and slowly lowered himself onto his knees. I had seen the tears streaking their way down his cheeks. They mirrored mine.

"Mycroft you have to do something!" I commanded slamming my hands down on top of his desk. "You have to stop this!" Sherlock had been gone a week. They'd put him in solitary confinement "for his protection" while they figured out what to do with him. I'd already tried begging Mycroft to let him spend that time in the flat but he'd refused. Now he was saying they'd decided to send Sherlock away.

"There's nothing I can do," Mycroft snapped. "Sherlock murdered a man. In cold blood. It's been decided that he'll be sent on assignment to Eastern Europe…"

"You said that assignment would be fatal!" I took a deep breath and tried to go on in a calmer tone. "Mycroft, the twins need their father. I need him. I can't do this alone."

"You'll hardly be alone," Mycroft remarked. "You family will no doubt come to lend a hand, Mrs. Hudson lives in the downstairs flat, and John and Mary will more than likely be over often for playdates. You needn't worry about money, that's all taken care of."

"This isn't about money," I ground out. "He is your brother. You need to help him. I need you to help him. I never ask for anything, Mycroft, you know I don't. But I'm asking now. I'm asking you to let him stay." Mycroft let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair.

"I can't, Reilen. My hands are tied."

Sherlock didn't want me coming to the airfield. He tried to convince me that it would be better for us to say our goodbyes at the flat but I wasn't having any of it. When we reached the tarmac Mycroft got out of the car so we could have a few moments alone.

"Don't go," I pleaded clinging to Sherlock's hand. "Please." Sherlock drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I wish I didn't have to," he replied softly. "But there's nothing we can do about it now." I laid my head on his shoulder and let him hold me. It would be the last time for the rest of my life that I would do this.

"I love you," I whispered as tears slid from my eyes. "I'll always love you." Sherlock's arm went around my shoulder and held me against him.

"I love you too," he said. "Don't ever forget that. Don't ever question it, no matter what happens. I love you, Reilen." A car pulled in behind us. John and Mary had arrived.

"Time to go then," I muttered. Sherlock kissed my temple. We climbed out of the car just as John and Mary were getting out of theirs. Mary came over to us.

"Oh…" she sighed as she put her hands on Sherlock's shoulders. They kissed each other on the cheek and then hugged. "Don't worry. I'll keep him in trouble." He smiled as they broke apart.

"That's my girl." Mary went back to John who was still standing a few paces away. John nodded a greeting at us. Sherlock turned to Mycroft.

"Since this will likely be the last conversation I'll ever have with John Watson…would you mind if we took a moment?" Mycroft looked startled and then glanced at the security man standing nearby. He jerked his head toward the plane and the man moved closer to the plane. Mycroft, Mary, and I retreated to the side of the plane as well. Sherlock and John stood separated by a few paces. I couldn't hear their conversation but after a minute John laughed and shook his head. I had a pretty good guess that Sherlock had offered up his full name for John and Mary's baby. Too bad Mary had told me that they were pretty sure it was a girl. They spoke for a few more minutes before John laughed again. I was sure Sherlock had just told John that Sherlock was actually a girl's name. They shook hands and Sherlock came towards us. He was going to get on the plane now. He was going to leave and I would never see him again. I rushed over to him and flung my arms around him.

"I'll name him Sherlock," I promised fiercely. "He'll be just like you. I'll make sure—Sherlock, I swear I will." Sherlock's arms locked around me and he chuckled.

"Don't let Mycroft tell him any stories," Sherlock requested. "Don't let him tell stories to either of them. They'll all be about the East Wind that will come and rip them from the Earth. He's a rubbish big brother and he'll probably be a rubbish uncle."

"Sherlock," Mycroft called. "It's time." Sherlock released me and put his hands on my stomach.

"Take care of them," he said.

"I will," I promised. Sherlock leaned down and kissed me. I tried to make the kiss last, to hold on to this moment.

Sherlock pulled away and kissed my forehead and then he was walking over to the plane. John and Mary came to stand beside me. My legs turned to jelly and I grabbed onto John to keep myself up. Sherlock boarded the plane and I finally let out a sob.

As the plane taxied along the runway I sobbed quietly between John and Mary. The plane lifted into the air.

"Come, Reilen," Mycroft said coming over to us. "I'll take you home."

"Maybe we should," John objected. Mary put her hand on my shoulder.

"Rei?" she asked. "Who do you want to go with?" I shook my head.

"I don't—I don't care," I sobbed. "I don't care." Mycroft sighed softly.

"John, take her home, would you?" he requested. He turned and got back into his car.

"Come on, love," Mary whispered to me. Mycroft's car wasn't moving. He was staring at something. He had his phone to his ear.

"But that's not possible," he objected as he got out of the car. "That's simply not possible."

"What's happened?" John asked. A high pitched voice spilled out from inside the car.

Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Over and over. Mycroft hung up and dialed another number. He got back into the car. I peered inside. Moriarty's face was on the screen.

"No…" I breathed.

"But he's dead," Mary protested turning to John. "Moriarty. You saw him die." John nodded.

"No…"

"Absolutely," John said. "He blew his own brains out."

"No...he can't…"

"So how can he be back?" Mary asked. I felt a panic attack coming on. It was getting harder to breathe and there was a sharp pain in the center of my chest. John turned and looked the way the plane had gone.

"Well if he is…" he noted. "He'd better wrap up warm." Mary and I turned to follow his gaze. The plane had turned around.

"There's an East Wind coming," John finished. As the plane landed the pain in my chest eased. I could breathe again.

"Sherlock," I sighed, my face breaking into a smile. The twins kicked frantically and my hands cradled my stomach.

"Don't worry," I said to them. "It'll be all right. Daddy's home now."