A/N I usually don't do 2 chapters in a day (you guys are already slowly gaining on me) BUT the next chapter is a bit too much shorter, so I thought it would be nice to post them together. Also, I wanted to celebrate the fact that my story has been viewed well over 1k times!
And... sorry... but Sherlock and Kyrie will not be reuniting just yet. Hopefully you will still like these 2 chapters.
Deschperado Good to see you back. Glad you liked the chapter :)
DreamonAlina Rejoice... HE HAS RETURNED, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. THE EAGLE HAS LANDED!
Artemis7448 Thank you for your suggestion. I wasn't aware of that! But, I like your suggestion so I edited the chapter. ;-)
EllemichelleP Yes, she CAN carry a grudge. So far, Sherlock has ever only really encounter her sweet side. Sure, she was very guarded during that Irene Adler business, but that was more self-defence than carrying a grudge. Mycroft, Anderson and Lestrade were basically the ones who had to carry the brunt of her grudge.
Guest Thank you for your kind comment. Wow, I have a fan! -grins- I'm really glad that you like the way I portray Sherlock. It is damn hard to capture even a smidgen of his essence, I can tell you that! Hope you like this sneaky 2nd chapter in a day!
SSS
Kyrie and John had gone upstairs and John had just opened the door to the living room. They were standing in the doorway, looking into the room. The curtains were drawn, shrouding the room in dark shadows. There were a few streaks of light falling into the room and dust particles danced within them, floating and sparkling. Kyrie's eyes were immediately drawn to Sherlock's chair by the fireside, a small layer of dust had gathered on it. How many times had she not seen him, sitting there with his legs crossed and his fingers steepled underneath his chin?
John wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and she quickly wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. Mrs Hudson came in behind them and switched on the lights.
"I couldn't face letting it out," she explained while walking across to the window on the right side. She pulled the windows back and instantly coughed at the dust flying up but the disturbance.
"He never liked me dusting," Mrs Hudson excused the state of the flat.
"I know," Kyrie said with a sad smile, remembering his fit of anger that one time she had made the mistake of cleaning up. They hadn't known each other for very long back then and Kyrie had still been quite nervous around him.
"So, why now? What changed your mind?" Mrs Hudson asked while she pulled open the other set of curtains.
"He has news he wants to share," Kyrie said with smile, giving John a playful nudge with her elbow.
Mrs Hudson turned around, her face filled with horror. Okay, so she clearly misinterpreted Kyrie's words. "Oh, God. Is it serious?" she asked, all nerves.
"What? No, no, I'm not ill. I've, er, well... I'm... moving on."
The look of horror didn't go away. "You're emigrating."
Kyrie giggled at the extreme leaps the elderly lady was making.
"Nope. Um, no... I've met someone."
"Oooh!" Mrs Hudson giggled with joyous delight. She clapped her hands excitedly and walked up towards him, all smiling and happy. "Oh, lovely!"
John smiled too. "Yeah. We're getting married... well, I'm gonna ask, anyway."
"Someone's confident she'll say yes," Kyrie teased him. John's smile faded and he paled a bit. "And so you should be, you are wonderful, John. She will say yes."
Mrs Hudson giggled. "You know, before you came along, Kyrie... I always thought that Sherlock and John were... you know... an item."
Kyrie looked at the woman completely dumbstruck. "Really? Mrs Hudson?"
"I'm so grateful for that day you suddenly turned up, Kyrie," John said dryly. "This woman really did get it in her head somehow that Sherlock was my boyfriend. And she wasn't the only one. Angelo from the restaurant... And remember Gary and Billy? From Dartmoor? First conclusion when I walk in with you and him? That Sherlock and me were together instead of the two of you."
They both smiled at the memory and looked at each other, lips twitching... "Gay vibes!" they cried out in unison, and started to laugh.
SSS
Sherlock put the finishing touches on his appearance. His curls were still slightly damp, but other than that he looked like his usual self again. Perhaps a bit older, a few more lines here and there. He straightened his jacket.
Mycroft saw his brother pause and stare at his left hand. It was bare, as it had been for the past two years. The wedding ring had been returned to Kyrie because it was a personal belonging of her 'deceased' husband.
He drew in a breath and bit his lip. Looking at Sherlock, he saw a man who was... very out of touch with humanity and human society. The rougher edges of his character, the ones that had previously been smoothed out by his association with Kyrie and John... they were back, like old friends you just couldn't get rid off.
"I think I'll surprise them. They'll be delighted!" Sherlock said in full confidence that Kyrie and John would be nothing but happy to see him again. Case in point, Mycroft thought to himself.
"You think so?" Mycroft asked, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips.
"Hmm. I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows... Jump out of a cake," he said with a big smile and a wide gesture of his hands.
Mycroft furrowed his brows. Surely Sherlock didn't really think they'd still be living there? "Baker Street? Sherlock, they aren't there any more."
Sherlock actually looked surprised at the revelation.
"Why would they be?" Mycroft tried to explain his younger brother who seemed to have completely lost every grasp of human emotion. "It's been two years. They had their lives to live, they went on."
"What lives?" Sherlock asked presumptuous, "I've been away."
Mycroft looked away, suppressing the childish urge to roll his eyes.
"Where are they going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked.
"How would I know?"
"You always know," Sherlock said with a smirk.
"Fine, John has a dinner reservation in the Marleybone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion... though I prefer the 2001.
"And Kyrie?"
"Home, alone. As usual," Mycroft said. Sherlock turned around and squinted his eyes at him. Mycroft merely shrugged his shoulders.
"I think maybe I'll just drop by."
"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome."
"No, it isn't," Sherlock said and he scrunched up his nose as if the very thought was inconceivable. "Now, where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"You know what," Sherlock said, looking at him with an intense look in his eyes.
The ticking sound of high heels connecting with the floor made them both look up. Anthea entered the room, carrying Sherlock's Belstaff coat. Sherlock smiled with relish and looked as if he was about to purr when he slid his arms into the sleeves. Anthea lifted the coat into position, making sure the collar popped up the moment the coat settled around his shoulders.
"Welcome back, Mr Holmes," Anthea said with a smile.
Sherlock pulled at the tips of the collar to make them stand out even further. "Thank you..." He turned to face his brother. "Blood."
With those words Sherlock turned around and left.
SSS
The very first thing Sherlock wanted to do, was to get himself reacquainted with the city. Therefore, he found himself the perfect rooftop to stand on, to look over his beloved city.
Looking ahead of him, feeling the wind blow softly through his now short curls again, the loneliness of the last two years seemed to fade away into a distant memory. Two years of exile, he had endured the hardship to keep his friend and.. her... safe.
It was a strange thought, yet exhilarating... the knowledge he would soon see them again. They would be thrilled of course. They had been so sad... Of course they would be ecstatic to find out he wasn't dead!
It had been really difficult to maintain that sprawled position on the pavement, that brief moment he'd laid there so Kyrie and John could make an absolutely positive ID. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, to just lie there without flinching as he could see and hear their pain and anguish.
And that day, on his 'funeral'... The way Kyrie had sung for him. He'd heard her sing several times before of course, but never so hauntingly beautiful as that day. Until she suddenly stopped singing and the music finished the song without her. She had looked so lost and alone and... broken... as if something inside her just... stopped working.
It had been the strangest sensation. He had been alone for most of his life, because he'd always preferred it that way and also because he never seemed to connect with other people in any meaningful way. Until John had entered his life and then Kyrie too. He never would have imagined that his passing could instil so much raw sorrow and emotion in someone.
His lips twitched into a smile. Well, the long wait was over. Now it was time to reunite himself with John and Kyrie.
SSS
Sherlock entered 222 Marleybone Road, The Landmark hotel. He was immediately relieved of his Bellstaff coat. Sherlock glanced around, feeling pretty suave this wonderful evening.
Two waiters opened the door to the restaurant for him. The moment he entered, Sherlock was instantly aware of everything going on around him. He curved his lips in a small smile. The maître d' stepped forward with a pleasant smile. "Sir, may I help you?"
Sherlock glanced at him briefly. Oh, this was entirely too easy. He didn't even have to try. The details seemed to jump just right at him. Even through the noise in the restaurant, Sherlock heard the maître d's phone beep because of a text alert. "Your wife just texted you. Possibly her contractions have started," Sherlock told the man.
The man quickly took his phone from his pocket, checked the screen and went off on a run. Sherlock smiled to himself. Yup, still got it. Sherlock walked on and scanned the room. And that's when he saw him. John. It was weird, seeing him sitting there, after not having seen him for two years. Sherlock hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure how to proceed.
Suddenly a waitress walked across, right in front of him. "'Scuse me, sir," she excused herself quickly as she walked away. Sherlock's eyes followed her as she went, lingering on the black bowtie she was wearing as part of her uniform.
An idea suddenly sparked in his mind and his brain feverishly set to work. Time to improvise! First... bowtie. He smiled noticing a couple sitting nearby. His reflection in the glass of water on the table showed that the man was wearing a bowtie. He also noticed the man was old enough to be his date's father. Sherlock glided over towards the couple, quickly snatched the glass of water from the table and instantly emptied it's contents down the man's front. The man jumped from his seat and cried out at him. Sherlock quickly offered his apologies for his clumsiness. "Sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" he kept excusing himself.
The man glared at him and picked up the napkin from his lap to dab himself. Sherlock lightly stepped behind him, pulling the napkin up a bit higher. "Please, let me just go to the kitchen and, er, dry that off for you," Sherlock said while smoothly tugging off the man's bowtie. He walked away and tied it around his own neck. He made his way towards John, improvising along the way.
He quickly nicked a pair of glasses some other guy placed on the menu, along with the menu, while uttering, "Finished with that, sir? Allow me to take it for you." As he walked away he pulled a face while putting on the glasses.
He spotted an eyeliner pencil sitting in an open handbag, belonging to the woman who was seated at the table in front of him. He sidled up to close behind her, offering his menu while taking the one she was holding. "Madam, can I suggest you look at this menu? It's, er, completely identical."
The moment she took the menu from him, he instantly pinched the eye liner from her bag and stepped back again. He quickly drew a moustache on his top lip and made a face, while moving in on his target. John.
John was completely engrossed reading the wine list. He looked utterly confused. Sherlock tried to keep a straight face. This was a stroke of genius! He could hardly wait for the moment that John would recognise him.
"Can I 'elp you with anything, sir?" He asked John with an overly exaggerated French accent.
John didn't really bother to look at him. "Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one."
Sherlock smirked while leaning in closer. "Mmm! Well, these are all excellent vintages."
John groaned a bit. "Er, it's not really my area. What do you suggest?"
Since John refused to look up at him, Sherlock exaggerated his accent even more. "Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, erm, if you'd like my personal recommendation..."
"Mm-hm," John mumbled.
Sherlock pointed at the list with his eye liner pencil. "... this last one on the list is a favourite of mine."
John didn't even seem to notice his waiter was pointing at the wine list with an eye liner. Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. As always... John did not observe!
John nodded, but still didn't look up. Sherlock decided to give him a subtle little hint. He straightened up a bit. "It is, you might in fact say, like a face from ze past," Sherlock said, pulling off the glasses. He blinked his eyes a few times and looked at John, expecting him to recognise him any moment now.
"Great, I'll have that one, please," John said, quickly gulping down the remains of his red wine. Sherlock blinked at him in surprise. He knew John was thick, but, come one! How much more obvious did he have to be?
He made another attempt. "It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of surprise!" He flourished his hands in a grand gesture. John just pulled a face at the taste of the wine and thrust he wine list into Sherlock's hands. "Well, err, surprise me."
Sherlock glowered at him. "Certainly endeavouring to, sir," he said a bit peeved while dropping the accent. When John still didn't look up, he sulkily walked away. What the hell was wrong with John? He should have recognised him right away! Okay, time to up his game then. He bluffed his way into obtaining a fine bottle of champagne for his 'customer'.
Sherlock glided back over to the table, practically shoving the bottle of champagne under John's nose in an attempt to make him look up. "Sir, I think you'll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking," he told John while trying to ignore the woman sitting across from his friend, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "It 'as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new," he rambled on.
John threw his date a look of bemused exasperation. "No, sorry, not now, please."
"Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers," Sherlock told, his speech picking up speed like only he could do, in an attempt to make John look up at him. "... suddenly one is aware of staring into ze face of an old friend." Sherlock took of his glasses again and again he looked at John expectantly with a wide smile on his face.
"No, look, seriously..." John finally lifted his gaze to meet Sherlock's eyes, "Could you just -" John abruptly stopped talking. His smile fell. His entire body jolted with shock as John stared up at him, an expression of utter disbelief written on his face.
"Interesting thing, a tuxedo," Sherlock started with a smile. "Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters."
John looked away from him to look at his lady friend. Sherlock's smile faltered a bit when he saw a flash of pain cross John's features. John briefly ducked his head. He breathed loudly through his nose before he pushed himself away from the table. He clumsily staggered to his feet.
"John?" his date asked, worry evident in her voice.
But John didn't say a word. He breathed heavily again and a muscle in his cheek started twitching a bit. Their eyes locked. Sherlock started to feel a bit uncomfortable. Things weren't exactly going as planned. Why wasn't John thrilled to see him?
"John, what is it? What?" John's date asked again. John looked away again, unable to maintain the eye contact and too shocked to say anything.
"Well, short version," Sherlock started, hesitating a bit. John raised his eyes to him again and they looked quite watery. "...Not dead."
John just kept staring at him, pain etched in his face, shock and growing anger flashing in his eyes, the muscles in his face twitching slightly. Sherlock swallowed hard. Seeing the pained expression on his friend's face, Sherlock realised he probably could have handled this a bit better. After two years apart, Sherlock had been excited to see his friend again, expecting John and Kyrie to feel the same. But they had spent the last two years thinking he was dead...
"Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know," Sherlock started explaining and in his nerves he just flooded the words from his mouth. "Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But, in my defence... It was very funny." He laughed a bit nervously, not quite able to meet his friend's eyes.
John still silently glared at him.
"Okay, it's not a great defence," Sherlock admitted.
"Oh no!" You're..." John's date cried out in sudden realisation.
Sherlock glanced at her. She looked nice. Her hair was too short and too flat and she wore way too much eye liner, but she looked nice. "Oh yes," Sherlock asked her unanswered question.
"Oh, my God!" she said in total shock.
"Not quite," he remarked dryly.
"You died," she said, "You jumped off a roof."
"No."
"You're dead!" she cried out.
"No. I'm quite sure. I checked. Excuse me." Sherlock picked up a napkin from the table and without asking dipped it into the glass of water that stood in front of John's date. He vigorously started to rub at the fake moustache. "Does, er, does yours rub off, too?" he asked John, trying to lighten the mood and act nonchalant.
John's nostrils flared as he grimaced at him, his lips pulled in tight smile.
"Oh, my God!" John's date gasped. "Oh, my God! Do you have any idea what you've done to him?"
This was not good, now John's date was getting angry as well. Though Sherlock did not understand the variety and depth of emotion he saw displayed, he did understand he had made a big mistake. "Okay, John," Sherlock said, realising he likely had to make up for some stuff. "I'm suddenly realising I probably owe you some sort of an apology."
John swiftly clenched his hand to a fist and violently slammed it down on the table. John's entire body was shaking as he hunched over his fist.
"All right, just... John? Just keep..." John's date said to him, trying to get him to calm down.
John drew in a steadying breath before he glared up at Sherlock. "Two years," John started on a whisper. He shook his head and drew in another long breath. He noisily breathed it out again and then straightened himself up to look him square in the eyes.
"Two years! Hmm?" John tried again in an oddly strangled whisper. He sniffed and groaned as if he was in pain before he slumped down again.
Sherlock could feel himself breaking out in sweat. Things were... not going well and he had no idea what he could do to make things better. He just wanted thing to get back to normal. Him, John, Kyrie... back at Baker Street... Together again. He cast a curious glance at John's date, trying to figure out how much of an influence she was in John's life.
"I thought..." John shared a look with his date and he flailed his hands helplessly. His dated looked at him with a look of sympathy shining in her eyes. She nodded at him encouragingly. John nodded back at her and straightened himself up. Sherlock swallowed again.
"I thought... you were dead. Hmm?" John's face started to have that angry look again. To make things worse, John started breathing rapidly. "Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?"
Sherlock looked away. He bit his lip, trying to find a way to... ease the situation. Jokes usually helped, made people laugh. Yes?
"How?" John snarled. He stared at Sherlock with an intense look in his eyes, his nostrils flaring again.
"Wait... Before you do anything that you might regret..."
John groaned in response.
"... um, one question. Just let me ask one question. Um..."
John glared at him, daring him to ask his one question.
Sherlock startled to giggle nervously as he gestured towards his own top lip. "Are you really gonna keep that?" He smiled widely and turned his head to look at Mary. Her shocked laugher was not a good sign. Sherlock realised he was not getting out of this unscathed and steeled himself... It wasn't like he didn't deserve it after all.
John hurled himself at Sherlock, grabbed his lapels and roughly shoved him back across the floor until Sherlock suddenly lost his footing and they both tumbled to the floor. Sherlock's head snapped back harshly. When John started to throttle him, Sherlock didn't put up much of a defence but his date and several waiters were not having any of this and they pulled John away from him.