Ben watched on with intrigue. It had almost been two years since the death of Sherlock Holmes. The media circus surrounding his death and fall from grace had died down. Elizabeth knelt on the ground, a bunch of flowers in her fingertips as she rested them down on the grass, fiddling with them for a moment to arrange them.
Keeping his distance, Ben watched on as she finished her arrangement, moving to her feet after a moment and brushing down her knees, tugging the dirt that clung on her jeans from it. She let out a shaky breath, hands on her hips as she read his name on the headstone. It took her another minute before she rested a hand on top of the headstone and then turned to walk back to Ben, her hand in front of her and reaching for his.
"Everything okay?" he enquired.
"Fine," she nodded to him. "Everything is fine."
…
Sitting at the grand dining table, Mycroft peered over to his niece as she sat to his left, her books open and in front of her as she chewed down on the coq-au-vin they were eating that evening. Placing his cutlery down, he let his hands move to his chin, elbows on the table as he watched his niece focus more on the book to her side than the food in front of her.
"You have been studying for hours now, Elizabeth," he commented. "And while I approve of your sudden dedication to university, I have to say that it is rude to read while eating dinner in the company of others."
Groaning to herself, Elizabeth closed the book and slid it down the table, looking to her uncle and picking up both her knife and fork. "You know I'm just nervous," she told him. "It's the first year exams and I just want to do well before we break up for summer."
"And you shall do well," Mycroft assured her, going back to picking at his food. "Elizabeth, you have been doing well all year if your essay results are anything to go by."
"Essays are different to exams," she mumbled into her food. "Besides, there's so much to learn. I didn't think there would be, but it is crazy."
"Yes, well," Mycroft mused. "So long as it means that you are no longer waitressing as a full time career then I am mainly pleased."
Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth sipped on her water. "You are such a snob when it comes to careers. I am amazed you allowed me to study history."
"History is very interesting," Mycroft responded. "And you seem to be thriving. Plus, if you need a summer internship then I happen to know someone at the museum-"
"-Name dropping?" she interrupted her uncle. "As much as I appreciate everything you have done for me, Uncle Mycroft, I need to find an internship on my own. I need to start doing a lot of things on my own now."
Mycroft regarded his niece with intrigue as she spoke, his gaze roaming over as she let the words leave her mouth. He watched her take a deep breath before taking a bite of food and looking down to the table.
"I have to say, Elizabeth," Mycroft spoke to her and she looked over to him, chewing on a slice of carrot before placing her fork back down. "I am very proud of the way you have changed in recent months. You have matured terribly. I understand that things have not been easy, but perhaps this is the start of a new chapter for you."
Elizabeth kept silent, unsure of what more she could say to her Uncle's revelation. It took her a moment to take a deep breath, dabbing her napkin against her lips and then dropping it onto the table. She let out the breath she had been holding before looking Mycroft in the eye.
"I miss him," Elizabeth said.
"I would expect no less," Mycroft informed her. "He was your father."
"And it has been two years," Elizabeth said. "I know that it took me a while to get to this stage and that I am lucky to be back in a university. I know that, Uncle Mycroft. I just…I mean…Anderson keeps emailing me all of his theories."
Mycroft rolled his eyes at hearing her as she spoke, watching her as she went back to picking at the food on her plate.
"I told you to block him," Mycroft said to her and she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.
"I was going to," she said, "but I feel sorry for him. He thinks that he…he feels guilty over what he did to my dad. He feels guilty about everything that he has done and I don't want him to. I want him to move on."
"Perhaps he should feel some guilt?" Mycroft said. "Was he not the one who persuaded Lestrade to turn against your father?"
"Well, yes," Elizabeth responded, "but that does not mean that I blame him. He…he doesn't deserve to have my dad's death hanging over him. He has suffered enough and I blame only Moriarty for this."
"Well, yes," Mycroft said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he thought about his part in the entire scenario. Perhaps he had been the one who had pushed Moriarty over the edge? But he did not want his niece to blame him. He blamed himself more than she could know.
"Regardless," Elizabeth held her hands up in defence, "I'm not going to blame him or hold him accountable so that's that. And I'm not back to hanging up newspaper articles in my room with conspiracy theories."
"I am very glad to hear that, Elizabeth. I doubt I could cope with that again."
"You and Ben both," she jested with him. "Anyway, I forgot to tell you that I'm meeting John and Mary tomorrow night after exams with Ben. We're having some drinks. I'd invite you, but I doubt it would be your scene."
"You would be correct," Mycroft said and began to eat once more. "I shall take you to the Ivy for dinner at the weekend to celebrate."
"The Ivy?" Elizabeth asked him. "You know that I would be happy with just a takeaway?"
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You are most certainly your father's daughter."
…
Sitting in the pub, Elizabeth could hardly feel anymore content. Ben's arm was draped over her shoulders as they sat in the leather booth with a bottle of wine in front of them. Mary had gone up to the bar to order John another pint and her a cocktail. It was then when John struck. He was sat next to Elizabeth in the booth as he looked between her and Ben.
"I have something to tell you," he informed them and Elizabeth arched a brow as John looked to her and Ben took a sip of the glass of wine from the table.
"What is it?" she wondered from John.
"Well, you know I've been seeing Mary for a while?" he asked her.
"Yeah?" she pushed him.
"I…I'm going to ask her to marry me," he declared and Elizabeth placed her hands over her mouth to conceal a shriek as Ben chuckled at hearing him. He nodded his head before speaking.
"Congratulations."
"She hasn't said yes yet," John scoffed and Elizabeth shook her head.
"Of course she will say yes," she assured him. "She adores you, John."
"Hopefully," John scoffed with a nod of his head. "I just wanted to let you know…well…I mean…I know I owe you nothing, Elizabeth, but ever since Sherlock died…I've felt as though I've become a bit more protective and I see you as a friend."
"John," Elizabeth sighed at hearing him, moving her hands to rest on his arm as she looked him in the eye. "I'm happy for you. You know that, right? We all need to move on."
"I know," John agreed with her. "I just wanted you to know. I'm taking Mary out to dinner at the weekend to pop the question. I'll let you know how it goes afterwards."
"I'm sure it will go well," Elizabeth responded and Ben nodded his head.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Anyone can see she loves you and you love her."
"I take it wedding bells aren't chiming for you two just yet then?" he asked from them and Elizabeth scoffed as Ben turned red and looked away, his arm still over her shoulders and holding her tightly as she shook her head with haste.
"We're a bit too young," she whispered. "And we've only been dating for a couple of years."
"Yeah," Ben said in agreement. "I mean, Elizabeth has got university to get through and I've still got to-"
"-Calm down," John interrupted the pair of them with a sharp laugh, an amused look on his face as he watched the couple. "I was only joking with both of you."
Thankfully they were saved from further conversation as Mary returned and all talk of wedding disappeared from the conversation.
…
"I thought that we were going to the Ivy this evening?" Elizabeth asked of Mycroft as he pulled his coat onto his body and stepped into the foyer where Elizabeth was stood, dressed in a fitted black dress.
"We were," Mycroft informed her, "but I have business that has suddenly come up. I need to go to the office. I should be home later this evening. I will pick up a takeaway on the way home. That is what you wanted, isn't it?"
Elizabeth tried not to look too relieved as she nodded and smile widely. "Brilliant," she told him. "I'm going to put my pyjamas on and watch a film."
"You could try to look a little disappointed," Mycroft called after her as she walked up the stairs.
"Sorry," Elizabeth called back down to him and continued walking back to her bedroom.
Mycroft let out a deep breath and stepped out the door to where his car was waiting for him. The drive across London was quick in comparison to usual. Then again, it was the early evening on a weekend and not rush hour. Mycroft had found himself letting his thoughts wander onto what Elizabeth would say when she saw her father again.
Would she be angry? No doubt about it. She would be angry that he kept this hidden from her. Would she forgive him? He didn't know. Mycroft cared about little, but what he did care about was family. He cared about Elizabeth. She had a special place in his life after everything she had been through. How could she not?
Keeping silent, Mycroft let his driver open the car door once he arrived at his office. Walking into the building, he looked around before coming to the door to his private study. Opening the door wide, he looked to the man stood there. He looked the same as he usually did.
"Apparently you had a beard when my men found you," Mycroft said.
"Yes," he drawled back. "I have to say that I didn't particularly enjoy it."
"I can imagine," Mycroft replied. "I take it you must be wondering why I brought you back now."
"The thought did cross my mind," he responded.
"Well, I need you to do what you do best, Sherlock," Mycroft said and he took a seat behind his desk as Sherlock remained stood. "I need you back working on cases. Your reputation has almost been returned, but no one is to know you are back. However, I do believe that London might be under attack. I will have the files sent to Baker Street when you return there this evening."
"Wrong," Sherlock said, popping his lips and sitting down in the chair opposite his brother. "I will not be returning to Baker Street. I want to see Elizabeth."
"She is at home."
"At your home," Sherlock clarified. "I need to see her and explain."
"I know," Mycroft said and Sherlock picked up on his tone, nodding his head as he laced his fingers together on his lap and looked to his brother.
"You're scared."
"Aren't you?" Mycroft asked. "For the past two years your daughter has thought you were dead. She will not exactly be pleased to discover we lied to her."
"I am aware," Sherlock nodded, "but the longer I spend here the more anxious I become."
Nodding his head, Mycroft agreed with his brother. "Well, perhaps we best go and do this, then?"
Sherlock leapt to his feet once more. "Perhaps we should."
…
A/N: Do let me know what you think. Reunion is next!