No triggers.

Chapter Fifty

The last time Sherlock was here, he had left in rather a hurry – stealing a car, barging his way through the checkpoint and going on the run all the way to the Forth Road Bridge in Scotland. Just being back here was invoking feelings of panic and desperation that had accompanied him on that wild flight. Having abjured feelings of any kind for the greater part of his life, only allowing himself that luxury in recent years, he was still learning how to deal with the phenomenon but he recognised that these particular ones were irrational so he dismissed them.

Right now, he had a more pressing engagement. He needed to try and save his brother's relationship. The irony of that was not lost on him. He could only imagine how the likes of Sgt Donovan would laugh at the very idea and yet it was the case.

In the Reception area of St Hugh's, the specialist clinic for PTSD sufferers housed in this grand Victorian mansion, the adults in the group all signed the Vistors' Register and Mycroft filled in the Purpose of Visit column with the appropriate code letter. The party was shown into a comfortable sitting room at the back of the house, to wait for Dr Matthews. She had seen Arthur for his first therapy session that morning and Mycroft was anxious to hear how it had gone.

The doctor entered the room and greeted them all with a warm smile then drew Sherlock and Mycroft to one side, while Sara distracted the children by drawing their attention to the view from the window.

'I've told him you're coming, Sherlock,' she advised.

He quirked an eyebrow and Mycroft explained,

'I rang earlier, so that Eve could give him prior warning.'

'He is anxious to see you, to make sure you're alright after your ordeal, and to thank you for what you did. He was concerned that you couldn't speak but I assured him it's just a precaution. He's of the opinion that you've been coerced into coming here, by Mycroft.'

Sherlock snorted with derision, at the very idea, but Eve went on,

'He is desperate to believe that you're innocent, Mycroft, but he can't get past the evidence of his own eyes. Whoever produced those images clearly did a very good job.'

'They are very convincing,' Mycroft concurred. 'I have people working on them in order to discover how it was done.'

'Ah, on that score, he is worried that your people will fabricate evidence to absolve you. He is very confused and rather ashamed that he succumbed so easily to the interrogation techniques. He feels he should have been more resilient. He blames himself for being taken in the first place.'

Mycroft shook his head.

'I have assured him that no one blames him,' he insisted.

Dr Matthews put a hand on his arm.

'This is a long process and we are just at the beginning but I'm confident that he is going to get through this. We just have to be patient.'

Turning to Sherlock, she said,

'Are you ready?'

He nodded and the two of them left the room. Mycroft walked back over to the window where Katy and Charlie were birdwatching with Sara.

'Tan we see Poppah now, Daddy?' Charlie asked.

'Soon, my darling boy, very soon,' Mycroft assured him, ruffling his hair.

ooOoo

Arthur was standing by the window in his room when a knock on the door announced the arrival of his first visitor. He turned to see the door opening and Sherlock walking in. He strode across the floor and engulfed him in a bear hug. Sherlock winced, feeling the pressure on his ribs, but patted Arthur's back and did not resist the hug. When Arthur finally released him, he just smiled.

'How's your throat?' the patient asked.

Sherlock took out the pad and pen, with a sheepish grin, and pointed to the sofa.

'Yes, of course do please come and sit down,' Arthur invited.

Once seated, Sherlock wrote,

Larynx crushed by a gorilla. Just have to rest it. Could be worse.

'I can't thank you enough for what you did for me and Josie,' Arthur declared, earnestly.

Sherlock shook his head and wrote,

I can't accept any thanks, since it was my fault Moran took you.

'Your fault? No way!'

Not originally, no. From the hospital, though. I should have let the pros do their job. And I let Josie tag along. That was wrong. John told me but I ignored him.

'Well, whatever. I'm still grateful. But that's not why you're here, is it.'

Sherlock shook his head.

I saw the videos they showed you. They are all fake.

Arthur looked down at his hands.

'All of them? How can you be sure?'

Moran told me. He said they are a mix of CGI, Mo Cap and some clever editing.

Arthur did not look convinced.

And if you think Mycroft forced me to come and say this, you are clearly a lot more damaged than I feared.

Arthur looked momentarily shocked then gave a snort of laughter.

'Trust you to give it to me straight!' he exclaimed.

You know me. Tact is not my strongest suit. That footage of me? I know where it came from.

'Really?'

Me and one of the maids, in my mother's bed. I was 16 and more than willing. My mother must have suspected, set up a camera. Or maybe my father was spying on his wife. Either way, that's the source.

'But how could Moran get hold of that?'

No idea. Mycroft might know. He's seen the videos too.

'How can you be so sure about the other ones?'

As I said, Moran admitted.

'But what was the point?'

To cause a scandal and bring down the Government.

'Through me?'

Of course. Who better? No one has ever been as close to my brother as you are. He doesn't do relationships or rather he didn't until he met you. Moran must have jumped for joy when you came along. Mycroft is not easy to attack. He has very few weak points. You are his weakest. He really loves you.

'Does he?' Arthur asked, almost pleadingly.

If I thought he didn't, I would tell you. You know me well enough.

'Then I've been a fool! I've let them get to me! I've ruined everything,' Arthur groaned with anguish and covered his face in shame. He felt Sherlock squeeze his shoulder but he couldn't bring himself to meet the detective's eyes.

Sherlock wrote on the pad again and thrust it at Arthur.

Take it from one who knows, Mycroft is very forgiving of those he loves. And, unlike me, you have done nothing wrong.

Arthur took the pad and read the message.

'I hope you're right, Sherlock, I really do.'

Taking back the pad, Sherlock wrote again,

Aren't I always?

Arthur had to laugh again.

Well, nearly always, Sherlock scribbled then tore the sheets of this conversation out of the notepad, gave them to Arthur and stood up.

Arthur stood, too.

'Thank you so much for coming. You're a pal. And I hope your throat feels better soon – and your ribs.'

Sherlock shrugged and grinned, offered his hand for Arthur to shake and walked to the door, tapping on it to be let out. As the door opened, he gave Arthur a wave and was gone.

Arthur walked over to the bed and sat down, reading through Sherlock's comments again before folding the sheets of paper and pushing them under his pillow. He looked toward the door, knowing that the next ones to enter the room would be the three most important people in his life. He steeled himself for that reunion, hoping that what Sherlock had said was right and that Mycroft could find it in his heart to forgive him. And, perhaps more importantly, that he could somehow forgive himself.

ooOoo

At the bottom of the main stairs, Sherlock was joined by Dr Matthews, who had watched the encounter from the Observation Room.

'Well, that went rather well,' she commented. 'I don't know what you told him but it was obviously the right thing.

Sherlock gave a non-committal shrug. He wasn't well known for saying 'the right thing' so it was odd to hear it said of him.

'You know, sometimes, having a reputation for being brutally honest is an advantage. People can trust you,' Eve Mathews added. 'And, you are far more empathetic than you give yourself credit for.'

He stopped and stared at her. Empathic? Was she serious?

'Yes, Sherlock, you are empathic. Anyone as intuitive as you are would have to be. You just have a tendency to either supress it or use it for your own ends but you can't deny it's there!'

He took out the notepad and pen and wrote,

'Can I go for a walk in the grounds?'

The doctor read it and smiled.

'Yes, as long as you don't go stealing any cars.'

Sherlock put his hand on his heart and diverted across the Reception Area and out through the front door. Eve Matthews continued on to the Waiting Room, to collect Mycroft and the children and take them up to Arthur's room.

ooOoo

When he heard the door being unlocked for the second time, Arthur stood up. His heart was racing and he could hear the blood rush in his ears but as soon as the door opened and the children burst in, all his anxiety was forgotten.

'Poppah!' they shrieked and ran towards him. He went down on his knees and caught them, hugging them both to his chest.

'Poppah! I did miss you so much!' Charlie wailed, tears bubbling from his eyes.

'Oh, Charlie, I missed you too! I really did!' Arthur almost sobbed, too. 'And you, Katy. I can't tell you how much I missed you!'

'Where hab you been, Poppah? Why did you leabe us?' Katy demanded, always the more direct.

'I didn't do it on purpose, Katy. It's a bit complicated but let's just say that I was made to go away, even though I didn't want to.'

Katy gave him a startled look.

'You mean like Belle?' she exclaimed.

'Sorry what?' Arthur asked, momentarily confused by the reference.

'Yes, just like Belle!' Mycroft interjected from where he had hung back, over by the door. Beauty and the Beast was Katy's favourite story, at the moment.

'Did you hab to go and lib wib da Beast?' Charlie asked, his eyes as round as saucers.

'Yes, sort of,' Arthur replied, catching the drift and grasping at the opportunity to explain the situation in terms that the children could understand.

'But you didn't hab to mawwy him, did you?' Katy wanted to know. 'Cos Daddy would be sad if you mawwied someone else.'

Arthur looked over at Mycroft, who was still standing by the door. He did look sad.

'No, I didn't marry the Beast. He was a nasty beast, not like the one in the story. Daddy caught him and put him in jail so I could come home again.'

'When are you tummin home, Poppah?' Katy asked.

'Soon, Katy, just as soon as I get better,' Arthur assured her – still looking at Mycroft.

'Poppah, are you poorly?' asked Charlie.

'Just a little bit but seeing you and Daddy, again, has made me feel so much better.'

ooOoo

Sherlock missed his phone. He missed the feel of it in his hand, the weight and the shape. There was an empty space in his breast pocket where it should be.

He had identified the mobile that had been sent to Mycroft, along with the tapes and DVD's, as his. But it needed to be checked over to establish what, if anything, Moran's men had done to it in terms of 'dealing with it', as Moran had put it. Maybe that was just a bluff but they had to be sure, before he used it again. So it had been sent to the Tech people and he had no idea when he would get it back.

Walking in the grounds of St Hugh's, retracing the route he had taken with Arthur the last time he had been here, he felt cut off and isolated without his main means of communication.

He composed, in his head, the text he would like to send to Molly.

'You're right. What was I thinking? I don't need to do that any more. Old habits die hard. Must remember to think in future.'

He walked through the stand of trees and out of the other side, turning back towards the main building. He hoped that Mycroft and the twins wouldn't linger too long, though he knew that was a selfish thought. But he wanted to be back with his family. Those three days he had spent away from them had felt like an eternity. Coming here today had been difficult for so many reasons but mostly because it took him away from them, again.

As he re-entered the Reception Area, Mycroft, Katy and Charlie were just coming down the stairs. The children were smiling and chattering, cheerfully. Mycroft looked as though an enormous weight had been taken off his shoulders. Sherlock met them by the bottom step and gave his brother a questioning look. A curt nod was all he received in reply but it was a nod that spoke volumes. It seemed the wedding could be back on, after all.

ooOoo