Céline woke up early. It was Monday, she curled up under the covers basking in the warmth for a moment before sitting up. The time was 6 am and her class began at 8 am sharp. She stretched a bit and wandered to the blinds, pulling them open. She looked out at the gloomy morning for a bit before going to the kitchen to make herself breakfast and coffee. After eating it and going over lesson plans she took a quick shower and got ready for the day. She left the house around 7:30 am and her phone pinged.
I'm going to see Miss. Hudson, wish me luck.
It was a text from Watson. Céline had encouraged him to go reconnect with her before his engagement. Céline stopped after she had crossed the road to the University and replied.
She'll be happy to see you. It'll go great. Wishing you all luck.
Watson made it to 221b Baker Street to see Miss. Hudson. He sat nervously at the kitchen table. Miss. Hudson set down a tray. She was shaking and slamming things as she set up tea. Before she put sugar in Watson's coffee she stopped herself.
"Oh no, you don't take it, do you?" Miss. Hudson frowned, putting the sugar back. Watson smiled apologetically.
"No…" It was all he could get out.
"You forget a little thing like that." Miss. Hudson spoke, a tremor in her voice.
"Yes," Watson spoke again, he wanted to say more but he couldn't. He felt as if he would burst into tears at any moment.
"You forget lots of little things, it seems." Miss. Hudson continued. Her eyes wandered to his new mustache. "Not sure about that." She trailed off. Watson touched his mustache nervously. "Ages you…"
"Just trying it out." Watson defensively spoke.
"Well, it ages you." Miss. Hudson snapped. She was holding in her feelings. She didn't know how to say it. Watson was taken aback he stuttered to say something. "I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it but just one phone call, John." Miss. Hudson finally broke.
"I know." Watson softly spoke.
"Just one phone call would have done. After all, we went through." Miss. Hudson snapped, tears pricking up in her eyes. Watson thickly swallowed.
"I am sorry," Watson spoke, meaning it. Miss. Hudson sigh and sat down.
"Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after…" Before she could finish Watson began talking again.
"I just let it slide, Miss. Hudson. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow. If it wasn't for Céline constantly checking in I wouldn't have spoken to anyone, ever again….D'you know what I mean?" Watson struggled to explain, Miss. Hudson set a hand on his arm and Watson put his hand over hers.
Céline finished up her first class and was walking to the coffee shop on campus when she saw it. A report at Scotland Yard. She perked up and slowed down for a moment. The headline read Richard Brook Not Real, Creation of Jim Moriarty. She watched the station a chill went down her back.
"Sherlock Holmes fell to his death from the top of London's Bart's Hospital. Although he left no note, friends say it's unlikely he was able to cope with…" Céline scoffed and stormed away. The hadn't asked anyone about Sherlock. She ordered her coffee with an extra shot of espresso and got back to her classroom as students began to pile in.
At Mycroft's office, Sherlock and Mycroft were talking. Sherlock had finally cleaned up and was getting dressed.
"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?" Mycroft snapped. Sherlock watched himself in the mirror.
"What do you think of this shirt?" He asked, studying it closely. Mycroft rolled his eyes.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped. Before he could say anymore Sherlock cut him off.
"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." Sherlock exasperatedly spoke, rolling his eyes. He was nervous, he had made the decision to go and see Watson first. Then he would have Watson help him go and see Céline.
"Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart." Sherlock snapped at Mycroft. A woman who was sitting in with them cut in with some information.
"And what about John Watson?" Sherlock snapped as she spoke, cutting her off. Mycroft perked an eyebrow.
"John?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock nodded.
"Yes. Have you seen him?" Sherlock asked, more urgent. Mycroft rolled his eyes.
"Oh, yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips." Mycroft took out his phone, checking it for messages. "Céline told me he would be…"
"What do you mean Céline told you?" Sherlock spoke, focusing on Mycroft. Mycroft felt his brother's wandering eyes and did his best to keep things neutral.
"We play chess occasionally," Mycroft spoke cautiously. Sherlock saw the corner of his mouth turn up and frowned.
"How occasionally?" Sherlock pressed.
"Once a week." Mycroft snapped. The two men were quiet for a long moment. Sherlock's mind was racing.
"How is she?" Sherlock finally asked, his tone going soft. Mycroft relaxed a bit, his brother hadn't sensed anything to do with his feelings.
"So, why now? What changed your mind?" Miss. Hudson asked. Watson slightly smiled.
"Well, I've got some news." Watson began. Miss. Hudson gasped.
"Oh, God. Is it serious?" Miss. Hudson frowned.
"What? No, no, I'm not ill. I've, well, I'm moving on." Watson tried to explain. Miss. Hudson's face fell.
"You're emigrating." Miss. Hudson sadly spoke.
"Nope. I've, I've met someone." Watson explained. Miss. Hudson's face lit up and she clapped her hands.
"Oh, lovely!" Miss. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yeah. We're getting married, well, I'm gonna ask, anyway." Watson smiled.
"Céline is fine," Mycroft answered, keeping it short. Sherlock got too nervous thinking of Céline and seeing her again.
"I think I'll surprise John. He'll be delighted. I'll see him first." Sherlock spoke. Mycroft shrugged.
"You think so?" Mycroft spoke, a bit amused.
"I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows, jump out of a cake." Sherlock suggested. Mycroft was surprised.
"Baker Street? He isn't there anymore." Mycroft snapped. Sherlock was surprised. "Why would he be? It's been two years. He's got on with his life."
"What life? I've been away." Sherlock frowned. He thought for a long moment. "Is Céline at…"
"No," Mycroft spoke. Sherlock furrowed his brow in frustration.
"Well…where is he going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked.
"How would I know?" Mycroft retorted.
"You always know." Sherlock snapped back, getting impatient.
"He has a dinner reservation at the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001." Mycroft spoke. Sherlock pulled on his coat.
"I think maybe I'll just drop by," Sherlock spoke.
"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome." Mycroft scolded Sherlock.
"No, it isn't." Sherlock quickly spoke, not fathoming that he would not be welcome. "I'll pop in, get Watson and then I'll go and see Céline." Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock explained.
"Well…good luck with that," Mycroft spoke.