The next chapter! We're getting closer to the end of this story, I fear. I think there will be two or three more chapters after this. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! And thanks to everyone who's reading this story.
I thought of writing another Sherlock story after this one. Next time most probably Johnlock.
I don't own the characters or places!
The water of the river Thames was dark. There were small waves which reflected the moonlight. Somehow, it was a peaceful sight. Whatever happened, the river kept flowing, going on and on. Just like time did.
All around him, the world seemed to be breaking down. He barely registered the sound of firemen shouting at each other, trying to prevent the rest of the building from breaking down. Not that there was much left anyway. And then there were police officers running around, trying to find out if people had been in the building. Next to the two who'd been in there for sure.
Mycroft wondered if this was what real pain felt like. The emptiness in his chest where his heart had been mere hours ago. The urge to cry, even if he would never give in to that. At least not when others were around.
For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.
He thought of the last time he'd seen John, just this morning. He'd been laughing about something Mycroft said, and there had been this brilliant smile on his lips. John had kissed him, pulling at his tie. Mycroft had to leave for work, but John had just ignored it and kept kissing him. When they finally parted, John had told him not to work too long hours. After all, they wanted to spend a nice evening together.
He'd seen Sherlock a few days ago at Baker Street, just returning from a case. They'd argued again, like most of the times when Mycroft was around. Sherlock still didn't like the fact that John was with his older brother now. Of course the fight had ended as soon as John arrived. Sherlock hid his grudge against Mycroft very well in front of John. Mycroft knew that he didn't want to hurt him. He'd always known that John was the most important person in his brother's life and that didn't change just because John was married now.
When there was a loud crash behind him, Mycroft turned around slowly. His heart sank when he saw that the rest of the building had collapsed as well. He grabbed his umbrella tighter, wishing that they'd arrived earlier. Just five minutes and everything could have been different.
Suddenly, Mycroft knew what he was going to do now, even if it would be his last action. He would find those who did this. And they would pay.
"Sir?" Anthea's hesitant voice ripped him out of his voice. "Are you alright?"
"Of course." He answered automatically, his voice sounding hollow. He met her worried gaze and sighed.
"Maybe you should go home." She suggested hesitantly.
He raised his eyebrows. "And why should I consider doing that?" Nothing would wait for him there. It would only worsen the pain. "No, Anthea. We have lots of work to do. My brother and –" He stopped and cleared his throat to hide the wave of emotions that hit him again "They suspected that the meeting in two days will be the target. We need to make preparations."
Anthea nodded slowly. "And what do you have in mind?"
He gestured for her to follow him to the car.
Water. Dark, cold water. It was everywhere around him, making him unable to move. He felt like he was drowning, which he probably was. He tried to reach the surface, but the flow of the river was too strong, dragging him along.
Suddenly, he felt something at his arm. It felt like someone was gripping him tightly. And pulling him somewhere.
John inhaled sharply when he finally broke through the surface. The air seemed even colder than the water, but he didn't care. He was gasping for breath and looked around, trying to find out where he was.
Next to him, he saw Sherlock, also breathing heavily. He'd been the one who grabbed John's arm. "John." Sherlock muttered through heavy breaths. "Are you alright?"
"No!" John shouted, having trouble at keeping him up. "The shore!" He pointed to the left and together, they swam.
When they finally reached solid ground, John sank down to his knees and began to cough loudly. He'd inhaled lots of water. When he finally looked up, he saw Sherlock sitting next to him, looking completely exhausted. John ran a hand through his hair and tried to ignore that he was feeling cold.
"What the hell was that?" He shouted and looked at Sherlock angrily.
Of course he looked annoyed. "I saved our lives! So a 'thank you' would be nice!" Sherlock shouted back at him.
"We jumped into the bloody river and nearly drowned! From the fifth floor of an exploding building! That doesn't sound safe!"
"But we're still alive!" Sherlock argued. "If we wouldn't have done it, we'd be dead for sure! And how the hell should I explain that to Mycroft?"
When he realized what he just said, Sherlock's eyes widened. John also stared at him silently for a few moments before he started to laugh loudly. Sherlock joined him quickly.
John didn't know how long they were sitting there in the darkness, completely wet and laughing, but he didn't care. When they finally stopped, he stood up slowly. "Let's not do that again!" He looked around slowly, trying to find out where they were. In the far distance, he could see a light. But they were too far away from the city to see that, weren't they? Then it hit him. "Sherlock."
Sherlock stood up slowly and walked to John. He noticed that Sherlock was limping slightly. "It's nothing." Sherlock said when he noticed John's look. Then he also looked into the distance. "We would have been dead definitely."
"I'll have a look at your leg once we're somewhere else." John decided and raised his eyebrows. "Any idea where we are? And how we can get away from here?"
Sherlock frowned, but then he nodded. "There should be a street in that direction." He pointed it out and they began to walk there. However, they were slow since Sherlock was limping again and it got stronger the longer they were walking. Without saying anything, Johns stepped next to him to support him. Sherlock's lips twitched and John smiled back at him.
When they finally reached the street, they had to wait again. Apparently, not many cars came this way at night. They sat down on a barrier next to the street. By now, they were both freezing terribly. John could tell that Sherlock was tired, even if he would never admit it. And he was feeling dizzy himself.
"What's the plan?" He asked to distract himself.
"We need dry clothes. And a place to sleep." Sherlock stated, as if it was obvious.
John raised his eyebrows at him. "We're not going back to Baker Street?" He feared that by now, Mycroft might have figured out what happened. And most probably, he was worried for them. If he didn't even think the worst.
Sherlock shook his head. "We're officially dead now. We must use that to our advantage."
John stared at him. "I thought being dead wouldn't be a new habit of yours?"
He rolled his eyes. "The Society of the Rose told us about their plan. And they think that we're dead. This is our bets chance to stop them, John."
"You want to let everyone think that we're dead?" John asked loudly. He couldn't believe that Sherlock really wanted to do this again, even if it would be for only two days. A small voice in his head told him that this was a brilliant plan to save Mycroft and so many others, but John didn't really listen to it.
"Exactly." Sherlock sighed. "Why does no one drive on this road?" He stood up and began to move his legs. "It's cold!"
John shook his head. "I won't let Mycroft think that we're dead. And what about Greg? And Mrs. Hudson?"
"One and a half day, John. That's not so much time, after all." Sherlock growled. "You will live through it. And I bet the others will stand it as well." He paused and the thoughtful look on his face made John suspicious.
"What is it? I know that look. There's something you're not telling me." He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.
"Lestrade might know that there could be… complications." Sherlock said hesitantly. "I might have feared that our trip could end badly. Or that it could look like that, at least."
John stared at him wide-eyed. "What did you tell Greg?" He demanded to know.
"Only that he should stick to the plan, no matter what happens. Even if we're declared dead, he and his team should be at the theatre when the meeting takes place."
"And Greg promised to do this?" John already knew that he did. Greg trusted Sherlock.
"Of course. Lestrade said that I am crazy, but he will do what we asked him to. No matter what happens." Sherlock smiled now. "He trusts us."
"Us?" John asked sceptically.
Sherlock nodded. "We're a team. What would Sherlock Holmes be without Doctor Watson?"
John hesitated. "You will not let me tell Mycroft that we're alright." It wasn't a question.
"When they see him at the meeting, with the knowledge that we're dead, and he doesn't look completely devastated or at least a little tired, they will know that something's wrong." Sherlock explained. "I bet Slade is also good at deductions."
"Mycroft is a good actor." John threw in.
"No, he isn't." Sherlock muttered. "You should have seen him in our youth, he was always terrible. And he still is, you're just too much in love with him to notice."
"And you really think that we'll get them?" He asked thoughtfully. Was Sherlock right and they would get to know that they were alive before the meeting? And if they did, wouldn't Mycroft and all the others be in even more danger? Honestly, he hated the idea to make everyone believe that they were dead, even if it was only for two days. He didn't want to break Mycroft's heart. Even the thought of it made him sick.
"We will." Sherlock sounded confident.
In the end, John didn't know what made him agree to that stupid plan. The confidence in Sherlock's voice, his promise that it would work or the fact that he could save Mycroft. Or maybe, just maybe he was just tired.
Finally, they saw headlights shining in the distance.
They spent the night at the small flat of someone who still owed Sherlock a favour. Her name was Layla and she was very nice. She didn't ask any questions and they were glad about that. She had a guest room with two beds and after a shower, they were both feeling better. Layla even had clothes for men in her flat, she said that they were from her ex. In that moment, John really didn't care. He was too tired for that. He didn't even laugh at Sherlock since the pants were far too short for him.
Before they fell asleep, John had a look at the injury at Sherlock's leg. Luckily, the cut wasn't deep. Layla had all the supplies John needed to take care of the wound. Next to that, they both were fine.
The next morning, they made Layla promise not to tell anyone that they were alive. She seemed to owe Sherlock very much since she agreed without complaining. She even promised to get them everything they needed for their plan the next day. Which left John and Sherlock with nothing to do.
To both of them, the waiting was the worst part of the plan. The entire day, John and Sherlock were restless. John didn't like the plan and tried to persuade Sherlock that they should call Mycroft, but Sherlock insisted that he was being stupid. In the end, they argued many times, but Sherlock won. John didn't contact anyone at all.
They didn't use Layla's tv, even if she'd told them that it was alright. Sherlock rarely did that and John didn't want to see the news. However, Layla showed them a paper when she returned in the evening. 'Explosion in industrial area close to the Thames' the first headline said. John read the article and was relieved to see that their names weren't mentioned. It only said that at least two people were in the building when it collapsed.
After that long day, the time passed quickly. The morning of the meeting, John and Sherlock had to disguise themselves. They would dress up so that they looked like two politicians. Apparently, Sherlock had chosen the people they would turn into a few days ago. He searched for pictures of them on the internet. John was surprised to see that they really looked kind of similar to Sherlock and himself. Well, as much as you could hope for on an occasion like this. And they were both not from London, which meant that Mycroft didn't know them. According to Sherlock, that reduced the risk that he would recognize them immediately.
John would turn into someone called Timothy Gould. Small, red hair, a beard, thick black glasses. He seemed to be a strange person. He never seemed to leave his house without his top-hat or the richly decorated walking stick. The walking stick was tricky. They would have to use the one of the real Timothy Gould once they numbed him in the afternoon.
For himself, Sherlock had chosen William Anderson. He was tall, with blond hair, freckles and a moustache. The man seemed to like coloured suits and gloves. John thought he looked ridiculous.
They left when Layla was still at work. John was glad about it, he was sure that she would have laughed at them.
Finding the real Timothy Gould and William Anderson wasn't as easy as Sherlock imagined. In the end, they had to lure Gould into a dark alley and John knocked Anderson out from behind. They tied them up and hid them in a small abandoned shop close to the theatre. While doing that, John made a mental note to get them out when everything was done.
"How do I look?" John asked, swinging his walking stick. He touched the cylinder on his head to make sure that it was in place.
"Shall I be honest?" Sherlock asked and frowned at him with a small smile on his lips. "You look ridiculous."
"Says the one with the freckles and the moustache." John muttered.
Except for John's hat, they were both clad in black suits. They had chosen them to remain as inconspicuous as possible in the crowd. They looked at each other seriously and John tried to stop his racing heart. Soon, he would see Mycroft again.
Mycroft, who'd surely suffered the past days, thinking that John and Sherlock were dead.
John wouldn't be able to talk to him, but maybe he could catch a glance from the distance.
"Don't let them distract you." Sherlock said now and John knew that he meant Mycroft.
"I won't." John promised. He was determined to make their plan work. "And you've got the phone and Greg's number?" They'd seen Greg and his team some time ago, while they were watching the streets around the theatre secretly.
As an answer, Sherlock held up the phone.
"We will stay together as long as possible." John reminded Sherlock. "And if you have any stupid ideas, forget them." He warned his best friend.
Sherlock sighed. "You know that I would never do something stupid, John."
Instead of answering, John began to walk towards the theatre.