Chapter 17
Look to the Sky
"I warned you. I told you."
In the aftermath of their kidnapping and near death situation, the witnesses were gathered in uncomfortable silence following a medical review and provision of their statements. The silence was made uncomfortable by how long they sat waiting to be released, and by how the anger grew and grew in Donovan. It seemed she was done keeping quiet about what happened to them and what she was thinking.
He knew she was feeling vulnerable and afraid. She'd come seconds from dropping over the side of the clock tower on the cathedral, falling to her death. A cop signed on for possible injury or death. It didn't make enduring a near death incident any easier. John could see she wasn't handling it well and was looking for someone to blame.
"I warned you to stay away from him."
"I know you did. This wasn't his fault."
"He's bad news. He probably got off on working out where we were with the clues the Professor gave him. Probably loved every minute of it."
"He didn't." John was certain. "You thought you were going to die. I thought I might die, too."
Donovan sprang up from her seat next to him. She looked furious. Her eyes were also threatening to spill tears.
"He's a monster! No different from bad guys like this Professor psychopath!"
"Don't call him that!"
"He is one. You'll become one if you keep hanging around, agreeing with him!"
It was John's turn to jump out of his seat. She had to take a quick step away when he did, but she didn't back off and neither did he. John took a second step toward her to force her farther from him.
"You're one to talk? Two of your fellow police officers were uncovered as corrupt. Going by your logic, you must be dirty as well!"
For a moment he thought she was going to punch him. She pulled her arm back by her head and her eyes widened in absolute frustration. Lestrade and a Anderson walked in on this scene.
"What's this then?"
It was like a shade had been drawn over her face. Her arm dropped to her side and she whirled around to face her co-workers. "Am I good to go?"
"Well, yes, there may be follow up questions but we're done now. You can go home."
"Yeah, whatever, you have my number."
She practically stomped out the door, leaving the three men to stare after her. Lestrade turned his attention to John while Anderson went after Sally. The man had the look of a desperate puppy hopelessly confused.
"What was that then?"
"It was nothing." Another figure appeared in the doorway with Lestrade. "Sherlock."
"John. Are you..?"
"I'm good. Really, I've had far worse kidnappings."
Sherlock managed a weak smile. It was a sad attempt but John would take it for the attempted gesture. He walked to the exit with Sherlock and Lestrade, tugging at the dry change of clothes the station provided. They were a bit loose, at least two sizes too big. Before leaving he had to say something to the detective inspector.
"You should know, I think Sergeant Donovan may need counseling."
The other man had a hard look to him about that. He accepted the suggestion as well as any cop who had a rough night could. Lestrade looked tired. The policeman should consider taking a night or two off. He informed John of something that certainly improved his own night.
"Oh, ah, thought you should know. We picked up Marcus and Grant trying to leave the country by private plane. Tell Mycroft we're glad for his government connections in locating them, Sherlock."
A grunt was all he was going to get out of Sherlock. It made John smile a little. The brothers obviously cared and yet habitually acted like they wanted nothing to do with each other. They weren't as good at hiding it as they thought they were. Aw, sibling love. How quaint.
"Dr. Watson!"
Oh no, not this guy. He liked the man well enough when he first met and worked with him on a case. He didn't like him so much when he was accused of killing people. Detective Inspector Dimmock marched to where they were standing.
"What are you doing free, Dr. Watson?"
"Dimmock-" Lestrade started.
"He should be locked away to stand trial for the murders he did commit. Remember the father and daughter who lost their lives? Remember them? In their case, we do have evidence and charges have been filed."
John lowered his head in guilt. He may not have been able to control himself, but he'd done those actions nonetheless.
"That's absurd," Lestrade retorted before Sherlock could get a word in edgewise to undoubtedly say something rude and unhelpful. "John was drugged. Those murders took place against his will. He can't be held responsible when he wasn't of sound mind."
"The trial is going ahead regardless. Whether or not a drug might have made him do it is for a court to decide."
"This is far more ignorant than your usual brand, Dimmock. Have you learned nothing from working with me?"
Dimmock put his hands on his hips. "Get to the point."
"John didn't do it and I can prove it. I took a cursory glance at the case file."
"Oh a cursory glance, did you?"
His voice was dripping with sarcasm. John stood back and waited for Sherlock to educate him on the finer points of problem solving. Sherlock stood tall and gladly informed him of what he was missing.
"Your one and only witness is false. He was hired by the remaining project head, Myra Jones, or her soldier, Parker. Follow me."
Sherlock led the way outside and stopped on the pavement. Glancing up and down the street, his gaze landed on a silver car parked nearby. He pointed to the vehicle.
"Is that your car?"
Dimmock shifted his expression from disbelieving to scrutinizing what the man could possibly want with a car. When Sherlock sent him an impatient look, he let his own look shift into full on suspicion.
"Yes. Why?"
"Give John your keys."
Lestrade, Dimmock, and John spoke in unison. "What?"
"The witness claims they saw John leave the victims' house, get into a vehicle, and drive away from the crime scene. Give it to him, Dimmock. Get behind the wheel, John."
"But Sherlock-"
His protest was interrupted by the set of keys pushing into his hand and his friend shoving him toward the police detective's car. He sought Lestrade for help but the man shrugged and waited to see what would happen. John was not okay with this. It wouldn't end well. He sat behind the wheel as the two detective inspectors got in the backseat and Sherlock slid in beside him.
"Okay, go. Drive."
"Sherlock..."
"Drive, Dr. Watson. Go ahead," Dimmock told him.
Dimmock didn't understand why this was a bad idea. He tried one final time. "But Sherlock..."
"Drive!"
John let out an irritated noise. He did what Sherlock asked and started the car after searching for where the key went in. When he got it, he looked to the man in the passenger seat.
"Now what?"
"Drive."
He stared at the road ahead. Empty. He placed his hands on the wheel and stared down at the floor of the car. Okay, he knew one was for braking and one was to go. He guessed. Nothing happened. He tried the second one. Nothing happened. Now he was confused. He looked to Sherlock but the man only stared back at him. John squirmed uncomfortably in the seat and searched for something else he was supposed to possibly do. There were some levers...
"Okay."
John kept searching for what he needed to get the car to move, waving off Dimmock without thinking about it. "Just..give me a second. I'll get it figured."
"Okay. Dr. Watson. John."
He did turn around in his seat then. Dimmock had an incredulous look on his face that morphed into a bit of guilt and uncertainty. "Forget what I said before. We're done here. I'm sorry I accused you. We're done here."
John stared in surprise. "What do you mean?"
He felt rather than saw Sherlock lean in close. "You can't drive, John."
"Well I know that. I was trying to remind you but you wouldn't listen. Oh."
It occurred what Sherlock proved. He didn't know the first thing about driving a car. He couldn't have driven away from a crime scene without knowing how to drive.
"It's fine, Dimmock. You were doing your job."
"Still feel like a bloody arse. Sorry, John."
Did it bother John that police believed him capable of murder? Yes. Did his work for the NSA end up being a small catastrophe in his lifetime? A bit. Had it all ended up okay? Yes. Sherlock hadn't really been dead and plenty of lives were saved through his involvement and dismantling of the government's super soldier project.
There was a woman in his life who loved him and he loved her. He wouldn't have to worry about getting kidnapped or hurt, visiting crime scenes where people had become victims. And Sherlock was never going to love him. It was never going to be. Love turned out to be enough to keep his leg from hurting, just like adrenaline. Love would be more than enough for him now. It would have to be.
"It's fine. It's all fine."
/
For the next week, John used most of his free time writing letters to the families he made victims during his work for the NSA. Nearly all of his targets' deaths were faked, made to appear like murder when in actuality he induced comas and placed them safely in hospital. He still stole them from their homes and families, temporarily ripping them from their lives, all for the sake of maintaining his cover.
That job was over, most of the people returned to their lives while Mycroft finished the investigation into unlawful acts committed by Myra Jones and her people. John felt he owed the affected families a written apology for bringing them trouble at the very least. It was when he was completing the last batch of letters that he addressed Sherlock.
"So you went after the Woman."
John watched Sherlock put down the violin and move to sit in his chair. He continued to sit in his own chair, observing him. He figured Sherlock wouldn't care. Sure they had good times together but the other man was always about his work. He'd been fine before him. This would hardly break him. Probably wouldn't even bother him for long. Yeah, that's what he kept telling himself the entire week.
"Yes."
"But you didn't find her."
"She didn't want to be found."
"But she did give you the information you needed to solve the case and get back in time to save me."
"Yes."
"Mycroft didn't know the two of you were being tracked by the same cops you were working to unveil though."
Instead of giving a straight response, he made a noise somewhere between agreeing and disagreeing. He seemed to think of something to say. "Mycroft didn't know our lead was the Woman either. Shows you how much he doesn't know."
"Mhm. But you didn't know about the tracking. Neither one of you did."
Sherlock grumbled and John laughed, poking him teasingly. Sherlock could see right through him.
"You should be angry."
He shrugged. "Well I'm not."
"I've been secretly meeting with my brother on your case since you almost died."
"I worked cases on my own when I thought you were dead that nearly got me killed. It's a good thing you cared enough to work my case and dig into my activities. You do a better job of solving cases. You always have."
Sherlock was giving him that piercing stare. Those blue eyes were looking right through him. John swallowed and shifted in his seat, settling for holding onto his kneecaps to help him get through this moment. His friend noticed. Of course he did.
"You have something you want to say."
"Yeah."
Silence. Most of his life he never knew Sherlock Holmes. The years knowing the man, thinking he'd lost him, gaining him back, realizing he was in love with the stupid fool, realizing his loving him would never amount to anything. It all brought him to this night seated across from Sherlock.
He wondered if his latest rendezvous with Moriarty led to this happening. He wondered if he was making excuses. John thought back to that morning two nights ago.
Jim was trying to change John's mind about him. The man wasn't trying to be coy or manipulative doing it either. He explained to John how he had five of his associates killed in order to limit the kind of business he would conduct in the future. It was done for John. After hearing this news, he recoiled from Moriarty, pushing his chair back from the cafe table as far as possible without being too obvious.
"You think that's what I'd want you to do? Kill people for me?"
Moriarty frowned. "Of course not. It's in my nature to... Listen, John, I want you to understand I will no longer be the man I was. I will..try to be better."
"You like what you do. You take joy in other people's pain!"
"But I don't want to!"
John stared. Jim looked distraught, vulnerable, and uncertain. He didn't know if he could believe him. There was so much bad in the history between them.
"I do hope you can be a better man, Moriarty. I can't be the one you rely on to help you do that though. I use up all of my strength and energy to keep myself going and to help the people that really need help. You, you're a victim of your own mind. It's up to you to do better. You and Sherlock are alike in that way."
Moriarty's eyes flashed dangerously, expression darkening. He held his tongue and John suspected it was taking everything for him to do so. Now was the time to sever his ties with the criminal mastermind for good. This had to happen.
He stiffened consciously, making himself rigid and emotionless. "I know what you fear most, Moriarty."
"What are you doing, John?"
"Just remember I know what you fear. Left alone, abandoned, locked away in a mental institute. It was the worst period of your life. I'll make sure it happens again if you don't leave me alone when I go. You leave Sherlock alone too."
"This isn't you, John. You'll come to realize what I mean to you."
John got up from his seat, left the cafe, and didn't look back. He was letting Jim go, along with this chosen life of his. He'd made up his mind. This was the right decision.
He was drawn out of his thoughts when he noticed Sherlock continuing to wait expectantly for him to speak. The patience wore out quick enough. Nobody ever called Sherlock a patient man.
"Oh just say it, John. I can tell you have something weighing on your mind. Get it out."
"I'm going away, Sherlock. Moving out, away from here."
He said it. He'd gotten it out. Now, to deal with the reaction.
"What?"
"I've met someone."
"What?"
Okay, was Sherlock not hearing him? He knew he was, which meant..he didn't believe him?
"Met someone. I'm marrying her, moving into a place with her... Not in London."
"John-"
"She's lovely," he interrupted before Sherlock could say anything real.
"Um, sorry, what?"
"It's Mary. She's a lovely woman. I love her and I'm going to stay with her now."
"You say that as though you're trying to convince yourself of its truth."
John got angry. Sherlock was doubting what he was telling him. Why? It was annoying and not where this conversation should be headed.
"It is the truth. I'm trying to get it through that thick head of yours that I'm leaving and-"
"You don't want me to contact you."
Oh, so Sherlock did understand what he was saying. Maybe his disbelief was stemming from his desire not to believe him. Somehow, Sherlock already knowing what he wanted didn't make it better or easier. In fact, it seemed to make it more difficult.
John turned his gaze downward, away from Sherlock. "Yes. Because I can't do this."
"Do what?"
He was giving John the look. The look saying he couldn't comprehend why John didn't see clearly. It was Sherlock who wasn't seeing what he was trying to say. Maybe because some of it was bollocks. He pushed his thoughts aside.
"This, with you. It's too much."
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock growled, growing frustrated.
"I just need a change. I need to get out!"
"You say it like you mean this life, but that's not what you mean at all, is it?"
Did Sherlock know he loved him? Did he know that was a big part of why he was moving away? If he knew, that was worse. It would mean he'd have to deal with knowing Sherlock knew and didn't feel the same. Avoiding a deeply hurtful rejection was best.
"Your cases and experiments always came first. You got bored with me. Don't pretend otherwise."
"Is that really what you think? You're wrong. You're on my mind, constantly." Sherlock met his eyes. "It's annoying actually."
He smiled at that, murmuring, "Suppose it doesn't matter much now."
"John..."
"Sherlock." He mustered everything remaining to look his dear friend in the eyes. "I'm just..not the same."
He stood and left, to Mary's for the night. It was a coward's move, but he couldn't face Sherlock. The man would be perfectly fine without him. He'd been fine before. Well..except for the occasional use of drugs and other reckless behavior that threatened his life from time to time. He couldn't think those thoughts. Sherlock was a stronger man than when he first met him. He was brilliant too. He would be fine.
Another few days and he completely removed himself from 221B. He accepted a job at a hospital in Cardiff and saw Mary often. She was obviously happier and so was he. He married her a month later. It was a good life.