Got My Eye on You

Chapter Seventy Eight

The Good Man Part Nine


"Whoo- hoo."

Sherlock put down his bow, and turned to look at Mrs Hudson standing on the threshold of the living room. It was almost noon, and he was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He took the violin down from under his chin, a little gingerly, as if his shoulder was stiff or sore.

"A nice man from Fortnum & Masons has just arrived, Sherlock. It's from your brother."

She got the man to put the delivery on the coffee table, and signed for it, as Sherlock returned to the window and looked out at the crowd of journalists in the road. He sighed and stepped back from the window.

"Oh, look, Sherlock- it's a hamper of food. All your favourites!"

"Food? What would I want with food?" He looked perplexed at Mrs Hudson.

"There's a card for you." She handed over the small envelope, which Sherlock opened. He sniffed and handed it back to her.

She read it out loud, "At least your guests can enjoy themselves. Welcome back, brother". It was signed with Mycroft's rather tidy and yet old fashioned signature. "Well, that's thoughtful of him. I really do think your brother is pleased you're home."

Sherlock had a face on. "Guests? What guests? Mrs Hudson, have you been meddling again?"

She looked a bit sheepish, but still smiled. "Just a few people. You haven't had a proper 'Welcome Home' party. You deserve one."

The furrow between his brows deepened. "What makes you think I want to have a party? Why would I inflict such a punishment on myself?"

"Shush- it's not for you. It's for the people who missed you when you were gone. You'll survive it. Now go get dressed, or you'll still be in those clothes when John and Mary get here."

The little gathering was Mrs Hudson's idea. "A celebration of all sorts of things" is what she called it. "A bit of a surprise, because if I tell him ahead of time, Sherlock will try to find somewhere else to be." She invited just those people that she knew he could tolerate. So, John and his fiancé, Molly and hers, Greg Lestrade and Mycroft. The elder Holmes had politely declined, but said he would 'send something appropriate.'

It was Saturday afternoon, two days after the bomb plot was foiled. The newspapers on Friday were full of the story, and rolling television news couldn't get enough of it, either. Lord Moran had been arrested and charged with offences under the Justice and Security Act 2013. The counter-intelligence services were all rushing to the media to explain what they were doing to defend the country against future attacks of this nature. The tabloids were full of "Gunpowder Plot II" and painting lurid "what if" tales about the extent of the destruction that would have happened if the bomb in the tube carriage had actually gone off.

By Friday night, someone in the police force had leaked to the press the source of the "tip off" and the role that Sherlock and John played in locating the bomb. Lestrade had his suspicions of who the culprit was. The only people who could have known for sure were the SO15 team and the bomb squad at Westminster station. Of those, Greg thought the commander was the likeliest candidate.

The grey haired veteran had made a point of thanking the consulting detective. When Lestrade brought Sherlock and John back to the concourse, he'd taken his helmet off and shook Sherlock's hand. "I was involved in the operation on 7/7, and never wanted to live through another one like that. Thank you. It's not enough, but it's all I can say."

After the news leaked, 221b became besieged by journalists and paparazzi, hoping for an opportunity to interview the man who was now being called "London's Hero Detective."

So, when Greg arrived for the lunchtime drinks party on Saturday, he had to run the gauntlet of newsmen, cameras and shouted questions. Some of the journalists present knew him from the past, and wanted to know if it was "business as usual." He had been warned by the Metropolitan Police Communications team not to talk to the press; the issue would be handled centrally. So, he gave a wry smile as he pressed through the crowd and just said, "No comment."

John and Mary were already in the flat, and Sherlock was in his bedroom still getting dressed. Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes when she said that to the Detective Inspector. "Hiding more like it. He really doesn't like parties."

Greg sat down on one of the hard chairs at the table, and was encouraged to forage through the contents of a rather splendid hamper of goodies. "Find something you like, Detective Inspector. Lord knows, Sherlock won't miss it" She poured him a glass of chilled vintage champagne.

"So, John. I didn't get much of a look in once the CT lot got you aside for a debrief. Care to fill me in on what actually happened? Or are you going to make me wait for the blog? I still don't get how that train line didn't show up on any map." He bit into a smoked salmon canapé.

"It was a bit of tube line that had been built but abandoned before it ever opened, which is why it never appeared on any map. God knows how the terrorists found it, but Sherlock figured it out. And the missing train carriage was just sitting there in the dark, so we got on it. Hadn't been there for less than a minute or so when suddenly the lights came on- the power had been switched on from somewhere."

The doctor bit into a cheese straw, and then washed it down with the champagne. "At first, it looked empty. And I have to say I was a little relieved, because I thought that meant the bomb hadn't been put on board yet. It took us another couple of minutes to realise that the whole train car was the bomb. Under each and every seat cushion was the explosive. And then Sherlock pulled up a compartment on the floor and there it was, with a digital display counting down."

He closed his eyes and shuddered a bit. Mary was sitting next to him on the sofa and reached over to pat his hand.

John then just nodded and continued. "Turned out that someone's Mind Palace has a rather gaping hole in it. He's not infallible."

A baritone voice came down the hall. "You're the military man, John; only fair that you might have had some sort of relevant training. I'm a consulting detective, not a bomb disposal expert." Sherlock came in, wearing his purple shirt and smart trousers, but without the suit jacket.

"Yeah, well. I'm a doctor, not an infantryman. So, we ended up looking at each other thinking it was the end of the road for both of us." Here he gave a glare at Sherlock that somehow managed to convey some affection as well as exasperation.

Sherlock looked away, unable to hold John's gaze. "I said I was sorry."

John sniffed. "Turns out he eventually figured out how to stop the timer, but dragged it out just enough to get me to forgive him for disappearing for two years. Now, I'm more cross that he played that trick on me than I am about him not keeping me in the loop when he went off to play with Moriarty's network."

Greg almost choked on the mouthful of champagne he was about to swallow. "Play? I don't think I would call it play. Bloody awful business, I am sure…"

Before he could say anything about the wounds that Sherlock had brought back with him, the younger man cut him off. "…and you should have seen his face when he realised I was playing him. I hopped down from the carriage and started the tapping to get the power cut off."

"Sherlock, how the hell did you know that anyone was coming or that they would hear and understand your Morse code?" The more Lestrade had thought about it over the past two days, the more worried he had become. It could have so easily gone wrong.

"Well, I always had a contingency plan. If push came to shove I would have grabbed the metal fire extinguisher in the carriage and thrown it onto the live rail to short it out. Once I realised that the bomb device depended on the power supply, we were never really in danger."

John muttered, "Bloody show-off."

"Well, it was only logical." Sherlock was a tad defensive. "The whole apparatus started up when the rail come on. That's how they got around the fact that it was too far below ground for a phone signal to reach. Someone in the know knew which switch to hit. Forensic examination found a cable had been rigged to tap into the existing power supply for the two tube lines. It was enough to divert the carriage there in the first place. The last train stopped just long enough to disconnect the last car, which always has the capacity to go on its own- that's why tube trains never have to turn aournd. Makeshift signalling equipment was used and then dismantled overnight, so the District and Circle line drivers never knew about it."

Mary was listening with great attention. "Was Lord Moran the only one involved? There's been no news about other arrests."

Sherlock smirked. "My brother is finally making a contribution. The driver of the last train from Westminster has been found enjoying the proceeds of his crime in the Caribbean. A London Underground engineer has been taken into custody. I have no doubt that eventually Mycroft's minions will round up the minnows."

Greg raised his champagne glass. "To you, Sherlock. Because of the work you and John did, London is a safer place. Welcome home."

Apart from the consulting detective, the others in the room all raised their glasses and chorused, "Welcome home, Sherlock."

From Sherlock's bedroom came the faint sound of his phone ringing.

"Expecting a call?" John saw the smile forming on his friend's face.

"Yes, a distress call from my brother. He's doing something he really would rather not do- accompany our parents to a theatre performance."

"Speaking of performances, Sherlock, you need to deal with those reporters out there, or poor Mrs Hudson will never get any peace. Do you want me to go with you?"

That made Sherlock stop his journey down the hall just long enough to say, "Always, John. Never doubt that for a moment."


Author's note: Here ends The Good Man story. There will be more chapters in Got My Eye on You soon. A new multi-chapter story of mine will start shortly, Fallen Angel, which covers the Reichenbach Fall. If you want to catch it, then follow me as an author.