The Lying Detective, Part 2
Silence greeted Amelia upon her hurried dash through the doorway of Baker Street, her heeled shoes coming to a stop just by the base of the stairs as she listened, waiting for...something, she wasn't entirely sure what for. Perhaps for Mrs Hudson to come dashing out of her own flat just down the hallway from the stairs, perhaps for her to come hurrying down the stairs, looking stressed and frazzled, while the noise of Sherlock shouting followed her. But yet it was silent, not deathly so, Amelia didn't exactly think that she was about to find someone dead, but it was very slightly confusing as to what the hell was going on, given that Mrs Hudson had said that Sherlock had been shouting and shooting at things less then fifteen minutes ago. She frowned and glanced up at the stairs, eyeing them.
"Mrs Hudson?" she called, glancing from the stairs to down the hallway to where Mrs Hudson's front door was, "Mrs Hudson?"
"Up here!"
That certainly sounded like Mrs Hudson and she didn't exactly sound all that distressed, in fact, she sounded rather calm. Amelia lifted an eyebrow and followed the voice up the stairs, finding that the living room door was wide open as she reached the landing, but the sight beyond that door left her almost needing to pick her jaw up from the floor. She slowly stepped through the doorway and simply...stared around in disbelief, because by Sherlock's standards this was pure chaos. She wondered, as she took it all in, if this was what his brain looked like right now, because if so it would make a lot of sense. The entire floor was littered with paper, most of it loose papers that had been seemingly just tossed in the air and left wherever they might have fallen at random, some of which with tread marks on them and creased, as if they had been walked over...Amelia could see why as she tried to pick a path that was paper free, her stiletto literally puncturing through one flimsy piece of paper and getting caught, forcing her to roll her eyes in exasperation and have to tear the paper away. The walls were in much the same state, the wall above the couch was covered to the ceiling in pinned papers and pictures, all featuring a late, middle aged man that was balding and dressed in expensive suits, many of the pictures seemingly plucked from ad campaigns, while lines of string had been strung up about the place, more of the same pictures and almost random seeming bits of paper hanging from them. One picture on the wall even had three bullet holes in it.
Never before had Amelia seen Baker Street in such a state, she had to admit...she was rather shocked by it. The air smelt thickly of dust and paper, with a distinctive chemical smel emitting from the kitchen. Slowly, she turned and moved towards the open sliding doors, shaking her head in amazement at the sight of more paper and pictures littering the mantle and even the armchairs, before she found herself stopping short at the next rather startling sight to present itself to her. Mrs Hudson, standing perfectly calmly, holding a very obviously loaded pistol directly at Sherlock's chest as he stood stoic still by the kitchen table before the land lady with a pair of handcuffs snapped firmly around his wrists. They both turned towards her as she seemed to freeze, needing to simply take a second to take in the sight before her, her painted red lips parting in disbelief.
"Oh, Amelia," Mrs Hudson gave her a bright smile, looking as if she was just greeting Amelia from a day out shopping, rather than currently holding Sherlock at gunpoint in his own kitchen, "You made it, dear. Don't you look lovely".
Amelia blinked slowly and forced herself to edge into the kitchen, glancing at the gun, to the handcuffs, to Mrs Hudson, and then to Sherlock, before releasing a small breath through her lips. Sherlock gritted his teeth and refused to look at her, his curls slightly stuck together from likely days of not washing and he had a slight beard starting to ghost around his mouth and cheeks, while his eyes were bloodshot and still rather glazed over, though he seemed aware enough of what was happening. He was dressed in clothing that looked and smelt as if they had been on his person for at least three days, while his blue dressing gown draped over his sickly thin frame. He was just a total mess. Amelia inhaled sharply again and reached up to press a hand against her forehead.
"Mrs Hudson..." she began, with as much collection as she could manage, "Might I inquire as to what the hell is going on here?"
"I'm just waiting on the boys from downstairs to pop up and give me a hand getting Sherlock into the car. They said they'd only be a moment..."
"Right," she nodded slowly, frowning vaguely at the land lady...it was just a tad worrying that she seemed to think that explaining that to her ought to make everything so clear, "The handcuffs and the gun..." she glanced at her and quirked an eyebrow, while Sherlock still refused to glance at her, "Don't you think it might be a bit much?"
"Oh, not at all," Mrs Hudson shook her head instantly, smiling cheerfully, "Trust me, Amelia. I know how to deal with smack heads, this isn't my first time".
Amelia really wasn't sure what to say to that, so she decided to let it go, "Well..." she glanced sideways at Sherlock again, but he still insisted upon refusing to look at her. It made her feel a flash of annoyance, but she let that drop, too, "You certainly seemed to have handled this...whatever it is. What exactly is the plan, Mrs Hudson?" she turned back to her, eyeing her curiously.
"Yes," Sherlock huffed, speaking at last and finally lifting his gaze up to glare at Mrs Hudson with a rather indignant scowl, "What are you planning to do to me, Mrs Hudson?"
Mrs Hudson calmly lifted her chin, adjusting her grip on the pistol, "We're going to take him to John, of course," she said to Amelia, seemingly ignoring Sherlock, who only scowled deeper, "It's about time they see each other".
Amelia grimaced slightly, glancing warily at Sherlock, who finally caught her eye. He looked back at her briefly, his expression clear of any hint of how he might have felt about being face-to-face with her after weeks of very obviously avoiding her, before he dropped his gaze and positively glared at the metal cuffs around his wrists. She sighed heavily and turned back to Mrs Hudson.
"Right," she said heavily, "Because how much worse could this situation possibly get?"
You'd think she would have known better then to ask.
...
If you had asked Amelia what she might have expected Mrs Hudson to do next...she would never have said that they would be speeding at a positively absurd pace down the freeway in a bright red Aston Martin, but then again, today only seemed to be a day full of surprises. Case in point...Mrs Hudson's rather loose way of describing how Sherlock would be travelling in the car, because the sports care most certainly didn't have a backseat...it did have a relatively large boot, though, which is where Mrs Hudson cheerfully instructed the boys from the cafe to deposited Sherlock before they speed out of Baker Street like a bat out of hell. Mrs Hudson seemed rather intent upon ignoring every road law known to man, too, swerving across lanes and taking corners as if she was on a race track, all the while playing classical music and happily chatting away to Amelia about how she had won a little bit of money on her latest bout of scratch cards...all while Amelia desperately tried not to simply vomit all over herself and the rather nice car dash.
It didn't take very long before the wailing sirens of police cars in pursuit of them filled the air...Mrs Hudson merely laughed and turned the sound up on the stereo, going straight back to happily chatting to Amelia about something...Amelia had to admit that by that point in their little trip, she was just barely keeping what little breakfast she had eaten down, using all of her concentration to just stop herself from being sick...she had always been a bit of a poor traveller and even sitting in the front seat seemed to be throwing her off today, given the speed and tight corners they were taking. It was only when Mrs Hudson caught sight of a police helicopter trailing them from above, did she finally turn down the music...though only very slightly, only for her to attempt to reach over to Amelia's foot well, steering one handed, mind, trying to blindly grapple for her handbag.
"Mrs Hudson!" Amelia gasped, horrified, "Focus on the road! Focus on the road!"
"I was just going to make a little phone call, Amelia," she waved her off, though she did, thankfully, place her hand back on the wheel...just in time to go zooming around a van ahead of them, which was going at the perfectly correct speed limit.
"I think I'll handle that," Amelia told her firmly, her travel sickness briefly calmed by the thought of the risk of impending death should she allow Mrs Hudson to take her hands off the wheel again. She reached into her inner breast pocket of her blaze, slipping her own phone out, "Who exactly where you planning to call? Somehow I doubt Lestrade is going to help with this, it isn't exactly his division...he can get a little fussy about that sort of thing".
"The government, dear!"
Amelia sighed slightly and quickly found Mycroft's number in her contacts list, making the call...he picked up after the second ring, "Mycroft," she greeted him warily, grimacing as they went streaking by another car, "So...my days been pretty eventful, how about yours?"
Mycroft sighed heavily on the other end, "Miss Wilson," he began, his tone stern, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Technically, it's not my fault, Mycroft. It was Mrs Hudson's idea".
Her eyes widened in horror, then, when Mrs Hudson suddenly took a sharp turn off the freeway, positively blazing along, heading directly towards a very large round about ahead of them, and she wasn't slowing down. Not. In. The. Least.
"Oh, dear God..." she breathed weakly on the line, just barely keeping the phone up to her ear, "Mycroft...if I don't make it...please know that I never actually hated you, I just found you terribly annoying and condescending, but I think you actually have a pretty good heart, deep, deep down inside..."
"Miss Wilson," he huffed in her air, sounding rather annoyed, "What are you..."
They entered the roundabout at that point and Amelia hastily dropped the phone into her lap, barely restraining a cry as she grabbed the edge of her seat for dear life, while the smell of burnt rubber and squeal of tires filled the air as they took the first sharp bend. She truly expected the car to simply go flying off the road, but somehow they managed to keep going, police cars and helicopters still chasing them, Mrs Hudson humming along to the music blaring, acting as if she did this every other weekend and perhaps she did. What did Amelia know? Off they went, leaving the roundabout behind them and racing down the road, which seemed to open up into a residential area, before Mrs Hudson sharply turned the wheel, taking them squealing around yet another corner of the estate and then another, the back of the car literally sliding sideways across the road for a moment, before Mrs Hudson corrected it. Suddenly, another police car came racing towards them from the street ahead of them, but Mrs Hudson wasn't the slightest bit concerned, she just simply sharply turned the wheel, sending the car careening sideways into a couple of rubbish bins that were left sitting out on the driveway of a perfectly ordinary looking brick house. She calmly pulled the handbrake on and turned off the engine, while Amelia could only gap at her in shock, frozen in place while the chopper hovered over head and the police pulled up around the street behind them, frantically moving to get out and surround them.
"Come on, Amelia," Mrs Hudson said with a small, carefree smile, slipping her door open and calmly climbing out with just a sigh of relief at the journey being over...not a sigh of despair at the fact that they were likely about to be arrested.
Amelia stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment...before she hastily scrambled to collect up her handbag and phone, quickly pushing her own door open and stumbling out, bracing herself briefly against the roof of the car, her legs slightly wobbly. John was standing just a few steps out of the houses doorway, staring at them in total disbelief, his mouth hanging open as he looked from Mrs Hudson to Amelia, slowly shaking his head, while a middle aged woman stood in the doorway behind him, watching curiously with grey, shoulder length hair and glasses. Amelia slowly waved at John.
"Hi, John," she cleared her throat, sucking in a deep lungful of air, trying to rid herself of the lingering sickly feeling, "It's...been a while".
John simply blinked blankly at her and opened his mouth, looking as if he was struggling to know what to even ask or say first. He was saved from trying to speak by one of the police officer marching up to them.
"Right, you there!" he pointed warningly at Mrs Hudson and Amelia, both women turning to glance at him, "Stop right where you are!"
"Huh?" Mrs Hudson frowned at him in confusion, while Amelia reached up to rub her forehead, closing her eyes briefly, "What?" she paused, midway walking towards John to give the man a baffled look, before she shook her head and turned to continue heading towards John, opening her arms out towards him, as if to hug him, "Oh, John..." she seemed to utterly dismiss the police officer marching towards her.
John finally seemed to find his voice, frowning as he stepped slowly towards her, "Mrs Hudson..." he began worriedly.
"Do you have any idea what speed you were going at?" the officer demanded, staring at them in shear disbelief.
Mrs Hudson spared him a brief glance, before shaking her head and turning back towards John, leaving Amelia to sigh. So she guessed that she was the one dealing with the police, she ought to have figured as much, Mrs Hudson did seem to have a shocking disregard for the law today, or perhaps Amelia was just not used to seeing this side of the land lady. Either way, she was starting to see why she and Sherlock had clicked so well, Sherlock tended to have a very similar disregard for the law...firing a loaded gun in the middle of Belgravia to call the police sprung to mind.
"I'm sure the sound barrier was fairly close to being broken," she commented as she turned towards the officer, shutting the car's door to approach him, "Or so it felt like it was. By the way, phone call for you..." she gave him a mock bright smile, holding her phone out towards him.
"For me?" he frowned, automatically reaching out to take it.
She nodded, still smiling pleasantly, "Yes, it's the government".
"The what?"
She ignored his startled exclamation, casually adjusting her handbag on her arm and turning to walk away from, "Once you're done, just pop it in the glove compartment," she told him lightly, waving a hand back towards the sports car, just as he began to slowly lift it up to his ear, "It'll be unlocked".
"What's going on?" John questioned quickly as Amelia neared him, the poor man looking utterly confused by what was going on, his eyes darting from Mrs Hudson to Amelia, "What's wrong?" he paused, then, his forehead creasing with concern as he took a closer look at Amelia, his eyes widening very slightly, "Amelia, you look...are you alright?" he reached out to actually grasp her arm, staring at her as if he was afraid she was about to suddenly keel over...Amelia blinked slightly at him in surprise, before he shot Mrs Hudson a quick, searching look, "Mrs H, what have you doing? Amelia's as pale as a sheet!"
"Well, I am Irish," Amelia reminded him, though she did reach up to subconsciously touch her right cheek, frowning vaguely to herself. Did she really look that awful? She did feel a tad wobbly from the less then pleasant trip, but now that she'd had a chance to take in some fresh air and the now that world had stopped whirling by them at warp-speed, she didn't exactly feel like she was about to vomit all over John's shoes...still, she didn't think she looked that much of a mess that the good doctor had to be fretting over her fainting.
John shook his head slowly, still keeping his hand on Amelia's arm, "What's happened?" he asked worriedly, glancing at Mrs Hudson, who was frowning and pointing up at the hovering helicopter above their heads, as if she had only just noticed it.
The elderly woman turned to him, then, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, "It's Sherlock!" she almost wailed, making Amelia look at her sharply...so this was her way of trying to get John's attention, huh? Manipulative old thing. She suddenly flung her arms around John, who blinked in shock as she practically clung to him, "You've no idea what I've been through!"
"What...?"
"Shouting and banging things about the place!" she cried into his shoulder, while poor John could only stand still and let her squeeze him to her, looking rather shell-shocked, "Shooting at walls, throwing things , and the mess! Oh, my God, the mess, John!" she suddenly pulled back from him, her eyes oddly dry...Amelia crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing her with a knowing look, while John simply stared at her, his lips parted slightly, "At all hours of the day and night, mind you, just constant shouting! I tell you, it's never been this bad before, John, he's a wreck!"
"Mrs Hudson," John began hastily, his expression growing slightly tense.
"It's true, John," Amelia cut in, making him pause, his gaze darting quickly to her. She met his eyes grimly, "Sherlock..." she sighed heavily, shaking her head in despair, "I've never seen him this bad, John. It's...bad, incredibly bad".
"And today was just too much," Mrs Hudson nodded quickly, peering into John's face with a fretful expression, making him instantly frown, "He had his pistol and he was waving it all about the place, shooting it at the walls, he almost shot me!" she laughed shakily and John's eyes widened in horror, placing a hand on her arm, "I just didn't know what else to do with him, John! He's a wreck, he needs help!"
Amelia watched closely as John's entire expression just seemed to close off, his jaw tightening slightly as he dropped his arm from Mrs Hudson's arm, his eyes growing guarded and colder. It made her heart hurt to watch him almost physically completely close himself down from them, evidently catching on to the fact that they were there to seek his help for Sherlock, something he clearly didn't like. He might have been concerned for Mrs Hudson almost getting shot; something Amelia was also rather startled to hear about, but his own anger and hurt towards Sherlock seemed to even outweigh his own concerns for Mrs Hudson's safety. It didn't mean that he didn't care or that he didn't want to help her, but doing so meant helping Sherlock, and that was something he evidently just didn't want to do. The grey haired woman standing in the open doorway of the house cleared her throat, then, drawing their gazes to her.
"Perhaps we should continue this inside," she suggested, her voice laced with a light German accent, indicting back inside the house.
Amelia looked at her curiously...so John had decided to get himself a new therapist; she wasn't exactly surprised by that, though. It was good that he had reached out to someone else, someone he felt comfortable enough to speak to. She eyed the woman briefly, middle aged, though she couldn't quite pinpoint how old, her skin was excellent for a middle aged woman, in fact, looking more suited for a woman in her early forties, but perhaps she had simply been quite sun and skin conscious during her life, genetics also helped, maybe she was just lucky. She was rather pretty, actually, her features sharp and with high cheek bones, while her nose and chin looked vaguely familiar...Amelia frowned slightly, eyeing her slightly more carefully. She looked similar to someone, she just couldn't quite pinpoint who...
John sighed and hesitated, casting a brief glance towards the still gathered police, while several of the neighbours had come out of their houses to see what was going on. They had caused quite the scene. He nodded in agreement, though he didn't look overly thrilled as the therapist turned and disappeared back inside the house, John turning to follow her inside, leaving Amelia and Mrs Hudson to trail after him. It was a rather nice house, newly built with cream coloured walls and light, honey hued floorboards, a staircase directly facing the front door in the small entrance hallway. Mrs Hudson shut the door behind them as they entered.
"Did you call the police?" John asked over his shoulder, but his fists were curled slightly by his sides as he began to walk through the hallway, towards the back of the house.
"Of course I didn't call the police," Mrs Hudson replied, rather crossly, giving his back an almost offended look as they followed him, "I'm not a civilian!"
"She called me, instead," Amelia commented lightly, stepping through the threshold of the open kitchen/dinning/living space at the back of the house, which looked out into the small, neatly trimmed back garden beyond the French doors. It was all kept quite nicely, with a neutral, relaxing sort of feel to the place, though she imagined that was rather the point, if one was to use it as your home office as a therapist. She frowned slightly at glanced at Mrs Hudson, eyeing her thoughtfully, "But what I don't quite understand is what set him off that badly, Mrs Hudson? I mean...Sherlock being high, sure, I get that, but from what I saw of the flat that seemed a little more than just the drugs".
John paused by the end of the kitchen bench, turning around to give her a confused look, "What do you mean?" he asked curiously.
"Well, you should have seen the place," she told him, glancing at him with a deep frown, "Paper everywhere, most of them photos of that guy...oh, what's his name again?" she paused, briefly closing her eyes as she struggled to recall his name, she had always found him rather sleazy, if she was being honest, he just was one of those famous people that gave off that vibe, even when doing a perfectly normal ad for something. She typically ignored him when he popped up on the TV or in the paper, "Oh, right!" her eyes snapped open in realisation and she nodded quickly, grimacing slightly, "Culverton Smith. You know, that short, balding guy, kind of creepy..."
John simply stared at her blankly, but his therapist seemed to catch on, "Oh, yes, of course," she said, nodding as she turned and moved to grab her laptop, which sat on the kitchen table. She opened the laptop, which immediately woke up, and opened the web browser as they gathered closer, "Culverton Smith..." she typed in the name, and instantly a webpage popped up, "This, I think, is relevant from this morning".
Culverton Smith popped up on the page at once, showing a list of different sites connected back to him, including several books that he had apparently written, all of them, curiously enough, featuring the word 'Killer' in the titles, while several images, mostly publicity shots or taken from different ads that he had done popped up along the side of the browser page. Amelia frowned slightly as she eyed the screen, even from the pictures of him smirking at the camera she felt a sense of sleaziness practically oozing off them, which, she supposed wasn't entirely fair, given that the man could be perfectly nice and friendly, but she doubted it. At the top of the screen there was a section for the latest news for Smith, showing in large lettering 'He's a serial killer!' Next to that was a picture of Sherlock, captured by the press in his now famous deerstalker, while another picture of Smith sat beside his, smirking at the camera, while a large, white lightning bolt shaped line separated the two images down the middle, like something you might see in a picture of two celebrities that had broken up. Amelia's heart dropped slightly.
"He's publically accused Mr Smith of being a serial killer," the therapist informed them as she clicked on the headline, opening a page to show the full size image and following news article.
The headline seemed to stare back at them in large, bold, white lettering against the dark background of the page, the words 'He's a serial Killer!' following the smaller headline, written below that, which read: 'Net detective blasts Culverton Smith on Twitter'. Amelia closed her eyes and shook her head slowly...how had she not known anything about this? Sure, she didn't exactly have a news alert on Sherlock and she had taken a break from social media for the past several weeks, but still! One might have expected that she would have seen something, that some nosy journalist might have tried reaching out to her for comment, given her well known relationship with Sherlock, but nothing. The article had only been posted that morning, so she supposed that could explain it.
"Christ!" John shook his head as he leaned closer towards the screen, reading the headline, "Sherlock on Twitter," he glanced up to Amelia, "He really has lost it".
Mrs Hudson looked at him sharply, "Don't you dare make jokes," she huffed in outrage, making them all look at her quickly, Johns eyes widening slightly, "Don't you dare! I was terrified!"
"She's right, John," Amelia looked at him sternly, her expression grim and incredibly sad, which truly wasn't very hard for her to pretend to be, because she was. She wasn't heartbroken, not yet, but it was truly horrible to witness Sherlock kill himself like this, because that's what he was doing, slowly and very destructively, but there was no other way to describe it. That fact did break her heart. She gave him a long, heavy look, "This isn't funny, this is Sherlock's life we're talking about here".
"You need to see him, John," Mrs Hudson went on hurriedly, giving him a desperate, pleading look when his jaw tensed again, "You need to help him!"
He shook his head, almost before she even finished her plea, "Nope".
"He needs you!" she added, a touch of franticness seeping into her tone.
"Somebody else!" he snapped, suddenly angry, turning his back on her, on all of them, "Not me. Not now..." he scowled deeply and suddenly whirled back around, fixing a dark glare on Amelia, "You!" he pointed at her, making her blink in surprise, "He needs you, Amelia!"
"No, he doesn't," Amelia told him quietly, her voice hollow and flat as she stared back at him, her gaze just...devoid of emotion, because she just couldn't allow herself to express the true extent of her feelings right now, not without screaming or crying hysterically or punching something. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and drew in a calming breath through her nose, shaking her head vey slightly, "I've tried, I really have, John...but it's just not enough. I'm not enough".
She tried desperately not to take that too personally, she knew that Sherlock, the Sherlock beneath the drugs and the guilt, loved her, she knew he did, but this Sherlock...he was a stranger to her. He didn't listen to her, didn't even seem to care about how she felt or what she was doing, if she was being honest with herself, as horrible as that was to admit to herself. But John...he'd listen to him, she knew he would, and if that worked to pull Sherlock out of this spiral he was on, then she was all for it, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to stand by his side like she had once this was done. She loved him, God, did she love him, but the way he had treated her, she would never have allowed anyone to treat her like this, but she had let Sherlock get away with so much already that she would never have put up with in the past, simply because he was worth it, because she loved him and she knew that he tried his best, always, even if he screwed up or made mistake, but this...if he wouldn't get through this for her, what did that say about their relationship, in the end?
John's expression seemed to freeze at that, before his eyes softened and he looked torn, as if he was fighting with himself as to what to do or say. He went to reach out a hand towards her, before he stopped and dropped his arm, frowning at her. Mrs Hudson quickly stepped up in front of him, looking pleadingly into his face...perhaps she sensed weakness and thought that now was the perfect time to go in for the kill, Amelia wasn't sure, but she could see the logic in it, even if she felt very slightly thrown off kilter herself.
"John," Mrs Hudson began firmly, making him look at her, "Now you just listen to me for once in your stupid life..." his eyes widened very slightly at the sudden anger in her voice, which had risen very slightly, "I know Mary's dead and I know your heart is broken, but if Sherlock Holmes dies too, who will you have?" she stabbed her finger at him, when he opened his mouth, going on quickly before he had a chance to make a sound, "Because I tell you something, John Watson. You will not have me!"
She turned sharply on her heel and stormed away from him, heading for the living room door, disappearing into the entrance hall. Amelia winced very slightly as silence filled the room, John looking rather startled, before the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut sounded. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to her. Amelia sighed heavily.
"John..." she said softly, eyeing him grimly, "If you have the ability to help Sherlock in anyway, which I do believe that you do, and you refuse...I promise you, I will never forgive you," her voice remained completely calm as she spoke, because she meant it, every word, her gaze steady and fixed on his face, "And I don't believe that you would ever forgive yourself, either".
Amelia turned and walked away from him, clenching her fists together, until she felt the bite of her black polished fingernails against her palm, refusing to glance behind her as she followed Mrs Hudson's route out of the kitchen area and through the entrance hall, grasping the front door handle with very slightly shaking fingers. How had her life crumbled so much? The life she had come to love felt like it had turned completely to ashes, not only had she lost a friend in Mary, but she had lost Sherlock, too, and John, even her home, almost everything she had held dear just...gone, in a matter of a few weeks, and she was left standing in the ruins of it, looking out through the smoke, alone on all sides, left to try and find a means to deal with it all without falling apart beneath the weight of it all. She meant it when she had said that she'd never forgive John if he didn't at least try to help Sherlock, she had already lost everything...losing John completely, well, she had already done that pretty much, hadn't she?
She found Mrs Hudson sobbing loudly into her folded arms on top of the roof of her Aston's roof, the street now deserted of police and helicopters, even the nosy neighbours had retreated inside. Amelia sighed very slightly at the sight, approaching the very obviously faking crying woman slowly, barely resisting the urge to cover her face, too, though with far more real emotion then Mrs Hudson. She was putting on quite the show, though. Behind her, John's hurried footsteps sounded, before she heard the front door that she had purposely left open shut. He looked rather guilty as he caught sight of Mrs Hudson sobbing...Amelia quickly arranged her expression into one of sympathy and reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulders, as if consoling her...hey, if it got John to help Sherlock, then of course she wasn't above manipulating him, Mrs Hudson certainly seemed to be all for it, too.
John paused a few steps away from them, eyeing them with a torn expression, before he sighed heavily and edged slightly closer, "Have you spoken to Mycroft?" he asked warily, clearly unable to help himself, looking from Mrs Hudson's shaking shoulders to Amelia, "Molly, uh...anyone?"
"They don't matter," Mrs Hudson replied tearfully, shaking her head into her folded arms, "You do," she suddenly straightened and turned away from the car, looking pleading to John with dry eyes, but a shaky, chocked voice...Amelia discreetly glanced at John. Was he seriously falling for this act? Judging by the slight, reluctant softening to his eyes, he was, "Would you just see him? Please, John?" she stepped closer to him, when his lips pressed into a firm line, looking close to refusing again, "Or just take a look at him as a doctor? I know you'd change your mind if you did".
John began to shake his head, though he still looked horribly torn.
"Please, John," Amelia pushed very slightly, giving him a hopeful look, full of genuine sorrow and pain, and he immediately paused, staring at her with big, sympathetic eyes. She could practically see him melting...she should have felt guilty, but she couldn't bring herself to, if it meant Sherlock might actually get some help, "He needs medical help and he won't listen to any of us, but he'd listen to you, John. I know he would," she gave him a half-pleading look.
If she was actually a Catholic and believed in hell, that was directly were she was going for this move. She couldn't say she felt bad about it, either, it was a life and death situation, after all.
He closed his eyes briefly, sighing, "Yeah," he muttered, opening his eyes and nodding, though he refused to look at either woman, "Look, okay, maybe, if I get a chance..."
Mrs Hudson gave him a positively beaming smile, "D'you promise?" she asked hopefully, while Amelia forced her expression to remain carefully guarded, though inwardly she was cheering.
"I'll try, if I'm in the area".
"Promise me?" she actually gave him puppy-dog eyes, as if she wasn't being any more obvious.
"I promise".
"Thank you!" Mrs Hudson broke into a dazzling grin, while Amelia finally allowed herself a small smile, watching as the land lady immediately turned and began to head towards the back of the car, making John frown slightly in confusion. She popped the lid on the boot...only to reveal Sherlock squished into the boot, shaking very slightly from withdrawals, looking actually a little anxious as he peered meekly up at her.
Amelia grimaced slightly, moving to peer into the boot at the curly haired detective. What a sorry sight he was, still handcuffed, scruffy, and looking far more vulnerable then Amelia had ever seen him, and she had once found him with a bullet in his chest. Slowly, John also came to peer into the boot, only to freeze at the sight, his frown deepening, staring at Sherlock silently. Mrs Hudson looked eagerly to John.
"Well?" she said expectantly, as if it was hardly note worthy to have Sherlock Holmes stashed away in the boot of her sports car, handcuffed, "On you go," she gave John a look, smiling very slightly as Sherlock squinted slightly against the bright, morning sunlight, "Examine him!"
John blinked slowly and glanced at her in disbelief, before looking quickly back to Sherlock, staring at him incredulously, as Sherlock managed to fling his leg partly over the edge of the boot, lifting his head to peer around at the street he suddenly found himself on. Amelia sighed heavily, turning to John.
"To be fair," she began warily, "This..." she waved a hand towards Sherlock, blinking slowly in the sunlight, "Wasn't my idea".
"I didn't hear you disagreeing with it, Amelia," Sherlock grumbled, turning his squinting eyes onto her with a deep scowl, struggling to try and pull himself up out of the boot, with minimal success with his hands still cuffed.
She gave him a sharp look, "I'm not the one who almost shot Mrs Hudson in my drug induced delusion, Sherlock Holmes," she reminded him pointedly, her tone clipped and hard, "Let's not try and act like we're morally better here".
He huffed in annoyance, "Would someone get these cuffs off me, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, seemingly understanding, even in his current state, that attempting to argue with her on that subject was unwise. He rattled his wrists, making the chains clink and turned to glare at Mrs Hudson.
Mrs Hudson gave him a disapproving look, but she did slip her hand down the front of her blouse, earning a rather startled look from John, slipping a small silver key from her bra a second later. She unlocked the handcuffs, though she made little attempt to help Sherlock as he immediately began to wiggle himself awkwardly out of the boot, though neither John nor Amelia made any attempt to help him, either. Once Sherlock had finally climbed out of the boot, he had to pause and grasp the side of the car, breathing slightly heavily with a dark look at all of them for their lack of help as he rubbed at his wrists.
"Oh, stop glaring," Amelia rolled her eyes, giving him a look, before glancing at John, "Shall we continue this inside? I think we've given the neighbours enough amusement for the day".
John frowned faintly at Sherlock, before he sighed and turned to head back towards the house, Sherlock throwing Amelia another glare, before he followed after him, practically stomping his feet. She paused to cast her eyes skywards in exasperation, before also following, catching up to them, just as John opened the front door for Sherlock, who stumbled into the house like an angry teenager on a bender, his dressing gown hanging off him.
"The woman's out of control!" he shouted in annoyance, pausing to grab a glass vase full of flowers, sitting on a built-in shelf just within the doorway, "I asked for a cup of tea!"
Amelia lifted an eyebrow as she stepped back into the house, watching him firmly grab the flowers out of the vase, "You're one to talk about being 'Out of control,' Sherlock," she said with a small sigh, shaking her head, not even wanting to know what the hell he was doing with the vase of murky, flower water in it as he wondered in towards the back of the house.
John turned to Mrs Hudson, just as she entered the house, "How did you get him in the boot?" he asked, eyeing her in disbelief.
"The boys from the cafe," Mrs Hudson replied, shrugging lightly.
"They dropped me!" Sherlock suddenly whirled back around, standing within the kitchen doorway to glare angrily back to them. He seemed quite outraged, "Twice," he gave Amelia and Mrs Hudson a pointed look, before spinning back around and marching through to the kitchen...taking a large sip from the murky flower water as he did so.
Amelia barely resisted the urge to gag.
"And d'you know why they dropped you, dear?" Mrs Hudson called after him, sounding like a scolding mother, giving his back a sharp glare. He chucked the flowers onto the kitchen bench, still drinking, "Because they know you!"
"For God's sake, Sherlock," Amelia groaned slightly, moving to step into the kitchen, grimacing in disgust as she watched him gulp down more of the water...it still had dried up flower petals floating in it! "Must you drink that, it's..." she trailed off and sighed heavily, reaching up to rub her forehead as he lowered the vase to frown vaguely down at the water, "Oh, who am I kidding?" she glanced back to John and Mrs Hudson, shaking her head, almost in despair, "That's probably the cleanest, healthiest thing he's placed in his body in over a week".
Sherlock suddenly grimaced and waved towards John's therapist, who was pacing in the next room, speaking quietly on her phone, "Who's this one?" he demanded suddenly, before he scowled deeply and pointed at her, turning to fix John and Amelia with a deeply disproving look, "Is this a new person? I'm against new people".
The therapist glanced back towards them, "Excuse me for a moment," she murmured into the phone, lowering it and pressing it against her shoulder, eyeing Sherlock...who simply went back to slurping down his flower scented drink.
"She's my therapist," John huffed, giving him a frown.
He lowered the vase, swallowing his mouthful, his eyes lighting up as he glanced at John and back to the woman, "Awesome!" he exclaimed, eagerly moving towards her, "D'you do block bookings?"
Amelia shook her head slowly, "I think you need a bit more than just therapy right now, Holmes," she muttered to herself, eyeing the way he almost seemed to stumble through the room, passing by the therapist, who stared after him. Detoxing and some time in hospital, with a follow up stint in rehab, sounded a bit more like it...though; perhaps sending Sherlock Holmes to a place that required him to engage in joint therapy sessions wouldn't be wise. He was likely to cause a fist fight to break out within the first minute of session.
John shook his head and threw a look back through the open front door, eyeing the sports car parked half over the road, "Whose car is that?" he asked curiously, "Amelia..." he turned to give her a quick look, "Since when did you have a car?"
"It's not mine, John," she informed him, and he blinked, giving her a confused look.
"That's my car," Mrs Hudson said, and his head snapped back to her, his expression immediately growing incredulous as he practically gaped at her.
"How can that be your car?"
"Oh, for God's sake!" she cried in exasperation, very nearly throwing her hands up in air as she stepped closer to him. Amelia barely held back laughing at the look of shock on John's face. She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down, "I'm a widow of a drug dealer, I own property in central London, and for the last bloody time, John, I'm not your housekeeper!"
Amelia smiled and barely held back the urge to clap; while John narrowed his eyes slightly and watched her turn and march back over to the front door, shutting it as he watched her go, his lips pressed into a tight line. She had to admit, she kind of loved watching that, Mrs Hudson truly was top of her game today, she just hoped that she would be that feisty when she was in her early seventies. Sherlock, on the other hand, was unlikely to live to see his fortieth birthday, if he kept up this lifestyle, and she found herself sighing as he gaze moved to rest on him. He had made himself quite comfortable on a chair that she imagined was used during therapy sessions at the end of the room, still holding his vase of half-drunk flower water. The thought still made her want to cringe, but hey…at least he was hydrating, right? John's therapist slipped by Amelia, holding John's mobile in her hand slightly aloft, the screen lit up, and poked her head around the corner of the kitchen doorway.
"I'm so sorry," she said apologetically to John, holding the phone out towards him as he gave her a slightly confused look, "I answered your phone. You were busy," she gave him a slightly pointed look as he took the phone, casting the screen a puzzled glance; "I think you'll want to take it".
Amelia lifted an eyebrow curiously, watching as John frowned at the phone, before lifting it up to his ear, "Uh, yes, hello?" he asked over the line, still seeming rather baffled. There was a brief pause as he listened to the other end, his brow furring even deeper as Mrs Hudson edged passed him in the doorway, stepping through into the kitchen to join Amelia, "Yeah…" he said slowly, "Who's this?"
John's eyes widened slightly, then, and his eyes suddenly darted over towards the open laptop, which still had the article about Sherlock and Culverton Smith up on the screen. He then threw Amelia a look and, much to her surprise, lifted his hand to gesture for her to come over to him.
"Uh, yes, well…" he said over the line, before lowering the phone slightly as Amelia edged closer to him, eyeing him curiously. He gave her a look of slight disbelief, "It's Culberton Smith," he whispered to her, flickering his eyes pointedly to the phone.
Amelia's eyes widened, "You've got to be bloody kidding," she breathed, moving to practically press her arm against his, while he placed the phone partly between them, so that she could hear too.
"Get me a fresh glass of water, please," Sherlock called from the end of the room, holding the vase up, which was mostly empty now. He gave the glass a disgusted look…as if he hadn't just taken a gulp from it, "This one's filthy".
He went ignored.
"I mean…" a male with a thick, Northern accent was saying over the phone, and Amelia strained to try and make sure she caught the words, "I'm aware of this morning's developments".
"Yes," John said with small nod, while Amelia glanced back over to Sherlock…she rolled her eyes slightly as the therapist grabbed the vase off him and walked back into the kitchen, probably afraid he might drop it, "I'm sure he was being…hilarious," he paused and frowned, again, making Amelia turn her attention back to the side of his face. He looked puzzled again, "Sorry, did you say all still meeting?"
Meeting? Amelia blinked slightly, freezing, since when were they meeting anyone today? Certainly least of all Smith, of all people. She hadn't even known that Sherlock had started a Twitter fight with the man until this morning, so how could they possibly be meeting him? Unless…Her eyes slowly drifted back over towards Sherlock, slumped in the chair at the end of the room, looking as if he was close to just falling asleep. Could he actually have arranged all of this? Sherlock in his normal, sober state, yes, certainly, but Sherlock high as a kite was slightly dubious about just what he might be capable of doing right now. She had never had much to do with Sherlock when he was high, certainly never to this extent. She supposed he must be still, somewhat, capable of functioning on some level…Lestrade had still used him when he was in the full grips of drugs back in the day, after all. So…maybe he was capable of pulling off something like this, after all.
"You, me, Miss Wilson, and Mr Holmes," Smith was saying over the line, drawing Amelia's attention back to the call, "I've sent a car, should be outside. Mr Holmes gave me an address".
John's face screwed up in confusion, and he glanced at Amelia, who shrugged lightly, "Well, he couldn't have given you this one," he said with a shake of his head, "It's…"
The front doorbell dinged, almost as if on cue, and he immediately whipped his head towards it, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. He looked to Amelia, who held up her hands innocently and gave him a look, silently trying to tell him that she truly had nothing to do with any of this and was just as caught off guard as he was…He frowned at her, still looking vaguely suspicious as he turned and walked towards the door, phone held aloft in his hand as he used his other hand to open the door. A man with short, dark hair and dressed in a sharp, black suit stood on the doorstep.
"When you're ready," he said in greeting, leaving John to stand there for a moment, no doubt simply gaping in disbelief, before he shut the door and turned away, his lips still parted as he lifted the phone to his ear.
"When did Sherlock give you this address?" he asked over the phone, walking back up the hallway to Amelia, when his eyes widened and his lips thinned incredulously, "Two weeks?" he exclaimed, pausing briefly, before he licked his lips in annoyance and suddenly lowered the phone, abruptly ending the call. He lifted his gaze up to Amelia and Mrs Hudson, the old land lady now fussing around at the sink, having found a sponge and, for some curious reason, taking it upon herself to give the sink a good scrub. He narrowed his eyes on them, "How did you know where to find me?"
"Mrs Hudson was quite well informed about your whereabouts," Amelia commented lightly, turning her slightly knowing gaze over towards Sherlock, still draped over the armchair with his eyes closed.
"Well, Sherlock told me," Mrs Hudson confirmed, seemingly not noticing the look on Amelia's face...nor how John instantly narrowed his eyes into slits and looked sharply over towards Sherlock, too. She smiled, almost fondly, still scrubbing the sink, "He's not so difficult when you've got a gun on him".
John looked back to Amelia, who crossed her arms across her chest and walked further into the room, over towards the living area to fix Sherlock's slumped form with a disapproving, cool glare. He came to stand by her, just as the therapist placed a clean glass of proper water on the small table by the chair.
"How did you know?" he demanded, almost angrily, and Sherlock actually jolted awake, blinking up at them blankly. It wasn't about to stop John's anger, though, his voice rising in pitch, "How? On Monday I decided to get a new therapist. Tuesday, I chose her," he pointed over to his therapist, who slowly sunk down in a chair opposite from Sherlock, while Sherlock blinked rapidly and braced his head against his hand, "Wednesday morning I booked today's session," he continued, holding up a finger, just as Mrs Hudson slowly edged closer to them, looking startled by the near shouting, "Now, today is Friday. So two weeks ago...two weeks before you were abducted at gunpoint and brought here against your will..." Sherlock frowned vaguely up at him, looking slightly...spaced out, as if he was struggling to keep up with the fast paced speed of his speech, "...over a week before I even thought of coming here, you knew exactly where you'd need to be picked up for lunch?"
Amelia looked warily between John and Sherlock, John was glaring angrily by the end, while Sherlock peered up at them, still with a slightly vague expression. She wondered just how much he truly understood right now, how long had it been since he had last shot up? She couldn't tell, his pupils were not quite as blown as they had been back at the flat and she could see a faint tremble in his fingers that was slightly new, so perhaps it had been a while. He'd need a hit soon, she estimated, though she had to admit that she wasn't very well versed with hanging out with drug addicts when they were on a bender.
Sherlock frowned very slightly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze drifting up towards the ceiling, "Really?" he lifted an eyebrow, "I correctly anticipated the response of people I knew well to scenarios I devised?" he squinted his eyes slightly and looked back up to them, giving them a puzzled look, "Can't everyone do that?"
Amelia sighed slightly, "I do believe that's called 'Showing off,' Sherlock," she said with a touch of exasperation, while John gaped at him in disbelief and Mrs Hudson stared, even the therapist seemed to be looking at him, stunned. They all threw her looks, too, but she simply shrugged, keeping her gaze on Sherlock, who suddenly seemed quite interested in his knees, "It is really not nearly as impressive as it sounds, I assure you," she told them, "Human behaviour is incredibly predictable to those who know each other well, and Sherlock has lived with all of us for long periods of time. Is it really that shocking?"
Mrs Hudson shook her head in amazement, "How?" she gasped, looking sharply between Amelia and Sherlock.
"Except for the boot," Sherlock cut in, narrowing his eyes on her and Amelia, "The boot was mean".
"Never mind how," John shook his head, glaring angrily at Sherlock, while Mrs Hudson pressed her lips together, looking a touch sheepish, "He's dying to tell us that. I want to know why".
"Because Mrs Hudson and Amelia are right," he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze again, slowly lifting his eyes back up to them, his expression suddenly filled with something close to remorse, "I'm burning up," Amelia felt her heart breaking and a lump formed in her throat as he dropped his eyes again, his voice painfully soft, but easily heard in the dead silence of the room, "I'm at the bottom of a pit and I'm still falling and..." he paused, clenching his eyes several times as he shook his head, "I'm never climbing out".
"Don't say that," Amelia swallowed, biting her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears, staring at him in despair. He grimaced and kept his head down, while Mrs Hudson turned away and stepped back over to the kitchen, seemingly unable to bear hearing any more. She could understand that, she truly could, but she also couldn't turn away. She just...couldn't.
"I'm sorry, Amelia," he breathed, and finally he did look up to her, meeting her eyes. His eyes looked briefly shinny, almost as if he was close to tears too, before he sniffed and blinked and it was gone, lowering his head again, "I am sorry...but I need you both, John, Amelia..." his voice grew slightly more passionate, more desperate as he rose from his chair, "I need you to see that up here..." he lifted his hands up and pressed his fingers against his temples, giving them a near pleading look, "...I've still got it, so when I tell you that this," he turned and walked passed John and Amelia, coming to stand by the laptop, pointing at the picture still up on the screen, "Is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered, when I tell you that this...this monster must be ended, please remember where you're standing, because...you're standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago".
He suddenly grimaced in pain and practically collapsing into the chair by the laptop, bowing his head as Amelia barely restrained herself from going to his side, but she did. She still loved him, God, did she love him, and she suspected she likely would always love him, but Sherlock had done this to himself, had chosen this path...that didn't mean that she wasn't there for him, but she couldn't stand by his side and let him continue to kill himself like this, not when he made little effort or attempt to let her in, to let her try and help him. There was a limit that everyone had, even for those that you loved, and she had reached it with him, this time he had simply gone too far and she couldn't join him in that destruction. She wouldn't.
"I'm a mess," he said quietly, "I'm in hell," he lifted his head to look up at them, his expression growing determined, "But I am not wrong, not about him," he pointed firmly back towards the screen, practically stabbing at the air.
Amelia sighed heavily, regarding him carefully, before glancing sideways at John, who crossed his arms across his chest. Sherlock words were shockingly passionate, for a man who could barely remain standing for any great length of time at this moment. She found herself believing him, believing that Smith could truly be a terrible person, beneath the facade he put on in the public eye. She didn't know him that well, after all, she had always dismissed or ignored him whenever he would pop up on some interview show or in an ad campaign, but maybe that was his whole guise right there.
"So what has this got to do with me?" John asked him, giving him a humourless smile, his eyes hard and cold as they fixed on Sherlock.
"That creature, that rotting thing," Sherlock spat savagely, pointing sharply back towards the picture of Smith, "Is a living breathing coagulation of human evil, and if the only thing I do in this world is drive him out of it, then my life will not have been wasted," he looked up at them, almost pleadingly, and took a breath as Amelia dropped her gaze, swallowing thickly, "Look at me," his voice almost shook, and Amelia found her gaze lifting, his eyes finding hers before John, and he shook his head, "Can't do it, not now. Not alone".
He looked away from them, swallowing, hard, his eyes shining with tears again. Amelia felt so horribly torn, pressing her lips together as she felt tears prickling her own eyes, and she just wanted to go to his side and wrap her arms around him, to tell him that it was all okay, that she was there for him...but she just couldn't. What sort of message would that be sending? So she stayed silent, even as her heart broke and she felt a sob in her throat, her body held tense just to keep herself from moving towards him. John, however, did hold his hand out towards Sherlock and Sherlock, sighing slightly reluctantly, rose and reached out to accept his hand. John immediately moved to turn his arm, making Sherlock roll his eyes in exasperation, but he didn't stop him from pulling his sleeve up, revealing dark, bruised injection sites on his forearm. They looked very painful and Amelia had to look away, feeling sick to her stomach by the sight.
"Yeah, well..." John dropped his arm, his expression still hard, "They're real enough, I suppose".
Sherlock rolled his eyes and roughly tugged his sleeve back down, avoiding looking at Amelia as he turned away from him, "Why would I be faking?" he grumbled.
"Seriously, Sherlock?" Amelia sighed, lifting her gaze up towards the ceiling, shaking her head, "You can't honestly blame him, you do have a history of lying...hell, so do I, for that matter!"
"You lie all the time," John agreed instantly, narrowing his eyes on Sherlock, just as he whirled back around to face them, looking briefly offended, "It's like your mission".
He held his arms out either side of himself, trying and failing to look the picture of innocence, "I have been many things, but when have I ever been a malingerer?" he questioned, truly seeming quite offended by the accusation...Amelia burst out laughing in disbelief and had to turn away from him.
"You pretended to be dead for two years!" he reminded him, shouting loudly.
He paused, considering that briefly, "Apart from that?"
John sucked in a calming breath and pointed firmly at him, "Listen," he began sternly, giving him a warning glare, "Before I do anything, I need to know what state you're in".
"Well, you're a doctor," he said, slightly sarcastically and moved to drop back into the chair, "Examine me".
"No, I need a second opinion".
"Oh, John, calm down. When have you ever managed two opinions? You'd fall over".
Amelia laughed...and cleared her throat hastily at the look John shot her, while Sherlock actually smirked very slightly, though he still wasn't looking at her. She sighed, giving John a small shrug.
"I can still find him amusing," she said lightly, if a little pointedly, "Even if I'm completely disproving of everything he's currently doing and am worried sick for him".
John gave her a look and shook his head, "Well, that's nice for you, Amelia," he said with a small frown, making her roll her eyes slightly, refusing to feel offended. He turned his gaze firmly back to Sherlock, "I need the one other person who, unlike me, learned to see through your bullshit long ago".
Sherlock looked at him blankly, "Amelia is already here..." he waved vaguely towards Amelia, without looking at her.
"No, not Amelia," he cut across him swiftly, looking exasperated as Amelia lifted an eyebrow, debating with herself if she ought to feel offended. Again, "The one other person, aside from Amelia, who can see straight through you and might actually tell me the truth, unlike Amelia," he glanced at Amelia and sighed, "Sorry, Amelia".
"To be fair, I have lied an awful lot to you, John," Amelia agreed with little offence, giving him a sheepish smile.
"Who's that, then?" Sherlock asked with a roll of his eyes, "I'm sure I would have noticed".
"The last person you'd think of," he replied flatly, and Sherlock looked up to him expectantly, while Amelia also turned to eye John curiously, though, she had an idea. There was only really one person, though if John really thought that Sherlock paid them that little care after all these years, that might just say a lot about how angry John truly was right now. At the start, it was probably true, but after all this time and all they had been through; it wasn't the case any longer. He let it hang in the air for a moment, before saying, "I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper".
Sherlock hesitated, before slowly biting his bottom lip, as if to try and stop himself from smiling or laughing, and dropped his head slightly. Amelia, however, sighed and shook her head.
"D'you hear me?" he continued sharply, frowning deeply at Sherlock, "I said Molly Hooper".
"Really, John?" Amelia gave him a look, when he blinked and looked at her in confusion, while Sherlock remained silent, "Where have you been all these years if you actually think that Sherlock would never consider Molly," she turned her gaze back to Sherlock, barely holding back an eye roll, "Let me guess, Holmes...she's standing outside, as we speak?"
"Yep," Sherlock replied instantly, popping the 'P'.
John looked blankly between them, frowning as he opened his mouth...just as the doorbell rang and his head immediately whipped up towards the noise. He inhaled in exasperation and shook his head, turning back to glare at Sherlock. Sherlock simply smiled very slightly up at him, almost caught between an apology and a little smirk that he simply couldn't contain. Briefly, Amelia feared John might actually hit that smile off his face.
"Technically, it was your idea to call Molly, John," Amelia commented lightly, clearing her throat to try and defuse some of the tension, "You just...hadn't come to that conclusion, until now".
"Who's side are you on, Amelia?" John turned to fix her with a suspicious glare.
"I'm on the side of saving Sherlock from himself, always, but I can't just ignore the truth. I'm a detective, it's kind of my thing, now...let's not leave Molly waiting".
She flashed him a grin...though it was very slightly fake and tense under his heated, annoyed glare, and turned on her heel to start walking back through the kitchen, for the hallway door. John's footsteps fell into step behind her, thankfully, and by the time she had reached the front door he was right behind her, though he looked rather grumpy still. That didn't improve when she opened the door with a warm smile to find Molly, indeed, standing on the doorstep with a shy smile and in her lab coat, while an ambulance was parked on the driveway of the house opposite them, with the two ambulance officers seemingly setting up the back, opening the back double doors.
"Um hel-hello," Molly greeted them, looking briefly thrown by the dark expression on John's face, and probably the fact that John was there at all, with Amelia next to him. Molly was well aware of Amelia's sudden ghosting by John, after all, so it must have been a little surprising, "Is, uh..." she hesitated, looking rather uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, Sh-Sherlock asked me to come".
"What, two weeks ago?" John stared at her.
"Yeah," she blinked, "About two weeks".
"You didn't think to ask me about it?" Amelia asked her curiously, rather surprised that Molly hadn't told her anything about Sherlock's very strange request.
"Well..." she frowned in confusion slightly, toying with her fingers at her front, "I thought...Sherlock said you knew all about it, Amelia..."
She sighed and nodded, while John looked resigned, "Of course he did," she rolled her eyes, smiling thinly, "He probably expected me to deduce he'd do something like this, two weeks ago".
"You are annoyingly harder to predict then John or Mrs Hudson, Amelia," Sherlock called from down the hallway, and Amelia looked over her shoulder to see Sherlock stumbling his way down the short hallway towards them. She watched him with a raised eyebrow as he neared, "In fact, I had to make several arrangements to ensure that you would be present today, and wouldn't have simply stubbornly refused to come, due to deducing my plans or allowing your sentimental attachment towards me to get the better..."
"Finish that sentence and be slapped, Sherlock," Amelia cut him off calmly, eyeing him with a cool glare. He did pause at that, coming to stand by the base of the stairs, grimacing very slightly. She sighed, "I assume that part of this plan also included shutting me out, as you have been for the last three weeks?"
He hesitated, which made her instantly frown, "...in part, yes," he muttered, though it didn't sound entirely confident or very certain, and Amelia's frown deepened. So that part, him refusing to even speak or allow her up into the flat for the past three weeks truly hadn't been anything to do with this whole plan of his, he was just making it up and lying to her face now. It hurt her, though it was probably silly to feel hurt about this, after everything else he was doing, but why would he shut her out like that if it wasn't for a greater plan? He cleared his throat and looked to John, "If you'd like to know how I predict the future..."
"I don't care how," John cut him off swiftly, turning to fix him with an angry glare.
He stopped again and held up his hands, almost in surrender, "Okay," he said quickly, sighing slightly, "Fully equipped ambulance..." he began to walk towards the doorway, and Amelia shifted off to the side to let him pass, "Molly can examine me on the way. It'll save time," he paused in the doorstep to glance at Molly, "Ready to go, Molly?"
"Oh, well..." Molly blinked slightly, her eyes darting to Amelia and then John, looking quite uncertain as to exactly what was going on.
"Just tell me when to cough," he told her with a fake little smile, before stepping down from the doorstep and moving to head off, while Amelia closed her eyes in exasperation, "Hope you remembered to bring my coat".
"Wh..." she frowned, looking rather startled as she turned to no doubt ask him to at least explain himself...but he was already halfway down the driveway and heading quickly towards the awaiting ambulance, dressing gown hanging slightly off one shoulder and his gait a little off balance. Amelia watched him go with a slightly pained expression, he was just such a mess...Molly looked quickly back to them, still in the doorway, "I...sorry," she gave them an apologetic look, her eyes darting awkwardly between Amelia and John, "I didn't know that you were going to be here, John, and with...Amelia..."
Amelia barely held back the urge to sigh as she watched Sherlock stumble off the side of the footpath and into the road, looking like a complete wreck, "It's a surprise for all of us, but Sherlock, apparently," she muttered, shaking her head lightly at the display.
"I really did have no idea," Molly insisted, looking almost worriedly to John, giving him a slightly tense smile. Perhaps she thought that the look of anger on his face was somehow caused by her, Amelia certainly hoped not, and it made her frown as she watched Sherlock drag himself up into the back of the ambulance, "Absolutely no idea what's going on..."
"Sherlock's using again," John replied in a flat tone, his gaze also on Sherlock, now pulling his dressing gown off in the back of the ambulance.
Her smile instantly dropped and her expression grew worried, "I know," she said in a hushed voice, biting her bottom lip as she looked to Amelia, her eyes full of sympathy and sadness, "How bad is he?"
"Well..." Amelia dragged in a long, slow breathe, and she licked her painted red lips, "To put it lightly...I imagine that death is just inches away from tapping him on the shoulder, but then again, I'm not a doctor," she gave her a humourless smile, one that felt fragile and horribly brittle, and Molly instantly reached out and grasped her hand, her big brown eyes full of sadness, "Thanks, Molly," she said quietly, squeezing her hand gratefully, "Just...can you please just look him over, I know it might be a little...awkward, and I'm sorry it has to be you, but John's insisting on proof..." she cast John a sideways glance, "And, quite honestly, it would probably be wise for him to be checked over".
Molly glanced at John and back to her, giving her a small nod, "I'll take care of him," she assured her, squeezing her hand, before releasing her grip and giving her a comforting smile, before turning on her heel to make her way over towards the ambulance.
Mrs Hudson sidled up behind John and Amelia, frowning very slightly as she watched Molly walk away, "Is Molly the right person to be doing medicals?" she asked them, sounding rather dubious, "She's more used to dead people. It's bound to lower your standards".
"Molly is very good at her job, Mrs Hudson," Amelia said lightly, turning slightly to give her a small smile, "I'd trust her to stitch me up, if I needed".
"I guess..." John sighed, before shaking his head and frowning deeply, "I don't know, I don't know anything anymore," Mrs Hudson laughed sympathetically and pattered his arm, and Amelia gave him a small smile. Poor John...he just sounded so lost. He looked back across the road, "Mrs Hudson, as ever, you are amazing..."
She laughed again and shook her head, though she looked rather flattered, "No!"
"And Amelia..." he sighed, turning his gaze to her, but only briefly, "I don't know how you're handling all of this, I really don't".
Amelia gave him a sad smile, "It's what we do, John," she said quietly, because it was...they'd been through a lot, this was no different. They just had to keep dealing with it.
Mrs Hudson leaned closer to John, giving him an encouraging look, "You're going to have to buck up a bit, John," she told him, and he looked back to her, frowning, "You know that, don't you? The game is on!"
He looked away again, "I'll do my best," he muttered.
"Anything you need," she continued, wrapping her arm comfortingly around him, "Any time, just ask. Anything at all!"
John gave her a gentle smile, a smile that looked sincere, "Thank you," he said softly, and she pattered his back, before dropping her arm. He inhaled deeply and glanced at Amelia, "Ready?"
"I suppose," Amelia sighed, casting a quick glance over towards the limo, that sat parked waiting for them, further up the street from them. But she still let John go ahead of her, stepping down from the doorstep, before stepping down herself...but John had only taken a few steps ahead of her, when he suddenly paused and half turned back towards Mrs Hudson in the doorway.
"Sometimes," he began hopefully, smiling slightly as he pointed back towards the sports car, "Can I borrow your car?"
Amelia couldn't help it...she laughed and shook her head fondly, making John shoot her a mock glare. And just like that, in that brief moment, it was like her life was back to how it ought to be. She half expected Sherlock to appear too, and roll his eyes at John, but Sherlock was still in the back of the ambulance that Molly had disappeared inside, the doors partly closed. It wasn't the same.
Mrs Hudson briefly thought it over, "No," she shook her head, and turned to walk back inside the house.
"Okay," John sighed, nodding.
Amelia grinned, lingering on the driveway as he turned and began to head down the footpath for the limo, but her gaze stopped on the ambulance. God, she hoped he was going to be okay, it terrified her, this whole mess with Sherlock, she just wanted him to be okay. That's all, even if...even if she wasn't a part of his life, she wanted him to have a life and to live, and this wasn't living. She watched as one of the ambulance officers stepped around the car and shut the doors properly, before moving to climb into the driver's seat, and only then did she begin to walk towards the limo, heels clicking on the pavement. She smiled politely to the limo driver as he stood by the back passenger door, which had been left open after John had slipped inside it.
"Ma'am," the man nodded to her.
"Thank you," she said, and climbed into the back, leather seat, finding John sitting on the other end, by the window. He looked briefly startled by her entrance and she frowned at him, pulling her blazer straight as the driver shut the door and moved to get behind the wheel, "Are you alright, John?" she asked him, feeling almost as if she had just interrupted a domestic or something, judging by the tension radiating off John.
"Yeah," John replied, a little shortly, "I'm...er, I'm alright," his tone softened, perhaps catching sight of her narrowing eyes, and he grimaced, "Sorry, I'm just..."
The ambulance went driving by them and they both watched it go.
"I know the feeling," she murmured sadly, her heart heavy and her chest aching. How had it come to this?
"I really don't know how you're still doing this, Amelia," he said quietly, turning his gaze back to her, and his expression had darkened again. She shifted uncomfortably and dropped her gaze to her bare, crossed knees, "Isn't there a point where it's just too much? If you don't walk away from him, Amelia...he's just going to drag you down with him, you see that, right?"
She looked at him sharply, her eyes growing a touch cooler and her tone hard, "That's a very, very serious thing to say, John," she said firmly, a touch of anger lacing her words, "I know you're angry with him, I get it, but don't try to project that onto my relationship with Sherlock. That's not your call to make".
"I'm just..." John paused, and his expression was wary and very sad as he looked at her, "I'm worried for you. I don't want to see you go through..." he stopped and looked away from her, dragging in a deep breath as Amelia watched him closely. After a brief moment, he released his breath and his shoulders seemed to sag, "I love you, Amelia. I don't want to see you get hurt, because of him. I can't...I just can't go through that, not again".
Amelia didn't quite know what to say to that, one part of her was so incredibly touched that he cared for her that deeply, though he might not have shown it very well the past several weeks, but she knew that he did love her and mean it, while another part of her was upset that he seemed to be implying that he thought that Sherlock might hurt her, accidently, of course, but she also understood his fears in that regard. He'd lost Mary for Sherlock's actions; naturally he would fear the same for anyone else that was around Sherlock that he cared for. She just wished he had said it a little better, perhaps.
"It's...complicated, John," she sighed, frowning very faintly to herself, "My life is always going to be connected to Sherlock..."
"Amelia, just because you love him..."
"John..."
"...this is your life we're talking about, I just want you to be safe and happy, and right now I don't think you are..."
"John!" she cut across him sharply and he broke off midsentence, frowning slightly at her. She sighed, meeting his eyes, "John, I'm pregnant".
So...yeah, that happened. Just adding another layer to this already complicated, many layered drama already going on here. Enjoy!
Seriously, though, I did debate with myself about this. I did originally plan for Amelia to fall pregnant at the end of the story and for me to announce it, but I just really felt like torturing her even more emotionally. I'm not a psychopath in real life, I promise. Also, I really wanted John to be the first one to know, it just felt so right. And wrong. I mean, what a worse time for Amelia to be pregnant?
Tell me what you thought, I hope you guys liked it and enjoyed my little surprise. Please review! :)