Chapter 111 – Don't Prolong His Agony
"I said I'd bring her home," Sherlock told John, the consequence of Eurus's actions flitting through his mind. Home to Edinburgh? Is that what he told her? To the home he bought for Rose and Grace? "I can't, can I?"
"Well," John replied. "You gave her what she was looking for—context."
"Is that good?" Sherlock asked, turning to his friend.
"It's not good; it's not bad. It's..." The doctor looked beyond them both, as he searched for the right words. "It is what it is."
This didn't sit easily with Sherlock. He didn't endure this entire day just to have his sister in no better state than when she had started out. Did she really consider Rose her friend? How had their relationship progressed? Did the real Eurus bleed through at any time? Had Rose inadvertently provided counselling for Lisa/Eurus?
And how was he going to tell Rose Lisa was a fraud?
"So, boys," Lestrade said as he strode over. "I guess you'll need a lift back to London?"
"Bit hard to get a cab from here," Sherlock drawled.
"Wouldn't mind getting home and changing into dry clothes, yeah," John added, his teeth almost chattering.
"Just give me a minute," the D.I. said. "Just have to see this mob off, then we can go."
Finally settled into the back of Lestrade's vehicle, Sherlock turned his attention to the view outside the window, although he didn't register anything in a visual sense. He had the back seat to himself, having suggested John take the front passenger seat, so he could have the car's heating directed on him.
Sherlock knew John and Lestrade would want to chat, anyway, so he'd leave them to it.
Along the way, Sherlock took a call from Anthea, and then finally one from Mycroft. John and Lestrade had stopped gabbling. He knew John in particular was straining to hear Sherlock's conversation with his brother, even though he'd only hear Sherlock's words.
"Sir Edwin has flown over an entire contingent," Mycroft told him. "Engineers, security advisors, guards, the lot."
It was just like Mycroft to get on with things. Things he could organise, people he could assemble. He may have stated it was Sir Edwin's doing, but Sherlock knew who really called the shots. And keeping busy in this manner, prevented his older brother from having to stop… and feel.
Sherlock understood completely. And how would he ever go about talking to Mycroft about all that had happened at Sherrinford?
"Yes, well," Sherlock replied, striving to stay on topic, "we don't know who's been compromised."
"From the governor to the laundry staff, most likely."
They both lapsed into an uneasy silence, Sherlock surmised, at Mycroft's mentioning of the governor.
Sherlock cleared his throat.
"So, have you returned to London?" he asked his brother.
"No. Still on Sherrinford. I will be for a few days. Overseeing... everything. You?"
"On my way to London, now. But... I'll be heading north again shortly. Scotland."
The silence told Sherlock that Mycroft was raising an eyebrow. John, in the meantime, had glanced around at Sherlock, slight creases appearing between his brows.
"Yes," Mycroft said eventually. His voice took on a compassionate quality. "I daresay this... this episode... has taken its toll. On us all. Castle Hallyne, I gather?"
Ah, thought Sherlock. His ruse all those months ago had been successful. Mycroft thought Sherlock had been seeking regular stints in the rehabilitation hospital just over the border in Scotland and was in need of a top up.
Time to come clean. It wasn't the easiest conversation to have—admitting to his brother there was one more Holmes family member he didn't know about. But there were other ways and means...
"No," Sherlock said, correcting Mycroft's assumption. "Edinburgh."
He let the silence thicken around them once more. Come on, Mycroft. Make a deduction. But Sherlock's insides twisted when Mycroft Holmes's deduction was preceded by a heavy sigh. The sigh of disdain.
"Rosemarie Sulford?"
"Yes."
His brother went silent again.
Sherlock gave a light cough, then added, "I'll fill you in when you and I return to London."
"There really is no need," Mycroft replied a little too quickly.
"No. There's something you don't know." There we go. Laying down breadcrumbs.
"How could there be?"
"You're under the impression I've been travelling to Castle Hallyne on a regular basis."
"At the beginning of the year at least," replied Mycroft. "I take it that's not the case?"
"Quite correct. As I said, I'll fill you in later. Our sister knew and you did not. And Mycroft... we do have to tell our parents about Eurus."
He let his brother digest his words. When he eventually replied, Mycroft's tone had become quite clipped.
"London it is, then. I'll see you at the end of the week."
Without looking at his phone, Sherlock knew his older sibling had ended the call.
John cleared his throat, a sure sign he was reminding the Consulting Detective of his presence and was dying to know what the conversation had been about. No doubt he'd heard Sherlock state he was heading to Edinburgh soon.
Sherlock settled into his seat and tapped his phone to his lips, deep in thought.
He would tell John first, before having a proper conversation with Mycroft, naturally. But not here. It didn't feel right revealing the details of his new family to Lestrade at the same time.
As for his brother, Sherlock had decided that letting him find out for himself was a far better option. At the first inkling that Mycroft's intel was incorrect—that his little brother's regular jaunts north weren't for the purposes of drug addiction counselling—the elder Holmes would've been straight onto his people. 'Our sister knew and you did not' would also be playing on his mind.
But, yes, they would discuss it at the end of the week—a week of Mycroft Holmes getting used to the idea that Sherlock had his own little family. And by the time Sherlock spoke to him about the subject matter, he hoped his elder sibling would be quite subdued.
Good plan!
While Sherlock formulated a different plan for enlightening John Watson, Lestrade broke the silence by discussing a new Scotland Yard case with the doctor. As the D.I. imparted the finer details, with John asking obvious questions, Sherlock only half-listened. His mind had drifted back to his sister.
Eurus had targeted Rose in Edinburgh while she and Sherlock were separated. How long had his sister been studying the minutiae of Sherlock's life?
During the journey, Sherlock's phone rang twice. Mycroft. He'd been expecting this. Twenty minutes? His brother was getting slow in his old age. He dutifully rejected the call on both occasions.
Now's not the time, Brother Mine.
Soon enough they had pulled up outside John's house.
Before alighting, John twisted around and prompted Sherlock, "So… Edinburgh?"
"Yes," Sherlock said, with a nod. "Actually…" He leant forward as he grasped the door handle. To Lestrade, he said, "Do you mind, Greg? I'll just be a moment."
"Not a problem," the D.I. replied. "That's what I'm here for… apparently."
Sherlock left the car and made for the kerb as John also alighted.
"What's this about?" John asked him.
Sherlock drew in a steadying breath. He gazed toward John's house, the living room window aglow by the light of a lamp.
"Babysitting service?" Sherlock asked.
John nodded. "Overnight. Costing me an arm and a leg this week."
"I'll compensate you, of course… or, Mycroft will." Sherlock managed a rueful smile. When John chuckled and rubbed his nape, Sherlock added, "I guess I should thank you for risking life and limb at my expense… again."
John gave a light snort of a laugh and shook his head.
"Yeah… well. You know why I do it."
"But this wasn't just any case. Not a case at all, in fact. This was personal."
John inhaled slowly.
"Yeah, well… even more important that I be there for you then. And… er… I'm sorry about… about your family."
Sherlock gave John a grim smile.
"About my family," he began. "That's not the entirety of it."
John tried to sigh discreetly. Sherlock could almost see him stifling an eye-roll.
"Why doesn't that surprise me," John muttered.
"In fact, I'd liked to come clean about it all," Sherlock said, his heart rate accelerating. "No more lies. No more deception."
John gaped a little.
"Did… did Eurus have something else to tell you?"
"Uh, no," Sherlock said. He attempted to force a smile to his face. Only one side of his mouth complied. "This is something I…" He shook his head. No point giving hints right now when he had no intention of explaining himself until later. He gave a light cough before continuing. "In any case, I'd be very grateful if you… if you and Rosie would accompany me to Edinburgh."
"Me and Rosie?"
"Yes," Sherlock said. "I was going to suggest now… tonight… but that wouldn't be fair on…" He nodded his head towards the house. "So perhaps first thing in the morning? And besides… right now I owe an apology and some sort of explanation to a dear and sorely neglected friend of mine."
John gave a quick nod. He easily caught on this time.
"Molly?"
"Molly."
"Yeah, well… good luck with that."
"So…" Sherlock began, feeling a tiny bit apprehensive. He rocked on the balls of his feet a little. "Edinburgh?"
John lifted his gaze to the heavens, then turned towards the house. Sherlock could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. Ratchetty old things they were, too.
"Why not?" John finally replied with a shake of his head. "And now you've got me curious, dammit. I take it there's no danger involved, since you've invited Rosie along?"
"As little or as much danger as you can get when you accompany me."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
Sherlock gave his friend a warm smile.
"She'll be fine. The break will do us all good."
"In that case," John said, "She wakes around six. Please don't call 'round before then."
"Looking forward to it."
John woke with a jolt. He'd dreamt he was in that damn well again. He'd barely slept, tossing and turning all night. He'd turned up the heater and slept with the electric blanket on, just so he wouldn't feel the cold. But it still wasn't enough. And this morning, ten minutes into the flight, he slowly nodded off and slept for most of the journey.
A gurgle and a coo drew his attention. John straightened up and removed his jacket from where it was bunched up against the window. Across from him, his daughter was commanding the attention of no less than three flight attendants as she sat on Sherlock Holmes's lap.
God, thought John. Look at that. I rock up at the check-in, loaded down with baby gear, plus an infant, and I don't get a look in.
Sherlock Holmes, with his stupid dreamy eyes and… cheekbones… and… my daughter, gets three… count them… three… young… youngish... one of them's a bloke, mind—but still… fawning all over him.
The blondest and prettiest even stroked Sherlock's arm as she stood from her crouched position. Lucky git.
John cleared his throat.
"Oh, Daddy's awake!" Sherlock announced, pivotting Rosie around to face her father.
Rosie blew bubbles of spittle by way of a greeting, her eyes round and bright, arms outstretched.
"Hello, darling," John said, his voice rough from sleep, as he reached for his daughter.
The baby fan club had dispersed now that John held the baby, or so the doctor assumed.
"We've had loads of fun," Sherlock told him, his voice annoyingly chirpy. "We even visited the cockpit."
John furrowed his brow.
"I thought that wasn't allowed in this day and age."
"I'm Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, I don't think Rosie would've appreciated the effort—thanks anyway. She's far too young."
"I didn't say we did it for her." Rising from his seat, Sherlock added, "Just going to the bathroom. Back in a sec. Oh, and John… I think Rosie needs her nappy changed." He wrinkled his nose for emphasis before vacating his seat.
John breathed out a weary sigh.
"Gonna need a cab with a baby seat," John told Sherlock as they strode toward the airport exit.
"All taken care of," Sherlock replied.
John tried to quell the mounting frustration he felt with his former flatmate's enigmatic and casual air. Why couldn't the smug bastard just tell him what this was all about? A thought flitted through John's mind: something family-related? Perhaps Sherlock was taking him to a retirement home where this mysterious Uncle Rudy was living out his years in retirement. Would Sherlock want to confront the old codger about his role in locking up Eurus Holmes? But why bring Rosie along?
Old people like babies, Mary happily answered him.
But he did say something about the break doing them all good.
"Ah," said Sherlock, a glint in his eye as he looked toward the kerb. "Here's our ride."
John recognised the man who strode toward them—Sherlock's expert in home security systems. The one who resided in London, though.
"Bob," John said amiably. "Good to see you again. You get around a bit, don't you?"
"Could say the same to you!" Bob joked.
As they loaded John's and Rosie's gear into the back of the sedan—Sherlock didn't have any luggage, what's that about?—John asked his friend, "So… care to tell me where we're headed?"
"Not yet, John."
During the journey to wherever, John tried to engage Bob in conversation, thinking he could surreptitiously find out their destination that way, but the man was as vague and mysterious as his employer... or perhaps John wasn't very good at stealthily interrogating people.
No, you're not, are you? Mary volunteered.
John's phone pinged with a text and he drew it out of his jacket pocket.
"It's your brother," John told Sherlock. "Tell Sherlock to ring me," he read.
Sherlock merely responded by giving John an enigmatic smile before redirecting his gaze through the window.
After a half hour journey through unfamiliar Scottish highways and streets, with Sherlock entertaining Rosie in the back seat, and John and Bob finally finding a common topic in Afghanistan, they pulled up in a quiet, narrow lane.
John regarded the two-storey house that rose up in front of him.
Good God, he thought. Definitely a retirement home for an ageing British Government know-it-all. Were they really going to meet Uncle Rudy?
"Sherlock," John said uneasily, as he stood by the car door and Sherlock unbuckled Rosie. John hadn't failed to notice the forty-something-year-old woman striding from the house towards them. She was the type who had a kind of hidden strength—steely, just like his wife. John had seen the same in many female medics and nurses—those who could haul a body a few hundred yards if they had to. Must be the head matron, he thought, frowning.
He was thrown, however, when the woman's face split into a broad grin, directed at him.
"You must be Doctor Watson," she said, striding forwards, her arm outstretched.
"John Watson, yes," John said, hoping to de-emphasise his medical credentials as he enclosed her hand in his.
"Justine Wilson," she replied. "We've heard so mu—"
"Me wife," Bob interjected, rounding the car with John's suitcase and Rosie's nappy bag in hand.
"Oh," John said in genuine surprise.
"Buggerlugs hasn't told him anything," Bob said to Justine, with a nod in Sherlock's direction.
John knitted his brows together as Sherlock straightened up and turned around with Rosie now in his arms.
"Because it's a surprise," Sherlock announced, a smile stretched wide as if he was proud of the idea.
"What... all of us?" Justine asked.
"All of you."
John tilted his head in non-comprehension.
"Sorry... what?" he asked, shifting his gaze between the married couple and Sherlock.
"Not to worry, love," Justine said, reaching out and patting his arm. "Let's get you inside. We've made lunch. Hope you're hungry! Oh, and this is herself! I've heard all about you, little miss!"
Justine stooped and tickled the infant in Sherlock's arms.
Bewildered and now very uncomfortable, John followed Bob towards the front door.
A/N:
I purposefully didn't write out Sherlock's visit to apologise to Molly. I felt it didn't belong in this story because it wars with my Sherlolly sensibilities, but rest assured, he did visit her that night. If you want a realistic and sensitive version of his visit, I highly recommend thedragonaunt's oneshot, "Three Little Words".
Yes, this is the moment a lot of you have been waiting for! Sherlock telling John! And I'm terrible for making you wait for the actual reveal. And sorry, you didn't actually get to witness Mycroft finding out! Perhaps I'll write it in a flashback or something…
