NEXT CHAPTER! Mwahahaa! Read and Review! This chapter explains things abit. More will be explained further into the story!

Hand of the Joker IIII

Holmes and Watson sat opposing each other on large comfy armchairs. Strong, hard rain pelted at the still open windows of the room piercing like daggers whilst flames danced and twirled sensationally in the corner of the room within the large cosy fireplace. There were only so many things that Watson wanted to say to his friend whom was currently nursing a –luckily- not broken nose. He was sure it hurt, even though the bleeding had stopped a short while ago. The doctor, however, could not bring himself to regret his actions in any way possible. Even if he hadn't been on alert, which itself was rare, he would have probably welcomed the strange detective in the same manner.

Watson straightened himself on the chair before deciding it was time to break the almost unbearable silence shared between the two.

"How?"

It was the only word spoke, yet once it was said the sky outside seemed to get darker and the thunderstorm stronger as the fire flattered and faltered a few meters away. There was a smile on Holme's lips suddenly but Watson had quickly realised that it did not reach his eyes.

They continued to stare at each other in intense yet full-hearted gazes. The eerie strange silence only broken by the flicker of flames and sounds of raging winds and rain until Holmes had decided to- finally- offer a much needed explanation.

"Well you see dear Watson, it's a rather long story, I'm afraid I can't tell you everything..." he trailed off. Sherlock did not want this to last longer than necessary. Because in all honesty, as much as he wanted to fill his friend in, his mind could not help but waver to the thought of the deceiving and conniving fake Irene, as he had called her. His hopes were crushed off simply beginning the investigation when Watson replied,

"Don't. Leave. A. Single. Detail. Out."

He knew he had no choice no, because he knew that he owed it to Watson more than anyone to tell him what had occurred in his so-called 'death'- before and after.

He began, though slightly wavering and unsure where to start. His eyes trailed to the ground but soon, he finally came to a decision.

I will start at the beginning. And I will not- as Watson had said- leave a single detail out.

"The fall at Reichenbach could not be prevented, that I assure you..." he stopped for a minute, making sure not to catch the doctor's eye. He continued to stare at the floor, as if recounting some sort of memory. "I had struggled at the beginning. Realising that I could not make it to the edge in order to hold onto something close to the surface, however if I were to go below the surface- by my calculations- I would not have the breath to make it all the way without taking an exhale of air- which would be far too far and tiring to reach. I did not give up though, nor would I have dreamt of such a thought. I had to think quickly, knowing very well that if I did not act rapidly that my adrenaline would run out and from the height of the fall and the brisk and rather painful land in the water that I would most likely go into shock." He gave Watson a moment or so to process what he was saying.

"The thought itself was certainly not reassuring" he chuckled lightly but bitterly, "but I refused to let it get ahead of me. I continued to think of ideas and analyse my surroundings when suddenly it hit me- my brother Mycroft's air supplying device that I had... borrowed." He met the other's eyes before turning his own the fluttering flames. "I placed it on without a second thought and rushed toward the rock I had spotted just before. It was not too safe, but thankfully stable enough for me to hold onto and regain my breath. And from there- I do not know how exactly I had missed this- but from there was a short stretch of land about four or so meters, and just beyond it was a hole."

"A hole?" Watson seemed most intrigued now. His eyes were wide and fixated on the latter's own, his attention to his friend completely maximum.

"More of a cave to be precise." John nodded, and motioned for him to continue with his hands. "I however, at the time, was more fixated on the lying on the stone ground and letting my exhaustion cease" he smiled slightly and Watson's jaw dropped for a second before he hastily pulled it back up.

"How long were you asleep for?"

"About nine to ten hours, I presume. For when I had finally made it to the ground nearby the cave I was sure it would have been around nine at night, as when I woke up the sun was rising. It certainly surprised me at my seemingly understated exhaustion." Watson's pupils dilated slightly. He knew his friend was fatigued, but never thought it had been that bad.

"I then continued on to discovering what was in the cave." He paused as he recounted the thoughts and memory still fresh in his mind. "It was roughly designed, and even at close range from an untrained eye it would seem completely natural" the doctor waited for him to continue, simply beginning for an answer. "However, when looked at by say... someone such as me, I could tell that the edges of some rocks were far too smooth, whilst ones beside them were completely rough. The stone below my feet however, was dirtied with dirt, dirt that should not have been there. I could only assume it was hiding something, and even in my haste, I crouched below and examined the floor. I had assumed correct. There were markings, signs more so"

"Signs? What on earth of?" Watson's voice seemed confused, intrigued, completely interested and on edge all at once. He was literally on the edge of his seat, listening in pure and utter anticipation.

"They were all identical. All representing the Ouroboros." He watched as his friend became momentarily perplexed. "The Ouroboros is something I have only read about. The sign was of a serpent, biting its own tail. This if course represented the ongoing cycle of life, eternity.

"I did not spend long with those however- deciding that there were more needed matters at hand. But still I had kept a mental note of everything I saw. I continued to walk down and through the cave, realising that now, and the markings were not only on the stone ground, but rather the walls too. These were more poorly hidden, but each mark seemed the same as the one before it. My trek had taken what I had assumed was about ten to fifteen minutes, taking in all the turns of course. Finally, I had come to where the tunnel ended, and much to my thankfulness, it was not a dead end."

"Where did you end up?" the other asked hurriedly, most interested in the tale of the trails of events that his best friend had gone through.

"The underground sewers of Switzerland" he cleared his throat slightly before continued, lightly eyeing the fire in the background. "I had walked for what seemed to be a simply few minutes to me, before finding a thin ladder. I had hurriedly made my way towards it and in a rush, climbed over and out onto the busying streets about have a mile from the location of the summit. From there I had jogged to the station where I asked when the next train to London would be boarding. To my extreme luck, it was about a half hour wait. I had spotted a rather... arrogant woman with luggage that weighed much more than her self, and bags. cases and trunks much larger than myself. I had managed to slip into an old dark trunk and simply waited until we boarded, and from then on I can assume you can figure out what happened"

To say Watson was fascinated would have been an understatement. Initially he had been interested, but now he was captivated, absorbed. He hung on to every single of his brother in bond's words like an anchor but did not interrupt.

"From there on I simply hitched a ride with a horse and carriage over to our part of London from then on I had stayed in a hotel..."

"Why? Why hadn't just come an told me you were alive!" Watson seemed infuriated but upset more than anything. And Holmes could certainly understand that... he needed to explain. "Why had it taken you two whole days after the summit to show yourself Holmes?"

"I had... run into some unexpected guests, you see. Well more or so they had run into me actually, most literally." Watson's ears were perked. "I had most luckily managed to 'borrow' a fake beard and facial hair- with a grey suite and rather tall top hat to go with it from a small local visiting circus stall" he paused. "I have been checking into the hotel suite when he bumped into me- Moriarty's right hand me." His doctor friend's eyes widened like discs. "At first I had not recognised him but knew he was familiar. I used the following day to observe him. I had followed him in and out of his suite but his actions were not suspicious at all. I had never gotten a proper good look at him, so by that time I had presumed I was incorrect- something I never do... though I assume it was to do with the lack of cocaine and adrenaline in my system..." he met Watson's pair of piercing eyes again. They were still- much to Sherlock's dismay- filled with sadness. "I left the hotel the next day, with every intention on telling you that I was honestly, truly alive" he took a deep breath...

"I had been making my way to Cavendish Place when I walked passed a young newspaper boy, it was not just the loud chatter that had caught my attention but his words- "The great Detective Sherlock Holmes falls to his death! I had not realised that the news had spread so fast, but then again, what should I have expected?" he chuckled darkly before continuing. "I knew now that I could not make myself known. If- and I certainly hoped not- Moriarty was still alive, he would have figured out that I had died in the fall- for this purpose I could not tell you. At that time, even if I had gone to Cavendish Place there would be too many witnesses and suspects.

"I returned to the hotel and stayed another night- hoping to figure out some sort of plan. It was too dangerous to reveal myself at that given moment when the news had just erupted, so I decided to wait another day. The next day, coincidently, was the day of my... funeral"

"You were there, weren't you?"

"... Yes" Holmes stared deeply into the older man's gaze. He smiled apologetically. "I had to make sure that there were no... Corrupt happenings. I had to make sure that neither Moriarty nor his men were there" he sighed. "Watson what you had said..." he let out another exhale of breath.

"Every bit of it was true Sherlock. But now is not the time" he knew what his friend was trying to say, and smiled at him with hope and thankfulness.

The smile that was returned was wiped off Holme's features however and replaced with a grim expression suddenly.

"It was until after the funeral that I knew that Moriarty is still alive" the shocked doctor was even more- if possible- shocked. "Irene was there... at the funeral"

"Irene! Irene Adler? The very same Irene that was supposed to be dead?" the words came from his mouth harsher than he'd intended due to the shock in his system. He grimaced as he watched his best friend flinch.

"Yes..."

"Holmes, that's fantastic!" He smiled but was suddenly worried when Holmes did not reply but had kept the grim saddened expression on. "Holmes, what's wrong, what is it?" he was suddenly alarmed, almost jumping out of his chair.

"Watson... at the funeral... there were two Irenes"

"What! Holmes- do you mean..." he trailed off, shock and horror laced in his town and features.

"Yes... unfortunately..." Sherlock inhaled a deep breath to settle himself and not to let his emotions get in the way. "I had thought I had been imagining when I had seen two separate Irene at the funeral, both turning the opposite directions. I had attempted to follow the one to the right, but was pushed by the following crowd to the left. I ran after her, chased her until we were about a ten minute hike from the funeral home. I had not understood why she ran... then I noticed. Her voice was off a little. At first, I had dismissed it, but then also noticed that her Parisian perfume which had lead me to follow her in the beginning had disappeared, and after a few words and a poor excuse she ran to me and embraced me." The look in Sherlock's eyes was- as Watson realised- dark, regretful and... Insecure?

"I was so thankful and grateful for her 'return' that at first I did not notice her look. Then I looked down and spotted something. A scar running through her hair line and a little under... whilst behind the ear the skin looked as if it had been torn back"

Oh god... Watson thought. It must have been horrifying, simply and utterly heartbreaking for Holmes. Even if he wouldn't admit it, the doctor knew he felt something for the devious women- and she certainly felt something just as strong back.

"So you believe Moriarty is alive... but why Irene? Could it be that he knows you're alive too?" Watson thought out loud.

"There is a great chance that that is the case... But I certainly hope it isn't, otherwise he will be planning some other appalling way to destroy all of western civilisation and claim his revenge on me" he sighed. This was not good, this was definitely not good.

"After you found out that it was not Irene, what did you do?" John asked, once again intrigued and perplexed in the series of unfortunate events.

"I did not do anything. I simply waited as my shock took over, then she planted a kiss on my check and ran over to a nearby carriage which had come up- and I was and still am certain that either Moriarty or his henchmen had been in it. But- I had fortunately- also noticed something on the colour of her overcoat. A strike of chalk. Chalk that is only sold in a single place within a fifty mile radius. I believe it is called 'Bean Blue' a mix of a strange dull emerald green with a navy shadowy blue. One is only able to purchase it in a store about twenty meters to the left of the college which Moriarty works in"

Watson couldn't help but grin despite the situation.

"So what now?"

Holmes was about to answer when there was an abrupt knock on the door. The pair looked at each other in a confused and perplexed manner, unable to hide their strange fears.

"Expecting anyone Watson?"

"No, you?"

"No..."

Holmes walked over to the door after lightly and quickly getting to his feet. His best friend was right behind him, revolver in hand. They shared a look before Watson lifter his gun to the height of the door and Sherlock placed his firm hand on the old rusting gold door knob. He took a sharp intake of breath before twisting the door open...

Who he saw shock him.

WHO COULD IT BE?

R&R TO FIND OUT!

X. Rose