So here it is chapter 2! A few little surprises in store or you teehee!

i'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you enjoy reading just as much!

disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah.

Enjoy ;)


Violet:

Then one day, as if she herself was being watched, the opportunity arose, in the form of Jim Moriarty, or so she thought.

It had been a usually boring day, no clients, no messages, no plans. Violet had planned to spend the day indoors,reading some case notes she had stollen from Scotland Yard, concerning her brother's work, reading Dr Watson's blog and watching the news. She even considered making herself dinner, rather than her usual takeaway. Violet slumped on her sofa, clad in the most comfortable pyjamas she owned and flicked through the various news channels. There was one story that caught her eye, the main headline every channel was covering. The murder of Charles Augustus Magnussen, the incredibly wealthy and questionable news tycoon, that was not unfamiliar with using his extensive knowledge of most people as a form of blackmail. Violet had her own run in with the man herself, nothing too major, she could certainly handle the situation herself. But it was not the death of the news tycoon that caught her eye, but rather who pulled the trigger. It was revealed that none other than her older brother Sherlock had executed Magnussen. It was also said that Sherlock was being extradited to Eastern Europe to avoid riots in any of the British prison, no doubt Mycroft was responsible for that.

Something painful tugged on her insides, it was an unusually dull ache that echoed the feeling of dread. Something about this news story, didn't sit quite right with violet, and she was certain not everything was as black and white as the journalist were leading the general public to believe.

Then something strange happened, a low and soft female groan came from her phone. A noise that until this day, Violet had never heard before, a voice she did not recognise. The noise sounded again, Violet confused and questioning looked at her phone, she found she had two text messages from an unknown number.
The first message read:
"It's a shame about Sherlock, perhaps someone could get him out of it"
Violet wondered for a few moments what the message could possibly mean, who sent the message? Why did they want to help her brother? And of all people to confide in, why Violet? She read the next message
'Leave the tv on'
How strange, Violet thought to herself. She left the television on as instructed and waited. She didn't understand why or what the television could do to explain all this to her, but she waited patiently for all to be revealed.

Then as if out of nowhere, the tv signal started to malfunction, the picture began to distort and the sound quality was static. As the picture began to clear a face as recognisable as her brother's appeared on the screen, repeating the words in a computer manipulated voice
"Did you miss me?". Jim Moriarty appeared to be back from the dead, and just at the right time too. Violet was sure it was a trick composed by Sherlock, to delay being extradited. But the more she thought about it, why would Sherlock be the one to make first contact with her, after 13 years of silence.

Her phone sounded again, the same female groan as before, echoing from her phone, just as shocking and vulgar as the first time. Violet approached her phone with caution, recognising the same unknown number which had sent the previous messages. It was another text,
'Lets have dinner'


Sherlock:

Saying goodbye was never a skill Sherlock had managed to master, especially when it concerned the people he cared about. As a self confessed, high functioning sociopath, any kind of social situations were a weakness and difficult to pull off without offending someone. Unfortunately for Sherlock, he always managed to offend someone. Usually this was never a problem, but the more friendships he developed, the more it became a problem.

So when it came to saying goodbye to John Watson, Sherlock knew he had to keep himself distanced and almost clinical as to avoid offending his dearest friend. Luckily for Sherlock, John appeared to be in the same frame of mind, for his own reasons, to avoid breaking down and to appear stronger than he was. A few jokes about baby names and a sincere goodbye, along with a handshake was enough for both men. They had managed to express their feelings without saying them out loud, and in Sherlock's mind, that was the perfect way to say goodbye to the dearest friend he ever had.

Sherlock proceeded to board the aircraft, without looking back, knowing that his exile would almost certainly lead to his death, as Mycroft had predicted, and Mycroft was very rarely wrong. Sherlock was frightened and for the first time in years, alone. He no longer had his best friend beside him and never would again. Sherlock gazed out of the window, watching the runway, the Watsons and Mycroft get smaller, he watched as London became further and further out of his grasp, and mourned the loss of his old life. A life that was over because of a single bullet put into the head of a repugnant man. Sherlock was deep in thought as England disappeared behind the clouds, reliving the moment life as he knew it ended. The moment he killed a man to protect the one man he truly cared about and his family. Sherlock's train of thought was interrupted as a flight attendant approached him, phone in hand.
" Sir, it's your brother" the young man said handing Sherlock the phone.
"Mycroft" Sherlock bit thought the receiver with the slightest hints of disdain in his voice.
"Hello little brother, how is the exile going" Mycroft asked mockingly, sherlock interjected quickly
"I've only been gone four minutes" annoyance was clear in Sherlock's tone.
"Well I certainly hope you've learnt your lesson" another mocking comment fired from the older brother, Mycroft paused for a moment, before turning the conversation serious, "as it turns out, you're needed" at that moment Sherlock felt an overwhelming sense of relief before putting on a front for Mycroft's benefit.
"Oh for gods sake! Make up your mind" Sherlock paused " who needs me this time" he questioned gazing out the window of the plane, which was now turning around.
"England" Mycroft said quite matter of fact, before ending the phone call.

The in flight tv then lowered itself to Sherlock's eye level, none other than Moriarty appeared on screen. The man that caused Sherlock to fake his own suicide and go into hiding for two years, the man who ended his own life on the roof of Barts right in front of Sherlock, was plain as day chanting in a distorted voice
"Did you miss me?" The same image and same words being broadcast on every screen in the country. 'Impossible' Sherlock thought to himself, as his mind wondered back to the events that took place on the roof all that time ago. He was sure Moriarty was dead, he saw with his own eyes the shot that killed the man. He watched in horror as Jim Moriarty took the gun, placed it in his mouth and blew his own brains out. Surely this stunt was not orchestrated by Moriarty, it was just impossible. Sherlock prepared himself for the questions, thought through every possibility and braced himself for the events that were bound to follow as the planes tyres touched the tarmac.


Mycroft:

Mycroft put down the phone, once again glancing over at the tv screen in the car. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he prepared for the arrival of his younger brother, returning from his short lived exile. Mycroft stepped out of the car and looked towards a panicked John and Mary, who were both questioning the recent broadcast themselves. It appeared that weather or not this incident could be traced back to Moriarty, the timing was crucial, and who ever had orchestrated this cunning distraction, intended on broadcasting it before Sherlock had left the country. Nevertheless it was a lucky break for the consulting detective, and would require a lot of work to get to the bottom of this. Mycroft watched silently as the private jet landed and his brother stepped off the aircraft, ushering him and the Watsons into the car.

"Any ideas?" John asked holding tightly onto his wife's hand, the inquisition and interrogations had begun, all within 2 minutes of Sherlock's return.
"A few" Sherlock stated plainly. Mycroft rolled his eyes and stared at his phone, hoping to receive some news.
"Whoever it was, it's not Moriarty, it can't be" Sheflock continued after a short silence.
"Can't it, lets be practical Brother dear, if you can fake your own death, I'm sure Jim Moriarty can" Mycroft interjected, not quite believing it himself.
"Being practical Mycroft, would be assuming it isn't Moriarty, I saw him blow his own brains out with my own eyes." Sherlock paused. "Jumping off a building is way to stage, shooting yourself in the head? Not o much." Sherlock argued, Mycroft was compelled to agree with his younger brother,
"If not Moriarty, who?" John asked, squeezing his wife's hand even tighter.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on his seat for a second before looking his brother directly in the eye
"I don't know"


dundundun! Hope you enjoyed that! Please review :)

will update soon!

bye for now xx