First of all... let me just say how sorry i am for taking so long to update. I had more issues with the computer and then with this chapter. I will be the first to say i'm not completely happy with it but it got what i wanted to come across just fine. So i hope you all enjoy it! I have a bit more to go with this story so i hope you all stick with me!
Thanks and enjoy!
Sherlock woke up before John. He knew the Doctor was still sleeping by the quietness of the house. Only the faint sound of cars driving down Baker St. and the occasional chirping bird filtered through his ears. There was no water boiling. No smell of tea or Coffee from the kitchen, which is one of John's first things to do when he wakes up. He'd even known almost exactly when his friend gave up the fight and passed out on the couch last night.
John deserved a good nights sleep. He'd smiled at his friend's choice in sticking close by. It was in John's nature to be protective and the action of putting himself in between Sherlock and anything that could come through the flat door was proof of it.
It was hard for him to admit he needed help or that he wasn't in control. But under these circumstances… he had no choice. It was not of his doing so he shouldn't feel ashamed…. But he slightly was. He'd dozed off pretty fast after he knew John was fast asleep. But a few hours later, he'd been woken up by his own body.
He'd made it to the bathroom with the aid of the furniture around the room and even had enough energy left to clean himself up a bit. He washed his face and shaved but he couldn't wait until he could stand in the shower. It was very silly and so very… human of him to feel like he needed to get the days events off of him with hot running water.
Sherlock stretched out his aching limbs, checking to see how his body was feeling today. He hated this helpless feeling. He wanted to hop down the stairs and run down Baker Street just to say he could. It might be a bit before he was in order enough to run. But the way he was feeling right now, standing might be easier then last night.
He sat up slowly and dragged his legs over the bed. The floor was cold on his bare feet but he didn't care. The feeling was wonderful.
He'd made it slowly to the bedroom door to gaze out at the empty kitchen. The room was clean. Things were put away in their proper place and Sherlock was pretty sure the refrigerator would be fully stocked. John was the clean one and no doubt he'd thrown himself into it after that night.
The consulting detective carried on through the kitchen to look around the rest of the flat. The lamp was still on by the couch… the shades were drawn closed tightly and John Watson was curled up in a tight ball on the couch. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slowly and deep.
Sherlock considered the sight and shuffled slowly over to his sleeping friend. The doctor must have been exhausted for he forgot to pull a blanket over himself and was clearly chilled as he curled in on himself. Sherlock grabbed the throw on the back of the armchair and gently pulled it over John's sleeping form.
He nodded with approval and headed slowly back over to the kitchen. He might as well do something useful and make some tea for the both of them. He knew he couldn't do much else right now but he could wait for water to boil and put a tea bag in a cup. Sure… no problem.
Sherlock filled the kettle and got it to the glowing stovetop just as the doorbell buzzed.
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock made his way over to the door. John hadn't moved from the sound but surely he'd wake soon for this could only be one person. The door had been locked and chained shut and Sherlock looked through the peephole to see if his prediction was true. Who else would bother John so early in the morning since no one would be looking for Sherlock?
He rolled his eyes once again, not amused as he identified the form on the other side and validated himself.
Sherlock unlatched the locks and pulled the chain off the door before yanking it open.
"Mycroft…"
Mycroft Holmes dropped his jaw in shock at seeing his dead brother open the door. A flutter of emotion that, on a normal day, wouldn't have been detectable on the older Holmes had filtered out of his facial features. But just as a Holmes would do… he sucked up his emotions fast as he watch his brother make slow but meaningful steps back into the kitchen. He was now full of questions and genuine concern. His brother was walking way too slowly.
So… Sherlock was alive… but not alright.
"Well that explains the grave then…" Mycroft mumbled as he walked in and shut the door behind him. His eyes went over to John's sleeping form on the couch briefly. Obviously John knew and placed himself in a position to guard.
"What?" Sherlock turned slightly, clearly not that interested in the answer as he walked back to the stove to check on the water. Small bubbles streamed up from the bottom, soon to be a full-blown boil.
"Oh nothing… Just got a call this morning that your grave had been dug up and your body was missing. Get bored with being dead little brother?" Mycroft stood behind a chair at the table, watching his weak looking sibling make his tea, waiting for an answer…. Any answer.
Sherlock gave Mycroft a sideways glance. "Yea… death… not my thing. Very dull"
Mycroft sighed in exasperation. "Sherlock…"
"Mycroft…" The younger brother bit back with a bored tone. He was now leaning heavily on the counter next to the stove but managed to keep a strong stare.
"What's going on here? Just a few days ago I stood over your body in St. Bart's Morgue. Yesterday the kids and I mourned over your grave at your funeral. Now your making tea."
Sherlock lifted an eyebrow. "I like tea…"
"Sherlock… please. While I'm very glad to see you alive… I need to know what's going on here!" Mycroft's voice was no longer calm as he shouted at the last part of his sentence.
Sherlock was now pretty sure that John would be waking up really soon and his help right now would be well appreciated. He didn't have the energy or patience right now to deal with Mycroft.
He was now wishing he hadn't opened the door after all.
"It's a long story."
"And I have no pressing plans…" Mycroft proved his point by taking off his coat and laying it on the back of the chair. He clearly wasn't going anywhere.
Sherlock paused a moment, looking down at the now bowling pot of water. A sound from the other room had him closing his eyes in a silent thank you.
"Let John explain. He has more data… he'd be better at it then I."
Sherlock then looked up passed Mycroft to John standing behind them, his clothes rumpled and looking a bit shocked at the situation. He'd heard some talking but wasn't expecting Mycroft to be standing in their kitchen… or Sherlock for that matter.
"Good Morning John… sleep well?" Sherlock asked as he poured the contents of the kettle into two mugs, not even looking up.
"Uh… yea… Mycroft."
"John." Both men nodded at each other.
Everyone was frozen for a moment before Sherlock picked up one of the warm mugs to hand out to John.
"You made tea?" John's confused expression made the taller man smirk and John took the mug that was offered to him.
"Don't look so shocked." Sherlock picked up his own mug and tried to take a small step toward John and Mycroft when his knee gave out slightly and he wobbled. John shook himself out of his shocked pose and took the necessary steps over to Sherlock in "catch" range. He nabbed the mug out of Sherlock's hand and put it on the table in front of a waiting chair.
"Sit down for crying out loud. The last thing we need is for you to burn yourself when you collapse on the floor.
"I'm not going to collapse." He argued but he sat in the chair anyways, hooking his long pale fingers back around the steaming cup in front of him.
"Well John?" Mycroft was clearly annoyed and anxious. Two things the doctor was just not at all use to from the elder brother.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you last night Mycroft. Things were a bit crazy." John took the seat corner to Sherlock and Mycroft sat across from his brother. He'd stared right at him for a moment but Sherlock never looked up from his mug.
"I will forgive that John if you would just get straight to the point."
John took the next ten minutes to give a run down on all that had happened yesterday. Starting with when he left the cemetery to when he plunked himself onto the couch. Mycroft surprisingly hadn't interrupted him but his stare had made the doctor slightly uncomfortable. He didn't shy away though. He wouldn't let Mycroft intimidate him. Apparently he still didn't know John Watson. If he could handle Sherlock, he could handle his brother.
"So he should be alright in a few days?"
"Yes. His body will be a bit off for a while. He'll be rundown but he should be just fine." John snuck a quick glance at Sherlock who hadn't spoken either through the explanation. He'd only taken small sips of his tea, staring off into the tabletop. John knew that look and was certain Sherlock's brain was running on overdrive, taking in all the information again and forming some sort of deduction from it all.
"That is good news… and a true relief."
Sherlock huffed and took a slow sip of his tea. John almost kicked him under the table but stopped himself at the last minute. Sherlock was still healing and besides… the man never seems to care that he was being rude… especially not to Mycroft who merely showed concern.
"Why must you be so difficult Sherlock? I care for your wellbeing."
"I'm not being difficult brother. This topic is now overdone."
Mycroft shook his head. "You were declared dead. The topic is nowhere near over. There's paperwork and announcements to make. Plans to put into place. People to alert."
Sherlock shifted slowly in his chair and exhaled deeply, holding the moment for his own. He clearly had something to say.
"I'm sure mummy will be pleased"
The silence that followed was deafening…. John looked from Sherlock to Mycroft and then back again, unsure as to way the moment turned awkward.
"Oh Sherlock…" Mycroft was clearly exasperated. "You know I didn't tell mother…"
And there it was… the reason for the awkwardness. John's jaw hit the floor.
"And why not?" Both Holmes' looked at John Watson, not expecting him to enter into this conversation. Sherlock smirked though at the anger blazing in the doctor's eyes.
Mycroft turned slightly in John's direction. "Sherlock's childish antics in the past have made things difficult on our mother's health. She's old and fragile."
"Oh piss off Mycroft. Mother isn't that fragile. And she wouldn't have known about all of it if you hadn't tattled." Sherlock pushed his mug aside.
"Tattled? Honestly Sherlock! Are we really sinking this low?"
Sherlock glared up at his brother before sighing and closing his eyes to block out the sight of him. "Nothing changes does it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing… Just…. Forget it Mycroft."
Mycroft didn't have a chance to respond when John, who chose to NOT forget it, spoke up again. He was riding the waves of his anger like a seasoned surfer.
"Why didn't you tell her that her own son had died?" John didn't even realize that Sherlock's mother wasn't at the funeral. He was so concerned with his own grief that he'd forgotten that his friend's mother was still alive.
"John… He hardly visits her… He doesn't call. It's possible in her frame of mind that she'd never realize Sherlock was… missing."
Sherlock spoke up again, staring in into the table top but not really seeing it. His mind was now zoning.
"Until she saw it in the papers."
"Sherlock."
"Or when the maids turn the TV on for her midday' stories'"
"I alerted…"
"Or when she's out with her Bridge club… and one offers their condolences."
"Alright Enough!" Mycroft stomped his umbrella and made a sort of growl and groan noise in his throat. He knew his little brother was trying to get to him… and he had.
Sherlock looked up innocently now… knowing he'd struck a cord. He won round one even if the victory was tainted by the rare emotion he know felt.
"I am always the responsible sibling. I have to take care of everything in this family… be the brave face. When I got word that… you… I wanted to mourn for you Sherlock. But I couldn't! I had to man up and deal with it all!"
Sherlock just watched as Mycroft dug the tip of his umbrella into the hard wood.
"Forgive me for not having the strength to tell our mother that her youngest son was dead.' Mycroft had turned toward John as well.
There was silence for a moment and John felt pretty bad. This man had taken care of him after that horrible night and now he was helping attack him.
He wasn't sure how this tense moment was going to end… Till Sherlock spoke up again…
"... killed by shooting a bomb…. How anti-heroic."
Mycroft lifted his eyebrow at his brother's comment, seeing the moment change into something totally different.
"In a dark pool hall… so uncivilized."
"And at midnight… inconceivable."
"With an ex-army doctor…." Sherlock looked at John and Mycroft didn't go on.
"Actually that's the proudest part of it all." Sherlock said, a full honest smile on his lips.
"Yes I suppose your right." And surprisingly… Mycroft developed a smile of his own.
John wasn't sure what the hell just happened but the guilt was still lying on his mind pretty thick. "I'm sorry Mycroft…. I…"
"No no John. I can see the point. It was hard enough to tell my kids…."
"I understand. I shouldn't have…" But Mycroft interrupted him.
"No… you should. Its nice to know he has someone to stick up for him when I'm not around." His gaze turned back to his brother who just watched in amusement, a sparkle in his gaze now that everyone was getting along.
And what he was about to say…
"So… About Moriarty."
Both Mycroft and John groaned at the same time.
"We should leave it be brother."
"Dull…" Sherlock waved a weak pale hand at them.
"Of course you would only care about the game." Mycroft muttered. All he wanted was to see his brother back to his old self. He didn't want to deal with this Moriarty nonsense right now… or ever.
"Well right now Mycroft that's what we are facing first."
"You don't have to. You choose to. We could walk you right out of this building right now and plunk you onto the sidewalk for all to see… including this Moriarty character. Then the current game would be over."
"Then he'd come up with a new one… or already has one ready and waiting." John couldn't help but interject. He didn't like it… but it was true. The Holmes brothers seem to be forgetting that he was in on this too. He had been promoted to "player" now.
Sherlock smiled in John's direction as Mycroft grumbled and stared ahead.
"Yes… he will. There is no avoiding that. But at least you will be well rested and ready for it. You can barely walk Sherlock."
Sherlock strummed his fingers on the table, regarding his brother. "I can walk… Besides... I don't need to walk to think. We still have till 7pm tonight to rest."
"10 more hours" John added.
"What are you getting at?" Mycroft didn't like this beating around the bush stuff.
"We have to make the first move or else he will." Sherlock blurted out.
"We need a plan…" John added.
Mycroft looked at each of them. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson… yes… they were a dangerous combination.
"I'm sure Sherlock has worked it all out."
"Indeed." Sherlock confirmed Mycroft's words with a nod.
"Well we should assume Moriarty knows by now… I'm sure he has the house bugged." John said while crossing his arms and looking about the kitchen suspiciously.
Sherlock smirked and looked John in the eye. "Wouldn't matter if he did."
"And why is that?" Confusion covered the doctor's face.
"It won't work." Sherlock's matter-of-fact- tone didn't help ease John's confusion.
"What won't work?"
Sherlock sighed loudly, looking like he wanted to shake his friend into some sense.
"The bug… it wouldn't work. I have a blocker."
"What? Where?" John let his eyes roam around the flat again. Why didn't he ever know this stuff?
Sherlock just smiled and sipped his tea again.
"Fine don't tell me… clever though… also explains the sudden drop in calls lately."
"I installed it that night after you left… If you must know."
"Brilliant." John muttered.
"Naturally…"
"Ok Mr. Ego… how do we know that Moriarty doesn't still know somehow?
Sherlock shook his head. "We don't…"
"We don't… great… ok." John put his hands flat on the table in a desperate attempt to ground himself.
"He cant see in here… he cant hear in the flat either. And it was wonderful that you fell asleep with the lamp on last night John. Shutting it off would have been problematic."
John looked at his friend and saw pride on his face. But John still didn't comprehend why that was a good thing. He felt like he was the stupid kid in class made to team up with the two brightest kids in school for a difficult project worth 100% of their grade.
"Why?"
"Because you would never give up John. Shutting the light off would signal an end." Mycroft interjected, trying to help.
"So turning the light off would mean that I stopped fighting…"
"Right…" Mycroft added. "Which would mean to him that you'd fixed it."
"We'll I'm sure that he saw Lestrade come in here last night."
Mycroft opened his mouth to continue but Sherlock eyed him, signaling that he had this.
"That's fine… you needed help… you needed someone to know. So you called a cop. You are just thinking within the normal parameters. I'm sure Lestrade walked out flustered. He could make many conclusions from that. Plus you sent him to see Molly… To test blood. With that action you are only saying you are still fighting. No concrete evidence that you woke me up." Sherlock sounded so sure and John knew that that alone should be a comfort. But for some reason he wasn't feeling any better about what was to come.
"And Mycroft coming here?"
"It's been…" Sherlock's pale fingers wrapped around John's wrist and pulled it toward him, reading the watch on his arm. "…14 hours since last night… give or take a few minutes. You tried Lestrade and now its time for you to go for the big guns. Frustration and defeat or setting in now. Its simple John." Sherlock smiled warmly at his friend and let him have his hand back.
John rolled his eyes. Simple… sure it was. "But it could easily go the other way Sherlock… "
"He won't think that way."
"Of course and you would know…" John put his head in his hands, rubbing the still lingering sleep out of his eyes and over his forehead at the temples to try and get his brain to wrap around all of this.
"So what do we do in 10 hours?" The older Holmes asked while leaning back into his seat and folding his hands on his crossed knees.
Sherlock eyed his brother and leaned in closely.
"I need a few things from you…"
Mycroft stared back, waiting for the order.
"I need you to get an ambulance here. Preferably parked in the back of this building." Mycroft nodded and Sherlock went on, sure that his brother would be putting all of this in his special mental notepad. I need you to get people that have no identities. They can't be pulled up on a computer. And…" Sherlock paused a second. "A body bag
John's head snapped up. "A what?"
"Ambulance…?" Sherlock said innocently. He clearly knew John wouldn't like the last part but tried to lighten the moment anyways.
"No Sherlock… that last part!"
"John…" Sherlock placed a hand on John's arm but the doctor shook him off.
"What are you getting at here…"? John was NOT liking this idea already.
"Well I cant stay in here forever and if you want to still try and fool Moriarty we are going to have to get things moving along."
John rubbed his hands in his hair again, causing the short strands to go in every which way but right.
"What does that have to do with needing a bloody body bag? I really don't like this."
"I didn't think you would… but you'll have to get over it John. Its necessary."
"Necessary my ass." The doctor's hands slapped the table in frustration but the Holmes's brothers ignored his outburst.
"What else…"
Sherlock looked back his brother. "Lestrade should be here too. "
"Why?" John wasn't done being bitchy and uncomfortable with all of this.
"There are many reasons… but mostly because you've already involved him. It makes sense that he be here."
"So we take you out in the ambulance… and I assume you will be going to my compound. "
Sherlock openly grimaced. "Unfortunately. It's well guarded."
"But why would you go there? Wouldn't he expect us to take you to a hospital?" John was glad that his tone was even. He didn't know how he'd collected himself.
"No… I'm dead remember? Why would you bring me to a hospital? Besides. The complications from all the extra questions as to how I got there… again… Very unnecessary."
"Right… I get it…" And this time… John Watson actually did.
"You are planning to play it up aren't you brother…" It was not a question.
"The family plot is there. Yes I do plan on playing it up. Besides… I didn't get to see my first funeral." Sherlock's face was now lit like a child on Christmas morning.
"And you wont be seeing this one either. Its all for naught if your recognized… even if someone were looking from behind the gate they'd notice your stature a mile away."
The younger brother glared at Mycroft.
"Your just as much fun as John."
The two men looked at each other and John shrugged. "Maybe he can watch from a window." He said to Mycroft.
Sherlock grumbled. "Whatever."
"Then what do I do?" John couldn't' help but notice that he wasn't involved in any of this planning. What was he suppose to do during all of this?
"Go on like normal John. "
"Normal…. Yea…" What was normal? Had he ever known it?
Mycroft knew that this was probably the best time to be making his leave.
"Well I best be on… many things to do."
"Right... of course Mycroft. Thank you for your help." John was desperate to change the subject anyways before he got stuck on what Sherlock expected his normal to be.
Sherlock pushed himself away from the table and leaned hard on the wood surface and back of the chair to pull himself to his feet. John was there in a flash, putting a strong hand under the tall mans arm and helped pull him completely to his feet. The wobble didn't last as long this time and he nodded at John that he was steady enough. John let him go but didn't go far as they all walked over to the door.
Mycroft put his hand on the doorknob but did not turn. His gaze went back to his little brother who stood just behind him. He'd thought he'd lost him forever and the guilt that robbed him of breath for days was now diminishing. He had always wanted a better relationship with his brother and felt robbed of the opportunity. He couldn't express the joy he now felt at this second chance.
Before he could over think his actions, he reached over to Sherlock and embraced him. Sherlock had become ridged at the sudden hold but relaxed quickly; slightly shocked at himself for enjoying the comfort and love that was so obviously the cause for this rare act from his older brother.
Mycroft refused to let go right away and Sherlock accepted, wrapping his long arms around his brother to return the embrace. His hold was weak but the older Holmes knew it was genuine. He heard his little brother inhale deeply and exhale slowly, at ease at this moment even with the uncommon show of emotion.
John couldn't help but watch. He knew Mycroft needed this moment of connection and he was pretty sure, even though Sherlock wouldn't bring it up again or even admit it if it had, that he needed it too.
Finally Mycroft squeezed a little tighter and rubbed his brothers back briefly before pulling out of the embrace. He instead placed his arms on his brother's shoulders, staring into his blue eyes.
"I love you…. You know that right?"
"I've always known…"
"Good…" Mycroft smiled as he let go and Sherlock actually returned the gesture. "I will see you both later."
And with a quick but graceful and fluid motion, the elder Holmes opened the door and slipped out, leaving nothing but a small click behind.
Sherlock stood for a moment, staring at the door, not sure how to continue. The moment had frozen him.
John placed a gentle hand on his elbow, rocking him back into place. "Come on… lets get you on the couch."
John may not have been a part of the upcoming plan but he'd make his mark by making sure he'd be the rock. Sherlock would be leaving tonight… but he'd be well fed and rested and understand that someone cared about him. He'd know he had a friend and ally that would help him no matter how irritating and outlandish he could be.