Chapter 11: Presence of Mine Enemies~
Of course, they were expecting a fight. So, Mycroft had a few agents called up, to come and invade the property. Greg and Sally were also part of the team sent in to get this information. It was like something from a spy-movie. Except, it was a little too strange for fiction.
John held his breath,as they came rolling up the drive. Sherlock was sitting next to him on the left hand side, and Mary was on his right. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, to see where her brothers had grown up.
But Sherlock drew up inside himself, like a cistern collapses without water. The old apple tree was still there, looming like a shadow of death over the lawn. One end of then noose was still hanging in the branches. The Key's had tied it up again, to mock. John let out a half- gasp. Then his attention was turned to a huge old oak. It was nested with the tree fort, where Sherlock used to dream of being the pirate that would set sail for his family, and bring them back to England. This...John thought, was Sherlock's real home.
The property was silent. No sign yet of the murderous foster family. In a quiet huff, knowing he would follow, Sherlock breathed, "Careful when you go up, I left needles on the floor..."
He wasn't kidding. John had to bite his lip, to keep from letting out a terrible groan. There were enough needles laying about to look like a wall of steel had shattered here.
But there was something else. Shadows of a child...The hauntings of a boy that was never allowed to be young. There was a whittled wooden sword here,a dog's collar there. A collection of shiny rocks,and feathers, and all manner of strange things, in a box labeled "Treasure". John smiled, sadly. Sherlock was milling about, stepping over needles, nearly tripping on a syringe. When John saw what the label on it said, he felt his heart grow cold.
"You..." he swallowed...
"I?"
Sherlock wasn't paying much attention, having to look for the letter he had hidden, almost doubled over. He was so very much taller than the boy he used to be. John watched him, soul groaning within him.
I'm going to save you...he silently promised.
"Ah!"Sherlock cried, delighted, finding his old rat sheets, hidden carefully under a hand-sewn cloth pirate map. Clumsy child stitches, suggesting Sherlock made it himself, with one of his needles, a different kind...John felt near tears.
Because, of course, you are worth saving...You don't know that though do you, my Clueless Genius?
Sherlock had frozen ,reading his father's letter. His eyes went wide, a hand floated to, and clutched his throat, as if he felt strangled.
"What?" John asked...
"JOHN!"Mary shrieked from outside.
"STAND DOWN!" Greg shouted,and a warning shot cracked off.
"Easy, I just want to see my b-o-y-s." said a familiar, sing song voice.
John had practically fallen off the ladder, and Sherlock was at his heels.
There in the lawn stood Mr. and Mrs. Key. And beside them stood the drunk that Sherlock and Mycroft had understood to be Lindor Key. But in the center stood Jim Moriarty, hands up, because D.I. Lestrade , Sergeant Donovan,and Special Agent "Mary Morstan-Watson", all had him at gun point. Oh,and then Captain Watson, M.D. also had him at gun-point, protectively going to Mary's side.
Sherlock just sighed, a heavy sigh, and then laughed.
"Let me guess, you've already "deduced" this haven't you, Sherlock? How I faked my own death, same as you?"
"Of course, you're so "changeable". Or rather your murdering-suicidal twin brother was always conveniently there, even in the end, to bail you out...As was Lindor Key, to serve as a decoy, whilst I grew up in the presence of mine enemies..."
"Sherlock?"asked Mycroft, who had been swarmed by his agents, horrified.
"What?!"John gasped, severely tempted to pull the trigger, but afraid he'd hit Sherlock ,who had stepped in front of him.
"When did you piece it together?" Jim asked, smiling, enjoying this.
"Well, I never have doubted my senses. Clearly, I am seeing you, and it is actually you, no tell-tale markings of plastic surgery, which-oh we don't have to go over how I would know that ,now do we?"
"No, because that would continue to make you the bloody show-off -that you are that always did over-shadow our Jimmy- you solved his very first murder!" spat Mrs. Moriarty.
"Shut up, Mum!" Jim shouted at her.
"Never mind all that, Mrs. Susan Moriarty."Sherlock said to the old woman, addressing her directly. "How did I piece it together, Jim?There were signs, signs that you had a twin, that I deduced ,yes, during my Hiatus, when I saw you multiple times, but it was impossible because "you" were undeniably dead. So, yes, you had a twin,and his confrontation with me on the roof, to finish your fool- proof plan to end me in disgrace, was a favor you did for him;he wanted to die. But I really couldn't care why you did it now, Jim,as you said, why does anyone do anything?All I want to know is, what did you do with my father?"
"Me? What makes you say "I" did anything with him?"
Sherlock held up the letter from his dad ,that he hung on to as a secondary life support, in the dark years after he and Sherry had disappeared.
"Because the first and last letter he sent me, is in your handwriting."