I am speed! Well actually it's more like I am stuck at home haha! This is what happens when a blizzard hits my area. You get two updates within a week! I'm excited about everyone finally reading this, since I've had these events in my head for so very long. I will say no more, because frankly I just want you to read...and I don't want to give anything away. (now I'm building things up too much) Ok, just read! ;)
TWO MONTHS LATER
Sherlock trudged through the chilly streets of London, keeping his head low. He had no desire to speak to anyone. There was nobody he could imagine wanting to chat with, especially since the Watsons weren't expected back from their bridal tour for another week or so.
He just wanted to hide away. There was little left to occupy his mind at the moment, now that it was over...it was finally over.
Two days ago, he had witnessed the hanging of a half dozen of James Moriarty's henchmen. He had aided in the capture of others who were connected to his intricate crime web, but there were certain men who were more deeply involved, and held greater responsibility for some horrible crimes. For those men, including Sebastian Moran, they had to pay with their lives.
He hardly considered it pleasant, but he had to be there, if only to see it through to the end. He wished Moriarty had been among those men, but that was not how things had turned out.
About two weeks before, Sherlock's hunt had finally brought him face to face with Moriarty. The confrontation had ended on a bridge over a river a couple of day's journey from London. Sherlock wasn't alone. He had Inspector Lestrade and some other men with them. By that time, he'd already broken down the criminal monarchy bit by bit. All that was left was to catch the man himself. He'd approached the bridge cautiously, with the rest of the men staying further back, ready to spring into action if needed...
"It's over, Moriarty!" Sherlock called as he advanced further onto the bridge. "You can't run anymore. There's nobody left to run to. Give up now!"
Moriarty stood there, seemingly calm, with his back to the detective and hands on the railing. Slowly, very slowly, Moriarty turned to face Sherlock who was still a little distance away. Sherlock noted that the somewhat normal man he had met some time ago in the country seemed long gone. All he could see now was an insane villain.
"You've had your fun now, have you?" he asked Sherlock, a chilling smile beginning to spread. "And now you're done with me. But I think you'll be sorry."
"Sorry to see you pay for the years of crime that you've been controlling behind the scenes? Sorry to see you pay for almost killing my sister-in-law and her unborn child?" Sherlock shook his head. "I think not."
Moriarty chuckled. "I've also been entertaining you for years. Who else could keep you so busy?! None of the other criminals are clever enough. That is what you need, isn't it? Clever. I should be feeling sorry for you. What can be left for the brilliant detective now? What'll you do? Stay here and catch petty thieves? Run back to Mummy in the country?"
Sherlock glared at him as he clicked his tongue a couple of times and leaned his back against the railing.
"That all sounds awfully boring...does it not? I think you know I'm right. That's why I pity you. I think you'll be sorry when I'm gone. That's how it is with a man like you, isn't it? You can't see a good thing till it's gone." Moriarty raised a knowing eyebrow at him.
Sherlock frowned at what he thought may have been a reference to something else...someone else.
"Stop this now!" he bellowed at Moriarty as he took a few more steps forward. "No more games. I care nothing for you or for how clever you are. I am here for justice, and nothing more!"
Sherlock took one more step, and in a flash, Moriarty hoisted himself up to stand on the railing of the bridge, still facing the detective.
Sherlock's eyes widened. He put a hand out. "Do not move! There is nowhere to go. Come down right now, and end this!"
Moriarty shook his head slowly and chuckled. "There is no end to this, Mr. Holmes. Don't fool yourself." He glanced over his shoulder at the rushing water far below, then back at the detective with a more serious expression. "Maybe this is only the beginning."
Sherlock watched him closely as he stood perched on the rail. He shook his head ever so slightly at the insane man. "Don't...do it."
A smile spread slowly on Moriarty's face again as he gazed back at Sherlock. "Try not to get too bored without me, Mr. Holmes...bye!"
And with that, he fell backwards. In that same second, Sherlock ran the rest of distance to the railing, and he heard the splash just before he reached the edge. There was nothing left to see once he looked down though, except for the river below.
The rest of the men from Scotland Yard came hurrying over as well, all of them peering over the side into the dark water. Sherlock walked away quickly. He knew they wouldn't be able to see anything. Anyone that fell into that water would have gone under the surface and been carried off far too quickly. There was no finding Moriarty now.
Just in case, Lestrade's men went down to the river bank to check the underside of the bridge and the surrounding areas. But Sherlock was very sure this would be pointless. He stayed on the bridge, hands gripping the cold railing, staring into the distance.
"He is gone, and I suppose that counts for something," Lestrade said, approaching him from behind.
"He is only gone on his terms, and I did not want that. He deserved to go to trial, and face his punishment, whatever that may be. My brother will be less than thrilled at this outcome. He would have at least wanted a body...proof of death"
"We can keep checking down river. It is possible something will...wash up. I'll let you know of course if we find anything at all."
Sherlock turned to face the Inspector. "I don't like to say it, but I have a suspicion that you won't. Thank you though, Inspector. I suppose I will see you at the trials very soon."
Sherlock walked away, unsure of whether he should feel as though he had done what he'd set out to do. He did his best to assure himself that Moriarty was gone, one way or another. And he hoped this was the last that anyone would see of him.
As Sherlock walked down the street, he began to contemplate his next move. He was staying in the city, that much was certain. But he knew it was time to set the wheels in motion in getting Redbeard back. The more time went by, he became more convinced that it was best not to return in person. He believed nothing positive would be gained. There was surely nothing of Molly's life now that he would wish to see, and it was possible that the sight of him would even conjure old feelings of hers.
Oddly enough, this was what he was thinking of when he heard the sound of a familiar voice.
"Mr. Holmes? Mr. Holmes, is that you?"
Sherlock turned and had his fears confirmed when he found himself face to face with a grinning Dr. Tom Charles.
Sherlock offered a tight smile. "Dr. Charles, hello."
"Well, what an unexpected surprise to run into you! Though I suppose I should have thought it possible. I had heard you were back in London and involved in the trials of those men. I hear you deserve congratulations for a job well done."
"I was glad to do it," he answered simply, and then he began looking the man over more carefully.
Wedding band...already married...documents in his hand, so clearly in London on business...perhaps personal financial affairs...quality of clothing much finer than when I last saw him...he's recently come into some money.
"I am awfully sorry to say that Mrs. Charles is not with me," he said with a grimace. "She had no interest in accompanying me to London, and simply said that I should hurry back. But she will be sorry that she hadn't come once she hears I've seen you! She has been ever so interested in the progress of your search for those criminals."
Sherlock couldn't help but feel warmed at the thought of Molly's continued interest, but he silently reprimanded himself, knowing it wasn't his place anymore,
"And Mrs. Charles is well then?" he asked as casually as he could.
Tom smiled the happy smile of a newly married man. "She is, yes. Very well, thank you. I leave London later today and will be happy to be home once again."
"I will be collecting Redbeard soon, of course," Sherlock added.
"Ah yes! You must be looking forward to having him back with you."
"I hope he behaved himself while I was away."
Tom shrugged and smiled. "He seems a loyal and well behaved animal, to be sure."
A small silence followed and Sherlock finally extended his hand which Tom took.
"I won't delay you, seeing as you are traveling out of the city soon. I am glad to hear that you and Mrs. Charles are well. Congratulations on your marriage...please give her my best." Sherlock spoke the words with effort, even if this was exactly how he hoped things would go for her.
"I certainly will," Tom said kindly as their hand shake ended. "She will be pleased to hear it. Perhaps we will see you in the country again soon?"
"Perhaps," Sherlock lied. He was all the more determined to avoid it now.
Tom gave him a final wave and pleasant smile, and the two men parted ways. Sherlock tipped his head down and hurried the rest of the way back to Baker Street. He wanted, and needed, to escape.
A few days later, Sherlock heard a knock at his flat door. He was slouched in his chair by the fire, looking a bit unkempt, having discarded his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. In truth, he hadn't done much with his appearance all day.
He had already assumed that somebody was here to see him. He'd heard the sound of Mrs. Hudson letting someone in downstairs. It was dark, half past eight, so this was either police business, or...
"Mr. Holmes, your brother is here to see you," Mrs. Hudson called through the door.
Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. I'm trying to enjoy my tea," he muttered to himself.
He got up and opened the door, walking away from it immediately and sitting back in his chair with a thud.
"Shall I get either of you anything?" Mrs. Hudson offered as Mycroft swept in and took a seat across from his brother.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. My brother won't be staying long," Sherlock answered, picking up his tea again and taking a sip.
The older woman ducked out of the room with a smile and the two men were left alone.
Mycroft took off his hat, laying it on the arm of the chair. "Bit of a chill in the air now, isn't there?"
Sherlock frowned at him. "Have you come all the way across town simply to discuss the current weather? Clearly, you have some sort of deeper motive."
"I hardly have to tell you my motive, Sherlock. I have sent you more than one letter in the past fortnight, and you've ignored me. It seemed wise to...check in."
Sherlock raised his hands briefly before letting them fall onto the arms of his chair again. "I am alive, as you can see. Perhaps I simply did not want to be disturbed."
"Are you avoiding communication because you believe I will be somehow displeased about the outcome of the search for Moriarty? If so, I will freely admit that I do not hold you responsible for his unfortunate disappearance. Countless men have been held responsible for their crimes, some being executed, including the man who aided in my wife's assault. Do not expect me to become poetic, brother mine, but that is no small thing. I am grateful."
Sherlock placed his fingers together in front of his lips. "I am not feeling guilty about the way things turned out. Obviously there was nothing more I could have done."
Mycroft nodded. "Ah. In that case then, I imagine you are feeling the uncomfortable lull which inevitably comes at the end of a long and arduous case. And that is exactly the sort of reason I felt it necessary to check in. Wouldn't want you to…" Mycroft cleared his throat. "Fall into any old habits."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "And who is to say that I haven't? What business is it of yours?" He got up from his seat to stalk around the flat a bit, looking a combination of defensive and downtrodden.
Mycroft sighed and watched him carefully, planning his next words. "You know very well that it is my business, Sherlock. And besides, I have recently received a letter from Mummy. I will need to respond, and naturally, she will want news of you."
"What sort of news do you expect to glean from visiting me today hmm? You already know all that there is to tell! I have solved the case, and I am alive and breathing!" Sherlock answered through clenched jaw.
"Oh yes, you seem very well indeed," Mycroft muttered under his breath, then he added aloud, "I will give her what little news I can I suppose. Actually though, Sherlock, one of the reasons I bothered to come by at this late hour tonight was not to gather news from you, but instead to give it. I thought perhaps you would be interested to hear some of the things that Mummy related in her letter."
Sherlock leaned against the side of his window. "Unlikely. Has that ever thrilled me before? The cook's got a bad wrist, the maid is weepy and Mummy doesn't know why, nobody can seem to light the fires at the right time...the list of thrills from her letters go on and on. Is this one really much different?"
Mycroft smiled a little, since Sherlock wasn't looking at him. He was almost enjoying this, the thrill of the reveal. "I was thinking you may be interested in some of the local news she had shared...news of acquaintances."
Sherlock could see what was coming next, and he hardly wanted to hear the words spoken aloud. "Have I ever been interested in town gossip?" he scoffed.
"No, but this is no gossip. It is news of individuals who you know well. You have been away, and I thought perhaps you would not know of some things. One thing, for instance...Dr. Tom Charles was lately married."
And there it is, Sherlock thought with an internal groan of irritation. "Yes, yes, I am aware of that, thank you. I happened upon Dr. Charles in the city just a few days ago. Hardly thrilling news! Is that all?" he spat out as he spun around.
"Oh, you are aware?" Mycroft asked with a look of somewhat amused surprise. "I see. Well, I imagine then, that if you are aware of Dr. Charles marriage last month, you would also be aware that the new Mrs. Charles is not the woman you knew as Miss Molly Hooper." He looked at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.
Sherlock stared back at him, frozen where he stood. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I...I...w-what do you mean he did not marry Miss Hooper? He, he said...he told me that she..." He left off trying to form a sentence and began moving again, slowly walking around his sitting room.
Mycroft smiled a little smugly as he watched this scene. "Perhaps you would like to hear what I have to say now, seeing as you are not as all knowing as you had previously claimed. Would you care to hear what Mummy shared with me? Or would you still prefer I take my leave?" He reached for his hat threateningly.
Sherlock immediately reclaimed his seat across from Mycroft and gave him a nod. "Tell me."
Mycroft smiled. "Glad to see I've got your attention. Apparently, not long after you left to search for James Moriarty, Dr. Charles did indeed propose marriage to Miss Hooper, as most of the town had been expecting. What was not expected was the fact that she refused him. It was quite the to-do for a while. Poor Dr. Charles was moping about town. Nobody could understand it. Seemed to everyone that she was a fool to turn him down. Why would a woman do such a thing?" Mycroft looked pointedly at his brother before continuing.
"Thankfully for Dr. Charles, his mood was soon to be improved. A couple of weeks after being so sadly rejected, he received some unexpected news. A great uncle of his had passed away, and it happened that he was the man's closest male relative. It also happened that this great uncle was-"
"Very wealthy," Sherlock finished, his eyes brightening as he put pieces of the puzzle together.
"Precisely. Overnight, Dr. Charles became a very wealthy man. Fortunately for the town, he did not desire to discontinue his medical practice, despite his new comfortable situation. Apparently medicine is what he loves, though he hardly needs to earn a living now. Sounds a bit familiar, but I digress. So, naturally, something else happened once Dr. Charles became a wealthy man. He suddenly became the most eligible bachelor in town." The corner of Mycroft's lips lifted a bit as he watched the wheels turn in Sherlock's head. "Can you guess who Dr. Charles suddenly attracted the attention of?"
Sherlock thought about how Tom had spoken of his new wife, and her connection and interest in him. His eyes widened as he looked back at his brother. "Miss Hawkins," he breathed out the moment of realization.
Mycroft nodded. "Very good. Miss Hawkins became Mrs. Charles last month, and they have been living in the Hawkins estate while their own new home is being constructed. He hardly needs to rent that small space in town anymore." Mycroft sat back against his chair and smiled, looking pleased with himself. "So...perhaps you are interested in the latest news after all."
Sherlock stared wide-eyed off into space. It all made sense of course, as he thought about it. Even his mention of Redbeard to Tom had fallen rather flat, which surprised him, but he'd thought little of it. Of course Tom had said little on the subject. He wasn't living with Redbeard! Perhaps he saw him occasionally, but that was all. All the things he said about his new wife made sense too. Of course Janine would be interested in him and how the case went, and she would have been sorry to miss seeing him. It had seemed so clear at the time, but he was so far from the truth...so far.
And yet, despite how much it all fit together, he could not wrap his mind around what he'd just learned.
"How could she...refuse him?" he said softly, as he shook his head, speaking to himself more than Mycroft. "Why would she do that?"
Mycroft leaned forward a bit closer. "Sherlock, I cannot imagine that this is the most perplexing mystery you have encountered."
Sherlock made eye contact with his brother again, frowning a little, indicating his surprise at what Mycroft was referring to.
"Honestly, Sherlock, I realize this is not exactly my area of expertise, but I was also present in the country during this past summer. Do you think that I am a blind fool?"
Sherlock leaned back in his own chair and Mycroft was sure he saw his brothers cheeks turn just a bit pinker. His eyes shifted nervously, and he gripped the arms of his leather chair, seeming in need of support.
Sherlock began hesitantly. "What there was between us, it was not- that is, I never said anything to her...or made any promises. When I left, I wanted her to be...free."
Mycroft tipped his head in acknowledgement of his brother's words. "Perhaps that was your design, but I would venture to say that Miss Hooper did not feel free to accept Dr. Charles proposal. Or more accurately, perhaps she did not want to be free to accept."
Sherlock shut his eyes for a moment and ran his hands through his hair. She had truly refused Tom. Had she really felt so much? Had she been so bound to him, that even when he was gone she couldn't actually let him go? He had convinced himself that she would move on, and quickly, after his departure. Sherlock was faced with the reality of having severely misjudged this woman. He had misjudged just how deeply she cared.
Mycroft's voice cut through his thoughts.
"I believe, Sherlock, that the question now is, what exactly are you going to do about it?"
Sherlock's eyes shot open and he looked at his brother in surprise. Mycroft wore a small, almost sneaky, smile. Sherlock, on the other hand, only looked back at him as if he had grown another head.
"What are you suggesting?" Sherlock questioned cautiously.
Mycroft stood up and put his hat on as he drew a breath. "I am not a sentimental man, Sherlock. I have no desire to dwell on romance. But, as you know, I am lately an infinitely happier married man than I had been in the past. I might even venture to say that I am simply a happier man, in general. Perhaps that is what has moved me to speak, and speak frankly. But you had better listen carefully, because I am only going to say this once."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows and wore a slightly amused expression.
"Do not be a fool, Sherlock," Mycroft said, enunciating every word as he looked at his brother with a deadly serious expression. "If you love that woman, tell her. Tell her now. Do not waste time."
Sherlock's mouth slowly spread in a smile and he began chuckling. "You wantme to do this? I did not think it possible, but I may have just received a shock that is greater than the news of Miss Hooper remaining unmarried." He crossed his arms over his chest, looking back at his brother smugly.
Mycroft rolled his eyes as he turned to go to the door. "As I said, I am only expressing myself once. I do not think I need to clarify further. Besides, I would like to think you didn't need to hear me tell you what to do."
Sherlock stood from his seat and smiled slyly. "Oh, forgive me, were you telling me what to do? I was too busy working out the quickest route to Miss Hooper's home."
Mycroft smiled back. "Mm, that is about what I expected. And I imagine you've realized that the earliest you'd arrive would be in about a day and a half. That is...if you hire a carriage tomorrow morning."
Sherlock agreed pursing his lips. "Indeed. But if I were to go on horseback, and leave tonight..."
Mycroft opened the door to leave his brother's flat. "It is fascinating that you would bring up such an option. It just so happens I had one of my mares brought along tonight. I cannot imagine why I would have thought it needed, seeing as I came by carriage. But seeing as she is here...perhaps you could make use of her?"
"What are the chances?" Sherlock quipped in mock amazement. "In that case, I think I will use her."
"Well then," Mycroft said with a contented smile, "It seems you have somewhere to be. I'll not delay you. A safe ride, Sherlock."
Sherlock nodded. "Goodnight, Mycroft...and thank you."
Mycroft tipped his hat and wasted no more time making his exit.
Sherlock turned around as he heard his brother descend the steps, and he felt a delicious thrill growing steadily in his chest. He rubbed his hands together and ran down the hallway to his room, fetching his waistcoat, jacket, and cravat. He knew he was about to ride all night, but he didn't care. If he was fast, he'd reach her by morning. He recalled feeling rather tired before his brother had arrived earlier. But now, he had never felt more alert, more alive. The way he felt at that moment, he swore he could have ridden for three days straight if it would have brought him to her.
He was done holding back. No more fear. No more uncertainty. He was ready to happily throw all of that away.
Not long after, while he drove the horse on as fast as she could go, he promised himself that by this time tomorrow, whatever the outcome was to be...
Molly Hooper would know how much he loved her.
Ta-Da! Everyone starting to feel better yet? Hopefully I have begun to heal the hurt feels that the past few chapters have caused. If you can't tell by now, this is just how I roll when it comes to multi chap fics. :) Forgive the cliff hanger and the fact that Molly doesn't make an appearance, but I think you can see why I did it this way. And at least it's a happy cliff hanger! I'm sure I hardly have to tell you that I'm excited to write the next (and possibly last) chapter. So I'm sure it'll be out next week.
Special thanks again to MizJoely for being available to beta reading this one. Very helpful! ;D
Another silly little note- anyone want to guess where I got the inspiration for Sherlock's confusion and assuming it was Molly who had married Tom? I didn't copy it exactly, of course, but there was a particular part of a famous story that made me want to pull this little trick on the poor detective. I bet, for those of you who like this time period, that moment of name confusion might be something that you'd recognize! ;)