Chapter 11: And Now That You Know~
Sherlock was sitting awkwardly in the client's chair, whilst Mycroft sat in the one he usually occupied,and John sat in his usual spot. Greg and Anderson pulled up seats of their own, one sitting on Sherlock's right hand and the other on his left.
"So, what to do about this, brother mine?" asked Mycroft, scrutinizing his younger brother much the same way that Sherlock would scrutinize a client.
Sherlock took one deep breath.
One deep breath was all it took, to let John know. Memories of Serbia, of being forced to leave him being beaten to a pulp chained to that post, whilst he smuggled the fugitive children to safety, came crashing down on him like a meteor shower.
" You...are going to go through with your agreement, and we are supposed to catch her in the act..." he stated, not as a question.
All eyes turned on him in sudden horror that he could even SUGGEST such a thing.
All eyes except for Sherlock's. Instead he smiled a calm, sad smile.
" It will be inarguable evidence, and save a lot of trouble with the court case..."
Mycroft's mouth gaped.
"Out of the question."
"Mycroft..."
"You want me to just look the other way, just let you be lead to a death unknown to the bowels of Hell, like some stray dog?"
Sherlock swallowed, "No..." he said, and before he could be interrupted ,he looked John in the eyes ,with a chillingly intense gaze.
"No,I want you to be on stand by whilst I walk willingly to my death, and intercept it in a clean and concise manner. But I must walk to my death,and be ready to die, in case plans are sabotaged, because the life of John Watson is in jeopardy if you don't, and I will not allow even the nth of a percentage of risk when it comes to said sacred life."
The room had gone so ice-quiet, it made the Grave seem suddenly vibrant with the sound of music.
John stood slowly up, shaking his head.
Sherlock's expression hardened, along with his will to follow through.
And now ,without the faintest stain of the shadow of doubt, John knew .
Sherlock Holmes ,in the end, was a good man, and utterly selfless at the core, despite the impulsive traits that indicate selfishness on the surface.
"We can't allow her to harm you. We could put John into protective custody, or .."Greg cut in, eyes twisting in horror. Anderson could say nothing at all.
"Like hell!" John gasped, voice suddenly sharp and heated like the flame off the back of a jet engine.
Mycroft shook his head. " You...you are right, little brother...Dare I say, you are right. This is our best solution to the problem of prosecuting a police sergeant of such admirable reputation. And you are also being the absolute of honest when you say that you will not allow an nth of degree of risk to John Watson. Which is why I will elect to do this your way..."
The others were speechless, utterly disbelieving that Mycroft was consenting to one of Sherlock's more reckless plans.
"But...I must make modifications to your plan..."
"Which will be?"
"You will only surrender your life to any form of torment upon my order."
Sherlock sniffed, "You would NEVER give such an order."
Mycroft grit his teeth,
"Mmmmm...but there is an nth of the degree of risk in that, though, isn't there? I'm sorry ,Sherlock, belay that.
You shall only surrender your life to any form of torment by order of Captain Watson."
Sherlock's jaw dropped , feeling helpless, "He'd shoot himself in the head first!"
John gasped audibly, "I'd shoot SHERLOCK in the head first!" he howled, face gone white.
"Exactly my point. This guarantees that you will not do anything stupid..." Mycroft grinned,toothily.
"Well...HOW pray tell, are you going to catch her in the act, if she is not actually in the act!" Sherlock rasped.
Mycroft smiled, "Dearest little brother...All these years of violent torment, of being on the run, of being hunted and hated, and being the one to kill, and watch others being killed...You have forgotten negotiations haven't you? The boy my brother, the genius mind that could have been a philosopher, but deigned to be detective...lost to the Machine that is War...Don't become just another part of that Machine, Sherlock. It's time for you to come home from that now, to leave that behind you. You are clever, brother mine! It is now a time for you to remember to be clever. This is not the time for the East Wind to take you, though it takes us all in the end...
This is the time for Epiphany's Wind, a chance for new life to be breathed into you, for new ink to wet the pages of the story of your birth. ..It is time for you to breathe again, and be free, and to be healed. And you shall, for we shall have it no other way, shall we Doctor Watson?"
John is in tears now, Mycroft's words, and Sherlock's willingness having completely undone him.
"No we won't. Stop it now, Sherlock...You don't have to die for me...You don't have to die AT ALL."
Sherlock's face broke into a smile, and tears filled his eyes, and he let one hysteric laugh crack through the stone surface of his stoic demeanor.
And in that moment winter ended, and Sherlock Holmes was safe at last. Knowing that he was loved.
"No...I don't have to die. As long as I have the lot of you!" he shook his head, "Stupid! Of course, I see it now..."
He leaped up, hair standing up ecstatically the plan of their ransom suddenly dawning on him.
"Oh yes, it's...TOO easy! How could I have ever stooped to his complex level of stupidity! She made bargains with me, now I shall make a bargain with her...false of I will need to employ the use of some of your magic tricks, brother mine. And I will most definitely need your proactive help, John...if you're up for it..."
John swallowed the stone of his 2 year agony, in one great gulp, feeling like he were sailing through the ceiling, as ,so suddenly as it came, it was gone, gone with Epiphany's Wind.
"Oh GOD yes!"