"John, John! Wake up! We have work to do!" Sherlock's voice echoed I the dark as he stood in the doorway.
"What?" John asked.
"If you would rather sleep, I'll let you, but I'm off to save my own life. Could be dangerous." Sherlock's silhouette vanished from the doorway.
John should have been annoyed. He should have rolled over in bed and pulled the covers over his head. He didn't. Sherlock was back and there was nothing on earth that could stop him from keeping Sherlock safe.
He flung the covers back and pulled off his pajamas and on his clothes as fast as he could. By the time he emerged, his hair ruffled from sleep and caneless, Sherlock was in his coat and scarf, holding John's gun out for him to take it. John's hand closed around the gun, and he smiled.
"We're ending this?" John asked.
"Tonight." was Sherlock's answer.
"What are you waiting for?" John said and pushed past Sherlock through the door. Sherlock grinned and followed.
John went to call a cab, but Sherlock pulled him away. He motioned for silence and kept to the shadows, as silent as a ghost. They walked down the street, avoiding streetlights and the headlights of cars.
"Where are we going, Sherlock?"
"To the flat of Sebastian Moran, your would be killer."
"Where is that, exactly?"
"Too close for comfort." They had miraculously made it across the road without being seen and they continued behind the row of flats across from Baker Street. They entered a building through a side door.
"Sherlock, this is directly in front of our flat!" John's whisper echoed through the empty hall, Sherlock clapped his hand silently over John's mouth. A door opened and shut somewhere upstairs and footsteps were heard in the nearby staircase. In the dark the glow of a cigarette could be seen. The face that was lit up by the burning cigarette end could have been beautiful, but a large amount of scars and a bearing of hate and danger dispersed the feeling. John had never seen anyone that looked more like a killer than Sebastian Moran.
He tapped out his cigarette and left through the same door that Sherlock and John had come through. He stopped and turned, and John was certain that he could hear their breathing. Mercifully, he left. Sherlock removed his gloved hand from John's mouth and John let out a shaky breath. Silently, they ascended the metal stairs and emerged a floor above. Sherlock seemed to know exactly where they were going. Sherlock knelt down and handed John a small torch. The light seemed blinding after so much darkness while John held the torch for Sherlock while he picked the lock. The opening of the door was deafening, and they slipped inside.
"Turn off the light." Sherlock said quietly. John obeyed and they felt their way through the dark. Sherlock took John's arm and shoved them both against a wall, in an alcove just as the door opened and the light flicked on. The sound of a gun being cocked sounded.
"Sherlock Holmes." The name rung in the silence like a bell from cold, hateful lips. John got out his gun.
"Are we playing hide and go seek? It's a small flat." Moran flickered the lights and laughed.
"You're right." Sherlock said, and stepped out from his hiding place. John darted after him, bringing his gun up and pointing it joyfully at Moran's head.
Moran laughed again and the hairs on the back of John's neck stood on end. He was insane. He recognized the look on Moran's face. He had nothing to live for, so he may as well die.
"Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, for coming here. I'm glad I will get to look you in the eyes as I kill you."
"You won't-" John was cut off by a gunshot and Sherlock jerked backwards. John's finger started squeezing the trigger just as Lestrade hit Moran's back and tackled him to the floor. Moran's gun went flying. As Lestrade forced Moran's hands into cuffs and shouted instructions to the constables outside, John turned to find Sherlock.
His mind clouded with memories of the fall and he wanted to scream. He turned fully and came face to face with a smiling detective.
"Well done, Detective Inspector! And thank you for letting me borrow the vest." He unbuttoned the top of his shirt to reveal a black vest. John almost fainted in relief.
"Sherlock, this needs to stop. Next time, let me know what the hell we're getting into, okay?"
"Alright." Sherlock answered as the constables took Moran away.
"Well, look at this, the old team back together again. Never thought I'd live to see the day." Lestrade said, then smiled and followed his men out the door.
"Does that mean we can tell everyone you're alive now?"
"There are a few remaining remnants, but we will deal with them as they come."
"Brilliant."
Day nineteen
He's alive, he's alive, I swear to God he's alive. Sherlock Holmes is alive and well and back home in Baker Street! I had no idea before yesterday, I swear! He showed up in Baker Street yesterday and gave me the shock of my life!
He's a living miracle. Well, it also helps to have a brother with access to the best medical care in the world, but after a few days in a coma and many more of healing all he has to show for it are a few scars. He is without a doubt the luckiest man alive.
I can't describe to you how good life seems today. Mrs. Hudson and I barely give him a moment's rest. I keep wondering if I'm just insane, but then I hear that cursed violin music and know that everything is all right again. It's a good feeling. A great, amazing, impossibly brilliant feeling.
There will be a press conference tomorrow about all this, but I wanted you to hear it from me.
Comments:
"Impossibly brilliant?" John, my reappearance was part of an intricate and dangerous plan, you make it seem so simple. It is a true gift.
Welcome back mate. -Lestrade
Sherlock's logged off, I'll pass on the message. -JW
I wasn't talking to Sherlock. -Lestrade
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