Chapter 4- Back to Business
An hour later, in one of the most beautiful and luxurious flats in Hammersmith, Greg Lestrade paces in annoyance while trying again and again to call an utterly mad consulting detective who promised he would be here 40 minutes ago.
"Twenty minutes my ass! Where the hell are you?!" he yells and hangs up the phone, leaving an angry message on Sherlock's voice mail for the fifth time.
"Anderson, get the staff, start to wrap up. Sherlock isn't coming." Anderson seems too disappointed by this announcement for Greg's taste, but it isn't like he is happy about the matter either.
When two paramedics intend to take the first body, Greg hears the elevator doors open in the hall; he can't be more relieved, and more damn annoyed.
"Sherlock bloody Holmes, where the hell-" Greg gets out of the flat and into the hall to see Sherlock and John walking toward the crime scene, side by side, as if it is the most regular thing in the world and not a minute has passed since the last time Greg saw them together like this.
"John! Christ, I haven't seen you since... wow, I think since your daughter was born. How is she? How is Mary?" he asks and hugs John fondly. Greg has always considered John as a good friend and a bright man, and he has always felt sorry for not keeping in touch with him unless Sherlock was somewhat involved.
John hugs him back and smiles at him wryly. "Emily is great, about to turn three in a month, thanks for asking. And, well, Mary and I are getting a divorce so... I don't really know about her." Greg looks at John, surprised, and John just smiles and shrugs in return. Greg has always thought that Mary and John were the perfect couple and would never separate. Then again, Greg had always thought that Sherlock and John could make a perfect match, and yet three years have passed as he watched Sherlock try to handle life without John.
Greg remembers the first few weeks after John's disappearance. "John's gone. He has his own life now. Piss off," was the only response he ever got from Sherlock about the matter. He mostly remembers that time as weeks when Sherlock wouldn't answer his calls, wouldn't leave the flat, and refused to help in any cases whatsoever. He remembers coming to 221B and seeing Sherlock sulking on the couch while mumbling John's name and demanding Greg to leave the flat. And no, he doesn't care that there's a serial killer who walks freely on the beautiful streets of London.
It took about two-three months for Greg to get Sherlock interested in cases again, but only in particular ones, ones that he thought had something to do with James Moriarty. There were times when Sherlock came to a crime scene and just turned his back and went home, because it was clear to him that Moriarty had nothing to do with the dead body in question.
For more than two years Sherlock has been interested with only Moriarty-related cases. Though it never seemed to be enough — after two years of sulking and almost no cases, Greg caught Sherlock using cocaine again. That just made Greg really cross with John, at the same time praying for his return. He wanted to abduct John from his comfortable life in the suburbs and show him how much his absence broke the consulting detective, leaving him a messy wreck of what was once Sherlock Holmes.
Greg has known all along that this whole thing is because of John's absence; you only need to be in the same room with the two of them and see the way Sherlock looks at John, even for just a split second, to know how much Sherlock loves this man.
Look at him now, Greg thinks to himself, he is practically beaming in joy, and he doesn't even seem high, which is even more encouraging. He has come willingly into a non-Moriarty case, and actually looks content.
Maybe Greg can forgive him for running so late tonight.
After all, three years seems a lot longer when the one you love is gone, and you have to sulk on the couch all day and torture people coming to visit you with horrifying violin notes.
Yeah, he should probably forgive him.
When Sherlock suggested they should walk to the crime scene rather than take a cab, John wasn't so sure it was such a good idea; but now, as they enter the fancy building, John is convinced that it had been a brilliant idea. For the entire hour Sherlock and John were just smiling peacefully as they walked the whole way to Hammersmith. No, they didn't talk, but John sees it as a good thing that he can still be in Sherlock's presence without having the need to fill the air with stupid, meaningless small talk; they are still very much satisfied with just enjoying each other's company.
When they walk into the flashy elevator, Sherlock breaks the comfortable silence, and smiles at John happily. "There's a big possibility that Greg might try to hug you. Just so you know. I would suggest running away, but it's your call," Sherlock's smile gets even wider when John laughs, and he can practically see the "I miss you" written all over his face. He isn't aware, however, that the same thing is written all over his face as well, and the twist in John's chest as he notices it. He has been doing such a great job in staying expressionless up until now, he doesn't even think it is an actual possibility.
When the doors open and Sherlock walks out of the elevator followed by John, John thinks to himself that this is the way his life should have been and decides that this is the way it is going to be from now on.
He almost bursts out laughing when Greg Lestrade goes pale from seeing him and can't resist a crooked smile as he notices Sherlock rolling his eyes when Greg pulls him for a hug, as expected. When he is being asked about Mary's well being, he notices the weird stare Greg is giving Sherlock: something between concern and relief. John tries to look for answers on Sherlock's face, but all he gets is an amused stare pointed at him.
Being under Sherlock's stare is like being under a hot spotlight, and god, how much has John missed that! If it were anyone else, John would probably hate it, but it is Sherlock, and Sherlock is the only person who's allowed to look at him like that, and who's practically welcome to do anything he wants — as long as it includes John again. John is so immersed in his thoughts about Sherlock that he doesn't even notice that Greg and Sherlock have started walking to the crime scene until Sherlock calls his name several times. He apologizes for his lack of attention and joins them in one of the flats.
There are two bodies on the floor surrounded in so much blood that it makes John question the fact that white is the default color of the floor. One of the bodies is a beautiful young woman, whom John is quite sure he has seen in a magazine or a billboard somewhere. She is dressed in a short black dress, with the potential murder weapon in her hands. The body not far from her is a handsome man, a businessman judging by his tailored suit. Greg says they were lovers and colleagues, but nothing more than that. Apparently he was her manager, and was as single as she was. John stays in the doorway while Sherlock bends down near the woman's body and starts working, taking in every little detail that might help him solve this case.
John puts his entire focus on Sherlock and takes in the fact that this, the work, is finally back in his life. He had gotten so tired of the ordinary life at the clinic and keeping a close eye on Mary, that he forgot what it's like to be in a crime scene again. He doesn't even try to help Sherlock right now; he needs his time to adjust to the turn his life has taken that has led him to this moment.
For a second, Sherlock stops walking around the bodies and gives John a look that makes John shift uncomfortably and avoid looking back. Sherlock in return straightens up and puts away his magnifying glass.
"Are you done?" John asks curiously. Sherlock smiles at him and already taking out a cigarette, turns to Greg.
"She didn't do it. I need to examine the body closer; send them both to Bart's and I'll take a look tomorrow morning." Greg folds his arms on his chest and raises one eyebrow at Sherlock's eagerness to leave.
"You don't need to check the flat? Nothing?"
"Of course I do, but not tonight. John and I need to return home; it's late and John is tired. He is not used to this anymore."
"I'm fine, Sherlock," John reassures him quickly. "We don't have to leave if you aren't finished. Either way, I know the way myself, you know, I can go home alone." Not that John wants to, obviously, but he is tired.
He is even too tired to notice that he just referred to Baker Street as home again. But Sherlock notices, of course, and he can barely suppress a warm smile.
"Out of the question. Come on, John, Molly probably fell asleep in my bed already, and I don't want her there a second more than necessary."
Sherlock is already walking out of the flat, leaving his blogger and the detective inspector wide-eyed and confused. After a second, John comes back to his senses and clears his throat. "See you tomorrow, then," he says and walks after the tall man he adores.
"What was that about?" John asks Sherlock after they emerge from the fancy building and are headed down to the main road to hail a cab. Sherlock remains quiet for a long minute and lights his Marlboro cigarette.
"What was what?" Sherlock asks and inhales the smoke into his lungs.
"We could have stayed, you know. I trust Molly to watch over Emily… you didn't—I'm not that tired. It was okay," John mumbles, and the irrational fear that tonight was his last night in a crime scene with Sherlock again makes his stomach ache. Sherlock looks at him for a moment and smiles to himself, thinking that maybe making John want to crave his world again isn't going to be so hard after all. He tries to figure out when he should start seducing John so that something would happen between them, but John finally hails a cab for them and Sherlock has to put out his cigarette.
They both climb quietly to the back seat of the cab, looking out of the window as the cab starts heading toward Baker Street. After a few minutes, when they are already fairly close to Baker Street, John breaks the silence.
"Are you and Molly… are… hum… are you two—?" John mumbles again.
"We were, as people like to call it, together." John nods to himself, trying to register the new information. If someone had told him three years ago that Sherlock would go out with Molly, he probably would have laughed in their faces.
"What happened?" John asks out of pure curiosity, but Sherlock just remains silent; he can't tell John that he broke up with her in a text message the minute John walked into his flat with Emily, right? It would be, as John likes to phrase it, a bit not good. He is quite surprised, though, that John noticed the fact that there was something between them in the first place. He has almost forgotten that John has his own level of brilliancy; more than most people grant him.
The second the cab pulls out outside of 221B, Sherlock knows that something is completely and utterly wrong. He turns to see that John shows no sign of having the same understanding. John pays the cabbie and gets out of the car, leaving Sherlock in a debate about whether he should drag John back into the cab and send him to his house in the suburbs, where he'd be safe, or keep him with Sherlock, where he'd probably be in great danger.
He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. John looks at him nervously and starts realizing that something must be wrong, but he doesn't have the slightest idea what is making Sherlock look so damn pale.
Sherlock goes toward the door, which is slightly open, not enough for John to notice, though, and stands still near it, as he takes another deep breath.
"Do you have your gun?" Sherlock asks John and takes out his own gun.
"What— what's wrong?"
"Do you have it or not?" Sherlock asks again impatiently and listens to the short man behind him as he inhales sharply.
"I... No, I don't have it on me." Sherlock turns to look at John and gives him a shocked gaze.
"Who are you and what have you done to John Watson?" he mumbles, though he regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth. He can feel that he hurt John, and before he can think it through, he has already apologized.
John sighs and pushes away the painful feeling Sherlock has caused him, trying to focus on whatever reason Sherlock has found to take out his gun.
"Stay behind me," Sherlock says to him and opens the door quietly. Up until that moment, John hasn't noticed that the door is already a bit open, and now he begins to understand that there's probably an intruder in their flat. With his luck, it can't just be a burglar, can it?
The hall is clear; if you had never set foot in there before you probably wouldn't find anything wrong, but both John and Sherlock can feel that something bad has happened in here not so long ago. Sherlock opens the door to Mrs. Hudson flat and disappears inside for less than a minute.
"Sleeping," he reassures John and starts taking the stairs quietly, gesturing John to follow him.
When they both reach the upper level, John can feel his heart racing, and he has no idea what to expect. He can't believe that the amazing evening he just had with Sherlock is ending this way — with dread and panic rising in his body.
Sherlock opens the door. He never lowers his gun, determined to do whatever it takes to protect John. When they walk into the flat, the place is practically upside down. Half of their things are broken and smashed, Sherlock's experiments and notes are spread all over. It looks like there has been a huge struggle in here, and that is definitely not a good sign. Sherlock tells John to stay in the doorway and looks worried when he sees the color fade out of John's face as he solves the puzzle in his head.
John can't believe this is happening to him. He brought Emily to Sherlock to keep her safe, and now... now only god knows where she might be.
They took her. Someone took his Emily.
His little baby, his angel, his source of light in this cruel world — and with his luck it is probably Moriarty who just took her as if she is his own. He doesn't even notice when Sherlock comes back to him after he has scanned the entire flat, looking for something useful that will help him find Molly and Emily's location.
"John," Sherlock calls him and grips his shoulders, "John, we will find her. He will lead us to her. He wants me, not her." When Sherlock notices that John still isn't looking at him, and just stares hollowly at the open air, he shakes John and tights his grip on John's shoulders. "John, look at me," Sherlock calls to him again and then John finally meets his gaze. He looks more afraid than Sherlock has ever seen him, and it breaks Sherlock's heart into little pieces to watch the love of his life going through something like that. He knows that John probably imagines numerous dreadful scenarios that Sherlock tries really hard not to imagine himself, but he knows that James has no particular interest in little Emily and he probably won't hurt her. He has threaten Sherlock so many times about doing something bad to her; but Sherlock knows that he is the target, and not a 3 year old blond girl. He just wants to make Sherlock come after her, and with no other choice — that's what Sherlock is going to do.
With one shared look, their world narrows down to one thing, and one thing only: Emily.