Part Five: A Second Meeting
"Holmes, let me in," I whisper knocking on the window of 221B. His face pops up from behind the curtain. He looks at me for a minute before unlocking the window. He offers a hand to help me into the flat.
He doesn't say anything, but only goes back to his table into the kitchen. He begins looking into his microscope and occasionally taking notes.
"I'm guessing you haven't told him?" I begin interrupting the silence. He stops his work to look at me.
"Have you seen my magnifying glass? I can't seem to find it," Sherlock asks ignoring my question.
"Sherlock, why haven't you told him?" I insist.
"Told who what?" he avoids answering.
"Why have you not told John that you're alive?"
"Oh that," he pauses, "I just don't understand why he would care."
"Because he's your friend," I suggest, "friends care about each other. It's a natural human emotion."
"Well, not for me," he shrugs.
"Yes it is."
"What makes you so sure?" he asks, still curious about how good I really am at deduction.
"You said it yourself, 'If you were about to be murdered, about to die, you would say the thing that means the most to you. The thing you care most about," I begin.
"So?" he asks.
"Who did you call before the jump?" I ask. He seems surprised at my question, "You called John."
That's when he understands. He understands what I've been trying to tell him. He misses John. In fact, he's miserable without him.
"But how do you know that?" he asks.
"I've got sources everywhere Holmes. I know more than you might think," I say. "It's the same way a mother would look at her child in a state of danger, a man will reach out for the one he cares most for," I explain further.
"How do I know he still wants me to be alive?" he asks staring at the wall.
"He's miserable."
"But how do you figure that?" he asks, "I must have proof before I blow my cover."
"Well aside from crying over your dead body, we've got the easy observations. He comes to the café below everyday and hardly ever buys anything," I begin.
"He hates the food at that café," Sherlock adds.
"Clearly, he goes there for sentimental reasons. Next, every few days he has dirt under his nails when he comes, and he's got a receipt for flowers, showing he's been the one planting the flowers at your headstone," I continue.
"That's the polite thing to do," he interrupts.
"His flowers have a meaning. No man puts much thought into the meaning behind the type of flower he buys," I roll my eyes.
"Well John isn't just any man," Sherlock suggests.
"Right," I agree." He's lived with you. Meaning everything has a meaning. If he thought you were still alive, he'd leave you a message."
"And has he?" he asks showing interest.
"We'll just have to find out."