Fully Alive
Chapter Six
Sherlock Holmes was dead. A tragic suicide.
At least in the minds of every British citizen. And in the hearts and minds of the residents of Baker Street and one Detective Inspector from Scotland Yard.
Vivienne, John, and Mrs. Hudson entered 221b somberly and looked up the stairs in silence. How else do you enter your home after a funeral?
"I can't go any farther." John's voice was barely a whisper.
"At least come up for a cuppa." Mrs. Hudson laid her hand tenderly on John's arm.
"It's the least we can do. Come on." Vivienne gave a half smiled and the trio trudged up the stairs quietly.
John and Vivienne sat at the table while Mrs. Hudson put the kettle on.
"I hate him." John mumbled as his cup of tea was sat in front of him.
"No, you don't." Vivienne responded, reaching for her own cup. "You're just angry."
"You're damn right I'm angry!" John pounded his fist on the table, causing the two females to jump. "Sorry... sorry... But Sherlock, he- We didn't deserve this. None of us. For him to be so fucking selfish... I knew he was a dick. But to do this? To us? To himself? What did he get out of it? Six feet under. That's what he fucking got."
" 'You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.'" Vivienne quoted. "Sherlock died a hero. Maybe not in the eyes of everyone, but in the eyes of the ones that mattered. We never believed the lies, not for a second. And he knew that. As hard as he tried to convince you, you knew better. But he's not gone. Not really." She cleared her throat. "A wise man once said 'the ones who love us never truly leave us' and I choose to believe that."
"Did that wise man happen to be Sirius Black? Did you just quote Harry Potter to me to try and make me feel better?" John let out a brief chuckle.
"I did. Did it help?" Vivienne raised a curious eyebrow.
John reached out to touch Vivienne's hand gently. "It did. Thank you."
The telephone rang and Mrs. Hudson went to answer it. She came back moments later and handed the cordless to Vivienne. "It's Kati. Something's wrong."
Vivienne took the phone with a worried look on her face. "Kati. Is everything-"
But a man's voice interrupted her. "Go into the other room."
"Who-"
"Go into the other room and listen very closely to what I'm about to say." The man waited until Viviane was out of the kitchen to continue. "A car will be there for you in an hour. Go pack a bag as soon as we hang up. Tell your gran that something has happened at home and you're leaving at once. Your friend has a ticket waiting at the airport for you."
"Who is this? Is this about Sherlock? Is he okay?" Vivienne whispered.
"You have an hour. Now go back in the kitchen and say 'okay, I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can.' Now."
Vivienne did as she was told. "Okay, I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can. Love you, Kati." She heard the click as the line went dead. "Uh, something- something has come up at home. Kati needs me. She has a ticket waiting for me at the airport. I'm so sorry to be leaving like this. I shouldn't be gone long."
"Is everything alright, dear?" Mrs. Hudson began to stand up but Vivienne waved her to sit back down.
"I'm not sure." Which wasn't a lie. Was this about Sherlock? It had to be, given the secrecy. Was he actually dead this time? Vivienne felt in her gut that she was headed to identify a body. "I'm going to go pack. I'll call a taxi while I'm down there. I don't need help. I'll be fine."
Vivienne hurried down to her apartment, leaving John and Mrs. Hudson to their confusion.
An hour later, after rushed goodbyes, Vivienne was standing in front of Baker Street when a long black car pulled up.
"You a Miss Hudson?" Said a voice from inside the car.
"Y-yes. I, uh, need a little help, if you would." Vivienne's palms began to sweat.
"Ah, yes. Mycroft- that is, Mr. Holmes, I mean- said you would."
Vivienne heard a car door shut and her luggage being put in a trunk. Mycroft. Mycroft. Why did that name sound familiar? Then she remember the man say "Mr. Holmes, I mean."
Mycroft was Sherlock's brother. This was about Sherlock. Vivienne never felt so sure that she was headed to identify remains.
"Can you tell me where I'm going?" She asked the driver as he helped her into the back seat.
"Sorry, Miss. But I'm under strict orders. Pick you up, drop you off, make sure you get to the destination safely. Meanin' I help you to your room, as well." He shut the door and made his way back to the drivers seat. Vivienne was a bit unsettled by the purr of the engine when he restarted the car.
"My room?" Vivienne asked, confused.
"Sorry, Miss. Can't say no more. Trip'll take about 3 hours so you might wanna get out a book or take a nap."
Vivienne was so shaken up by the suddenness of everything she almost asked the driver how he expected her to read seeing as she was, in fact, blind and not just lazy, when she remembered. Fucking braille books. Blind people have books, too. And she had packed 3 different ones. I'm a goddamn idiot. She thought as she pulled a small blanket and pillow out of the backpack she had put at her feet and curled up in the seat to take a nap.
3 hours, 1 book, and 2 very fitful cat naps later, the driver spoke again. "We're here, Miss. If you'll get your stuff together that's with you back there, I'll grab your things from the boot."
Vivienne quickly shoved her things back in her bag and exited the car. She waited next to it until the driver came around and took her arm. They walked in a doorway, up two flights of stairs, and down a long hallway before stopping. Vivienne heard her suitcase being sat down on the floor.
"This is where I leave you, Miss. Have a good day. You can knock whenever you're ready."
"Thank you." Vivienne nodded to the man and he walked away. She raised her fist to knock, but the door flew open and her nostrils were invaded with the overwhelming smell of Old Spice and cigarette smoke. Thank fucking god. "Holmes. That you?"
"Of course it is. I've got your bag. Come in. Quickly."
Vivienne walked in and the door shut behind her. "Where are you?" A hand touched her right shoulder and she spun around, smacking Sherlock square in the face. "Fuck. You."
"What the hell was that for?!" Sherlock raised his hand to his cheek. His cheek stung a bit, but Vivienne was sure that his ego stung a bit more.
"I have spent the last four fucking hours thinking I was headed somewhere to identify your body. That is what that was for."
"Did Mycroft not tell you what was going on? Oh, of course he didn't. Don't know why I thought he would." Sherlock shook his head.
"He really didn't. He called and was super cryptic and creepy. And made me think you were fucking dead." Vivienne ran her hand through her bangs. "What am I doing here?"
"Why don't you take a nap? You look exhausted and I have a couple things I need to do. We'll talk later."
"Sherlock Holmes, you answer me right now. Why am I here?" Vivienne raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"I needed a liaison. You were the most obvious choice." Sherlock brushed the question off.
"I am not the most obvious choice. I'm not the only one who knows you're alive. Molly knows. Mycroft knows. If anything, either of them is a better choice. Instead of someone you claim to have forgotten."
"Molly? No, couldn't ask her. I stayed with her a couple days after, well, you know. Suffice it to say, I don't think she has a crush on me anymore. And Mycroft and I can't talk on the phone without wanting to kill each other. So, yes, you are the obvious choice. I need a liaison and it's you." Sherlock sighed. "Now, I'm busy. We'll talk later."
"You're not busy. You're an ass." Vivienne rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You don't need a liaison. You're lonely. You're lonely and too proud to admit it. You've gotten so used to living with John that you can't bear to be by yourself. And since he can't be here, you needed someone."
"Vivienne-" Sherlock began.
"No. Stop. You can't keep doing this to me. It's bullshit. You keep yanking me around like this is a game and to me, it's not. I know how you love your games, but I don't. I'm done with you." Vivienne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But don't you forget, Sherlock Holmes, that I see you. I see you better than any sighted person can. And I know the real you."
Vivienne turned to go to the bathroom, but then realized that she didn't know where it was. Before she could turn to ask, Sherlock's voice stopped her in her tracks as he uttered the four words she had been waiting to hear.
"I do remember you." He sounded almost nervous.
"What?" Vivienne paused with her back to Sherlock.
"I remember you. Of course I do. I remember everything."
Xxxxx
A/N: last chapter I forgot to mention that I'm glad people liked my easter egg in Chapter Four! I'm a diehard SuperWhoLockian. And my 2 favorite WhoLock headcanons are that Sherlock received his skull from The Doctor (and that the skull is *possibly* John's). And that his mother was a companion. I decided to describe The Doctor as Eleven, because I feel like he would be the most nostalgic about visiting old companions, even ones from his earliest regenerations. Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow! Reviews make me super happy!