Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 64
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." ~ Winston Churchill
The Next Morning at 6 AM
Present Day
He sighed as he woke.
He was usually up instantly, but today he allowed himself a moment of quiet. Sherlock stared at the ceiling and blinked away the last of the morning fog. He stared at the clock, seven… late for him.
He noticed a blanket was draped over him; "John," he thought.
He was still in his dress trouser and dress shirt from the previous day.
John would normally enter the kitchen in ten minutes; however, they had both gone to sleep only two hours earlier.
He had actually slept and did not remember having a nightmare; Sherlock noted with relief.
He knew Lestrade, and Mycroft's men would most likely be there within the hour.
Sherlock sighed. He knew he had to bite the proverbial bullet.
Sherlock stilled himself as he took a breath, closed his eyes, and then retreated into his mind.
For fifteen minutes, he looked as if he was asleep but was not. Closing his eyes was never necessary of course, but he preferred it since it helped him to not be distracted.
Sherlock's eyes rolled under close eyelids. There were occasional hand movements that were so subtle that they barely registered. Sherlock's eyes flew open and he smiled. His mind palace was fully repaired. His smile quickly faded as his eye became impossibly wide.
Sherlock grunted as he jumped up too quickly. He practically ran to his jacket and pulled out his phone.
Sherlock impatiently combed his tangled curls with one hand while holding his phone in the other. He flattened his lips into a straight line.
He was relieved that Mycroft answered on the second ring.
"How quickly can you have your men ready, Mycroft...? (Pause)… no Mycroft I mean the task force."
John yawned as he stretched in bed. He looked at the clock frowning. "Nine thirteen?" He frowned again. He normally did not sleep this late, but excused himself. Last night had been a rather unusual night. Sherlock had talked for hours with emotions flowing on both their ends. John wondered if Sherlock was up. Sherlock was an even earlier riser than John was; however in John's mind it would be understandable if he were still asleep.
John put on his robe and trudged toward the kitchen to both check on Sherlock and put on coffee.
John heard muffled sounds from the living room as he drew closer to the kitchen. "Must be Lestrade," John said to himself.
When he reached the hallway, he noticed seven people along with Lestrade, and Dovavan. Four were Mycroft's men; the other three were unfamiliar to him.
They all seem to be talking in a low and whispered tone. Most looked up briefly then returned quickly to their work, with one exception. The volume of noise suddenly increased greatly. It was as if someone turned up the volume on a radio dial.
Mrs. Hudson saw John and gave his arm a squeeze. "Teacakes on the table love. Don't worry, he ate." She whispered; then she disappeared down the stairs.
John frowned in confusion as Lestrade handed John a cup of coffee.
"Figuring you'd need a cuppa." Lestrade handed him the hot beverage.
John smiled as he gratefully took a sip. He looked at Sherlock who had not only showered, but also changed and was going through files, and photos. His only acknowledgement that John was in the room was a quick glance. John recognized that Sherlock was on the trail of something.
"Sherlock threatened to `throw a wobbly' if anyone made a sound above a whisper until at least nine," Lestrade explained.
"Oh," John looked both surprised and amused, "That explains a lot." John looked down at himself realizing for the first time what he must look like. "Give me twenty minutes to shower and change."
Lestrade put his hand on John's arm to gain his attention. He took a breath before speaking. "John, Sherlock thinks he knows where Katie Green is being kept."
Relief and fear warred for dominance in John mind. Finally John spoke. "I'll make it ten minutes."
John walked away quickly toward his room.
**The throw a wobbly means to lose one's temper. **