Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 105
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.
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." ~Henry S. Haskins, Meditations in Wall Street
Present Day
Mycroft looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock blinked rapidly, and looked out the opposite window as they approached the city. The lights outside the car reflected across Sherlock's face as the car passed various light sources.
He was still worried about Sherlock. His trip to Vienna had confirmed his suspicions.
Ayyad's reach went further than anyone first believed even himself.
Well, Mycroft thought almost everyone, but not Sherlock.
Many and not limited to Ayyad; began to suspect that one person had been the cause of the sudden and costly interruptions to criminal networks in Europe mostly, but also other continents.
Sherlock's anonymity had been his safety.
Bored Sherlock had apparently been bad for criminal businesses.
However, with the capture and detention by Ayyad for two weeks, even those who are dull at mind eventually connected the dots.
They realized that there was a two-week period of reprieve from the police and other agency. This was due to Sherlock's inability to anonymously tip them. This was a side effect of his public resurrection.
To anyone who cared to look, the timing had fit.
It took much of Mycroft's considerable power and favors to prevent the press release announcing Sherlock's resurrection from becoming a global event, as it was going to be at first.
Mycroft managed to have the event downplayed to more local verses global news.
The information about Sherlock's resurrection was hidden in a matter of fact way, in-between local news and commercials.
Among criminal organizations, the name of Sherlock Holmes was now well known over the last month and some weeks.
That was the reason for Mycroft's personal trip to assess what damage had been done and how best to handle the situation and threats.
He would not tell Sherlock now; he needed to rest, to feel safe, and to heal.
He wondered how Sherlock would react if he brought up the subject of protected custody again.
A part of Mycroft wished for Sherlock's sake that he was still believed to be dead by the public.
Mycroft knew that eventually Sherlock would have forgiven him, and informed him that he was alive, after he sarcastically informed him that someone of his superior intellect should have figured it out beforehand of course.
Mycroft smiled at the notion.
His smile faded.
Mycroft glanced at John. Despite his brother's protest, there was an emotional component to his decision to resurrect himself, and he was sitting in the front passenger seat and had blonde hair. Sherlock had not come back until he tracked down the man who was assigned to shoot John. He did not consider his own safety only Johns.
Afterward, Sherlock was not willing to cause John needless pain, by him thinking Sherlock was dead any longer than necessary.
Mycroft wondered if his brother sported a bruise to his jaw the day he informed John that he was alive.
Sherlock despite his claim of needing no one needed John. From what he saw, John needed him just as desperately.
Sherlock cared about other people. He has even demonstrated in very painful ways that he was willing to give-up his life for them. Still, no one could ever take John's place. John had demonstrated that he felt the same about Sherlock.
They were likened to Siamese twins, attached somehow. There was nothing sexual about their relationship but it was still a love affair, not one of the bodies but of the heart.
"Mycroft?" Sherlock looked at Mycroft appearing a little more alert. How long have Sherlock been deducing him, Mycroft wondered.
"A little more awake?" Mycroft asked with a smile but it did not reach his eyes. There was no point in putting on a mask.
"Some," Sherlock admitted. He looked intently at Mycroft who refused to look away.
Sherlock was silent for a moment before speaking.
"Are you ready to tell me what happened while you were away? Is there anything I need to know?"
"Just the dull and boring to use your words," Mycroft kept eye contact.
Mycroft knew that Sherlock could see through him. He also knew that he had a certain amount of time that Sherlock would allow him, before he privately demanded for him to tell him what was occurring.
It was their way.
John who was drifting off to sleep himself revived at the sound of voices.
After a moment of silence, John turned and looked back.
"Sherlock I should probably warn you, when we get back to the flat there a strong possibility that you're getting a hug… so I thought I would warn you so that you could… prepare yourself."
Sherlock's sleepy eyes became large. He looked at John in the eyes before saying suddenly loud. "You're serious."
"Yea… sorry… I am." John kept looking back.
"Lestrade," Sherlock pleaded.
"Sorry mate, I'm afraid one's coming from me too." Lestrade glanced in the rear view mirror with a smirk.
Sherlock looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Mycroft offered no support but smiled a real smile now. Mycroft was finding the entire event amusing.
"Fine," Sherlock eyes narrowed, "be warned, I am trained in arm-to-arm combat and I am not afraid to use it."
Everyone was silent for a moment before John spoke with a determined look.
"Still getting the hug, Sherlock."
"Me too," Lestrade warned with a toothy grin.
Sherlock grunted but said nothing else.
"Sherlock," John looked down now with guilt, "since we're confessing all, Mrs. Hudson is waiting for you at the flat…"
"I expected as much," Sherlock was relieved for a moment until he noticed John's face in the dim light.
"Tell," Sherlock said warily.
"Molly was so worried…" John started.
"Molly Hooper?" Sherlock leaned forward to too fast and grimaced. True annoyance was now on his face.
"I talked her out of coming tonight, but she'll be there in the morning. Sherlock be warned she is in an especially cuddly mood." John thought he had been helpful and seemed proud of the minor accomplishment.
"I manage to know her for six years and have avoided contact." Sherlock said smugly.
"It that what you call your lips on her at the Christmas party?" John wondered aloud.
"Shut up." Sherlock pouted again.
"And, she's bringing cookie, Sherlock. Be warned again, she baked them…, But, she's had baking lessons since the Christmas party."
Lestrade interrupted the argument, "Come on guys be fair; I thought her cookies looked rather good."
Everyone looked at Lestrade and stopped speaking. Lestrade searched his mind wondering what he said before clarifying with a blush.
"I mean tasted good?" He tried. Everyone still looked at him.
"Bugger off," Lestrade said looking at the road with his own pout now.
"Lestrade maybe you should cuddle with Molly." Sherlock said a little too sweetly.
"Repeat…, Bugger…, Off." Lestrade was annoyed.
For some reason, this made Sherlock feel better. At least someone other than himself was distressed.
Ten minutes later and everyone was quiet. John had drifted off to sleep. It had been a physically and emotionally draining day for John as well. Sherlock once again nodded off.
Mycroft sighed, "Why not," he whispered. Sherlock's eyes narrowed in question. Mycroft opened his arms stretching one arm behind Sherlock's back.
"You do know that you're initiating physical contact between us without weapons?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm game if you are." Mycroft motioned with his finger to come closer.
Surprising them both, Sherlock simply sighed resigned to his fate, then leaned his head back against Mycroft's shoulder. Soon his features became relaxed.
Sherlock had apparently managed to drift off to sleep while somehow managing to hold on to the edge of his brother's coat.
The last time Mycroft remembered hugging Sherlock was when Sherlock was eleven and decided that hugs were illogical and unnecessary. No one but Mummy received a hug after that, Mycroft remembered with a smile.
That was Sherlock.
Mycroft made a decision, but he had to be sure, "Sherlock," He whispered softly.
Mycroft received no answer. Convinced Sherlock was asleep, Mycroft leaned close and whispered into Sherlock's hair.
"I love you a little you moron," Mycroft sighed, "well, much more than a little, Lock." He kissed his head softly then laid his head back on the car seat, eyes still opened.
After a long moment, he heard the softest of voices whisper back, "Love you too Myc, by the way, you're an idiot." Soon Sherlock's breathing came slower and his hands loosen on Mycroft's coat. Mycroft's hold tightened around his brother.
In the early hours of the morning, they arrived at Baker Street.
True to their word, Sherlock was ambushed with hugs and kisses from Mrs. Hudson.
John's and Lestrade's hugs followed close behind. Mycroft watched as he leaned against a wall.
Although Sherlock rolled his eyes and grunted protests, Mycroft noticed something curious about his brother.
Sherlock hugged back.
**A/N: Bugger off is used when frustrated and is as Sherlock would say, a bit not good, when used. **