Over the next few days, Felicity was very solitary. She would read by herself, play the piano until she was cracking her knuckles in pain every night with increasing volume, or sometimes she would just sit in her room, running a thumb over Charley's dog-tags. She hadn't removed them since the funeral, and didn't plan on it. As her last tie to Charley, they were a blessing and a curse; wearing them kept her grounded to her past when she felt like moving on, but they were also a reminder of where she'd come from when all she wanted was to go back. Their value was incalculable, and Felicity was fiercely stubborn to never be parted from them, not even for a moment. Her two guardians, thankfully, continued to support her or give Felicity space, depending on what she needed. Days stretched to weeks and she eventually opened up more, talking with Sherlock and John, watching telly with John, looking through the morning papers with Sherlock and taking bets on who was right about what new case; just small activities that started to ground Felicity in normalcy. With time, it became obvious that she really was going to heal and everything was going to be ok; the dark, overpowering depression that had fallen over her with Charley's death began to break up and dissipate. However, the dog-tags stayed on, even when she was in the shower. On bad days Felicity would wear them outside of her shirt, but most days they were hidden under the collars of her blouses, tucked out of sight.
As time wore on, it took many hours of study in Felicity's mind-skyscraper to come to two grim conclusions. The first was that she wanted to tell Sherlock and John she loved them, wanted to be her light-hearted self again, wanted to give them nicknames (in John's case she sometimes called him TJ in her head, 'TJ' being short for 'Tea and Jam'). John had earned such a nickname for obvious reasons and Felicity wanted to be that affectionate with her new guardians- she wanted to think of them as parents, not as the men who had adopted her. She loved them that much and wanted to express that love without feeling guilty about Charley. Rationally, she knew that she couldn't let his death affect her so strongly for the rest of her life, but her heart still ruled her head. Her second conclusion was that because Sherlock and John were so attached to her, they were not acting how they usually would be; her case and point resting on the continued threat of Sebastian Moran. When they neared the month and a half mark after Charley's funeral, Felicity was sure that the two men would sit her down and tell her that she'd be staying with Mycroft or Mrs. Hudson for a while so they could go out and bring the colonel down. What bothered her was that they hadn't, and weren't showing any signs of doing so. She didn't see Sherlock in his mind-palace thinking about it anymore, and John certainly wasn't mentioning it.
Felicity didn't want to look any weaker to them than she already did, and didn't appreciate being seen that way when she'd obviously made leaps and bounds to come as far as she had in recovering from Charley's death and her time at Ruth's Academy for Young Ladies. It was obvious that Sherlock and John were neglecting to act because they were worried about her, and while the concern was appreciated, Felicity found that it caused her more anxiety than comfort. Her worry about Moran hurting Sherlock or John made her impatient that neither man was trying to stop the colonel yet. The longer they waited, the greater the chances were that they would get hurt.
In truth, Sherlock was itching to take Moran down. He had sacrificed a lot to destroy 99.9% of Moriarty's crime network, and unfinished work left him anxious. He had so much more to protect than he did before, something that Moran wouldn't miss. However, the things he had to protect were keeping him from getting the job done. For one thing, he loved waking up in the morning, wrapped in John's arms. He liked the quick showers they took together. Sherlock loved watching him cook breakfast and hug Felicity and swear to himself as he tried to update his blog with a professional statement about his new relationship with Sherlock and their new daughter. He loved how John would check on the surveillance teams around 221B before he went to bed each night. He loved John.
He also loved his daughter. He hadn't referred to Felicity as such outside of his mind-palace, but Sherlock had started calling her that the moment he found out about Charley's death. He saw himself in Felicity, but he also saw so much life and promise. She had thoroughly snagged him from the moment they met and his love, admiration and protectiveness for Felicity had only grown since then. He loved listening to her playing the piano, loved watching her play the piano. He liked to observe her running experiments on the kitchen table, brows furrowed in concentration. Watching her read was a whole new experience- her eyes flicked down each page, quickly if she was interested and slowly , often times skimming the text, if she was bored. With so much at stake, the idea of throwing it all in jeopardy to hunt Moran made Sherlock just as uneasy as doing nothing. He thought about asking Mycroft to do it, thought about the consequences of leaving his family again to hunt Moran on his own, and considered what it would be like to have to leave Felicity behind and take John with him. The ideas made his usually very logical head spin until, for the first time, Sherlock Holmes didn't know what to do.
John, for the record, had thought a lot about what taking down Moran would mean to his family. He had talked with Mycroft to gather some supplies, just in case they needed to move quickly, but was content with staying in the flat with his detective and their daughter. John Watson had always been a family man, and now that he had a family the idea of chasing Sherlock through the streets of London, not to mention hunting down Sebastian Moran, seemed like a lifetime ago. John had felt as if the three of them had changed for the better, and he didn't want to upset their balance. Despite his personal opinion, John was not an idiot; he knew that they couldn't ignore the threat of the colonel to make it go away. They would have to act one day and that day was probably fast approaching. He could tell, however, that Sherlock was undecided on the issue so he wasn't going to press him on it. Besides, the idea of Moran seemed to bother Felicity, and John wanted to take as much stress away from Felicity as possible. For being such a pensive man when it came to his lover, John, unfortunately, was not correct in his assumptions about Felicity. His protective love for her overshadowed the fact that Felicity was not as naïve as he sometimes wished that a child her age should be, and that difference in maturity was driving Felicity out of her mind.
One night, Felicity couldn't take it anymore. She'd been in her mind-skyscraper most of the day with the excuse that she was reorganizing things and deleting old, useless facts. In reality, she was going over information she'd secretly researched on John's laptop (she may have hacked a few governmental websites to obtain it, hence the word 'secretly'), going over every fact she knew about Colonel Sebastian Moran. She'd learned everything she could so that when she did finally push Sherlock and John to go after him, she wouldn't be caught off guard with new facts. Felicity wanted ammunition to help end the threat of Moran once and for all. Figuring she'd reviewed enough, Felicity pulled herself out of her mind for the first time in hours and stood up, sounds once again registering in her brain. Sherlock was playing the violin and John was frowning at his blog (he'd been getting a lot of attention and inappropriate questions on his forums and it took a lot of work to manage and delete things that needed to be erased). "Enough is enough." She said, whipping out her icy cold voice from school at just enough volume to show that she meant business. John's fingers smooshed on his keyboard, turning the sentence he'd been writing into a jumbled mess and Sherlock's music cut off sharply as both men looked at her incredulously. Felicity had never raised her voice at them, not ever.
"What's the matter?" John asked, closing his laptop hastily, looking at Felicity with a worried eye. He'd watched her stay almost comatose in her mind for most of the day and it had made him anxious. She got so unnaturally still that it gave him the shivers, and his mind was quick to blame her time in her mind-skyscraper as the cause to her mood swing.
"You two are!" she cried, frustrated. "It's been almost two months now since Charley's funeral and you're just sitting here! Did you forget about Moran, the world outside, your lives?"
"Felicity, there is a reason John and I are waiting. Now is not an ideal time, with the high media interest and-" Sherlock started, but she cut him off.
"Don't. Lie. To. Me. I've been watching both of you, keeping track of the news; I've even been sending letters to Mycroft to ask if things are unsafe right now and I know for a fact that there is nothing hindering you and John from going out after Moran to end this once and for all." Felicity retorted, and Sherlock frowned at her at the mention of Mycroft. While he was grateful for his brother's uncanny ability to protect people, he most often times disliked his nosy, backstabbing personality. The idea of Felicity conspiring with him made Sherlock unhappy.
"I gave up a lot to destroy most of Moriarty's network and I don't want to give that up again to bring Moran in," Sherlock told her, and Felicity advanced on him, trying her hardest to hide how upset she was so that she could argue clearly.
"It's you or him, Sherlock. You know that. Do you really think that we're safe here, in 221B? Do you think we'll be safe here forever? Do you think you could handle giving up your cases and John giving up his work just to hide away like a coward for the rest of your life?" She asked him in a low, sharp voice.
"Felicity, we don't want to leave you!" John protested as Sherlock blinked openly at Felicity, surprised at how quickly her words cut to the bone. She'd identified everything he'd been agonizing over for the past two weeks with such frightening accuracy that he was stunned. Felicity whirled around to stare at John, eyes burning.
"You will if you sit here ignorantly, letting Moran get closer and closer. If you don't take even preventative measures against him he will kill you both and then you will be gone with no chance of coming back." Felicity's voice cracked on the word 'will' as her control broke. "I love you, both of you, and I can't lose you. I can't." Felicity insisted, voice strained. She'd realized almost as soon as after John finished speaking that she'd been bottling herself up again, the action buried deep in her subconscious. Felicity knew that she had to let everything in out in order to become like her old self again, and she had done just that by finally letting the words slip past her lips, finally throwing her biggest fears into the spotlight for inspection and judgment. She finally told Sherlock and John that she loved them.
"Felicity," John murmured comfortingly, getting up and enfolding her in his arms, meeting Sherlock's eyes once Felicity's face was hidden in his jumper. The detective was staring at Felicity and John, a slightly happy, slightly sad, slightly dumbstruck look on his face. Felicity's first declaration of love had not gone unnoticed, and now that Sherlock and John understood the price it cost her to say such a thing, the value of her words instantly skyrocketed. The gaze between and Sherlock and John grew more serious after just moments as both men accepted Felicity's words, knowing that she was absolutely right. They needed to plan and execute the takedown of Moran as quickly as possible. "It means the world to us, Felicity, that you said that. We love you so very much," John told her, rubbing her back.
"I know," Felicity's voice was muffled by the wool of John's jumper, but she wasn't letting go anytime soon. "And I love both of you, love you for who you really are. I love when you're on cases and working and living. These past few weeks you really haven't been and you won't until you get rid of Moran." She continued, gripping John tighter. Sherlock and John shared another brief glance. Felicity's age often made her seem so innocent- and she used to be a lot more innocent. Her outburst had reminded them that Felicity was not so naïve as she looked; she carried a lot of weight on her shoulders. Treating her like she was still a child only added more to her load.
"Let's sit and talk about this," Sherlock suggested when he found his voice again, setting his violin down and sitting on the far end of the couch. Felicity sat next to him, and then John on her other side. She instantly took a hand from each man and held them tightly, convincing herself to take a few deep breaths. Instead of leaving Felicity out of the planning process, Sherlock talked her and John through the options he and John had to taking down Moran. He wanted her to see everything on the table so that when they finally chose a plan of action, she would be comfortable with it. "Capturing Moran will not be easy. We could be gone for months." Sherlock warned Felicity, the idea of being parted from her for that long making a brief flame of panic burn in his chest.
"I understand." Felicity said after a moment, her voice strong and sure. "The sooner it's started the sooner it's done. If this is the only way to get peace then so be it." She added, tightening her grip on their hands. With that green light to go ahead, Sherlock started laying out everything he and John would have to do to capture Moran. It was a long, difficult process. Moran had moved since Sherlock's return and had started building an empire again, this time, in Germany, according to sources from MI6.
Before long, a plan was in place. Sherlock and John would take the remainder of the week to secure safe channels, get some supplies, and make sure that Felicity was safe and settled in Mycroft's care (Felicity was fine with staying with the elder Holmes, but Sherlock was always wary, cuing and argument). After that, Sherlock and John were going to travel to the place Moran was last seen. From there, they would track him down, using help from Mycroft to keep them safe (Felicity insisted on this, and Sherlock hated it, of course, but when John brought up that doing so would keep them in contact with Felicity, everyone agreed it was for the best). Once Moran was arrested or, if it came to it, killed, Sherlock and John would return to London and all would be right again. When they were settled down after their mission to finish destroying Moriarty's network, Sherlock and John agreed to start taking cases again and Felicity agreed to 'try' to keep studying at a University instead of racing around after her guardians all the time- it wasn't safe for her or for them. There was talk of Felicity meeting John's family and Sherlock's ("Mummy would love you!"). As their talk branched more into what the future would be like after Moran instead of talking about the colonel himself, the mood lightened considerably, to a point where they were bantering with each other again. Then, Felicity asked a bomb of a question.
"Will you two get married?" She asked curiously after a brief period of silence. John flushed a brilliant red and Sherlock looked at Felicity in surprise. Both men had sudden mental pictures flash in their heads of the other on their wedding day. Sherlock was quite pleased with what his subconscious thought up: John in a tuxedo, looking trim instead of softer in his usual jumpers. John, on the other hand, had somehow pictured Sherlock in a wedding dress, cue why he was flushing furiously, half in embarrassment and half in an effort not to laugh.
"What makes you ask?" Sherlock deflected the question, glancing at John briefly. The detective had thought about marrying John, thought about it a lot more than he was willing to admit. He had grown up in a very traditional family and wanted to claim John, really claim him. He wasn't even worried about it 'interfering' with his case work anymore- his work wasn't the only thing in his life now. He had to give his attention to what was the most important- and that was his family. The idea of losing his cases used to terrify Sherlock, but the idea of losing John and Felicity was much, much worse. He wouldn't mind retiring right then and there to spend the rest of his life with them, but Felicity insisted that she wanted him and John to go back to work, back to how things had been during The Blind Banker case all those years ago.
The plan was started the very next day. Mycroft was contacted and a surveillance team was sent out in advance of Sherlock and John to search for any trace of Moran in Germany. It was set that Felicity would be getting to meet the mysterious Mummy sooner than anyone else thought; Mycroft would take her to stay at the famous Holmes estate, where she would be more than safe. They had less than two days to spend with each other before Sherlock and John were going to leave, and they planned on spending it wisely. For once, Sherlock relinquished much more control to Mycroft to get the detective and the doctor ready for their 'trip', allowing the two men to spend as much time as possible with Felicity before they had to leave.
Despite the extra time they had with Felicity, it was horribly clear to both men that a few snuggles and enjoying each other company wasn't going to make things any easier. If anything, this last dose of love and contact would only make things worse when Sherlock and John were gone.
OoOoOoO
"I have to finish your work, Jimmy. I have to kill him."
"Kill him? Don't be dull, Seb."
"What else can I do! I want to finish your work while there is still time! The damn detective has killed off every other person in the network besides me! He's taken down your empire and taken you away!"
"Oh, Sebby. Think more like me. What would I do to Sherlock Holmes?"
Sebastian flinched as if hit at Sherlock's name. "I dunno, torture him? I can do that, Jim. I'll do anything for you."
"You can't do anything for me, Sebby. I'm dead. I'm a figment of your subconscious now, darling."
"SHUT UP! I'm going to fix this. For you, Jimmy."
"Well, if you insist…yes, torture would do nicely, but the last mission was to burn out his heart. What would really do that, Sebby? What would leave a gaping, flaming hole in that man's chest- besides a bazooka?"
"A flamethrower? I don't know! Tell me what to do. This is for you, after all."
"Yes, but you have your own style, don't you?"
"Shut up, Jimmy, and get to the point."
"Mmm, you haven't lost any of your fire. I like that. Well, Jim, Sherlock has a little girl now, doesn't he? A cute little adopted-daughter. She means the world to him; he even gave up trying to kill you to adopt her."
"Yeah, so what? Kill the little bitch? Torture her? Cut out her eyes?"
"You could do that, Seb, but that's what I would do. I'd be dramatic, theatrical. I'd give Sherly plenty of little clues and puzzles and games to race through while I cut out her spleen and pulled out her eyelashes. But that's not you."
"Yeah, it wouldn't be me. I'd kill the little bitch with no mercy, that's what I'd do."
"And that's why you're brilliant, Sebby."
"What?"
"Must I do everything for you, even in death? Sherlock Holmes is at his best when he's playing to his strengths. If you give him a puzzle to solve, he'll solve it. You throw him a code, he'll break it. However, if we did what you suggested, our sleuth wouldn't be able to do anything. He wouldn't be able to use any of his genius to save what mattered most to him. He did that once, Seb, and it took me away from you."
"…That's cruel, Jimmy. I like it."
"Somehow I knew you would."
OoOoOoO
A/N: Hello, hello! I've missed you all very much and I am SO sorry that this chapter is a bit...late. I've been incredibly busy with MORE midterms and studying. I find myself leaving my room at 8am and not finding my way back until midnight or one in the morning. I've barely had time for homework, let alone writing this story. BUT, I have good news. I've got almost all of it written now, so it's not like you'll be left hanging, looking for me to write it...it'll just be an issue of having the time to update!
So- do you like where this is going? We've moved on past the funeral and we are racing towards a very...exciting conclusion. There will be danger, and lots of it! Nothing is at seems...
Reviews make me incredibly happy, so please just type EXACTLY what you feel into the box below and send it to me, unedited. I love hearing from every single one of you. :)
louisuperwholocked on Tumblr is such a beautiful person and a fantastic editor. Thanks for being my beta, darling!