[Sherlock]
Sitting here with Lestrade (I still completely refused to call him Greg, and he'd probably think something was wrong if I did anyway) was almost enough to make me forget about my current predicament. We had discussed John for a bit, and the DI had been especially forthcoming with information, but there wasn't much else to do or say on that matter for the moment. Either John needed to make the first move, or we needed one of Lestrade's officers to pick out his location, providing he was still in London.
Apparently, what Mycroft had suggested was correct as far as Lestrade was concerned, since John basically disappeared off the face of the earth for approximately nine hundred days, with no communication whatsoever. My brother had been livid, and had sent his best agents out looking for John, but their searching was to no avail, and it seemed as though he was lost forever. Much to everyone's surprise, talk of a criminal mastermind had suddenly come about nearly two and a half years after my death, and it seemed as though every man or woman the Yard took into custody was in awe of this new man. Fear ran its course through the streets of London as bodies began to litter the streets. All the victims seemed to have had a connection to the new crime network that had been set up, but its secrets remained a mystery to the police force. There was no room for any undercover work, as it seemed the master of the operation knew exactly what he was looking for in an employee. As Lestrade had put it, "The crime rates had never been so high, and the number of arrests so low." People were afraid to walk the streets, and a curfew was set up in some of the more dodgy areas. That's when the murders became more personal.
A week before the two and a half anniversary of my death, Kittie Riley's body was found. She had been tortured before being shot in the head, and one word scratched into her back, "Rache". That time, it really had meant revenge.
It became immediately obvious that whoever this new criminal mastermind was, he had an obsession with dishing out justice to all those who he believed had played a part in my demise. An attempt on the life of Sally Donovan had been made a couple of days after, and though she had not been killed, "Rache" was still inscribed into her back, and she had been on constant sedatives while she healed, so there was no way to know if she'd seen the face of her attacker. The Yard began to search desperately for the criminal, but those they captured to try for information refused to talk, saying that their boss could do worse to them in one hour if they told than the Yard could do in ten years.
"You aren't going to believe this next bit," Lestrade had then told me.
According to the DI, John just walked into Scotland Yard one day, skipping along as though nothing was wrong and he hadn't been missing for years on end. He had changed his appearance, and looked nicer than he had even while living with me. The Yard officers had formed a crowd around him, eager to hear how he had managed to evade them all, Lestrade included. However, from the minute he'd opened his mouth, they could tell something was wrong. He'd started to talk about what a shame it was that Donovan had been involved in something so awful. As he'd talked, his right eye was beginning to twitch uncontrollably. He moved on from the topic of Sally to that of Sherlock, and how he'd trusted so many people, and they had let him down, in the end. The sentence would have been accepted had it not been for the humongous grin stretching across John's pale face. He'd then proceeded to remove his sunglasses and show off the new dark, merciless pits that were his eyes, before removing a gun from his trousers and shooting Anderson where it must have hurt. A lot. Even he didn't deserve that, and that was saying something.
John had been taken into custody immediately, and had then proceeded to inform them all that he was the new face of London's criminal network, and that they'd be seeing him a lot more often. Lestrade had confronted him about his antics, and he'd simply replied "Rache, Greg. It's all about revenge. Sherlock was a good man, and every single goddamn person he knew betrayed him. Including you." Then he'd apparently refused to talk anymore, going off into his 'own little world of revenge and thoughts of madness' as Lestrade had described it.
That had been a big blow to the Scotland Yard team, and they were so occupied with the why's and how's of John's acts that they forgot to keep a better eye on the man himself. The next day, there was no one in the holding cell, and no CCTV footage to show how he'd escaped.
There had been an increase in the number of both bodies and crimes over the next few months, but only one confirmed sighting of John, when he'd gone to talk to Mycroft. No one knew exactly what he had said to my brother, as neither released even a word of their exchange to anyone else, but it must have made an impact, as security was tripled on everyone previously connected to me. Then, just three weeks ago, Mrs Hudson had been found dead, right on the Yard's doorstep. She had not been tortured, thank God, but the usual markings of a murder by John had been replaced by something else. Red graffiti had been sprayed around her into a very foreboding quote- 'My silence is not weakness, but the beginning of my revenge.'
After Lestrade had explained that particularly uncalled for event, I felt my nails dig into my palms in a failing attempt to remain calm and not lash out when the DI was only trying to help. I began to smell a familiar scent of copper and looked down to see crimson stains spreading where my nails had broken the skin of my hands. I hadn't even realised how hard I'd been clenching my fists.
Lestrade watched me, and I knew he was waiting for some kind of confession of my feelings, but I really wasn't in the mood. I would never be in the mood for such a thing. He gave in eventually with a rather uncalled for sigh, and we allowed the silence to build around us since neither of us was willing to break it.
"Will you go back to Baker Street?" Lestrade finally asked. I really hadn't thought about it, and I didn't really want to discuss the matter. However, I knew he would force me to come and stay with him if I didn't return to the old flat.
"Yes." I finally replied. He nodded slowly, almost hesitantly.
"And... The, um, memories won't matter? No potential triggers?" Again, not something I'd really thought of. Plus, Mrs Hudson was no longer the landlady, so I probably wouldn't be able to return anyway. No doubt someone would have moved in by now if neither I nor John was living in it.
He must have taken my silence for hesitation, because he continued his reasoning. "It's probably for the best anyway... I mean, John would know where you were, and there's no telling what plans he might have in store now you're back..." He trailed off, unsure what else to say. I cut in before he could say anything about staying with him.
"Mycroft will pay for a new flat for me, he certainly can spare the funds." Lestrade nodded eagerly, and we left it at that. Truth be told, I wasn't completely certain that my brother would even talk to me after my outburst, let alone give me money for a flat.
"I'm just getting a coffee." Lestrade said, and as he left the room I silently thanked him for letting me have some time on my own to think.
The most pressing issue- What now?
John had been my anchor ever since that first day we'd met, and it was difficult to imagine a life in London without him now. I'd barely been on the mend from my last drug relapse when he'd found me, and life had been so much more fulfilling with him by my side. Everything I'd done since my death had been in the hopes that when I returned life would continue as though I'd never left, but it no longer looked as though that was an option unless we managed to fix things. The problem was that it seemed very unlikely that we could just 'fix' this with a few conversations. Optimism was never my strong point, and so I liked to have a plan in place for every scenario. However, it did not look like there was a happy ending for anyone if John did not return to a semi-normal state. I would undoubtedly return to my 'distasteful drug habits' as Mycroft had once dubbed them, and there would probably be a time soon after when life became too much for me. Without my blogger, life could easily overwhelm me. When it did, not even Mycroft would be able to prevent the consequences.
I needed my doctor back, and soon.
Ooh what do you guys think so far? Do you believe Sherlock will be able to talk sense into him? I'd love to hear your ideas! I already have a plan for where it's going to end but I'd like to see if there's another option that I haven't yet explored, you never know! Again, thank you so much for your lovely reviews, I read every one! I might start doing PM's if you leave any questions in your reviews. Hope you enjoyed!