Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 74
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
** Thank you, for your latest reviews and PMs since the last post favorites and for following.
***** Important. I wrote several chapters condensed on four pages, so you know what I am about to say, again.
1. Read a quote a day. (Each quote represents a chapter. Some are long , some are short.)
Or
2. Read as much as you want at one time. Enjoy.
3. The last quote is a bit of a cliffy. Save that chapter until it is closer to the weekend, if that bothers you. Make yourself happy.
To my other family.
Peace, Coffee, and Love to all, Zacha. :)
"Real life seems to have no plots." ~ Ivy Compton-Burnett
It was later in the day. Lestrade had just left after sending a sympathetic look John's way. The DI had stayed over an hour in the flat. Earlier, Lestrade received a call from John that requested that he bring over some cases for Sherlock before he, strangled the man to death with his bare hands.
Lestrade made the drive in thirty minutes during heavy traffic. John did not ask how he did it, he was simply grateful.
John finally allowed himself to take a breath. He closed his eyes as he sipped the tea that was slightly too hot. He sighed with relief as he opened his eyes again. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile as he looked at a more calmly engaged Sherlock. The man now sat in the corner happily. He had cases. He had two nicotine patches on. John had negotiated him down from three. Sherlock was finally composed. The Doctor was not happy about the nicotine patches but it was better than a Sherlock that was bored to tears. Sherlock searched the internet and went back and forth on his mobile with Molly Hooper.
John shook his head unnoticed. It had been an interesting day. The younger Holmes had been obnoxious, irritating, impatient, intolerant, exasperating, insufferable, and at times unbearable. In a few words, the man had been a pure terror.
John took another sip and exhaled all the tension.
The man was also, brilliant, loyal, trustworthy, amusing, and exciting. He had the mind of a genius yet the heart of a child. In many ways, he was strangely innocent. His friend's presence filled any room he walked into. He was also, healthy, away from Moriarty, Moran and all things unpleasant. He was there.
He was alive.
John told himself that it was the dust that was in the room that he was blinking out of his eyes. John took another sip then cleared his throat.
John looked at Sherlock, suddenly and strangely emotional. He was the best friend that he ever had. He was Sherlock Holmes. His Sherlock, his brother in heart. And, he was getting more like himself every day, the pompous sod.
Thank God.
John could not help the chuckle that escaped.
Sherlock paused what he was doing and looked at John questioningly. John only smiled a toothy grin at Sherlock and took another sip.
Sherlock gave John his most indulgent smile that said, 'I have no idea why John just smiled at me so just smile back.'
John, knowing what Sherlock was thinking, burst out laughing now.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he studied John silently for a few minutes. He returned to his cases when he was convinced that John was not having a mental breakdown.
John continued to enjoy his tea.
Several minutes passed in quiet.
Suddenly Sherlock clapped his hands together and shouted out, "Ohhh… Of course… Obvious!"
"It was the soccer Mom." He announced dramatically. "She was transporting more than soccer equipment in that sedan John," Sherlock smirked as he stood up excitedly and called Lestrade on his mobile.
"That is… Brilliant Sherlock," John smiled sincerely.
"Just making deductions John," Sherlock said. John noticed that Sherlock tried to hide a smile. John's praises always produced similar reactions.
"Two so far John, three to go." Sherlock announced needlessly.
John considered the fact that he might need to ask Lestrade to bring over more cases by the morning.
Half an hour later, John rose from his chair when he heard footsteps. He went to the table to get his gun as Sherlock stood when he noticed John's body language.
"Mycroft?" John asked quietly. "He is the only one who can get in here without a key."
"The foot steps are too heavy, Mycroft moves like a cat. Besides it is three persons." Sherlock said softly as he came beside John.
"Where's Mrs. Hudson?" John started to ask.
Sherlock put a hand on John's hand. His face was suddenly relaxed again. The two wordlessly communicated to one another. John nodded. He exhaled a breath that he did not realize that he was holding as he put the gun away.
"Ms. Adler," Sherlock said as the door opened slowly. Two of Mycroft's men were standing down the stairs by the door. They did not seem as if they intended to come up.
Irene looked Sherlock up and down.
"Mr. Holmes." She moved gracefully into the room.
John noticed that her curly hair was down, falling softly past her shoulders. She wore her structured gray sleeveless dress and ridiculously high-heeled shoes that matched in color. She did not try to hide the fact that she had looked at Sherlock, she knew that it was pointless, he would know. She frowned as she stopped at the fading bruise on his face. Her fingers started toward his face and stopped. She lowered her hand.
Sherlock looked her over as well; a flash of a frown had come across his face before it was covered with a neutral, yet slightly bored expression. He also noticed how she still guarded the side of her abdomen. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes that she tried unsuccessfully to cover. Despite this, she was still beautiful. He resisted the urge to frown as he wondered where such a sentimental idiotic idea came from. He returned the thought to wherever it came. Still, they were both very much improved.
They just remained staring at one another.
John looked from one to another then he walked up to Adler and kissed her on a cheek. Adler face melted as she smiled at John. She considered the fact that two years ago, she and John did not particularly care for one another. Now, she was quite fond of the Doctor. She also realized that he was fond of her.
"Irene, take a seat. You know that you should not be wearing those heels yet, you're still recovering." John scolded.
"You're right of course but what's the fun in that." Irene winked at John.
The corners of John's mouth turned up into a smile despite himself. John took Irene by the hand and led her to the closest chair. She had caught his attention before she sat.
"I won't stay long, I just wanted to say goodbye." Irene glance at Sherlock who stood by and watched the two interact.
"You can't be serious Irene, it's dangerous. You know that you're a target. Nothing could possibly be that important." John was worried and not trying to hide it.
"There is something that I have to take care of John." Irene worried her redden lips as she looked at John. She opened her mouth and glanced at Sherlock then back to John. She closed them again.
Mycroft chose that moment to enter. "Sorry, Korea," was his only explanation. He stopped typing on his mobile and looked at the faces of everyone in the room.
"Missed something, did I." It was not a question.
John walked over to Sherlock. Sherlock had turned toward the window and was looking out. Both hands were in his suit pocket. John felt that it was useless, but he had to try. "Sherlock, you have to say something. You have to…" John whispered rant was cut short. To his surprise, Sherlock was already moving toward Adler.
"Ms. Adler. It would be wise to listen to what Doctor Watson has said. You are in very real danger." Sherlock looked down at the smaller woman. He did not notice that he had moved within her personal space.
"I can take care of myself, Mr. Holmes," Adler said defiantly crossing her arms.
Sherlock looked at her curiously, A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. "I am sure that you can." Adler stopped looking at him and looked straight ahead at his chest thinking. A stray hair fell into her face. Sherlock's long fingers, without thinking, brushed Adler's stray hair away and tucked it behind her ear.
Sherlock frowned and looked at his hand as if it had betrayed and offended him. He took a step back.
Adler looked at him curiously, "Careful Mr. Holmes, I might get the wrong impression and think that you care." Her voice broke a little at the familiar words.
Adler did not wait for him to respond. She held out her hand. "Well, take care of yourself Mr. Holmes." She smiled.
Sherlock took her hand and shook it. "You won't change your mind." It was a statement. Sherlock did not notice that he did not let go of her hand. Adler looked back up in his eyes and smiled. He then witnessed her mask fall and all emotion was wiped from her face.
She then squeezed the younger Holmes hand and let go.
"Promise me that you'll think about it." John spoke quietly as she approached the door.
She did not answer but looked at John fondly, "Be careful and take care of him," Adler spoke so quietly that only John heard. Adler looked from Sherlock back to John, "And take care of yourself." Irene was gone almost instantly. Everyone listened to the soft tap of her shoes as it decreased in volume and then disappeared entirely.
John stood still with his arms folded looking at the door.
Mycroft stayed in the corner, looking as the scene unfolded.
Sherlock abruptly moved toward Mycroft. He invaded his older brother's personal space and locked eyes with him. Mycroft frowned as he looked back at Sherlock. They communicated back and forth wordlessly.
"I suppose that I could try to convince Ms. Adler to stay at the manor." Mycroft offered slowly.
Sherlock continued to stare at Mycroft.
"…And…, if that does not work." Mycroft looked at Sherlock, "I suppose I could appoint two agents to observe and protect her for your…" Sherlock frowned.
"…I mean for my information and peace of mind." Mycroft looked at his brother again, thought, and added.
"Of course, as part of the investigation, it would be required to burden you with this information I am afraid." Mycroft raised his eyebrows and looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded. "A respectable and sound plan, full of reasonable precautions." Sherlock suddenly walked and sat in his chair.
Sherlock noticed John's smile out of the corner of his eyes. It was annoying. Sherlock pretended not to notice.
Mycroft walked up to the chair next to Sherlock. He swung his umbrella back and forth, as he thought. Finally, he took a seat opposite his brother.
They were both silent for a moment.
"You do realize that this is Adler," he frowned, "maybe you don't." Mycroft started again. "With you as the exception. I have never seen anyone with such a talent for… disappearing."
Mycroft sighed. "If she does not want to be found it will be difficult and take time. Time may not be something that we have."
"I know Mycroft." Sherlock looked at Mycroft now.
Mycroft changed the subject. "What did the note say? It was more than a chess piece in that box." Mycroft looked gravely at his brother.
Sherlock half smiled at Mycroft. He was clever on his worse day.
"What it said brother was, 'It was worth a wound – many wounds.' It said nothing more." Sherlock's fingers were placed tip-to-tip now, in the prayer position thinking.
"Any ideas about what it means?" Mycroft asked.
"Several ideas, but don't worry Mycroft, all my theories will be proven or disproven very soon."
Mycroft's mask fell as he frowned. He looked at Sherlock. Both brothers then retreated into their minds as they tried to work out how to defeat the most brilliant criminal mind that the world has ever known.