Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 95
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.
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…. Stalemate? …
"Our success or failure, peace or discontent, happiness or misery, depend on the choices we make each day." ~ N. Eldon Tanner
Mrs. Miranda Holmes thought lovingly about her sons as she looked out the window of her small office and sipped at her tea. She raised one hand tenderly as she caressed the picture frame of the smiling young lads. One was skinny and all legs, and arms. Those same skinny arms were around the shoulders of a slightly overweight, and normally much more stoic brother. However, not in that picture. Sherlock had somehow gotten the normally expressionless sibling to not only smile, but to smile broadly.
She looked from the picture to outside the window. It would be a lovely day. She sipped on her tea again. It helped to warm her.
Her boys had a rough time of it for years. They seemed to be at each other's throats. They grew up to be total opposites. Sherlock with his reckless behavior, and Mycroft with his overbearing ways. It was almost as if Sherlock was testing his brother.
The last year it seemed as if they remembered what she always knew, that they needed each other. She stopped worrying as much.
The past year, Mycroft made an effort not to be as overbearing and Sherlock made an effort to be more considerate. She smiled again. Well, her Sherlock did try to be more considerate. John, bless him, was good for her son. Their friendship seemed to remind him that he was human after all. She was quite fond of John.
Her smile faded as she sighed. She was starting to worry again. Sherlock would normally call or text to say that he was alright once every two weeks. The text was a few days late a month ago. Sherlock was never late before.
Well once, she would rather not think about that one other time.
She realized that during that same period, she could not reach Mycroft for a day. The agent that was assigned to her assured her that all was OK. However, she had come to know the young woman. Something in the female agent's eyes told her the opposite of what her words said.
She sipped almost finishing her tea as she glanced at the teacup. She looked at the delicate navy blue and white floral patterns of the bone white china set. It was one of the few things that she was allowed to bring to her new life when she had recovered from her latest illness. She was healthy now and they even used the words cured. She has not felt this good in a decade. Money has its advantages. She frowned as she thought about all those who deserve the level of care that she had received medically, but could not afford it. She had once been such a person until she married into the Holmes fortune. Her two sons were the only thing that made her not regret that fact.
Her mind returned to Sherlock.
His, I am Ok, text arrived as normal, so, why was she so concerned?
She looked in her cup. It was empty. Did she want more?
A knock on her door pulled her thoughts into the here and now.
"Yes," Miranda said casually, "Come in."
A middle-aged woman poked her head just inside the door. "You have a visitor, Professor Colville," the middle-aged woman smiled before adding. "He is rather gorgeous although a bit young for me." With a wink, she was off.
Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She already knew who it was. She walked over to pour herself another cup of tea. She then poured a second cup and added nothing to that one. He preferred his tea plain.
A few moments past before a tall and fit man in a suit walked in. She nodded to the chair and he sat. He noticed the tea and with a nod took a sip. She said nothing but noticed when he both closed the door and took out a small electrical device and turned it on.
She looked the agent up and down as she thought quietly. Her sharp mind was similar to her sons. Small details flowed as broken images and partially remembered conversations fit together to complete a puzzle, making it into a finished picture.
"That's a lot of precautions for a woman the world believes to be dead, Thomas." Miranda studied his eyes and body language for a reaction.
"I've come to take advantage of your gracious hospitality again Mrs. Holmes." Thomas looked directly into her eyes as he avoided straightforwardly answering her implications. He schooled his features. He almost smiled. Her subtle conversations were like being interrogated. He would have to be careful. He could easily see where the Holmes brothers got their minds.
Miranda was used to her family not married name now. If he called her Holmes, he felt safe doing so,
"Increase level of threat, no one knows that I am alive yet, or I would be moved to another location. Unless," She looked in his eyes, "Moving me now is more dangerous. You're trying to hide me in plain sight. There is a possibility that they might find out. My only question is, who are they?"
She did not expect an answer. Her fingertip played with the edge of the teacup.
"How is Sherlock Holmes? Mycroft is alright. I spoke to him a few days ago. But, I also could tell that he was concerned about something… Maybe, it was someone."
Thomas purposely took a slow sip of tea. He knew Mrs. Holmes well enough to know that saying Mycroft would contact her would have her on the first airplane the consequences be damned.
"He is in no immediate danger. Mycroft and Doctor Watson are with him. He should be arriving at his flat any minute now." Technically all true, Thomas said to himself.
It was Miranda's turn to take a slow sip as she thought. "Shouldn't you be with Sherlock now? I would feel better if you were there if there are… difficulties." Miranda asked sincerely.
"Both Holmes brothers wanted me here." Thomas looked reassuringly.
Miranda Colville- Holmes sighed again in surrender. Mycroft knew what he was doing. She trusted him completely. If he sent Thomas to her, he would keep his brother out of trouble.
"How long will you stay this time Thomas, and how closely will you have to stay near me?" She put her cup down. She was all business now.
"For the foreseeable future, for one week as a minimum." Thomas answered. "I will have to keep you in my direct vision at all times, except when you are asleep. Agent Perkins will continue to watch you at night as always.
"Meet your new graduate assistant." Thomas said casually.
"Stand," Miranda said as she sipped and gestured with one finger. Thomas frowned but stood.
She put down her cup and stood as well. She appeared to be deep in thought. "You're young enough to be believable as a graduate assistant, but I must tell you that most people your age do not wear designer suits all the time."
There was a slight pause. "That settles it!" She sat as though she had found the answer to a scientific mystery. "Blue jeans and casual shirts with one casual jacket." She smiled. "Can you suffer through wearing that Thomas?"
"I can," He said with a sincere smile now.
She smiled back before a look of seriousness returned. "How is Sherlock really?" She already decided that she was going to have Thomas arrange for her to speak to both Mycroft and Sherlock. She needed to hear their voices, not a text. Her eyes pleaded with him for honesty.
Thomas face wore a real smile. "Last I checked he was being a pure terror Mrs. Holmes."
Miranda exhaled in relief and smiled. That was her Sherlock.
Agents had to lift Sherlock up the seventeen flights of stairs at Baker Street. Sherlock opened his mouth as if to protest but a raised eyebrow from Mycroft, silenced his brother. Despite his protest, the journey home seemed to take all his energy. Sherlock was deposited on the couch and covered with a blanket. Mrs. Hudson had a fuss over him. He fell asleep within minutes from exhaustion. Sherlock sweat soaked clothing and facial grimace betrayed the fact that the journey was not as easy as he had anticipated. He was allowed to rest on the couch for a few hours before the same agents carried him from the couch to his bedroom.
"He will be more comfortable, now that he is in his bedroom," John said.
Mycroft prepared to leave. He spoke distractedly.
"Agents are outside. Mrs. Hudson agreed to have one sleep in her spare bedroom for a few days. Lestrade has two agents guarding him as well as his own people from the Yards. That Donovan is apparently staying with him." Mycroft sent a text and took a few seconds to read one. John was surprised to notice that Anthea was not beside Mycroft. The two almost seemed to be joined at the hip. He looked at the agent that was sitting by the window. He had pulled up a chair there and sat quietly. He almost forgot that he was in the room. The other agent was in Mrs. Hudson apartment. They would take shifts.
John frowned. "Anything that I need to know Mycroft?"
Mycroft stopped the texting and gave John his full attention. "Moriarty was not finished… playing for lack of a better word. He was going to send Sherlock off on another round. I have however, distracted him temporarily. The results were that I made an insane genius both intrigued and angry."
Mycroft looked toward his brother's bedroom. "Sherlock was not physically strong enough for another round." Mycroft looked at the wall for a moment. "I am trying to stay one-step ahead of him John. Moriarty is the only one that I have found that task even remotely challenging."
"I am not sure if Moriarty realized that Sherlock gave himself the poison instead of you. As a precaution I had false medical records put there that said that you were the one treated for the poison, not Sherlock. I have a feeling that another lesson would have resulted if Sherlock did something Moriarty considered to be… foolish."
"I have poked the bear in the side with a stick John." He looked John in the eyes now. "I felt I had no choice."
John looked back for a moment without saying a word. Mycroft showed a lot of trust by even admitting aloud that Moriarty was a challenge. Both Holmes brothers have come far, not just Sherlock.
"You did the right thing Mycroft considering the circumstances that you were given." John shook his head and frowned against the memory. "He was dying Mycroft. I am personally not sure how he even stayed upright for so long."
Mycroft closed his eyes briefly and nodded. His mask of indifference then fell back into place. "Keep your gun and mobile close by John. I've given you a new jacket to wear. It is similar in style to your old one. You should wear it whenever you leave the flat. I've also cleaned Sherlock's coat. It is hanging behind the door in his room. I will be out the country for a few days, it is unavoidable I am afraid." Mycroft turned to leave but a hand touched the wrist of the man that near everyone was afraid to touch.
"Mycroft, be careful, keep Anthea close by." John said with sincerity.
"Anthea and Myers will be accompanying me. Myers will return first and help secure this location in my absence." Mycroft looked into John's eyes.
"I'll be careful," Mycroft added amused.
John, satisfied, finally nodded and stepped back.
Mycroft retrieved his coat and put it on to leave. "Is Thomas going as well? Were you able to track Adler?" John asked suddenly.
"No John, Thomas has other matters to attend to for now." There was a pause. "In regards to the latter question, sorry John, but no. Ms. Adler is currently on her own." John frowned but nodded.
With a final nod to John, Mycroft was out the door.
John listened to the door close. He looked toward Sherlock's bedroom. If anyone wanted to get to Sherlock, they would have to go through him first. He walked toward his gun.
Moriarty was waiting for a call. As Moriarty was being driven, his mobile rang. He picked it up and answered, "Yes."
Lots of love to all, Zacha
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