Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 135
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A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the 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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*****.*** T rated ****. ****
"… Should a pawn get all the way across the board to reach the opponent's edge of the table, it will be promoted. The pawn may now become any piece that the moving player desires, except a king or pawn..."
… The Promotion of the Pawn… Part I…
"True friends stab you in the front."
~ Oscar Wilde
* References made to chapter 26
Three Weeks Later
Current Day
Current Time
John pulled on his favorite wool jumper. He was still a little sore but had healed well. He popped one pain medication in his mouth, before he swallowed it down with a bottle of water. Mrs. Hudson had asked the boys to come to her flat for a full English breakfast. She said that she would make sausages, eggs, bacon, baked beans, mushrooms, and fried bread. His mouth started to water. He wondered if Mrs. Hudson had made any biscuits.
John heard raised voices. He suddenly knit his eyebrows together in question as he walked down the stairs. The smell of breakfast cooking normally would have made him smile. Now it was ignored along with his grumbling stomach. Sherlock and Mycroft were arguing, that was not new, but to hear Mycroft's voice was unusual. The older brother was normally as cool as a winter wind. What had Sherlock done? John rolled his eyes and quickened his pace.
"Sherlock, what would have happened if they had stripped you naked?"
"No Mycroft. I already know what you are going to say." Sherlock calmly sipped at his tea.
"Sherlock, think logically, I know the insertion might be slightly unpleasant but…"
"No," Sherlock said firmly. He took another sip of tea.
"Sherlock Holmes don't be a baby, the entire process will only take a few minutes." Mycroft was getting exasperated.
Sherlock took a sip of tea and put it to rest in its saucer. He appeared to be deep in thought. "I think you've reached me Mycroft. Give me a minute to think about it."
Sherlock inhaled and exhaled deeply before saying suddenly. "No, I was mistaken."
Mycroft took a deep breath and counted to ten. He noticed his growing irritation. No one, but his little brother could move him to such unpleasant things as emotions. He tried another approach.
"What happened to you being polite and cooperative," Mycroft was proud that his voice was even.
"The two weeks have past quite a while ago. Plain, lovable me is all you're getting big man." Sherlock took a sip of tea, "By the way, you've gained two pounds," Sherlock looked his brother up and down and said in a voice as smooth as silk. "No…, I was mistaken, it's three pounds, is it not, dear brother. Sneaking those teacakes in your office when the doors are closed again?"
"Sherlock Holmes!"
"No… No… No, to the bloody hell… No." Sherlock said calmly as he resumed sipping on his tea.
Mycroft's face was red as he stepped toward his brother. John put up his hand extended in front of Mycroft blocking Mycroft's way. John did not feel like getting bloodstains off the floor.
John looked at Mycroft. Mycroft nodded and backed away. John walked up to Sherlock and folded his hands in front of his stubborn friend. Sherlock rolled his eyes and chose to ignore him for a few minutes. As usual, Sherlock became irritated after a few minutes of the familiar game.
"John, your jaw is going to get locked into that position one of these days." Sherlock said, while trying to not sound uncomfortable.
"You're going to have it done Sherlock." John informed him calmly.
Sherlock snorted then took another sip of tea.
"This is me John. Do you really think that you can get me to do something that I do not want to do?" Sherlock sounded amused.
"No one can get you to do this, but I can." John said confidently.
"Well, good luck with that John." Sherlock poured himself more tea.
"Sherlock, let's not play this game. You are going to get the tracker inserted. It is only temporary. It is a little uncomfortable, but it goes away. It will be taken out as soon as possible."
"Now, why would I do that when I don't want to?" Sherlock asked as he poured a little cream. He used to not like cream.
"Because of me," John said evenly.
Sherlock frowned but said nothing as he added two lumps of sugar.
"Despite our best efforts, this is Moriarty, there is a possibility that you might be abducted. If that happens, we can activate the chip. Once the signal starts to come through, we will at least have an idea of the general area that you will be in." John took a breath. "You know this Sherlock."
Sherlock was quiet and had put his teacup back in the saucer. There was a look of displeasure on his face. He thinned his lips out. He took up his teacup but returned it to its saucer without drinking. He looked extremely irritated.
"I don't want to lose you." John sighed. "Not like this Sherlock, not without a fight."
Sherlock put the saucer on the table. His fingers were under his chin in the prayer position. His eyes closed.
John let him think for a few minutes.
"If my life depended on it would you do it Sherlock?"
"That is hitting below the belt, as they say, John." Sherlock said suddenly as he got up and started to take off his jacket. "Get it now before I change my mind."
Sherlock's face twisted with irritation. "That's a tender area that they have to insert it into. It's going to itch like the devil for four days."
"When you were missing, I had one put in. I did what I had to do Sherlock." Sherlock nodded at John.
An agent appeared with a medical shotgun in hand. Everyone knew to act quickly, before the younger Holmes could change his mind.
Sherlock now started to unbutton his shirt. John looked at Sherlock and the four agents that now crowded the room.
"Sherlock, don't you think that you should go into your bedroom or somewhere private?"
"John, we're flatmates. You've seen me with a lot less than a shirt before. It's only a shirt John." At first, John looked around hoping that no one would get the wrong idea, when something Sherlock said came to his mind.
"A shirt?" John asked confused.
"Yes John, it's not like I'm taking my pants off." Sherlock looked at him strangely. "It can be disabled with any direct blow if it is violent enough. There is only under the armpit and…" Sherlock cleared his throat and looked downwards.
"I would prefer not having it put there." Sherlock frowned.
"Under the arm?" John said absently.
"John, you seem to be repeating that a lot. You said you had one put in…" Sherlock stopped talking midsentence and looked at John. His eyes traveled down John's body then up again. He searched John's eyes. John turned a murderous glare toward Mycroft. Mycroft suddenly found the tip of his umbrella fascinating.
Sherlock looked suddenly entertained. He secretly wondered if Mycroft had any idea how good of a fighter, John was.
"Under the arm Mycroft. There was another option?"
"You never asked," Mycroft said innocently.
"Under the arm. Under The Arm! Under the bloody arm…" John muttered while marching away.
Sherlock was a little disappointed by John's restraint. He was at least hoping for one good punch.
"Mycroft?" Sherlock was slightly annoyed at Mycroft, but mostly amused.
"I was trying to discourage him from going on your rescue mission. I knew you would kill me if he got hurt."
Mycroft frowned. "You know, he's a lot tougher than he looks."
"He punches harder too." Sherlock said as he subconsciously rubbed his jaw from the memory.
Everyone in the area stopped and looked at the stairs when they heard a rather loud slam of a door.