Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 166

*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.

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.

Thank you for your recent post: Bookworm Gal ( More of the one we love, and the one that we love to hate.), foxeeflame (Sorry about your nails. Grow them while you can.), danishprince (A storm coming, you say, do you see the clouds?), Benfan (Thank you for the multiple post. I hope that you are well. How is your heartbeat?), goanago (Thank you for the multiple post. Creepy was my aim. I am glad that you enjoyed.), Rouge Singer (I agree, having Benedict as Holmes was lucky for us.), Prothoe (Thank you for the multiple posts. No punch in the nose for Sherlock. I am glad you enjoyed the last chapter.) Cumberbatch Of Derren Brownies (Thanks for the information. David was a wonderful Dr. Who.), foxeeflame Natalia (Thank you so much. I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. ), Puky2012 (Thank you for the multiple posts. I agree that it is , "difficult for Sherlock to explain his actions from a rational point of view," it is good that John is there.) kassandwich, (I've researched the subject, and agree. Lucky for us Sherlock fans.), bruderlein (I am glad that the background story makes sense.), gemstone1234 (I am also a fan of John and Sherlock's devotion. I hope the Sherlock marathon went well.) MIU, (I'm glad the marathon was worth it. Welcome), coolness10123 (Thank you for the multiple post. It warms my heart to know that you are enjoying the story.), socalrose (Thank you for the multiple posts. I hope your computer has recovered from being yelled at. :) ), e la mucca salto sulla luna (I'm glad that you are enjoying story. I am happy to know that the last chapter was appreciated. ) Thank you to all guests.

Thank you ; foxeeflame, MIU, foxeeflame, Warelock, lizzie1250, Natalia Trevor, RawrxSushi, kamelion, Kelllie, nourss, Me And The Time Vortex, deaka, goanago, Whosawesome, Rouge Singer, Nourss, goanago, Lillkin, It's-Somebody, lizzie1250, Dawnfire11, RiverSong11, georgiporgiepuddingandpie, . , e la mucca salto sulla luna, kassandwich, T're Urvawi, lizzie1250, Kelllie, Sdale05, jack63kids, kassandwich ,macgyvershe, cim902, HC, Hanging in there, SWBloodwolf, BlueSkies23, kassandwich, Benfan, bruderlein, eohippus, gemstone1234, Dark magical Sorcres, mvignal, Bookworm Gal, Danishprince,Voldemort101, idlewild1, hJohn302, Socalrose, Prothoe, SAS , gemstone1234, eohippu , sevenpercent , Catie501, Suzy, cim902, Esstell, Natalia, Lunita28, MapleleafCameo, hanging in there, ShiverandShamy, macgyvershe, Puky2012, Anya Deanna Winchester, Kitiara88, Esstell , EscapedRabbitBlueBell, bruderlein, Lunita28 , Burning Phoenix , Jenna Yemowa, Kassandwich , bruderlein , Puky2012, Flounder65, BritLitChick , Kitiara88, Jenna Yemowa, hollowgirl15, madscientistsuz , Nietzsches, Flounder65, Warm-Glow ,Lanna- Nailo and Guest, Miriza, Guest #3, Warm Glow, Guest #1, Guest #2 , hanging in there, hJohn302, briongloid fiodoir, leyapearl, hJohn302, Pencilx, BritLitChick, Lanna-Nailo, drpaz, dbz27, Lunita28, Guest, Isaldaria, Tammy, April29Roses, christistina, waterbaby, 84, and Peacefreakx3 for your reviews and PMs. Thank you to all Guests. Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate you all.

*****. *** T rated ****. ****

More on the weekend. My computer had a small problem. I carried it to an expert who gave it a large problem. I'm typing from a borrowed computer, so this is it until the weekend.

Last week's fun question was: Was Benedict Cumberbatch ever offered the role of Dr. Who? As some of you, before I researched the subject, I believe that Benedict was offered the role. The facts are, however, that he was not. He did have a conversation with David Tennant. But that is as far as that went. Lucky for us because I believe him to be a brilliant Sherlock. I base this on an old interview I saw online where he claimed the above to be the facts. Thanks for your participation.

Edited. The above is a collection of everyone's thoughts as well as my own research. We would like to Rouge Singer, Cumberbatch Of Derren Brownies, Benfan, kassandwich, bruderlein, gemstone1234, e la mucca salto sulla luna, and socalrose thank you for your commentaries.

Note: Chapter 125 of Deleted Memories will be referred to on the next post.

"… Be cautious. Once a pawn moves, you are committed to that position. If your opponent then tries to attack your center, you can only defend it with your minor pieces…"

Control the Center of Your Board… Part II

"...Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too." ~ Stephen King

Three Days Ago

Unknown Location

It had been a long day and a lot of traveling. But, it was finally concluded. Most of the men, as well as the few women in the conference room were tired, and looking forward to an evening of rest. They were only waiting to be dismissed. Everyone was especially cautious. They not only had Moriarty to fear, they had his second in command, Moran, to fear.

Moran had been especially irritable lately. The few that had the lack of wisdom to laugh at him, had found out, in the most severe ways, that had been a foolish thing to do. No one had dared to laugh anymore, or even look at Sebastian without respect. Only one person had dared to complain openly to Moriarty about Moran's retaliations. Moriarty's eyes had simply darkened, as he informed the man that if he was foolish enough to laugh at Sebastian, he should have been prepared for the consequences. Moriarty had then turned and winked at Sebastian. Sebastian spent the following hour teaching the man the proper respect, with Moriarty looking along, amused, while having lunch. The man had technically been alive when Sebastian Moran was finished.

"What's the matter Seb?" Moriarty did not try to hide the smile on his face, "You look a bit out of sorts today."

Sebastian Moran tried to keep his face even and voice level. He, however, could not stop the slight twitch on the left side of his face.

"I'm fine Sir. Thank you Mister Moriarty." After a few minutes of silence, being thought dismissed, he turned to leave.

"Stay Seb." Moriarty gave a shadow of a nod. Everyone immediately stood up and, quickly and quietly exited. He waited for everyone to leave the room before continuing "Sit." Moriarty said in an almost gentle tone.

Sebastian was more unnerved by the gentleness of Moriarty's voice than he would have been if a gun was pointed at his chest. There was an eerie calmness to the Consulting Criminals expression. It unnerved the normally unflappable ex-soldier.

Sebastian Moran mimicked a tranquil expression. He unbuttoned his jacket with two fingers, and then gracefully sat before crossing his long lean legs. His face held a bored expression. But Moriarty noticed the tightness of his jaw and the extra crinkles around his eyes, which were not there before.

"Don't worry Seb, I'm, not angry with you. I know pets sometimes make messes. I read it in a book once." Moriarty said somewhat distractedly, as he pulled out his Smartphone. He started to text.

Sebastian's mouth tightened, yet he said nothing. The man was many things, but he was not a fool.

Moriarty had just now finished texting. "I have an assignment for you Seb. Something that I'm sure will bring a smile to your face, and the spring into your step." He opened his laptop with a click. His fingers flew across the keyboard quickly, before pushing the enter key. His eyes held a rare look of absolute concentration.

Sebastian looked at Moriarty. He said nothing, yet, he could not hide his interests.

"I need someone distracted. Someone who you're quite fond of, in fact. He is becoming quite a nuisance again. I can't have him spoiling my plans, now can I. I am sure that you have a suggestion or two for me." Moriarty raised his eyebrows. His eyes held a darkness. The implications of his statement could not be missed. Sebastian knew Moriarty better than anyone. As much as Moriarty would allow himself to be known, that was.

Sebastian did not answer he knew that it was a rhetorical question. His eyebrows did rise slightly, however.

"I do have rules and guidelines you need to understand. Before we begin, there is one question I must ask you Sebastian. You're my pet. I've trained you well." He turned his attention fully to Sebastian. "I need you to get something for me. But it will depend on this. You have pets as well," Moriarty raised an eyebrow, "How well do you have your pets trained?"

"Very well Sir." For the first time in over a week, Sebastian Moran smiled.

"He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal."

~ Greg Levoy

Current Day

Current Time

The past several days had been exceptionally grueling. Sherlock, upon his brother's return to England, had been spending sixteen hour days with his brother, various analysts, agents, and various members of the government. There were also representatives from Scotland Yard. Sherlock had requested Lestrade's involvement. Apparently he was not as dull as the other Scotland Yarders, in Sherlock's words. They had alternated between the flat, and Mycroft's office, depending on how busy Mycroft was.

The dismissed men retreated quietly. The sounds of footsteps floated around Sherlock, ignored. John, and Lestrade, watched Sherlock quietly. Mycroft observed with raised eyebrows, as his brother paced back and forth muttering to himself. His hand ran through his dark curls unnoticed.

Mycroft frowned openly now that the room contained only the three men, and himself. The USB, mini storage drives, which Sherlock had hidden in safety deposit boxes around the world, were all retrieved. It contained vital information that had been used to develop a uniform multi-national plan. Still, there was something vital missing.

His attention was drawn back to Sherlock.

Sherlock's muttering had varied between the incoherent, to the loud and insulting. He was currently in the process of demanding more data. He then proceeded to insult himself, as he commented that he was, "too slow today." He then rallied himself, turning his frustrations outward, as he commented on the incompetence of all of the agents, Yarders, and humanity in general.

John sighed almost in time with Lestrade's loudly exhaled breath. Both men risked a glance at each other, before returning their gaze to their friend.

Mycroft caught the eye of both men. He pursed his lips as his eyebrows knitted together in a deep, contemplative look. John raised his eyebrow resigned. Lestrade looked at both men with the questioning expression, but said nothing.

Sherlock's rants had returned to a low mutter. He now stopped and held his forehead with one hand. His long fingers massaged back and forth across his forehead, while his other hand found his hip and rested there.

"Headache?" John asked needlessly.

A noncommittal grunt was his only reply.

Mycroft gave them most subtle shift of his head toward the door. John sighed again before nodding just as subtly.

"Lestrade and I will be downstairs," John said as he walked up to Sherlock. He squeezed his shoulder gently. Sherlock glanced into John's eyes, before he frowned and looked down. He gave a final squeeze to the shoulder, and then joined Lestrade who had just exited out of the door.

"Sit. You're making me dizzy with your constant motion." Mycroft said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

Sherlock opened his mouth as if he would say something. Mycroft had no doubt that it would have been something defiant and inappropriate. Instead, Sherlock deflated instantly. He allowed his body to collapse onto the chair, with a frustrated hiss. One leg rested on the arm of the chair. His head laid back, with crossed arms.

Mycroft looked curiously, studying his brother. The fact that his brother chose to walk over to the chair across from him, and then flapped his body into the chair, as if he was a five year old, solidified Mycroft's decision.

"You did respectable work today Sherlock. We could not have even begun to guess at Moriarty's plans in time without you."

Sherlock looked slightly confused at Mycroft's complement. He knew what his brother thought of him, but to hear him verbalize it was odd. He did not reply, but looked at his brother instead of his folded arms.

Mycroft continued, "We were forced to start moving. I know you disagreed with the timing Sherlock, so did I, but we did not have a choice. I'm afraid that Moriarty might now have an idea that we are aware of some of his," his brother seemed to be searching for words, "more recent activities." He now looked to Sherlock. "I would request that you no longer visit Mr. Moriarty. He may not be in the best of moods, little brother."

Sherlock said nothing, he simply looked into his eyes intently. Mycroft understood, of course he would; Sherlock was his brother.

Mycroft nodded agreement were Sherlock's unspoken words. "I understand that none of those meetings had been your choice, Sherlock. I'm just…"

There were so many words that Mycroft could have said, I'm just concerned, I just care, I'm just afraid, I'm frankly terrified, all would have been true. But this was Mycroft Holmes, so instead he finished with, "… making you aware of the potential threat."

Mycroft shifted. He uncrossed his legs and then re-crossed them in the opposite direction. Sherlock stiffened. He knew his brother well enough to know that he was preparing for battle.

"From all the information that I have been able to gather, from your capture with the terrorists, to your time away from us with Moriarty, I have come to a conclusion, Sherlock. You have obtained all of your memories, except for the two months before you were kidnapped." Mycroft looked grim, "Those two months happened to be the time that you were researching Moriarty, and had come to conclude that he was still alive. More than a coincidence, I am sure." Mycroft's frown deepened. "Not only did you conclude that he was still alive, but you had further concluded, that he had faked his death, not simply to force you to jump off a building, but also to disappear. He was planning something big, huge, he needed to be off the radar, so to speak."

Sherlock was uncharacteristically quiet. He had come to the same conclusions. He knew there was more that Mycroft had to say. He wondered if he would again agree with his brother. Mycroft continued.

"During the time that you were with him, he purposely erased the two months' worth of memories first, that was what he considered necessary. Your amnesia at the time, and the rest of the false memories, were just what he considered… fun."

Mycroft's smile was dangerous and small. It was beautiful in its simplicity, yet eerie in this deadly intent. Sherlock had no doubt that if Moriarty was in front of his brother, he would be alive just long enough for Mycroft to convey his displeasure. He was again reminded of why he believed that Mycroft, not Moriarty, was the most dangerous man in the world. A strong moral compass, and deep devotion to family and England, were the only things that held Mycroft in check.

Both brothers were silent for a few minutes. Both were lost in their thoughts.

Sherlock's voice broke the silence, "How long will it be before we do the procedure to bring the last two months back. You strongly disagreed with me doing it before, but now you see no choice." Sherlock frowned openly. "I think the secret to deciphering the last codes are in those two months' worth of memories. I believe that is why Moriarty targeted those two months."

Mycroft expected Sherlock's to deduce what he was about to say. It still did not make the saying easier. "Four days. Since those memories seem to have been especially targeted by the procedure that you endured, there has to be more precautions taken." Mycroft looked into Sherlock's eyes again, "Yes it is necessary. I do agree with that now."

"Can we begin any sooner?" Sherlock asked, determined.

"Yes, but I would prefer to wait for four days." Mycroft frowned. "Your memories might come back like the others, we have three days before we have to take such a drastic step."

"Tomorrow." Sherlock said simply.

"It will be unpleasant, Sherlock."

Sherlock did not repeat himself, he simply looked at his brother.

Mycroft was silent for a few moments he frowned and then compromised. "The day after tomorrow."

There was another moment of silence. Sherlock looked at Mycroft. "There's something else."

"Time to see a therapist." Mycroft, said matter of fact, "Doctor Pavlov," Mycroft pulled out his Smartphone and seemed to scroll through his electronic calendar. "Tomorrow in the evening, at nine thirty, PM. She agreed to see you after she sees her last patient. You gotten along better with her than with anyone, I think."

"Are you quite through, " Sherlock said with unveiled annoyance. "I'm fine. I don't have time to be distracted." Sherlock's voice was dismissive. Yet, there was an edge to his voice that was barely undetectable by most anyone. Mycroft noticed, of course.

Sherlock's voice became sugary sweet as he added, "I would have agreed, dear brother, but I'm slightly occupied at the moment . I'm sure you understand."

Mycroft's tone matched his brother's tone. "I would have agreed Sherlock, however, that was before I viewed the video."

Sherlock eyes darted to his brothers. He questioned him with his eyes.

Mycroft's eyes softened in understanding. "It was viewed by me alone. John did not see it, no one else did. I kept my word to you Sherlock. I have not looked at your medical records. What occurred between you and my private physician is your affair. At least, before this last surprise. But now, I found it necessary. I know that you have spoken to John. However," he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I have concluded that you have not been forthcoming in the extent of your… experiences."

Sherlock hissed between gritted teeth. "You act as if you are ordering me to do this Mycroft. I am not one of your agents that you can order around. Nor one if your dignitaries that you can manipulate."

Mycroft chuckled darkly. It was almost a strangled sort of odd sound. Particularly out of the mouth of the normally composed man. "Someone has to be logical. Your actions of the last three days have not renewed my confidence in your ability to separate your emotions from logic."

Mycroft had lost his temper. His voice was perfectly even, but his brother could detect the tightness in it. In Mycroft's heart, and yes he had one although he would deny it, he had known that Sherlock had little choice. But, it was easier to fall back into his old habit of taking control, than to admit that he was afraid of losing his brother, or having him kidnapped and tortured. Again.

Sherlock had calmed down when he sat. That, was quickly forgotten. "I thought that you had changed Mycroft. Consider it the very rare time that I was wrong. Did it occur to you that I might not want that video floating around. With curious eyes looking at it? Of course not! You think that your omnipotence gives you the right to stick your pointy nose where it does not belong. Your little brother is on earth for your amusement. Did you laugh, did you get off on my helplessness? Did you take it to the manor, or your flat. Put it next to your collection of things to bribe little brother with? ..." He continued to rant.

A part of Sherlock realized that he was being unjust. Still, he could not seem to be able to stop himself. The logical part of himself was at the mercy of the swirl of pain, anger, and embarrassment. Someone had seen him at his most helpless, he was fatigued, and Mycroft was being a twit. His brother had always been a safe target for his anger. And, the thought of being forced to do something, even if it was by his brother, and with the best of intentions, had set his emotions in a tailspin.

Mycroft's body stiffened. He held eye contact with his brother.

Sherlock's words cut Mycroft like knives. Each one sliced deeper and deeper into the heart that he always denied that he had. Mycroft could not deny it now. The flow of his sorrow was seeping out of that heart like blood from a wound. It felt like dying. He allowed it. This was Sherlock, his Sherlock. He was his brother, and although he would never speak the words, he was the most important thing to him.

Sherlock got to his feet in quick, jerky motions. He looked at the closed door as he headed in its direction.

"Sit!"

Sherlock stood. Anger was seeping out of his pores. Still, slowly he turned, walked back, and then sat.

Sherlock said nothing for a long while. He simply sat crossed legged in his chair facing his brother. He could feel Mycroft staring at him. "What will you do now Mycroft? Have me kidnapped? Threaten to release that unfortunate video of my… experiment at Uni? Find some other way to force me?" Sherlock entire body held a guarded, angry stance.

"I will try something new, it is actually John's suggestion, so blame us both if my new method of getting you to do as I want is unsuccessful." He paused. Mycroft actually smiled a small, strange smile that betrayed doubt, and hope in equal measure. "Let's compromise. I am asking you to go Sherlock. I will make Doctor Pavlov available now by phone. I'll cancel the appointment for you to go to her office, unless that is your preference, of course. And when this is over, I am asking you to go to at least two months of twice weekly sessions. John can go with you, or myself, or Lestrade. All of us, or none of us can accompany. It's your choice."

Sherlock could not hide the shock. He searched Mycroft and lowered his eyes when he saw the sincerity upon his face. His dark colored brows wrinkled in thoughts.

Sherlock broke the silence. His voice was low, and a bit rougher than normal. "I'll think about it."

The brothers sat together. Time slipped silently between them. The tension in Sherlock did not completely leave, however, it did slowly diminish. That is when he heard it.

"Thank you Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was so quiet that Mycroft might have thought that he had imagined it, if he had not been listening. They were just three words. Sherlock would never understand how those three words sat gently on his brother's soul, healing the rift in it.

Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock Holmes did not just look at each other then, they saw each other. Both brothers were quiet. They were lost in their own thoughts. The pleasant aroma of a meal being prepared, drifted into the flat. It grew more intense, as the minutes passed silently. Neither was surprised when they heard quiet talking, or footsteps ascending the stairs. They were also not surprised to hear the gentle clinking of tea cups on trays, or china as it was carried.