Chapter Two

Title: Mobile

Author: A Study in Schadenfreude

Pairing|Characters: No strict pairing

Length: Looks like it'll be a long one

Genre: angst, action-adventure

Warnings: Post-Reichenbach Fall.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Moffat, Gatiss, and Conan-Doyle own the characters, we're just making them dance to our tune.

Summary: John Watson's on the verge of leaving 221B behind. Until he receives a message that will change his life forever... "Text Received from Sherlock Holmes."

The door shut.

John rubbed his arms, trying to keep the chill of the night air from seeping into his bones. He felt cold, absolutely cold, just thinking about what he was about to do.

What he had already started. What he had already committed to.

He sighed. The past three days had been harder than he'd imagined. The next few days would be just as hard.

He walked back to the flat, mentally running through his to-do list. Goodbyes and conversations had to be done.

He just didn't imagine they would be so...difficult.

A few days ago, Saturday, 11 August, 10:00

John knocked on the door of Harry's flat. He only hoped that it was early enough in the day that she wasn't snockered yet. He also hoped she wasn't passed out from the previous night. He was pleasantly surprised when the door opened to his sister looking rather sober.

"John!" Harry said, starting a little in surprise. "You're... here! Why, what's wrong?" She raised a carefully trimmed eyebrow, frowning a little. "I phoned you last week, as we agreed."

John looked affronted. "Hey now! Can't I just visit my sister?" John knew that he didn't normally visit Harry, but it hurt a bit to hear that something had to be wrong when he did. Even though she was right. "Can I come in?"

Harry appeared to think for a moment, and then nodded. "Sure, come in." They walked through the hall, and Harry led John to the parlor. "Sorry about the mess. I didn't know you were coming, so I didn't clean up."

"That's fine, Harry. I don't mind. Doing okay?" John took a cursory glance of the room, happy to see no open bottles of liqueur.

"I have been sober for two days. That's good enough for you, right, big brother?" Her blue eyes stared defiantly into nearly identical ones.

John was hesitant to believe Harry. "Very good, Harry. I'm going to grab a glass of water." John walked into the kitchen and stopped. "Harry, what's in that glass? And don't say water, I can smell it from here."

Harry didn't answer. Instead she crossed her arms, and glared at John. "I hope you didn't come here to go through my kitchen, John."

John let the glare bounce off him with the ease of a protective brother. "No, I didn't. I'm just worried about you Harry. I'm going away soon and I won't be able to get on your case about this. Please, do this one thing for me?"

Harry rolled her eyes, and walked over to a chair. She sat down, and leaned back. "Look, John, I don't need you to babysit me." She then knotted her forehead in realization. "You're going away? Where?"

John waved off the last question, leaning against the wall. "That's not important. What's important is that you let someone help you with this. What about Clara? You try to hide it, but I know you miss her. You were together for years."

"As I said, I don't need anyone to babysit me." Harry looked away. "Not even her. Not even Clara." She sighed. "Why are we even talking about her? You know it's over, John. We're not together anymore."

John held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, okay. I just came to say good-bye. Even though you drive me up a wall, I'm going to miss you. You're my sister, I just want you to be happy."

"John, I'm sorry. I... I'm just sorry." Harry said. She ran fingers through her short blonde hair, and finished her drink with a gulp. "Where are you going? What do you mean, 'good-bye'?" Her voice spiked when she said 'good-bye', and it made John wince.

"People say good-bye before leaving on a trip, yes? I just need out of this city. I can't be here with all the memories. I just need..." John paused, pondering over his wording. "I just need to get away for a while. From everything."

"Yes, but you make it sound like you're dying Johnny." Harry pointed out. "Besides, you could've just told me on the phone. It's not like you're not going to phone me anymore, right? I do like phoning you sometimes, you know."

John chuckled. "I like phoning you too, Harry. But, no, I won't be able to phone you. I plan on going somewhere out of the service range. I don't want to be bothered, so it's better that way."

Harry laughed. She sounded like their mother. "What, you're going hiking in the mountains and living there?"

"Yeah, sure. Call me John the Cave Hermit." John felt terrible for lying to his sister, but it had to be done. He couldn't afford for someone to stop him from doing this.

Harry grinned. "Look John, okay. I'll try again. To be sober. Just for you. But you're going to have to get down from your mountain and check on me once in a while, alright? I'll miss you."

John walked over and pulled Harry into a hug. "I'm so glad to hear that. I'll be around, I promise." He stepped back, the smile on his face a lie. "I've got to run. You take care of yourself."

Harry stood up, and opened the door. "You too, John. Be careful. I'll phone you next week!"

John walked into the hallway with a frown, knowing that she wouldn't be able to reach him next week. He got his expression under control before turning around. "I'll hold you to it. Later Harry."

Saturday, 11 August, 13:00

John alighted from the cab and waved at the red-head in the distance, trying not to look as happy as he felt. He had always liked Clara, and was glad that she was the one that Harry ended up with. "I'm sorry if I took too long."

Clara stood quickly and gave John a tight hug. "It's fine, John. I'm just happy to see you! How've you been? Okay? No, probably not, after what happened but I do hope you are - I'm sorry, rambling again." She grinned sheepishly.

John smiled sadly. It wasn't hard to, seeing as whenever someone reminded him about Sherlock, he couldn't help it. "It's fine. I rather missed you, you know. You and Harry, that is."

Clara took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm here for you, John. You don't have to go through this alone." She paused. "I miss me and Harry too."

"She's still not talking to you, I take it?" John asked, deliberately avoiding talking about Sherlock.

"No, unfortunately. I wish she'd let me in, I want to help her. Sometimes she makes me so mad, but God help me, I still love her." Clara sat down again, gesturing for John to sit as well.

John smiled. "I know what you mean." A waiter stopped at their table, and John got them both some coffee and slices of cake.

"So, what's going on? What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to talk about Harry." John started, not really sure how to start telling Clara about his plans. He didn't want to hurt the poor woman, and didn't want her to worry either.

Clara looked curious. "Go on, John."

"You know Harry. She wouldn't last a month without me checking on her." John smiled at the thought. "I want to ask you a favour."

"Anything. What do you need?"

John smiled. 'What do you need' was very Clara. The woman was just eager to help him in a heartbeat. He would miss her so much. "I need you to take care of her."

"What? I mean, yes, of course, but you sound as though you won't be able to check on her yourself."

"I won't be." John put a reassuring hand on Clara's arm. "I won't be around for long, and..." John shakes his head and thinks a moment. "I'm leaving, Clara. I can't... I can't stay here. Everything just reminds me of him."

Clara looked at him sympathetically, her brown eyes full of warmth. "You lost your best friend, I can't imagine what that's like. Any idea where you're headed? You must be eager for a fresh start. I don't really understand why you can't check in on Harry too, but I won't pester you about it."

"I don't know. I don't care, really." John sighed. There are moments when he desperately wanted to tell other people about his plans, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. "I'm sorry I can't explain, Clara. I just... I need to get away. From everything."

Clara looked disappointed, but John knew she understood. "Okay, John. Let's talk about something else, shall we? Do you have time?"

John looked at her sadly, and shook his head. "I'm sorry Clara, I can't. I've got an appointment to get to."

She just smiled and stood. "No, no, it's fine. We should do this again. I'll keep an eye on Harry for you. Great seeing you!"

John sighed. "I really, really am sorry. Thank you. Thank you so much." John walked out to the main street for a cab, and watched as Clara disappeared in the distance.

As much as he wanted to stay and chat, he couldn't. Chatting with Clara made John want to stay. He knew he was doing this for Sherlock, but... but what if he was doing the wrong thing? What if Sherlock was really dead? What if -

No. What if Sherlock was alive? He couldn't doubt. Not now. He could not back down from this.

He was going to finish his war no matter how long it took.

Sunday 12 August 15:00

John didn't understand why, but whenever he went to the psychiatrist it always rained. Droplets of water stained the glass windows, and dimmed the natural light that would have made the clinic more beautiful. "John?" He blinked, and turned back to the psychiatrist. She spoke. "You seem distracted."

John met her gaze for a second before darting his eyes down to the floor. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that. This week has been...difficult."

Ella made something that was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but John could feel the patronizing gaze that she gave him. "Are we talking about our 'assignment'? How did that one go?"

"I think you'll be pleased to know that I sent the text." He locked his arms in front of him, and stared at Ella with a stony gaze.

"And what happened?" Ella scribbled something on her notepad and managed to look thoughtful.

Oh the ways John could answer her question. "He texted back. What do you think happened?" John leaned leftwards in the chair, gesturing with his hand. "I sent a bloody text to my dead best friend. Of course nothing happened."

"And how do you feel about that?"

John scoffed and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fine. I'm fine with it."

"Oh? What do you mean by 'fine'?"

"You want to know if I'm jumping for joy?" John leaned forward in his chair, staring her down. "Well, I'm not. I'm planning on getting away from here soon, which is partly why I came today. To let you know."

"Getting away?" The therapist scribbled that bit in her notes as well.

"Yes. Getting out of London, away from the past almost two years of memories." He sighed and clenched his fists, keeping his emotions under control.

Ella was silent for a moment, obviously thinking on his plan. "That may be good for you. A chance to distance yourself. From everything."

John nodded shortly, and got up. "Yeah, I thought so too. If there isn't anything else, I'll just take my leave."

"Our session isn't over for at least forty-five minutes. Are you sure there is nothing more you want to talk about?"

John shook his head. He was done talking through his feelings. He was acting on them.

The ex-army doctor stood and walked out of the office of Ella Thompson for the last time.

Present, Monday, 13 August 08:35

Today, John needed to find a body. And not just any body, but a body that fit his physical profile, down to the scars. John doubted that it was going to be anything short of finding a needle in a haystack, but he needed one.

He wasn't keen on visiting old friends. John did not trust a lot of people. Old friends fell into two categories: people who owed him, and people he owed. It felt rude, he decided, to visit friends only because he needed something from them.

But as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.

John made his way into the doctors' offices, leaning heavily on his old cane he brought out for the occasion. He turned around the white corridors, looking at the doors and the signs, and finally gave up and leaned over the nurses' station with a smile. "Hello, I'm looking for Dr. Laurie?"

A gruff voice came from behind him. "Present. I don't do walk-ins though, find another doctor."

"Dr. Laurie?" John turned, his face caught between a smile and a frown. "It's been a long time." He held out a hand to shake.

He looked up to the man who was a few inches taller than him. The man looked more bristly than he remembered, and his face drawn long and harsh. The man's eyes sunk into a deep sadness, like something tragic had happened to him at some point in his life and he was not able to bounce back up, but it was shadowed by smug brilliance that Greg Laurie brought everywhere, even when they were still in medical school.

Greg ignored the offered hand. "So what brings the army doctor-turned-detective in to see little old me?"

John cocked his head, and pulled back his hand with raised eyebrows. "I'm just here to visit an old friend."

Greg gave a crooked smile. "I think we both know that you wouldn't be here if you didn't need something. My office is this way." He started hobbling toward the lifts.

John followed, leaning on his cane awkwardly every now and again. There was no phantom pain in his leg, but he thought that it may bring sympathy to the doctor he was trying to enlist in his small 'army'.

On second thought, no, it probably wouldn't work with him. Sympathy? John was more likely to get him to sign up if he told him they were doing a felony. "So, Greg, how have you been?" He said once he stepped in the lift.

Greg scoffed before answering. "Oh, you know how it is. Boring case, dying patient, commit a questionable act to save their life, eat dinner."

John winced. It sounded exactly like what Sherlock might say, minus the eating. "That...that sounds very fulfilling."

The lift came to a stop at that moment and Greg stepped out first. "Better than sex. Well, that's a lie, but it comes close."

John didn't answer. He followed Greg to his office, and stood up in front of the desk. "Yes, you were right." John said, not even waiting for Greg to sit down. "I'm here to collect on debts. I need your help."

Greg flounced into his chair, grabbing the rubber ball of his desk to fiddle with. "Thought as much. It's not like you'd be here for that fake limp. So what do you need from me?"

"I need a body. A dead one. Or a soon to be dead one." John said, leaning on his cane despite Greg's observation.

"You don't ask for small favours, do you? Why a dead body? Into necrophilia?"

John rolled his eyes. "The favour I did you wasn't small, either." A small smile tugged at the corner of John's mouth when he thought of a retort. "If I tell you, I have to kill you. So are you going to help me?"

Greg leaned forward, a spark in his blue eyes. "Sounds exciting. What type of body are we looking for? Female? Male?"

"Mine. One that looks like me."

"This is getting more interesting by the second. I happen to know just the one you need. John Doe, vegetable." Greg tapped his skull. "Coming off life support in a couple days too."

"Show me." John said, moving aside to let Greg go first.

The two doctors walked back to the lifts. The patient was in the Palliative care wing, John noticed idly as he kept the layout of the hospital in mind. Greg casually leaned against the door, letting John step in the room to look at the poor sod.

John looked at the unmoving patient. His chest moved steadily up and down, but one glance at the various hook-ups to his system told John that the machine was the only thing keeping him alive. He watched the poor man for a moment, and noted the blond hair. It needed trimming, but he could handle that. The eyes - well, as disturbing as it is, he needed to raise the eyelids of the brain dead man. A flash of blue: perfect. Except for the fact the man was terminally ill, and that his body wouldn't scream 'military man' when people saw it, it would have to do.

Military. His service in the military. Ah shite. "He'll be perfect, but there's a problem."

"Don't tell me you're picky?" Greg raised an eyebrow.

John sighed, and gestured at the man. "Wounds. Scars. I came from a war zone. He didn't."

"We can always fix that."

John turned to Greg with a horrified expression on his face. "Are you talking about actually hurting your patient?"

"Well it's not like he can feel it. Vegetable, remember?" Greg shrugged, and looked at the man's chart. "See, Glasgow score 3. It's not like he'll feel it when he wakes up - it's not even as if he will wake up. He won't!"

"This is why they almost kicked you out of medical school. " John looked at Greg out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching in an effort to not smile. "But... he will do, I think. It's not like I have any better choices. I'll figure out a way around the autopsy reports."

Greg shrugged. "If you can get the body back here, people downstairs owe me a favour."

"Alright, I'll get it here. Thank you, Greg."

"So, what are you planning? A prank? Some sort of ancient ritual to appease a pagan god?" Greg grinned. "Throw me a bone here, John! I'm helping you steal a body."

John shook his head. "Just be happy that I still haven't reported you for your felony." He smiled a rather predatory smile. "I still have the pictures, and it would get your medical license revoked."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Give me your mobile then. We'll need to talk about how to get this guy out of here."

John thought for a moment. "No. I'll phone you later." He slipped out of the patient's room, and Greg followed. "Just keep an eye out for better candidates."

"Sure will, Captain." Greg raised his eyebrows. "You're not asking for a lot, are you John?"

John smiled tightly. "Think of it this way, Greg: I'll owe you one."

He picked up his cane and straightened, and walked out of the hospital with grim determination on his face. His plans were moving along nicely, and he was going to do this.

Hell was going to break loose. His death was only the beginning.

Monday, 13 August 11:17

John knew he was going to need someplace to run to after dying and frankly, he was a bit short on options. He didn't know a lot of rich and trustworthy people. His best bet was going to be a past client, someone he could trust, and someone who trusted him back.

He knew exactly who to call.

He borrowed Mrs. Hudson's phone,just paranoid enough of Mycroft's tendencies to stick his nose into everything and dialed the number.

"Hello? Henry? This is John. John Watson. Do you remember me?"

Henry's voice sounded cheerier than the last time they spoke, like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. After how that case turned out, John wasn't surprised the man was in a better disposition. "John Watson. Yes, of course I remember you. You were with Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"

John sighed. He didn't want to put another burden on Henry's shoulders, but he needed help. "I'm calling you because I need a favour and you seemed like a nice bloke. Trustworthy. Can I trust you?"

"Sure, Dr. Watson." Henry sounded confused. "What is it?"

John exhaled loudly. "Is there somewhere we could meet to talk? I don't really want to do this over the phone, but didn't want to just drop in on you. Preferably somewhere outside London, with no CCTV."

"Yes, of course - but what is this about? Is this about the payment? I can send you the check over if you changed your mind..."

"No, it's not about money." John frowned. It didn't occur to him that maybe, some people haven't heard of Sherlock's... disappearance. "I take it you haven't been paying attention to the news?"

"Not really, Doctor." The younger man's voice poured emotion like a sieve, and John couldn't help but smile at Henry's ease at sharing his thoughts. "I'm tired of the news. After what happened, the reporters kept on running after me and I'm just so tired of seeing anything related to the press."

John was silent for a few moments, mulling over something. "I'd rather tell you what happened in person then. It's a rather long story and I'm borrowing this phone.

"Well, alright, maybe the Winston Churchill Gardens? It's around two hours from London." Henry suggested.

John smiled in relief. Somehow it felt like Henry would help and stick by him through this. "That's fine. I'll meet you there in three hours?"

"Alright. I'll see you there, then."

John checked his watch. He'd gotten there early, wanting to make sure he wouldn't miss the younger man. He sat on a bench near the main car park. He spotted Henry five minutes later and called out. "Over here, Henry!"

"Dr. Watson! Hello. Ah, what can I do for you?"

John stood and shook Henry's hand in greeting. "Why don't we walk while I explain?" They started walking the jogging path. "About 3 weeks ago, Sherlock Holmes committed suicide. A few days ago I was... informed, that it's possible he managed to survive."

"Wait, hang on - what? Mr. Holmes committed suicide?" Henry looked distressed at the news. "Since... when? What happened?"

"I'm not entirely clear on what happened, but I do know that James Moriarty had his name all over it. My point is, Sherlock is most likely out there, fighting this war that no-one knows about and I am trying to help him. I plan on faking my death, but I'm going to need a place to hide out for a bit afterwards."

"I'm..." Henry's eyebrows knit in uncertainty. "This sounds dangerous, Dr. Watson."

"It might be for me, but I doubt you'll be in much danger at all." John's heart felt like it almost stopped. He pleaded silently, hoping to all powers-that-be that the younger man would help him. "I don't have a lot of allies here, will you help me?"

Henry let out a sigh and ran a hand over his mouth. "I couldn't think of any other way to repay you. For what you and Mr. Sherlock did."

"Thank you." John exhaled in relief, and tried not to let it show too much on his face. "You have no idea how much this means to me, really. I'll be dropping in late on Wednesday."

"I'll see you then, Dr. Watson. I'll keep your secret safe."

John and Henry parted ways at the park entrance, knowing that the next time they met, John wouldn't quite be the same.

A/N's

Shwatsonlocked: First off, thank you to everyone who added us to your alerts/favorites and our reviewers. I am so happy that this is being well received (honestly, I jump up and down every time I see a new alert/review, so feel free to make that happen by hitting the review button xD) I love you all and hope that you enjoyed this chapter, long as it was.

Jedi_Pirate_Jaeh: Hi, have I told you I love you? If not, I do. I really, really do.

See you in chapter three!