This chapter was named after that ever present quote that is in fan-vids and fan-fiction.
Again, I have no beta-reader, so if you see any mistakes or have any comments or concerns, let me know, constructively of course!
Heroes
Sherlock wasn't completely comfortable in the new clothes that Molly had bought for him, but he was getting used to them. It was, however, nice to not be followed; not to have to look over his shoulder every five minutes. So, as he stood waiting in line for a newly acquired overpriced caffeine addiction (thanks to Molly), he found himself looking over the patrons that were sitting, reading their morning papers, or on their laptops, tapping away. He glanced behind him, again out of habit, and spotted a woman in a very large red hat, and even larger red sunglasses. Sherlock didn't mean to, but he had taken a second glance. There was something about this woman that was very familiar. She was on her phone, chatting in a quiet tone, and five patrons behind Sherlock; enough time, he deduced, to pay for and grab his coffee and sit close and observe.
Her hair was tucked into her hat, which covered most of her face. Her gestures were minimal, but her hands were manicured and she wore a silver bracelet and a silver band, but not on her left hand. Sherlock wasn't sitting close enough to hear what she was saying and she left in the opposite direction after she paid for her coffee.
He couldn't get the familiarity of the woman out of his head and when he spotted her a couple days later at the same coffee place, he immediately got in line. She had the same damned hat on and she was on her phone, again. Sherlock noted that her nail polish was a different color.
Sherlock visited the coffee stand over the weekend, but found that she didn't visit on neither Saturday nor Sunday. Thursday and Friday had been a bust as well, and as much as Sherlock hated coincidences, he was starting to think that this was one of them.
When Monday morning came around, Sherlock found himself in que, unconsciously looking for the woman. The people at the head of the line were having a hard time deciding and Sherlock barely managed to contain an audible sigh. This over-priced coffee addiction had brought him down to only two patches. He rubbed his arm where they were placed. He shifted his feet and looked around again, losing his thoughts in the book of newspaper clippings that Molly had 'procured' from the flat, a couple days ago. Once a month Molly visited John at 221 B Baker street as a social call, and to secretly take some personal items that Sherlock had requested. The book of newspaper clippings was not one of the items, but for some reason it had caught Molly's eye. How she got it out without John knowing was bothering Sherlock to no end. But they had only seen each other for a few seconds this morning as Molly was leaving for work.
His reverie was interrupted by a harsh 'Sir?' and a small shove. He glared at the patron behind him, but forgot he was wearing sunglasses, something he rarely did, but he was having fun with his disguises.
"Sir, your usual?" The barista asked with her usual chirpiness when Sherlock reached the head of the que. He nodded, and after gathering his change and coffee and stepping aside, he glanced around. There she was, at the end of the que, and this time no hat!
Sherlock found a table close by and sat down, pretending to read the newspaper that had been left there. He kept his head dipped, but he knew that no one could see his eyes and he looked hard at the woman.
Dirty dishwater blonde hair, well kept.
Very little make-up.
Fairly attractive.
And the profile of the nose – that nose!
It was similar to John's. Sherlock had caught himself staring at it more than once. Not that John had a big nose, but it was a unique nose.
"Listen, mum," the female voice carried over Sherlock's thoughts. "John and I are going to have lunch later so don't worry your pretty little head."
Sherlock's heart stopped at the mention of John's name. The chances that this random woman that Sherlock had stalked because she looked familiar, was talking about John Watson, were slim to none. In fact, Sherlock became dizzy thinking of the math behind that kind of coincidence.
"Of course I've been to the meeting," her hoarse voice broke into his thoughts.
Suddenly, a plan formed in Sherlock's head that was so crystal clear he had to stop himself from shouting out how brilliant it was. The less attention on him the better
He grabbed his coffee and walked purposefully towards the woman.
"'Scuse me miss," Sherlock said in his best American accent as he placed the sunglasses on top of his head. "May I buy your coffee this morning?"
She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. They were a touch darker than John's he noted as she went back to her conversation.
"Pardon me," Sherlock put on his best smile. "But I couldn't help but notice you look a bit like an old classmate I studied with at St. Barts, feminine version of course!" He gestured and she made a dismissive sound. Sherlock wasn't going to be waved off that easily. "Er, John Watson was his name..."
She looked at him with a look of cautious contempt. "You probably stole that from the papers! You're probably a paparazzi trying to -"
"No, miss, John and I were good buddies and he had mentioned a sibling, a Harry I believe -"
"Mum, I'll call you back," she took the phone from her ear and hit the end button and dropped it into a pocket in her purse. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Sherlock. "Only two people know that nickname, and I know John doesn't mention me to the paparazzi." She paused and looked him up and down. "If you can carry a conversation for more than five minutes, you have my undivided attention for a half an hour. If you can keep me interested in that half an hour, you can have my number. You Americans can be cute, but dumb."
"Um, thanks," Sherlock was taken aback by her sharp tongue and even sharper accent; it was a tad rougher than John's.
"The largest, blackest coffee you have," she glanced at Sherlock and gestured with her thumb. "And this Yank is paying for it."
After paying for and gathering her coffee she gestured to a table that was close, but Sherlock guided her to a table away from the crowd. She hesitated, but he smiled and pleaded. Sighing, Harry turned and walked to the table as Sherlock pulled out a chair for her. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Well, glad to see that chivalry isn't dead in the States." She said as she took her phone out of her purse and checked it, then set it on the table. Taking the top off her coffee, she blew on it and made a gesture to Sherlock for him to begin.
"Harry, Harriet Watson," He dropped the American accent. "I am Sherlock Holmes. Your brother, John Watson was my companion and flat-"
Harry interrupted him as she spit out her coffee and looked at him in wide-eyed amazement. He could see the conflict in her face as she opened, then closed, then opened her mouth.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"Shh, yes, I am."
She looked at him skeptically.
Sherlock took the sunglasses off his head and ruffled what was left of his hair. Then he turned up his collar and sucked in his cheeks and turned his head so his profile was facing her.
"Bloody hell!" She said after staring at him for a beat. He put himself back together, and took a drink of his coffee as he glanced around. No one had taken an interest in them.
Then, completely out of the blue, she smacked him on the arm.
"Do you realize how much grief and pain you've caused my brother? Do you realize I almost had to call a suicide watch on him? Do you realize how -"
"Yes, yes, please keep your voice down, I can explain-"
"Well, you've passed your five minutes, and I'm still here." She glared at him over her coffee. "John and I may not get along, but he is my only brother, and I care about family. Start explaining."
Sherlock explained how he faked his death and how John's life, and others were in danger and he had to lie low until the right time.
"I would really like to talk with him," Sherlock concluded. "I need to explain to him what is going on, so that he can keep safe."
Harry was listening open-mouthed. After a beat, she said, "Why don't you just go and see him yourself. With all this disguise, he should be safe-"
"No, the flat is wired and cameras are hidden every where."
"What? My brother is being-"
"Shhh... yes, and if you can get him out to lunch today, maybe you can convince him to stay in other accommodations, or if you let me know where you are having lunch, I can join you guys and help you convince him."
Harry opened her mouth to answer, when her phone went off.
"Huh, speak of the devil." She said as she picked it up. " 'Allo John."
Sherlock held his breath. He could only hear an occasional word that John said.
"Yes, I think mum would like us to have lunch." She paused and nodded and rolled her eyes. "God yes, Johnny, I went to my meeting...of course...okay...hey, hold on, I ran into an old friend of yours-"
Sherlock gestured and shook his head wildly.
"Yeah, he says he used to study with you at St. Barts...Yes...Stamford...Oh, well, he wants to see you, can he meet us for lunch?"
Sherlock relaxed and let out a long breath.
"Okay...yeah one sounds fine...okay... I have some shopping to do in Piccadilly, should we meet there? … No not another addiction...I'm a girl, i'm going to shop! Alright! One at Piccadilly...Shut up John! Bye."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.
"Johnny and I have always argued," Harry sighed as she dropped her phone in her purse. "But God if I don't love my older brother." Her eyes cut to Sherlock. "That's why I'm helping you help him. You're lucky I don't kick you in the balls and leave you here. I'm sure it would be the same state that you left John in."
Sherlock swallowed hard and crossed his legs. "Thank you, Harriet. I appreciate that you didn't kick me."
"I'm going to tell you that you might not receive the open armed reception like you want."
Sherlock winced slightly. "Someone else told me that as well, but I must tell him about the danger he's in."
"Can't that Investigator or police man or whomever he is, tell John?"
"No," Sherlock looked down at his coffee. "No, Lestrade's in trouble as well."
Harry pursed her lips and sighed.
"If you aren't there at one, I will find you and I will make sure some sort of pain is put upon you." She paused and took a drink of her coffee and her demeanor changed. "Now, if you will excuse me Mr. Holmes, I have to go."
Sherlock watched her as she gathered her purse and coffee and walked off. Harriet was suddenly an enigma to Sherlock and he was looking forward to their lunch meeting for more reasons than one.
XXX
John was never a fan of big crowds and Piccadilly was a place he naturally avoided. Today's lunch date, however was important to him and he knew his sister was making strides to try to better her life if she was willing to have lunch with him. The AA meetings were the first steps and she had been going for three weeks. He didn't always get along with Harriet, but he certainly loved her.
He sat on the fountain near some tourists that were taking pictures. He watched as their children ran around the square, balloons in their little hands. John smiled a little, wondering what it must be like, coming to London and experiencing the city for the first time. He thought about the cabs he used to take with Sherlock and the way he interpreted the city made John feel like a little kid...
"What the hell are you smiling at?" His sisters voice broke his reverie.
"Always the charming one, weren't you Harry?" He grabbed his cane and stood and held out his hand.
"Oh stop, Johnny." Harriet wrapped her arms around her brother and he was dumbstruck. "We're siblings, we don't shake hands."
"Okay, so is mum around, watching us?" He said as he held her at arms length and looked around.
She smacked him playfully, then held out her hands. "You tired old bloke! I'm serious about this."
John looked at them. For the first time in a long time, they were steady. "Harry...I dunno what to say..."
"How 'bout congratulations, for starters?"
"Congratulations sister," it was John's turn to hug his sister and she returned it wholeheartedly. "Please don't let me down."
"I promise, I won't," she replied. "As long as you keep your head high."
"I'm trying. I just take it day by day," he said as they parted.
Harry shook her head at him. "John, you look so tired."
"That's funny, 'cause I've been sleeping better."
Harry looped her arm through John's and they started walking toward the Costa Coffee shop. After ordering and settling on eating out in the square, they fell into comfortable banter.
Halfway through, Harry spotted Sherlock and she waved him over.
"Who's that?" John asked when he turned back to Harry.
She smiled mysteriously. "An old friend of yours."
John turned and looked at the man approaching them. There was an air of familiarity about him, but John couldn't place it.
"Hello Harry," Sherlock said in his American accent. "It's good to see you again." Hello John." He held his hand out to John.
"It's very good to see you again," Harry said. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come."
"Hello John." He held his hand out to John.
"I-I'm sorry," John said as he glanced at Harry, then back up at the mysterious man standing in front of him. "Have we...have we met before?"
Sherlock knelt in front of them as he whispered, "John Watson, it's Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock watched as several emotions crossed his friends face.
"N-no, he's dead...you're supposed to be dead...I-"
"John, I'm sorry we have to meet again this way," Sherlock interrupted.
"Is this a sick joke?" John looked back and forth at Harry and Sherlock. Sherlock took off his sunglasses and ruffled his hair, then turned up his collar.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." Sherlock clucked his tongue and winked.
John stopped breathing. In fact the whole world stopped for just that moment and he stared at the man kneeling in front of him, open-mouthed.
"John, you okay?" Harry rested her hand gently on John's shoulder.
He sucked in some air.
"You died...I watched..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Do you know...of course you don't know. You have no heart." John stood suddenly and walked off, without his cane.
"John!" Harry called and started after him. But Sherlock stopped her.
"No, he needs time..."
"I think we are quite done here!" Harry said sternly.
"Here is my number, please, he needs to know -"
"Fine!" Her eyes turned cold, just like John's would when he was unhappy with something that Sherlock did or said. "I told you that there wouldn't be a grand reception. I think it would be best if you left him alone for a while."
Sherlock watched as Harry ran after John, who had disappeared into the crowd.
'Caring is a disadvantage...Sherlock.'
Sherlock balled his fists and clenched his jaw as Mycroft's voice floated through the white noise in his head.
'Alone is what I have. Alone is what protects me.'
Thunder broke through his thoughts, and suddenly everything became quite. He opened his eyes and looked up. The sun was hidden by a thick layer of white clouds that were rapidly turning a dark gray. More thunder rumbled through the clouds again and Sherlock turned his attention to the crowd milling around the square, going about their meaningless lives.
'You're ordinary...you're on the side of the angles...'
Sherlock tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and started to walk away, when his foot kicked something. Looking down, he saw John's cane laying on the brick.
'Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them...'
Suddenly, everything came into bright focus as he bent and grabbed the cane. He walked away, giggling like a madman.