The World is Spinning Backwards
Chapter 46: The Miraculous Case of John Watson
Emma carefully placed the black-and-white photo of Sherlock in the black frame, hanging it gingerly in her kitchen. It was the one allowance she had made herself, to display him in her home. Everything else relating her to Sherlock had been locked away; he had insisted on it. There was one picture of her and Jonathon in her bedroom, after he had been born. Sherlock had taken the photo of smiling mother and son.
Their separated living arrangement had been going on for a year now, and Emma had hated every minute of it. She never knew when Sherlock was going to show up, unannounced, at her flat. Emma would come home to a slightly opened door, on alert, only to find her husband waiting for her. Sometimes he would come in through the window, by means of the fire escape, if he were being particularly careful.
Sherlock never stayed for very long, and he never spent the night. However, he had agreed to tell her everything about his life, since she could no longer witness it with him.
Over the year, it seemed mostly to be stories of the pathologist at St. Barts, Molly Hooper. The analytical way Sherlock spoke of her, and the favors she did, made Emma feel sorry for her. It seemed to her that Sherlock was using her to get body parts for his experiments, or to have special access to corpses.
He also talked about Mycroft more often; seemingly, Sherlock was seeing his brother frequently, repairing their relationship. Emmaline was happy that the brothers were starting to get along better.
Sherlock rarely brought up dangerous cases he was working on, for fear that Emmaline would put it together. He knew she was intelligent, and that Mycroft was filling her in on more than Sherlock was comfortable with. He discerned she was aware that a man existed that had Sherlock fearful for the safety of London; but she never brought it up. Emma was content to leave Sherlock be about it, until he saw fit to bring her into the fold. He knew that at some point she would be brought into the web, but for now she was safe.
Emma grabbed herself a cup of coffee and walked into the living room, unsurprised at the dark figure sitting on her couch, it had become so commonplace.
"How are you Sherlock?" She asked, sitting next to him.
"I'm moving." He announced. "Mrs. Hudson is a landlady now, and has a lovely little property in Westminster on Baker Street."
"Baker Street? Isn't that expensive?" She asked, blowing on her coffee.
Sherlock stretched out on her couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I met a man today who has agreed to look at the property with me tomorrow."
"And you're already going to move in with him?" Emma asked, raising a brow.
"I know everything I need to about him." Sherlock shrugged. "Army doctor invalided home from Afghanistan or Iraq with an alcoholic brother he doesn't see very often."
"And he has agreed to look at the flat with you?" She clarified.
"Yes he has; Mike introduced us this afternoon at Barts."
"Alright. Just making sure you didn't rope him in."
Sherlock smiled. "How's your internship at the hospital going?"
"Very well; I'm going back to school for my Masters and then my doctorate so I can help more people there. I really like everyone I'm working with."
"Good. I'm so proud of you." He told her, kissing the top of her head.
"What's his name? The man you're moving in with?" She asked, cuddling closer against him, feeling the warmth of his body.
"John Watson."
Emma looked up at him, her eyes searching. "Why does that sound familiar?"
"It's the name from the article, the promising medical student." He answered.
"Oh." She looked down at her mug, saddened at the once happy memory of picking out names for their child. It seemed strange that the man would years later fall into Sherlock's life. It had to be a sign.
"What's the address? I'm assuming you've already moved in."
"How did you know?" He asked.
Emma smiled. "I'm married to the world's only consulting detective. You pick up a few things." She said with a shrug.
Sherlock chuckled. "221B Baker Street, is where I'll be moving."
"It suits you." She told him.
"How can an address suit me?"
Emma shrugged. "It just does."
Sherlock sighed. "You are strange and insufferable sometimes."
"But that's why you love me." Emma affirmed.
"Yes, silly woman, that's one of the many reasons why I love you." He leaned down and kissed her chastely.
"Just one? Is there a list?" She asked, working for the buttons on his coat.
"It's more of a file…" he trailed off as his kisses worked their way down her neck, softly. Anything to distract him from the thoughts of his son, and the man who had unknowingly named him. Emmaline seemed to think it was a good idea, getting to know the man, but Sherlock was less certain.
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Sherlock was working his way carefully towards Emmaline's apartment. It was four in the morning, and he had just left John back in the flat after a disruptive day. The soldier had just saved his life, and Sherlock felt that he needed to be properly reprimanded by his wife.
It had been worth it however, finally getting a name to go with the web that he had suspected ran through London's criminal underground. Moriarty. He wondered when the man would make himself known…
He had no time to worry about it when he told Emmaline what had occurred that night, and that he had risked his life for the puzzle of a pill. After a rather harsh slap, he was pulled into her arms, her gentle hands running through his hair, and caressing his back.
The stress and worry that he would not allow himself to feel in front of John came forth as he relaxed into his wife's arms. That night he did sleep in her bed, for a few hours, kissing her forehead before he ghosted from the flat.
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Sherlock called Emma from the privacy of his bedroom after John was safely home.
"Darling, I'm home. It was a very cut and dry case."
"A cut and dry case? Sherlock someone attacked you, a young woman died! John was kidnapped!"
Sherlock sighed. "A little more cut and less dry then." He allowed. After a moment's silence he said, "I have to go; it's not safe to call anymore."
"Sherlock, what?"
"Please trust me when I say it's too dangerous to be in contact with me, more than is necessary. I'm afraid I won't be visiting as often as I'd like."
"Sherlock, tell me what's going on. I can help!" Emma insisted.
"No; I won't allow anyone else to be hurt because of me. Something dark is growing in London, and I won't put you in the middle of it."
"But you will John. He's fine to put in danger because he was a soldier."
"I trust him with my life. He's a friend, and he's invaluable to me and my work."
"What makes him so special, Sherlock? So much better than me to handle whatever you think is going on?" Her tone had grown harsh, her voice louder.
"You were meant to live a normal life. Grow up in Texas, move somewhere lovely, have a career, a family. You were never destined to be mine. I intend to keep you safe for as long as I can, before fate realizes it's made a mistake somewhere and cuts our string."
"But John Watson was meant to be yours, so it's OK?" She said, with a sigh of frustration.
"Yes." He said with a sense of urgency. "I do believe that he was meant to be my friend."
Emma sighed. She believed that there were people who were meant to come into people's lives, to shape them, make them better. There were people who left, and people who stayed. It appeared that John was the one who stayed. And he was making quite the change in Sherlock.
"Fine, love. I will continue to deal with it for now. For you. But I will not sit around and take this forever. I can't." Her voice rang with boredom.
"How's school been?" He asked, changing the subject.
"I'm a semester away from graduating; and my thesis is coming up."
"And you're doing well in classes?"
"All A's."
"There's my girl." Sherlock said, with more than a hint of pride.
Emma smiled, drawing her blanket closer around her. "I have to get up early, for classes." She said with a yawn.
"Goodnight Emmaline." He said softly.
"I love you Sherlock." She replied, her voice soft with sleep.
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"I think you should leave London." Sherlock burst into her flat, a crazed look in his eye.
"What?" Emma called from her bedroom.
"You need to leave!" He repeated, louder.
"Sherlock!" Emma came out of her bedroom, quickly tying a robe around herself, her hair up in a messy bun. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The network, the web, it's bigger than I thought. I can't keep you safe anymore. Please, we have to pack; the farther away you are, the safer you'll be." He began to run around her flat in a mad daze, searching for her bags.
"America is a good place, for a while. Change your name, your age, we'll dye your hair blond." He looked up and scrutinized her for a moment. "Red would be better."
"Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere!" She shouted.
He paused, looking up from the couch where he was bent.
"Come here." She beckoned Sherlock over, and made him sit down in her armchair. "I'm going to get you some tea; you're going to calm down, so we can discuss this rationally."
Emmaline walked into the kitchen, Sherlock leaning back against the chair, willing his body to be calm. After a few long minutes, she came out holding a steaming mug of Earl Grey and handed it to him.
"Now, what's going on?" She asked.
"It's not safe for you to be anywhere near me Emmaline. I'm a dangerous man."
Emma smiled. "Sherlock, you've always been a dangerous man. A danger to yourself, mostly. But I'm not leaving London. It's my home now. You're my family." She brought a hand up to cup his face. He leaned into it, closing his eyes at the forgiving touch. "No matter how much danger you think we're in, I'll always stand by you."
Sherlock sighed. "There's no convincing you to leave, is there?" He asked, opening his eyes.
"There really isn't." She promised.
Sherlock darted forward to steal a quick kiss. "Thank you for the tea."
"Anytime, stranger." She replied.
Sherlock stood, and left the flat, just as quickly as he had entered it. He would not tell her the name he knew, or the face of the man he now recognized as Moriarty. He would not tell her about the pool, or that the bombing had been anything more than a gas leak. And neither would Lestrade. The less Emmaline knew, the better. The safer she would be. And Sherlock truly believed that.
A/N: OK guys, just the epilogue left, which I hope to update very soon as it will be rather short, leading straight into the second book, which I will begin to edit after chapter 47 goes live.
This chapter does take place over the span of time of season 1, so about 2007 – 2010 when they first meet in BBC canon. The three blurbs at the end are each about one specific episode, with the first being Study In Pink, the second Blind Banker, and third Great Game.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review I really do appreciate it and love seeing comments on something I've worked very hard and long on!