Author's note: There won't be many more chapters.
I don't own anything, please review.
"Not that I want to sound pessimistic, but it seems pretty hopeless to me", Greg said.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"So you are suggesting we stay hidden for the rest of our lives?"
The man stared at him before shaking his head, chuckling.
"It still freaks me out how much you look like Bill and act like John. No, I didn't mean that. Just wanted to say it".
"Now that we have come to the conclusion that our situation is hopeless" John's counterpart began, "we should start to go through our options".
There weren't many. They could try to attack Mrs. Hudson – at least they knew where she was – but she had certainly many other snipers at her disposal.
John put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to his flatmate to find him looking up at his face, although he doubted he was seeing him; his eyes were those of a man who was remembering something he'd rather not.
"Could she..."
It was still difficult for him to talk about what Moriarty had done and the three following years. Sherlock found it was still difficult for him too, which was why they rarely did. But he knew what he meant.
"She wouldn't" he said simply. He was aware that everyone in the room was listening but he didn't care. He had to speak out the truth as much for the doctor as for himself.
"Mrs. Hudson runs a business. She wants to be successful. She wants us out of the way, not to play games like – "
It was John's warning glance that stopped him from continuing, reminding him that Jim was in the room.
The IT tech didn't appear to be too shaken to remember what he was in a parallel universe, but he looked sad.
"Like me" he finished.
"Not like you" Bill replied, standing up despite Mike trying to get him to stay sitting down. With a few strides, he crossed the room and stood in front of his friend.
"We are different people. Do you really think I'm Sherlock, and John is – John?"
A fleeting smile touched Jim's face at Bill's obvious problem to find the words before the sadness returned.
Sherlock realized that John had been right. Bill possessed empathy in an uncommon degree, and he felt that he needed to reassure Jim now so he wouldn't begin to feel guilty or depressed.
He must be a valuable asset at witness interrogations.
"It is kind of strange to see you in a suit" Jim conceded after a moment, and Bill laughed.
"That's settled then".
It was. Bill had known what to say and when to say it. Sherlock doubted that even his doctor would have been able to calm Jim's fears so quickly.
He caught John's eyes and found that his colleague had the same glimmer of pride in them he recognized from himself whenever John pointed out something at a crime scene that someone else had missed or calmed down a witness or family member.
But the interlude hadn't distracted them from what they had to do.
It would probably be easier to find Trevelyan, if they had only known where to look. But Mrs. Hudson wouldn't tell them.
He looked at Bill and a thought struck him.
"Bill" he said slowly, "after everything you have heard about Trevelyan... Do you think he'll stay wherever Mrs. Hudson put him?"
They needed to understand the man if they wanted to capture him, and Bill was the best at understanding motives.
He tilted his head.
"He killed Pike... obviously he was angry – Pike wanted to go to the police or maybe told him that what he was doing was wrong. He must think very highly of himself."
"So you think he might leave his hideout to find another scientist who would give him the treatment he thinks he deserves."
"He doesn't want to make his invention public, though" the doctor interjected, "why would he go then?"
"It's irrational" Bill said, "but humans are irrational. Even scientists. He wants recognition, and he might be desperate enough to get it even if he should stay put".
Sherlock nodded. Trevelyan certainly wasn't an ordinary man, and he definitely wanted to make an impact, his changing of reality was more than enough proof of that. And all scientists wanted to be told that they had done a good job when they invented something; it was a human trait that couldn't be ignored, not even by someone like Trevelyan.
"Who else has done research into parallel universes?" he asked, turning to Jim.
He immediately pulled out a tablet out of the small bag he'd been carrying.
"Give me half an hour".
Sherlock nodded.
For a minute, everyone was quiet, following their own trains of thought. It was Greg who broke the silence.
"Once Jim find something – and that's to say, if he does – what then?"
"We have to surprise her" John announced, and while Greg looked somewhat surprised that he referred to a "her" instead of a "him", Sherlock knew immediately what he meant. They had found Trevelyan once, and they would have taken him, if Mrs. Hudson hadn't put together a protection detail for him. They didn't have to surprise Trevelyan. They had to surprise Mrs. Hudson.
Unfortunately, their landlady knew them better than most. She had had years to learn their habits and study them when they were on a case.
"What would you never do?" he asked. He was confident that John would understand that he meant something that was so unlike him that it would never enter Mrs. Hudson's mind.
He could feel the answer before John gave it, once more realizing that there were some similarities between them.
"Ask for help".
"What?" Bill and John asked at the same time.
"You call your homeless network whenever you need information" the first argued, "and I can't say how many times Jim has helped us".
John was looking from his counterpart to Sherlock, and there was a question in his eyes the consulting detective didn't know how to answer.
"Ask for help" and "seeking help" had always been different things in his eyes, perhaps wrongly; but there was a distinction that he had never been able to overcome in asking for help. "Asking for help" implied that one owed the person a favour afterwards; in other words, asking for help meant looking for assistance where it wouldn't be given out of generosity. He had never asked his friends for help – he had sought for help, and had received it. The only one who had ever asked for help had been Mycroft. In this world, of course, they could not do that.
And the homeless network was paid for what they did, although Sherlock often gave them too much money for how little he received in return, and he suspected that John did it as well.
Therefore asking for help could only mean one thing.
"Is there anyone else at Scotland Yard besides Gregson?"
Bill and John stared at him, something like comprehension in their eyes.
John frowned and thought about it before answering.
"Gregson would help me" he said slowly, "and there are a few others I have helped during the past few years. There's a new one too; I haven't talked to him yet. Dimmock, I think".
"He's interested" Bill said. "I talked to him while you were at St. Bart's."
Of course Dimmock was interested. Sherlock and he had worked together more often since he'd returned and learned that the DI had defended him after his disappearance – not exactly with words, but with silence; he had never confessed that he had doubted Sherlock, visited his funeral and called him a few days after his official return to ask him about a case. If this world's Dimmock was anything like theirs, he would be a good accomplice if they could get him to believe them.
"Scotland Yard it is, then" Greg said. He didn't sound enthusiastic, but Sherlock decided that had to do with being reluctant to go to Scotland Yard. His homeless network had always preferred to leave the scene as soon as the police arrived too.
No one asked the obvious question of how they would get there because the answer was equally obvious. Sherlock and John knew London; they would be able to get them to the Yard, at least. There, they had to put their hope in Gregson, Dimmock and others.
They would need them to send police cars to several addresses, Sherlock quickly explained, to give the impression that they were desperate and didn't know where Trevelyan was hiding. Mrs. Hudson had to believe that it was only a matter of time before they would walk into a trap. She had undoubtedly set enough.
Before they could set the plan in motion, however, they would have to find Trevelyan.
So they waited.
Exactly thirty minutes after he had begun, Jim looked up and announced that he had found a scientist named Garrideb who was notorious because he always did his work at home; he hadn't left his house in years. He was also an expert on parallel universes.
At least they knew where to go to from Scotland Yard, now.