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SPOILERS for the first episode for season three. . Guarantee you can find it on youtube. looked for it earlier today and did find it with little searching
Jen sat with her legs crossed staring at the clock as she tapped her nails against her coffee mug. She hated this waiting nonsense, but she was very excited for her companion to arrive and join her for coffee or tea, whichever he preferred. She glanced at the clock again as the bell rang out letting her know that someone had entered. Her eyes darted to the man approaching her. She cringed at the mustache on his face.
"Get rid of it," she told him as she stood to greet him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest ready to take a stand against the atrocity.
"What?" he asked pausing in front of her.
"The mustache," she told him with a sigh. "Get rid of it." They both stared at each other before they laughed and hugged. "How are you, John?" she grinned sitting down.
"I'm good, real good," he replied. "How was the case in uh… what was it?" He tried to search for the name, but she was so often gone out of the country that it was hard to keep track these days.
"Peru," she reminded him with a smile. "It was… a disaster." She tossed her head back and laughed amused by the very idea of the case; he smiled happy to see the woman so put together after everything. She was back on her feet quicker than he was, and now, after nearly two years, everything, as far as he could tell, seemed to be perfect for her. He was happy for her. "How's Mary? I haven't gotten a chance to speak to her since I got back."
"She's well," John said. "I uh… I'm going to ask her to marry me." Jen put down the cup of coffee she was sipping.
"You sure?" Jen asked with a frown. The two hadn't known each other horribly long, and maybe it wasn't such a fantastic idea.
"Yes, of course. You're the one who introduced me to Mary," John reminded her. She waved him off with a frown.
"Pardon," Jen said with a smile. "I'm all about taking things slow."
"Yes, I recall Mark complaining about you being a snail," John informed her making her chuckle. "How is he? Have you seen him and Lucy?"
"Of course," Jen said sitting back and drinking her coffee. "They picked me up from the airport, and we had late dinner last night."
"You uh…," John shuffled and cleared his throat, "you got in a relationship pretty fast after Sherlock. You sure you're alright?" She sighed and set her cup on the table. She took a breath and leaned her head back considering the question.
"I'm a creature of," she shook her head and started over. "When things around me change without my consent, I feel the need to change everything in my life as a way to balance out the things I couldn't change. That's why I quit my job and became a consulting detective; that's why I moved even if just a few floors above; that's why I got a dog, and that's one of the reasons that I started dating Mark."
"It's not a very good reason; you're using him as a rebound. You've been dating him for a year and half now, Jen. You rarely have sex-"
"Oi," she objected, "that's not your business."
"Mark's a friend," John reminded her. She rolled her eyes and made a hand gesture to allow him to continue. "He's asked you to move in with him; you've said no. He's asked to move in with you; you said no. He's asked you to marry him; you said no."
"It's all too much too fast," she argued. "Hell, the chemicals that the brain releases when you first meet people doesn't dull down until a year after you've been dating, you know?"
"Where'd you learn that?" he asked suspicious about the sudden chemistry knowledge. She loathed chemistry.
"Averay's been trying to teach me chemistry," she told him bitterly making him laugh. "She say I'm incompetent; I hate being undermined by a teenager."
"How is your Doctor Watson?" he joked. Averay had become her assistant now that the girl was going to university in the city. She was studying psychology like Jen, but she had a decent amount of knowledge in subjects Jen lacked proving her to be quite useful. Chemistry proved to be the most useful.
"Oh, she would like to think I'm her Doctor Watson," she teased him making him laugh.
"Well, she is a Holmes," John said.
"Arrogant like one too," she assured him making him chuckle. John frowned realizing something very seriously wrong with their conversation. He shook his head.
"Wait, wait, wait, you got me off track," he argued. "Mark! Do you even love him?"
"I care about him very deeply," she told him with a nod.
"That's not love, Jen," he reminded her making give him a face of annoyance. He smiled at her; sometimes, she reminded him of Sherlock. On some days, that was good, and on others, it was terrible to be reminded of their now gone friend. "Well, you shouldn't pull him along if you're not going anywhere."
"Sometimes going nowhere is the best destination in the world," she told him with a sigh.
"And sometimes, it's simply going nowhere," he replied obviously. "He loves you, Jen; Lucy loves you. Don't ruin that."
"I won't," she assured him. Her hands started tapping against her glass again. "I'll be out of town again," she informed him.
"Where are you going?"
"Russia," she told him. "I just took the case this morning. It's a kidnapping/murder/rape, so that's always pleasant. Damon said he'll keep watching Toby for me."
"The dog likely misses his owner," John told her with a smile. "We all do; you never seem to be in the country since… well, you know."
"No, no," she said shaking her head. "It has nothing to do with that, John. I like being out of the country. I just didn't the last few years because well, I had a normal people job. Why did I want one of those?" John laughed making her grin before she looked at her watch. "My plane leaves soon; I should go." They both stood, and Jen kissed his cheek gingerly. "I'll be back soon, and I'll stay for a bit. Promise."
"I'll take your word for that," John said with a smile. "You, Mark, Mary, and I can go out to dinner together. Leave Myra to watch Lucy."
"Sounds a bit grown-up," she replied in mock horror before he grinned, and she waved at him rather airily and disappeared out into the streets. He watched her go; perhaps, Sherlock Holmes's death was the best thing to happen to her. After all, Ginevra Lorraine hadn't had an attack in two years.
He was bleeding out all over the clean floor sporting possibly a broken nose with Mycroft looking rather smug standing just feet away. Over him stood a rather tall blonde man, who given the state of his suit and hands would cause one to believe he didn't have much in him let alone a punch hard enough to break someone's nose. He was beginning to wonder if the Verown family were all some sort of genetic experiment. This was the second time he's broken something at their hands.
"What in the hell was-"
"You hurt my sister, Holmes" Robert Verown informed him, "so I broke your nose. You're lucky it wasn't your skull."
"Okay, fine," Sherlock hissed straightening himself trying to act dignified as Mycroft's assistant gave him a handkerchief. "Where's Ginny, then?" he snapped snatching the handkerchief from the woman. "You told me about John. Now, where's Ginny?"
"Not in the country," Robert told him simply. "She took a case in Russia at the last minute."
"Case?" Sherlock asked. "What do you mean case?" Robbie and Mycroft looked at each other before back at him. Did he really not know? Did he not see the papers after his 'suicide'?
"You didn't read the paper after your death?" Robbie asked.
"No," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "dull."
"She took up your position," Mycroft told him. "She takes cases others can't solve, but she often takes ones that involve her leaving the country."
"What about her job at Bart's?"
"She quit," Robbie replied. "Couldn't stand the damn place." Robbie leaned against Mycroft's desk. He was only there to make sure Sherlock got what was coming to him for all this suicide nonsense. He may have had good reason, but that didn't excuse his behavior.
"Does she still live in 221C?"
"No," her older brother replied shaking his head. Sherlock was disappointed with the news.
"She moved up to 221B," Mycroft to him.
"Oh," he said happily surprised.
"She took John's old room and keeps the place relatively the same as when you lived there. She's made a few additions and such, but she's sentimental," Mycroft replied with a tightlipped smile. A sentimental woman was not the kind that Mycroft would think his brother would enjoy the company of, yet he had never been more wrong.
"When will she be back? Why didn't you ask her to look into the terrorist cell?" Sherlock asked him.
"She'll be back when her case is over," Robbie told him, "and I don't want her involved in certain cases." Sherlock observed the German government carefully. He looked a bit worn down as if he hadn't slept for a few days; something was worrying him, something big, and more likely than not, something to do with Jen. "I'd rather she didn't get blown up thanks."
"You're concern is so touching," Sherlock replied bitterly toward him. He still didn't like Robert Verown one bit even if he had assisted him and Mycroft in his destruction of Moriarty's web. It was likely Jen's influenced him to hold Robert in such low regards, and the fact that he was a friend of Mycroft's just gave him more of a reason.
"Don't hurt my sister, Mr. Holmes," Robbie said pushing off Mycroft's desk ready leave. He was growing tired of being in the company of the Holmes brothers. "Or not even big brother couldn't stop the bullet I put in your head." Mycroft was silent as he watched Robbie leave not objecting to the threat; he glanced at Sherlock.
"Don't get on the wrong side of Robert Verown. He'll kill you without remorse," Mycroft warned him.
"I know that, Mycroft," Sherlock said viciously, "and I don't intend to hurt her. After all, I'm back! She'll be thrilled!" Sherlock clapped his hands together happily. Mycroft frowned; he didn't see the paper. He didn't see the extent that Jen defended him; he didn't see her declaration. He didn't know how much revealing his lie was going to hurt her, and Mycroft could see that; it was painfully obvious, and he pitied his little brother.
The dog barked at the stranger rather aggressively as he tried to enter Jen's flat. It was an ugly long haired, lop-eared creature, half spaniel and half lurcher, brown and white in color, with a very clumsy waddling gait, but nevertheless, it was a defensive thing.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called. "What is a dog doing in my flat!?" Mrs. Hudson made a tutting noise before pushing her way into the flat to see Jen's dog trying to scare off Sherlock.
"Toby, stop that," Mrs. Hudson ordered the dog who immediately stopped his barking and ran to the corner of the room lying under Jen's piano like a cowardly little thing. "Jen found him on the streets; poor thing was nearly starved to death. Damon takes care of him when Jen's gone; she went to Russia this time with Averay, you know?" Mrs. Hudson made her way into the kitchen tisking. "She left dirty dishes again!"
"Averay?" Sherlock question. His niece? What his niece doing with her? When did that happen?
"She helps Jen solve cases like John did with you," she told him with a nod. "She helps take care of Jen during bad days. Sometimes, when Jen's home, she just sits in here and starts using the most vulgar language. It's dreadful; usually Mark manages to pull her out of here despite her protests."
"Mark?" he asked spinning around to face Mrs. Hudson.
"Yes. Lucy's father; they've been dating for quite a bit now," she replied starting the dishes. "He's quite a nice fellow."
"Dating?" he spat in disgust climbing over the table to head to her in uproar. "Ginny doesn't date; it's too boringly normal!"
"Well, she does now dear," Mrs. Hudson informed him as he practically loomed over her. "A lot has changed. Marked two years since her last attack just the other month. She was very proud; everyone went out and celebrated before she went running off to Japan to solve a case." Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Poor dear. She was devastated when she thought you died, didn't come out of her flat for days. Thought she may have… well, it doesn't matter, now. She's never been better."
Jen grinned looking at the murderer with a laugh; oh, this was fun. This was very fun. She could get used to this, she mused as she ran her fingers down the current jacket she was wearing, Moriarty's jacket, as she debated what to do. "Should I kill you or just mock you? Can you even shoot me at this range, you idiot?" she mocked the man before her with a grin that could terrify the devil himself. The killer seemed unnerved at her; he killed 46 women, and he was unnerved by her. It was a laugh; it was a riot, and Jen could only feel the adrenaline in her own veins dull as he seemed hesitate on what to do, so she mocked him. "Well!? Do it!" she shouted at him as her voice scratched hoarsely.
"Are you mad?" he asked growing rather scared of her. The brand of criminals these days were just too soft.
"Nah, I've just got no more cards in my hand," she laughed before she gripped his wrist, but not before he pulled the trigger. It didn't stop her from breaking his wrist and knocking him out even as the bullet sliced her side. She gripped her side cussing. "Fucking- ah."
"Your lack of concern for your own life is disturbing," Averay said with a sigh used to this by now. She just shrugged and grinned as she leaned on Averay, who was now taller than Jen. "Let's get you to a hospital."
Mycroft very carefully used the tweezers to enter the body. He seemed highly concentrated as the phone rang making him jump in alarm nearly causing him to curse.
"Leave it," Sherlock said intensely watching his hand. Slowly, Mycroft lower his hand to the body ready to perform the operation. This could mean life or death.
"This is Jen; I'm not here. Leave a message, or don't because I won't call you back," Jen's voice rang out as the answering machine beeped.
"Hi, Damon. This is Jen," Jen's tried voice told him making Sherlock jumped up hitting the table causing the game: Operation to buzz out making Mycroft throw the tweezers down on the board. "Your phones out-"
"You lose Mycroft," Sherlock informed him as he turned to get the phone.
"-so I just wanted to let you know that I'll be gone a few more days than expected-"
"That doesn't count," Mycroft told him refusing to loose to his little brother. "You interfered."
"-as I was shot."
"Shot!?" Sherlock shouted nearly at the phone. How did she get shot? Didn't she know how to be careful?
"Yes, I'm fine just give Averay a buzz, hon." Sherlock frantically picked up the phone to say something to her, anything. Dear Lord, did he really miss her that much?
"Hello, hello," Sherlock questioned, but the line was dead already. Cursing, he slammed the phone down; he had missed his opportunity. What he would have said to her, he didn't know.
"You could always call her," Mycroft told him setting up operation again. "Ah, that's right. She thinks you're dead."
"Shut up, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped sitting back in front of him ready to easily beat him in Operation at any cost. This was life and death to them; winner take all.
John wandered the flat in front of Sherlock. He looked at Jen's things and picked up the picture of Sherlock and Jen she had framed.
"I'm surprised you didn't remove these," John noted with a smile looking at the one of Sherlock and Mycroft playing pirates as children as he put the frame picture back.
"They're her things; I'll speak to her when she gets back now that she'll be sharing the flat with me," Sherlock told him watching his friend slowly look over everything; Jen had changed little in the flat surprising John. He wouldn't imagine she would be able to live in a house so haunted with memories.
"So she knows?" John asked wondering if that was what was difference between him and Jen. She had seemed never better; he seemed to have finally rebounded.
"Ginny? No. Doesn't know a thing," he replied as if there was nothing to worry about when it came to her, "but I think she'll be happy to see me." John paused and stared at him in disbelief. Did he really not know? Did she not know? Oh, dear God, this was bad; this was very bad. He had seen her once destroy everything in their flat because she thought a book was destroyed.
"She'll kill you," John told him obviously now terrified for Sherlock's life. He wasn't dead, so she would make sure her grief was for some reason.
"Hm?"
"Jen will literally murder you, Sherlock. You think she'll be pleased. She quit her job; she went mental for the few weeks," John told him. "Graffitied all of London; she loved you, and you destroyed her."
"She didn't love me; we were just friends," Sherlock said offhandedly blatantly ignoring him.
"Didn't you read the papers?" John whispered.
"Papers!? Why does everyone keep asking me that?! What papers!?" Sherlock asked. John sighed before he went and shuffled through one of Jen's draw pulling on the paper after Sherlock's death. John shoved it in his hands and sat across from him as he read over 'I Believe in Sherlock Holmes' by Jen. He skimmed over it ending with Sherlock dropping his hand and the paper from in front of his eyes in awe, confusion, and a slight amount of fear and worry. "Dear Lord, she's going to kill me."
"If Damon doesn't get to you first," John told him simply. "I would rather have Damon do it. He'll probably shoot you; Jen will likely make as painful as she possibly can." The door to the house opened and a pair of heavy shoes walk up the stairs sounding tired. "There's Damon now. Better start making excuses," John told him as the door opened to reveal the handsome blonde criminal, who looked tired from a long day of dealing with conmen. His eyes immediately fell on Sherlock, who was unsure what to say to him to prevent him from being shot.
"Not… dead," Sherlock said slowly trying to gauge his reaction. Damon stared at him as if he was frozen to the spot before Damon started laughing amused at the supposedly dead man.
"Oh, she is going to kill you," Damon said going to the answering machine as Toby came out from his hiding spot under the piano to nuzzle Damon's hand. He hit the answering machine before bending to pet the dog.
"That's it?" Sherlock asked not impressed by his reaction as he listened to Jen's voicemail. "No how did you do it? Why did you do it? I better kill you before she finds out?"
"Why? She'll be a lot less merciful than I'll be," Damon told him making him cringe. He was right. "Besides, I've withheld enough from Jen to last a lifetime. She has the right to know about you, and do what she wants with that knowledge. Hope it's bloody."
"Hey Damon. Your phones out, so I just wanted to let you know that I'll be gone a few more days than expected as I was shot. Yes, I'm fine just give Averay a buzz, hon," Jen's voice rang out making Damon sigh.
"Shot again?" John asked not surprised to hear but worried at the sort of situations she got into. "Isn't that the fifth time in the last three months?"
"She's reckless," Damon told him being the only one to believe she hadn't gotten better in the last two years but worse in her own way. The attacks have stopped, but her mental health was starting to become alarming, but where do you send a psychiatrist when she needs one of her own? "She hasn't had an attack in two years, but that doesn't mean she's better." Damon took out his cellphone and dialed her number as he took Toby's leash to take him for a walk. "Have fun on your last few days alive, Mr. Holmes, and congratulations on the engagement, John." Damon turned to leave the flat as someone on the other end answered his call.
"Well, that's a shame he didn't kill you," John said pleasantly. Sherlock looked back down at the paper and dropped it in his lap miserable.
"She's going to murder me," Sherlock told him.
"Yes."
"What do women like?" Sherlock asked him suddenly trying to think of something to do.
"What?"
"Maybe I can ease the blow," Sherlock replied desperately or this was going to end badly. She would get hurt leading him to likely be on the floor bleeding out with her standing over him shouting. Uh, this was going to be unpleasant.
"Normal women like flowers, jewelry, and chocolate," John told him. "Though Jen-"
"Ginny hates flowers as they're a symbol of death to her," Sherlock informed him. "She thinks jewelry is overrated, and she loves chocolate, but I doubt that will lessen the: I faked my death aspect."
"How do you know all that?" John asked him in awe of his knowledge of her. "You can't deduce her."
"That wasn't a deduction; that was knowledge from conversations we've had in the past," Sherlock replied as if it was all rather obvious. John wondered why he hadn't deleted those minuscule facts. "What do I do?" he asked at a complete lose about how to even tell her he was alive and survive the conversation. He barely survived telling John; there was no telling what Jen would do. She was unpredictable, and that was admirable, but not in this case. In this case, it was just dangerous.
The plane landed in London with ease, but Jen had always despised flying and got off thankful to be back on the ground. Averay was chatting away at her about chemistry making her once again feel like an idiot, but then again, she always felt like an idiot around the Holmes family.
"Oh, I told Mark I would check in when we grounded," Jen said turning on her phone as they got in a cab to head back to Baker Street. It had been off since she left the country. She never had it on during cases due to potential dangers it could cause if it rang during investigation. She simply used Averay's phone if she needed to call someone. "Anderson texted me," she mused seeing a text from Anderson. She enjoyed his little fan club, though many of the fans there like to put their own two sense into the relationship between herself and Sherlock, annoying her to no end.
"Probably another insane theory on how Sherlock's not dead," Averay said distastefully. She hated his stupid little theories; they drove her insane as they were all painfully idiotic and cliche.
"I like them," Jen told her. "I think they're thoughtful, entertaining, and a bit elaborate." She opened the text to see in all capital letters:
NOT DEAD! with an article attached from the press declaring Sherlock Holmes alive.
"What?" Jen said lowly staring at the phone.
"What is it?" Averay asked noting her hand suddenly curl into a ball, and her entire figure quake.
"I... I... grieved over him; I cried over him; I went to his grave," she muttered staring at her phone. She felt like she was being torn every which way and things she hadn't moved passed ripped her open making the wound fresh again. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't cry about Sherlock Holmes again. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't find the words. She was in a daze making her world spin.
"What is it?" Averay asked again causing Jen to give the phone to her. She blinked several times before she let out a low 'oh.'
"You knew," Jen said dryly still trying to find her words.
"Family… secret," she uttered making Jen drop her hand as she stared at the backseat in front of her. "Jen," she whispered slowly becoming terrified by the woman's silence. She expected a fit and screaming and threats, but not this shocked silence that hung thick. "Jen?" she questioned again as the spinning world froze and her veins froze leaving her with a pit in her stomach and a quack in her hand that would only be settled by one action. She let her intended action slip off her tongue.
"I'm going to kill him," she replied quietly as she folded her hands in her lap. Averay swallowed the bile building up in her throat; if she was screaming, it she was shouting, she would have taken her threat lightly, but Jen was rolling in cold anger. This anger was ice, and when Jen's blood froze, she was her most terrifying and most dangerous.
"Jen, Sherlock-"
"Averay, shut up," she said her words cutting through the air like steel making Averay fall silent and sit back watching her eyes dart as she began slipping on some sort of cold madness. She struggle to keep her own sanity in her grasps, but she was failing. Averay opened her mouth to say something, but the woman frightened her in a way that could not be described. The car jolted to a halt, and with what seemed like calm, Jen slipped out of the car and made her way up the stairs before crashing into Mary in the doorway.
"Jen," she said rolling with worry that didn't go unnoticed by Jen but was pushed aside.
"Where is Sherlock Holmes?" she asked her clearly staring forward at the wall; she was cold and clear making, but Mary had other things to worry about.
"I don't know," Mary told her. "John's phone is going to straight to voicemail so is Sherlock's. They've been working on a case involving a bombing; I'm worried."
"A bombing?" Jen asked before a smile slowly pulled across her face. "Oh, that's perfect."
"For what?" Mary asked confused. Jen grinned at her rocking on her feet; something was off; something wasn't right with her.
Jen's feet crunched on the ground as Toby lead both her and Averay through the tunnels toward what could only be their destination. Though an older dog, Toby was a hell of a tracker and was fowling with ease.
"Jen, Sherlock was only trying to do what he-"
"Sh," Jen replied putting a finger to her lips. She seemed actually rather pleased by this situation scaring Averay more than needed. Jen's flashlight caught the sight of an old carriage abandoned out on the track; she could hear the distinctive sound of John yelling. "Take Toby, and get out of here," Jen told her giving her the flashlight.
"But-"
"Do as I say," she ordered making the girl huff and take the dog's leash. Jen finished walking down the tracks before she ripped the door to the carriage open. Sherlock and John spun around to her.
"Jen... what are you doing here?" John asked as she slowly lifted herself into the carriage, but she didn't answer as she stared at Sherlock.
"Are you going to shoot me?" he asked.
"I have no gun on me, or I assure you I would," she replied, "but I don't need one. You can search all you want for a method on how to defuse a bomb. You won't find it." They continued staring at each other; Jen was trying to assess if this was real, if it was happening. Sherlock was trying to decide if she had a good enough grip on her already shaky sanity; he wasn't sure he would be walking off the train alive.
"How do you know that he doesn't?" John argued trying to break the tension. Jen looked at Sherlock and gestured to explain how she knew that.
"Damn," Sherlock muttered remembering how she knew. "I told her it wasn't necessary as my job is to find the terrorist not defuse the bomb, but you, Ginny, you wonderful enigma! You know how!" He was testing her, seeing what would happen. He was in uncharted territory, and she might just let them blow up.
"You know how to defuse a bomb?" John asked her. "How? You don't even know how to update your computer."
"Shut up," she told him shaking her head.
"So defuse it," John gestured at the bomb in the hidden compartment. He was trying to pretend that this was going to happen, that she was there to save them even though it was all obvious.
"No," she told him simply.
"I'm sorry?" John asked deflating hoping that this wasn't the case, but it proved to be in fact what she wanted. She was about to watch the two die with her in the flames for Sherlock's deceitful behavior. It was dramatic, but then again, if Jen did something, it was either all the way or not at all. This seemed right up her alley.
"No," she said sitting down in one of the seats of the cart.
"What do you mean no?" Sherlock snapped. Even though he was suspecting her behavior from the minute he opened that railway carriage, he hoped she wouldn't risk the lives of all of parliament for her little vendetta. It secretly pleased him that this wasn't the case. "If you don't defuse the bomb, we're not the only ones who will die, Ginny. What do you mean no?"
"I thought you were dead, Sherlock," she practically whispered as she pulled at the edge of her red winter jacket. "I want an explanation and an apology, or us as well as all of parliament is going to burn. So I suggest you find the time, sit, and explain." Sherlock stared at her before he let out a laugh.
"You always were brilliant, Gin," he told her sitting across from her in the tube. "You know what Moriarty wanted to do. You knew he gave me-"
"Yes, yes, shut up. We don't have much time," she told him. "I get that. Why did you wait two years to tell me? I don't understand."
"Because Moriarty didn't have a gun on you, Ginny," he replied simply.
"What?" Jen asked with a frown not happy with his reply. "What do you mean? Why would that stop you?"
"He didn't have a gun on you, because he had other plans for you. I feared telling you without knowing what he wanted would not end well."
"Well, what did he want?" she asked her inquiries quickly took priority over the desire to strangle him with her bare hands.
"I questioned every member of Moriarty's web, and I have no idea, Ginny," he told her. "I have no idea what he wanted from you and what he planned. No one did, so I came back hoping you had an explanation. Hoping something has happened that would show me what it is he wanted." Jen paused and stared at him before she rubbed the back of her neck.
"I confronted James right before he went to Bart's," she admitted quietly. "I offered to give him everything, anything he desires. He refused and knocked me unconscious… he carried home, left me with his jacket, and asked Mrs. Hudson to take care of me. For two years, I have been trying to figure out why, and I have no idea. Does that tell you anything?"
"Yes and no," Sherlock told her before pushing his hands in his thinking position.
"I don't think now is the time to really be discussing this," John told them both in alarm. Jen leaned back from her previously bent in position and crossed her legs.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why?! Why?!" he asked with a nervous laugh. "There is a bomb-"
"Oh, that," Jen said rolling her eyes before she looked down at the bomb's timer. "Well, there's only thirty seconds left. I want an apology."
"And apology? For what? For potentially saving your life?" he questioned.
"For leaving me," she told him simply. "You committed the worst offense any human ever could toward me, and you know I mean that." He watched her with shifting eyes.
"Sherlock! Just apologize!" John ordered starting to panic as the clock clicked down toward the last moments. He continued to stare at her; he knew to an extent how much this would hurt her. She was a BPD patient, and to leave her crushed her, but he didn't really know how much it had hurt her until he saw the paper, until he saw with his own eyes the article telling him she loved him.
"You know I'll let this bomb go off," she told him.
"I know," he replied making her give him a curious look, "but if I did apologize now, who's to say it's not because I don't want to let myself die. I like me too much." She supressed the urge to laugh and smile before she replied.
"Be sincere," she answered. "I'll know if you're lying."
"Oh God," John muttered realizing that this conversation could go on until the bomb ticked down to its last. Sherlock took his time to find the words.
"Ginny, Ginevra," he started, "I'm so sorry. I swear if there was any other way without bringing potential harm to you, I would have chosen that option." Jen took a breath and skimmed his eyes trying to find a hint of a lie as John continued to panic. She found it to be true, but it didn't make her feel better.
"I don't forgive you," she told him making his whole body fall in surprised pain. Jen fished out her mobile and quickly opened a seemingly normal app. The countdown on the bomb froze as they saw several flashlights coming toward them down the tunnel.
"Ah, and that's the police I told Averay to call," she told them.
"What is that?" John asked pointing at her phone.
"Just my phone," she replied simply tossing it in her hand.
"And you used it to defuse the bomb?"
"I have an app for that," she told him making both her and Sherlock laugh as John started muttering 'Jesus' under his breath.
"Ah, fresh air," she said taking deep breaths as they came out from the underground with Averay and Toby both waiting for them on the surface. Averay was nervously fidgeting with the leash in her hands.
"Defused?" Averay asked, but it was really a question to break her out of her thoughts as she seemed to be considering something.
"Mm?" she questioned before shaking her head. "Yes," she said cheerily before she turned to Sherlock. "I've just forgotten something."
"What's that?" Sherlock asked confused before she punched him in the face and then kneed him in the stomach as he bent over in pain causing him to fall to the ground.
"If you ever do that to me again," she warned him, "I swear to God you will wish you would have died on that rooftop. If you think you know pain, you have no fucking idea. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly," he groaned slowly trying to get up from the ground after being punch for the fifth time that week. To his surprise and disappointment, she seemed to lack the strength to even make him bleed.
"Great," she said with a shade of happiness. "Come on, Averay. We have to get to the flat and write up the last case." She started down the street, and John and Sherlock caught up to them. "Who else knew?" she asked him.
"Hm?"
"Well, your family knew, and who else?"
"Some members of my homeless network… MollyandRobbie," he added at the ended in such rapid succession that Jen nearly had to ask him again. She shook her head in annoyance.
"Right," she said clenching her teeth. Robbie was simply trying to pry his way into her life again, surprise, surprise. But Molly? Molly had watched her break apart; she had watched her cry and watched her heartbreak, and she said nothing. That just wouldn't do. Then again, Averay had a hundred opportunities to tell her and never said a word. Perhaps she shouldn't have been angry with Molly.
"I know you're angry-"
"No," she told Sherlock cutting him off surprising him.
"No?" he questioned. She turned to look him, so he could fully understand what she was feeling, and that she meant every word she said.
"I'm disappointed in you," she replied. "I thought John and I meant more to you than that."
"I did this, so you wouldn't get hurt," he snapped at her.
"No, you did this, because you didn't think it would hurt," she told him. "Never have you been so wrong, and never have felt more ashamed of you." She turned on her heels and continued down the street.
"Ginny," he said weakly, but she didn't hear him, only John did, and perhaps John had initially been angry with Sherlock, but he did pity Sherlock. Jen was harsh with her words when they expected it to be violent and messy. She was cold, clear, and concise.
"She'll forgive you," John assured him watching her back as she retreated away from them with Averay at her side, and Toby trotting next to her. "I thought she was to kill you on the carriage. It's was terrifying."
"I rather she had lashed out more in physical anger," Sherlock told him with a sigh. "It would have been easier."
"Give it time," John replied before they both made to catch up with them. They were silent all the way back to Baker Street. When they entered, Mrs. Hudson came in and started a pot of tea as she rambled to Jen how great it was to have the boys back, and Jen mmed at her comments distracted by a cluster of papers on her desk, which happened to be Sherlock's old desk. She picked up an old newspaper before collapsing in her chair to read it.
"Did you call Mark?" Averay called from the kitchen as she put on the kettle.
"Hm?" Jen questioned not hearing her or perhaps not listening. She often ignored Averay causing the girl to think Jen had picked up some of Sherlock's habits over the last few years.
"Did you call Mark?" Averay asked again walking into the sitting room. Jen let the paper fall before looking to the girl.
"Why would I call Mark?" she questioned with a frown. Averay gave her a look of surprise waiting for her to realize why she had to call Mark. "Oh… Oh!" she shouted out before finding her cell phone and dialing his number. "Hello, darling. This is Jen; I landed about an hour or so ago. I'm currently at home if you want to drop by, or you can give me a ring." She hung up the phone.
"Voicemail?"
"Obviously," she said before she flipped the page in the paper.
"Anything good?" Averay asked.
"No," she replied throwing the paper aside tired with it before her eyes fell on Holmes. "Why are you still here?"
"I live here," he informed her.
"No."
"Yes," he replied. "I've already settled in."
"You can't live here," Jen told him bluntly as she stood from her chair to confront him.
"Why?"
"Because I live here," she said as if it was obvious.
"Yes, I can see that, Ginny. I'm not any idiot, but since all my things are here, it seems I live here too."
"No, you can't. I'm not happy with you, and I need time to cope not to mention the accusations that would be made if we lived in the same flat," she argued.
"Who cares what people say?" he asked bored with the idea of what must go on in normal people's minds.
"I do," she told him irritated. "I have a…" She seemed hesitant to say she was in a relationship, and it didn't go unnoticed, "…a boyfriend, and he won't exactly be thrilled with me sharing a flat with you especially after… No! You can't live here!"
"What are you going to do? Kick me out?"
"Yes."
"Actually, dear, Sherlock's name is still on the lease," Mrs. Hudson chimed in. "You never bothered changing the name."
"Good job, Mrs. Hudson," John encouraged with a smile so quietly only Mrs. Hudson heard him. He wanted things to try and go back to the way they were, and the only way to do that was to make sure the two, who were once practically a couple, were at least on friendly terms.
"Ha! So technically I could kick you out!" Sherlock said smugly.
"No, you will not, Sherlock Holmes!" she shouted irritated. "I will never speak to you again if you try!"
"Actually, her name replaced John's on the lease," Mrs. Hudson informed him.
"Ha!" she argued back. "Nice try!"
"Well, then it seems we're at an impasse," he replied pleased with the fact that he technically got his way. She frowned.
"Oh, I hate you," she snapped collapsing back in her chair before Averay handed her a cup of tea. She took it out of her hands before throwing it Sherlock's head starting what would certainly be an arrangement that left them at each other's throats.
A/N: What? What? What? I got twenty reviews and a whole slew of follows of course. I am so pleased with all of you I could kiss you, or not, because human contact is... I'm like Sherlock with human contact, so how about I give you thumbs up... no? Alright then, awkward virtual hug it is.
Yes! I'm early because of all the reviews and I figure I could post again on Sunday after the last episode of the season. This will be the only spoiler chapter until after part one is over. See you Sunday! Review please darlings! I would like to know what you think! And I'm glad Moriarty's jacket through some of you off. I would never be so obvious ;D
Thanks to reviewers (jesus this is going to be a doozy): Feint Illusion, Lunar678, , hannahhobnob, TinkerbellxO, smilin steph, Protagonist of Life, short-skirtbluescarf, knetterzak, jessicaj321, Liberty Blake, leaisnotonfire, OddPotato, xJillPhantom, MarchHoliday, Flute Domination, scarlet tribe, and. .okumura. There was so many of you that if I skimmed passed you or screwed up your user name my apologies! And thank you for all of you who came back for the sequel!
And for those who told me to bring it on, it will be brought... except... not now... or yet because you know have to get through the initial set up... but YEAH! It'll be brought!