Author's Note: My word, guys! This is the last chapter. O.O Oops! That snuck up on me; didn't know it would be so soon. This is the other controversial part, and to be honest, just as an up-front...I don't necessarily agree with the choices Sherlock makes in this chapter. He made it as a character in my head, and I wrote it. I think he did do a good thing, but...ugh, you'll just have to read it to see what I mean. :P I hope you guys like it, and even if you don't, feel free to let me know and explain why. I am very open-minded. :) Normally. ;) Just kidding, no, really guys. Lemme know what you think.
Disclaimer: Paxton and Chi Sung are mine. The rest belongs to minds greater than my own.
"I need you to be present anyway, to witness the signing of some documents…Mycroft of necessity knows about it, but he wouldn't trouble to leave his lair. Although," Sherlock added, as a reluctant afterthought, "he has been unusually helpful in the matter. To a point."
John was a little worried. What documents was Sherlock signing? And Mycroft was collaborating on the issue, whatever it was; that sounded ominous. He looked out the cab window and tried to guess where they were going. He hadn't recognized the address Sherlock had given the driver, and the added instruction to "take us the back way and drop us off behind" sounded mysterious too. Obviously this was not something Sherlock wanted everybody knowing about.
When they arrived, it was an extremely pleasant spot. A very large, but tastefully architected building stood towering several stories above them, with a spacious garden and walkways behind. John had never explored the Diogenes Club; he wondered if this could be what it looked like viewed from behind. But he didn't think so. Sherlock paid the cabby and showed his ID to a man at the wrought-iron gate. The man nodded and let them through.
John followed Sherlock through the airy, sunlit halls, nearly trotting to keep up with his friend's purposeful stride. It was a nice place; definitely posh.
"Right, uh…where are we?" John asked, finally, his voice hushed. The elegance and grandeur of the surroundings instinctively made him want to whisper.
"Stettenhearst," Sherlock answered, not slackening his pace. John processed the name. He'd heard of it before…they passed a man in a wheelchair, attended by a nurse in burgundy uniform, sitting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Suddenly, it clicked.
"Stettenhearst…do you mean the Sanctuary at Stettenhearst?"
"Yes."
"Oh." John looked around with possibly more interest than before. "Wow. When I got back from the military I looked into coming here for therapy. Supposed to be the best therapy and rehab place around, but it was a bit out of my range…now I see why," he added, appreciatively.
He wanted to ask why Sherlock knew his way around so well. Had he been here before? And why had they been so careful about what entrance they used? John refrained, however. If Sherlock felt pestered, he wouldn't get any information anyway, and John was patient. He could wait and see. But he was terribly curious.
The hall they were in opened into a lobby, where a young woman sat at a desk. She looked up with a bright smile at their approach.
"Mr. Holmes! How nice to see you this morning. Can I help you gentlemen?"
"Yes, we're here to meet with Doctor Paxton; could you tell him we've arrived?"
The secretary's smile took on a new warmth as she nodded. John glanced between them. Sherlock sometimes did get interesting responses from females, but John didn't think that's what this was. She was certainly pleased about something, though. Did everyone know what was going on but him?
"Yes, of course! He's been expecting you. You can go ahead up to his study; I'll let him know you're coming. You remember how to get there?"
"Yes. Thank you," Sherlock said, pleasantly.
"Uh-huh!" the woman replied, beaming.
Sherlock turned and bounded up a wide marble staircase with a sweeping balustrade. John scurried to catch up and said in a barely contained whisper, "Dr. Paxton? Sir Anthony Paxton? The world-renowned Psychiatric and Mental Doctor?"
"Mm."
John was impressed. As a member of the medical community, he'd heard a lot about Sir Anthony before. Meeting him should be interesting.
He followed Sherlock to the door indicated by the young woman downstairs. Sherlock swept into the room without even knocking, and John followed more timidly. It was a nicely furnished, bright, sunny space; similar in elegance to Mycroft's haunt but of a much lighter and breezier tone.
An elderly man sat behind the mahogany desk, talking to a young black-haired woman whose back was to them.
Dr. Paxton acknowledged them with a nod and a smile.
"Mr. Holmes. And Doctor Watson, is it? Pleasure to have you here." He extended his hand, and John shook it firmly.
"Sir Anthony; the pleasure's mine!"
The young woman turned to look, and John sucked his breath in. Chi-Sung. She stood, and stepped closer to Sherlock, holding out a hand to him. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Mr. Holmes…the Doctor has just been explaining to me what you've done. I thank you, so very much. I can't ever thank you enough."
Sherlock gave her hand a surprisingly gentle squeeze.
"What did he do?" John asked, glancing in turn at everyone in the room. Sherlock didn't reply, but stepped over to the desk, examining the papers there.
"The documents are in order?" he asked. He grabbed a pen and started flipping through the papers, glancing over each one and signing in the required places.
"Sorry, what's going on?" John asked, "What exactly am I witnessing? What did Sherlock do?"
Dr. Paxton smiled.
"Miss Sung has a younger brother whom we believe we can treat here. If things are as I see them, we should be successful in returning him to a normal level of sanity in possibly little over a year. Your friend is meeting the monetary requirements for his rehabilitation, and has also arranged for Miss Sung to be accommodated here while her brother is undergoing treatment."
Sherlock didn't appear to hear, still flipping through papers, but John stared at him.
"Sherlock-"
"Just a minute, nearly done…" Sherlock muttered, eyes flying down the page, and signing the final document. He straightened up. "There we are, Chi Sung, I believe that's settled."
"Mr. Holmes…after what I did to you…thank you…I-"
"I hope your stay here will be a pleasant one," he interrupted, briskly, "Nicer than a prison cell, surely. You won't need to worry about your brother again. Sir Anthony will personally oversee his treatment. And Dr. Manson, so called, will never come near you again. Good morning."
He turned and nodded to Sir Anthony, who shook his hand once more.
"It was good to see you, Sherlock. Thanks again for helping; it's much appreciated it seems." Sir Anthony nodded toward Chi Sung, who was looking over the papers with tears in her eyes.
"It would seem like that, wouldn't it? Good morning."
"Good morning."
John was still staring over at Sherlock. They were driving back to Baker Street, and he was still a little overawed at what had just happened.
"She couldn't go to prison," Sherlock stated, suddenly, "I didn't testify against her or press charges, and since her only serious crime was against me she was left out of the court proceedings. Mycroft took care of the technicalities. If she'd been incarcerated, her brother would have had no caretaker and probably would've been mentally diseased forever. Tony assured me, though, that his condition is a relatively easy fix if the right treatment is administered-"
"Sherlock, why are you telling me this?"
Sherlock looked at him, bewildered. John shook his head.
"You don't have to justify anything, mate. You don't have to explain anything. I think it was a bloody good thing you did back there, alright?"
Sherlock smiled.
John thought, they still had a bumpy road ahead of them. Sherlock's memory still gave him trouble; he wasn't completely back to himself yet. But everything that made him Sherlock was still there. Not least, his gift for constantly surprising. And John would never cease to be amazed.
THE END
Author's Note: So? What's the verdict, guys? This marks the end of our story. I am hoping to have an A-Team fiction up on Friday, but in case that's not finished in time, do I have any requests? I have another "Sherlock" story completed and waiting to be posted, and I think I have one or two "The Hobbit" ones ready, too. Any preferences?