Hey, my lovelies,
Here is a new chapter. The case comes to an end at last. Writing cases is not my forte and I've struggled with this, to say the least. So, please be gentle when the case turns out to be bland. You'll find a few new OCs in this chapter. Yeah, I like my ship crowded! Anyway, there will be action, emotion, exasperation etc. etc. Hope you'll enjoy this massive 8k chapter.
It will be a while till I update next as I am still editing the next chapter/s.
To, Nauss, Raven, Sandylee and Ladytokyo: A huge thanks to all of you for leaving those amazing and positive reviews. Your words help me to go on, and they provide me different views of my stories which are brilliant. I love you all.
Jawn plushies for those who are reading, following and favouring this story.
Enjoy the read!
"Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness
I need to calculate
What creates my own madness
And I'm addicted to your punishment"
-"Getting Away With Murder" by Papa Roach
No one- and John meant it as an umbrella term to include aliens and politicians too- no one should be cooped up with Sherlock for five hours in a car. No one. Period.
At first, it was alright. Well, as alright as revealing John's masturbating habit could be. But still. Then, after barely thirty minutes, Sherlock's foot-tapping started. Then came the insults in the guise of deduction...or vice versa. And John made the fatal mistake of changing his seat from Sherlock's side to Natalie's.
All hell broke loose after that.
At one point, Natalie whispered, when Sherlock was busy tormenting the driver, to John, "Do you mind if I kill your boyfriend?"
"Be my guest and save me the trouble."
"You're the best, John."
Sherlock heard that.
John had to change seats again and sat by Sherlock.
For the rest of the journey, Sherlock spent almost straddling John, glaring at everyone, including the man on whose lap he was sitting.
It was cloudy and gloomy when they reached St. Andrews, doing wonders to Sherlock's already cranky mood. John was sure the driver had been brain damaged permanently by now. However, they finally stood in front of the Lewis household and knocked. Ronald Lewis, Natalie's Uncle, was a tall, plump man with a bald head and a kind and amiable face. It was a bit strange to see how jovially he welcomed his niece and two complete strangers to his house, one of whom was scowling like a cantankerous owl.
After a brief customary introduction, in which John gave one of his melting smile and Sherlock just "mph'd", and after Natalie confirmed about her brother, they were taken to a warm, cozy sitting room. A tall woman stood there with a stern face and a carefully engineered blank expression. Mr. Lewis introduced her as his wife, Margaret Lewis.
"Last night some policemen came from the local police department and appointed two guards in the front. I asked them the reason but they said that the order came from the New Scotland Yard. And then Natalie said last night that she's going to explain things today. Are we in some kind of trouble?" Mr. Lewis asked as soon as they all were seated.
"Are you in trouble or are you the trouble that depends upon what I'd find after I have all my answers."
Oh God, not again. John hid his face behind the palms of his hands and rubbed it. Mr. Lewis, surprisingly, didn't throw them out promptly. He just looked at three of them with a perplexed expression. Mrs. Lewis, however, bore a hole on Sherlock's face with her disdainful stare.
"So, what is it you wanted to know, Mr. Holmes?" She asked, coming straight to the point. Sherlock looked mildly impressed to see someone not willing to waste time.
"About Natalie's father."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face and her eyes darted towards Natalie. But when she answered Sherlock, her tone was flat, "And may we know why you are enquiring about such personal information?"
"Of course. I'm currently investigating a case-"
"With the NSY." John added quickly and earned himself a withering glare from his boyfriend. But John knew the information would help them to handle the Lewises better.
"It seems that your niece and nephew are in mortal peril. Natalie can fill you in with the additional details about the case. Now, if you are concerned about their wellbeing, then cooperate with the investigation."
There was a long silence in which these two stared at each other. The scene reminded John of a show in Animal Planet, where two lions were circling each other before attacking.
"I'm afraid I cannot be of any help on that matter, as I know nothing about him."
Sherlock arched an eyebrow.
"Ah, is that so? Well then, tell us about the man your sister had worked for."
The clench of Mrs. Lewis's jaw was visible. "I won't be able to provide much information on that too."
"Anything would be fine."
Sherlock sounded so supportive that John braced himself for a roller coaster ride. Beside John, Natalie stirred, probably to say something, but John gave a soft pat on her hand, indicating not to say anything right now.
Margaret Lewis regarded Sherlock for a moment long before saying, "My sister took a job of a PA for a business entrepreneur in London, a few months after she moved there. She worked very hard and didn't get much time off. And according to my sister, he was a good employer."
When even after almost a minute she didn't add anything else, Sherlock asked, "Is that all you are going to tell us?"
"That's all I know."
"Are you sure about that?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?"
"What I mean is impertinent here," Sherlock made a dismissive hand gesture, "what you mean is of utmost importance. And when you say that you do not know anything else, do you mean to say that you don't know about the affair your sister was having with her employer? Or do you mean that you don't know that he refused to take the responsibility after she became pregnant with his children?"
Natalie let out a gasp.
"Oh Lord!" Mr. Lewis flopped back.
"How did you get this information, Mr. Holmes?"
"I have my methods, Mrs. Lewis."
John dared not to avert his eyes from Mrs. Lewis, who kept looking at Sherlock with a bland expression, but her eyes betrayed her.
"Marge, I think you should tell them." Ronald Lewis' quiet voice broke the silence first.
"Tell us? Tell us what? That you two knew all along? That you intentionally kept me and Freddie in the dark about our father?" Natalie's voice shook while speaking. She was leaning forward, almost on the edge of the sofa they sat. An accusing and hurt expression adorned her face.
"We did what was best for you, Annie. Do not accuse us for loving you."
Even now, Margaret didn't budge from her place. One hell of a strong woman, John thought.
"Why Auntie? I begged you once to tell me about our father. And you- you just kept telling us lies? Why?"
"Because I made a promise to your mother; she never wanted you to know about him."
"What? Why? Why did Mum do that to us?"
"Because your father refused to accept you and your brother." Sherlock butted in. It was a miracle that he kept quiet for this long. "He was already married when he began his affair with your mother, and feared that this scandal would ruin his public profile, as I'm quite certain he is a notable figure of our elite society."
"You knew too? Sherlock, you...- and you, John?" She turned to him, "Did you know too?"
Before John could even open his mouth, Sherlock asked, "And what if John knew? Even if John knew, why do you think he would have told you when I clearly didn't want you to know? Do not delude yourself thinking that you are more imp-"
John grabbed Sherlock's elbow as subtly as he could manage in a room where everyone's eyes were on him, and shook his head furiously at the jealous git. Sherlock pursed his lips and then pulled them in a grimace, but didn't finish the sentence.
Thank fuck, though John.
"However, if you are done with your miserable sniffling and dodgy sentimentalities, for now of course, can I continue with the investigation, which was the actual reason we came here for?"
Or not. John looked at all the horrified faces and scratched his forehead.
"Now, shall I be the one to fill in the gaps or you'll finally decide to contribute in the investigation to save the lives of those you so claim to love?"
The barbed question was directed at Margaret who continued to look at Sherlock with a disgusted face. Sherlock, on his part, returned the gesture happily. John just wanted to get himself and Sherlock out and away from the room. No matter how much he wanted to know the story, an angry Sherlock was something he didn't want to deal with right now.
"No, not you, no. I want to hear it from her." Surprisingly, Natalie sounded unruffled by Sherlock's antics. Her eyes were locked with her Aunt now.
John never released his hold on Sherlock's elbow entirely. He tightened his grip again. The message was clear- let them do this. And John thanked his luck when Sherlock didn't explode immediately.
"You have heard your friend. Everything he has said is true. What more can I tell you?" That woman's calmness was unnerving.
"What mo- what more can you tell me? You're seriously telling me this? My God! Who are you? I can't even-" Natalie took a deep breath to calm her shaking. "Care to tell me why the hell you sat on the truth for so long? And please don't give me any shit about promises and duties."
"Annie, please don't blame her-" But Mr. Lewis was cut off by her wife.
"My promise to my dying sister may seem meaningless to you, but don't you dare judge me based on poorly formed ideologies. I am not you, therefore, I will not be held responsible for acting according to my own opinion and judgements. It was your mother's wish never to tell you two about your father. A father who refused every responsibility regarding parentage; who wanted to compensate that cowardice by offering some kind of monthly monetary allowances for his own and only children. Yes, only. Don't look so shocked. You wanted to know the truth, Annie, didn't you? Then you will receive the truth." She directed her gaze to Sherlock now; the previous disgust was gone. "Your information is absolutely correct, Mr. Holmes. Pardon me for not co-operating with you, as my loyalty towards my little sister didn't let me break the promise. But, now I cannot and will not keep it any longer if it means to save my children's lives." She squeezed back the hand that was now covering her. "The affair began quickly after Olivia took the job. She hid it from us initially. But When I came to know about it, I tried to make her see sense. He was rich, married and several years older than my sister. I know a doomed relationship when I see one, and I knew this would bring only misery for her. That's exactly what happened when she told him about the babies. He refused to give them his name. But offered Olivia monetary help. As an excuse, he said that it was impossible for him to divorce his wife, as according to their pre-nuptial agreement, he'd have to give her a huge amount of his property if the divorce was proposed from his end. My sister was shattered after that; she had to quit her job. She even thought of...abortion." Her eyes darted towards her niece before returning to Sherlock again, "But I- we didn't let her do it. She gave birth in a private medical facility in London. After that, she moved in here with us. That hateful man tried to contact her, and still had the audacity to tell her that he was willing to start a trust fund for the babies but my sister refused to take anything. After a few years-Annie and Freddie were around three at that time- we came to know that the wife had died in an accident. Olivia, naive as she was, let herself hope that she and children would be accepted now. She went back, got rejected again, lost her hope at last and moved in with us once again. Three years later she was diagnosed with cancer...and you know the rest. We, I and Ronald, adopted the kids after her death."
Natalie was crying silently, if her shaky breath was anything to go by. John lifted his hand to comfort her but didn't get the chance.
"Although I cannot pretend I understand your reason for not mentioning the man's name even once, sentiments probably, but I need a definite identity. Oh, and also I- I offer you my..uh...sympathy." He looked at John smugly, See, I am behaving.
"Edward C. Milverton." Mr. Lewis answered.
"The one who died five months ago?"
"Yes, that one."
"He died?" All the eyes reverted to Natalie as she spoke for the first time, "H-he ruined Mum's life, abandoned us, cheated on his wife and then he just- he just died? That simply?"
"What did you expect? Some avenging angel would descend and make him atone for his sins? This is real li-"
"We should go, we, uh, yes, we should go." Kicking Sherlock wasn't an option now, so John just shouted over him. And he couldn't care less about the foul stare his boyfriend threw at him.
"What? No, of course not! You just got here. Don't even think of leaving before lunch."
John was pretty sure Mr. Lewis was a saint in disguise. People who welcomed them even after facing Sherlock's git-y self at its finest, could never be mere mortals.
"No, we can't delay anymore. The killer won't wait for our lunch to finish."
"What do you plan to do?"
"Solve the case, obviously." Sherlock frowned, couldn't think why Natalie should ask that at this point of time.
"No, I mean, if that man is dead, then it's clearly not him who's trying to kill us. So, what's your plan now?"
"Clearly?" Sherlock gave that iconic Holmes eyebrow arch, "how's is it so clear to you? Why do you think that with his death the chances of someone related to your father harming you would be nil? What if it was his death that triggered this chain of murders?"
Natalie's eyes widened considerably along with everyone else'.
"So, you think it's still Milverton?"
"But how can that be? He's dead!" Then something dawned on John, "unless….someone else is executing his orders. But…..why now? Why after so many years?"
John saw Sherlock smirk. It still sometimes amazed John to see how differently Sherlock treated him from the rest.
"That's the mystery we need to solve, isn't it? I want you all to keep your eyes and ears open. Natalie if anything remotely suspicious happen, do not call John. Call Lestrade, and text me if you must."
"Wait!" Natalie stopped them before they could turn to leave, "I- I just wanted you to meet my brother."
"Why?" Another elbow-nudge from John and it turned into, "Hmph."
"We'd love to meet him, Natalie."
~0~0~0~
"Annie!"
Relief washed over Natalie as soon as she heard that voice and saw the face that looked like the Christmas had come early.
"Hi Freddie!"
The smile she received in return was the best smile in the world. Innocent, guileless, free of the masked happiness. It was pure joy. She leaned forward to hug her brother and pecked his cheek.
"How are you, darling?"
"Faa-annn."
"Some friends are here to meet you. Would you like to meet them?"
Freddie gave a smile that broke Natalie's heart a little. He loved to meet new people, but…
She got up, straightened the crooked glasses on his brother's face and pushed the wheelchair so that her brother could face the guests.
"Ready?"
Another heart melting smile followed the eager "Yeeesss".
Natalie asked John and Sherlock to come in. She wasn't sure about how Sherlock would react, but she knew she could count on John.
John entered first and took two seconds to compose his initial shock to see a small boy like figure in a wheelchair instead of a man of twenty three.
"John, Sherlock, this is my brother Fredrick, the best brother in the world." Standing behind the chair, she ruffled her brother's messy dark brown strands.
"Hi." Freddie's voice was small and shy.
"Hello, Fredrick. I'm John and this is Sherlock. And we are very happy to finally meet you."
Bless John, thought Natalie.
"Hello." Even Sherlock gave a polite nod and a tight smile.
"J- ooon an Sh-Sh 'Lock?"
"That's right. I'm On and he's Lock. And you are Fredrick, aren't you?"
Natalie stifled a laugh. The look on Sherlock's face….priceless!
"I'm Fweddie." Freddie protested for being called Fredrick.
"Ah, Freddie. Yes, yes, of course! Sorry, my bad. Oh, so you like Space?" John said once he became aware of the room filled with many Space related objects and posters.
"Yess, vewy mu- uch."
"'Like' hardly does the justice to what Freddie feels about Space. He's a total maniac about it. Aren't you?"
Freddie grinned at John. He would have turned to his sister too, if he could.
"D'you know Lock is crazy about this Space stuff too?" John said to Freddie then looked at his boyfriend, eyebrows wigging, "Aren't you, Lock?"
Sherlock looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "That was particularly a low blow, John." He came forward and stood beside John now, "You don't like doctors much, do you, Freddie?" Sherlock's smile looked ominous.
Freddie shook his head as furiously as his disabled body would allow, "no, no, dok-tos aaw baaaad. Nooo-oooo."
"Well, John is a doctor, aren't you, John?" Sherlock looked irritatingly smug.
John closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked at Freddie guiltily who was looking at him questioningly.
"Yes, that's right. I'm a doctor, yes. But I only treat cold and flu and stomach bugs. And my only patient is this one, this Lock."
"Weelly?" Freddie asked hopefully.
"Yes, really. Ask him. Am I not your doctor, Lock?"
"Yes, that's absolutely right!" Natalie happily chirped in.
The confirmation from his sister satisfied Freddie thoroughly and he smiled happily.
Sherlock stomped his way to the window to look outside.
Natalie arched an eyebrow to John. John quietly shook his head and mouthed, "Let him sulk for now."
"So Freddie, what's the best thing about Space?" John dragged a chair to sit, and Freddie started to talk with his slurred speech and the few restricted movements his hands could perform, too happy to find someone willing to spend time with him.
Natalie looked at the duo with a sad affection, still standing behind his brother's chair. If only...
She could feel eyes on her. She lifted her head to meet Sherlock's eyes.
They stared at each other before Natalie went over to stand beside him.
They didn't start talking immediately.
"Cerebral Palsy."
It wasn't a question, so Natalie just "mmhm'd"
"Spastic?"
"Yes."
"Since birth?"
"No, he was slow from the beginning but not like this. Diagnosed later...when we were around four or five, perhaps."
"Hmm."
Silence stretched on.
"You don't share, do you?" She asked suddenly, looking over the window.
"No." Sherlock didn't turn to look at her. "He is mine, Natalie. Don't make foolish mistakes."
"Even if I ignore the fact that John doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, then also it won't work. We are too similar."
"No, you are not. Nobody can be like him. He is unique."
Natalie chose not to answer that.
"Do you harbour romantic feelings for John?" Sherlock's voice sounded stilted.
Natalie turned around. John was holding a book and nodding very solemnly while Freddie explained things with his broken speech.
"Don't we all wish to have a John in our lives? A John to lean on when the burden is too heavy? A John who won't judge us for being who we are?"
Sherlock had also turned around at some point. He regarded her for a long moment before directing his eyes to John. "Yes, I...think we do."
"I like John." Natalie mused and saw Sherlock's shoulder tense up instantly. She suppressed a chuckle, "But it's not romantic. I guess I like the idea of having someone like John in my life. But it's not necessarily John. Someone like him. Strong, reliable, loyal. Someone who won't mind spending time with Freddie. Who won't pity him." She had to pause. Freddie was positively glowing with happiness. Oblivious to the fact that a killer was lurking somewhere to wipe that smile forever. A killer hired by their own father, most likely. "But Sherlock, I'm not a threat."
"I never thought you were." Although, he couldn't cloak the little uncertainly with the imposed incredulity.
She snorted.
John looked at them, raising his brows questioningly. Natalie just smiled and shook her head. John turned his attention back to Freddie once again.
"What if he finds someone better?" Sherlock's voice sounded quite.
The question took Natalie completely off guard. She knew Sherlock was insecure but didn't know this was his fear.
"Has he ever hinted something like that to you?"
"Of course not!"
"Do you think he needs someone better?"
Sherlock's jaw clenched and unclenched. "He deserves better."
"He deserves what he wants. What he wants, Sherlock?" Natalie could see the emotions flickering through that handsome face. She also knew that she wouldn't get an answer to that question. So, she decided ask another. "How much he means to you?"
"Enough to sacrifice my reasoning abilities." Came the instant answer.
To others, this may sound weird but Natalie knew Sherlock enough to know that he practically told her that he would give up his life for John. Because, this 'reasoning ability' was the core of Sherlock's being.
"Have you told him that?"
"He knows it."
"Not anyone can deduce like you, prat. And never take your relationships for granted." Ignoring the glare shot at her, she continued, "Sometimes, some words are needed to be spoken aloud even if we know them already. It may sound illogical to you, but we mere mortals need to hear the confirmation of our love, affection every now and then."
Sherlock blinked at her rapidly, and then said, "Oh."
~0~0~0~
Surprisingly, Freddie was upset to know that 'On' was leaving, and unsurprisingly, his reaction was quite different in case of 'Lock'. While John busied himself convincing Natalie's brother about visiting him soon, Sherlock questioned her cousin, Adam, who had returned home at some point.
Both of them had decided to leave Natalie with her family until the case was solved. Natalie consented somewhat reluctantly. John assured her by promising to talk to Mycroft about her job related problems, which may arise later for her sudden leave.
After their car turned the corner and John waved back to Freddie -who was still at the gate, trying to move his hand in a wave- John heaved a sign and melted into the seat.
Sherlock was silent beside him, but John took it as a boon. They would be cooped up in this car for hours. Again. So, he wouldn't let any chance of enjoying a quite Sherlock go astray. But this silence was short lived, as ten or so minutes later John heard Sherlock asking, "What do you want, John?"
"To eat. I'm starving." He rested one hand over his flat stomach, as if consoling it. He was sure Sherlock was rolling his eyes and would snap at him any moment now.
Perhaps that was why what Sherlock did next left John so stunned.
"Stop the car at the next food joint." Sherlock ordered the driver, and then went back on looking out of the window.
John observed his boyfriend minutely. Now, that he thought about it, that question was rather odd for Sherlock to ask. First off, Sherlock never asked others what they wanted without making the question rhetorical. Secondly, it wasn't linked to anything case related; he genuinely wanted to know what John wanted. So, that meant...it was time to raise the alarm!
John would be a fool if he thought that Sherlock's question was answered by letting him know about his famished stomach. No, this question wasn't momentary or impulsive. It was deep-rooted, thus demanding an answer of equal depth. And everything pointed at only one direction- Sherlock was having an emotional dilemma. About John. In the middle of a case.
Oh Boy.
But should he probe him about it now? Or would it be better to give him time to sort things out by himself? Nope, definitely not a good idea. The brat had the knack of misinterpreting everything where emotion was involved. What if he was having doubts over John's love for him?
John rested a tentative hand on Sherlock's gloved one, still not sure how to intrude the topic.
The car stopped in front of a small pub.
Sherlock was startled, though whether from the touch or the sudden halt, John couldn't tell. But he couldn't let the tension brew within Sherlock's overactive brain. He grabbed the lapels of Sherlock's jacket before he could get out and brought their mouths together.
The kiss was brief, forceful, intense and assuring. John didn't go deeper and Sherlock was too surprised to do anything. They pulled apart after a few seconds.
"Why?"
It always broke John's heart a little to see how Sherlock could never grasp the idea of someone, even John, showing their affection without any particular reason.
"I love you, that's why."
He kissed Sherlock once more before gesturing him to get out of the car.
~0~0~0~
Sherlock made a number of phone calls after they returned to Baker Street. None to his brother or Greg, and John heard the word 'solicitor' more than once. Then Sherlock started fiddling with his laptop and John snoozed in his red chair.
Dinner consisted of a simple chicken soup and bread, with a delicious pudding (thanks to Mrs. Hudson, bless her). John had to strangle Sherlock in order to feed him. This was Sherlock's newest whim; he refused to eat while at home, unless John fed him. John tried not to cater to this whim but the process would go like this: John would set the plates and serve the food which Sherlock would never touch, and open his mouth when John prepared to take his first bite. Now, what was John supposed to do if not feed that adorably incorrigible git?
And to be honest, John cherished those moments.
"Christ...I want to sleep for a decade." John declared after doing the dishes and waited for any response (or any grunt). When none came, he added, "I'm going to bed, love" and looked at Sherlock's back who just kept shaking his head and muttered on, God knew what. John signed and smiled affectionately. He wanted Sherlock to solve this case without any further damage, not only because of Natalie and Freddie, but also because he wanted the world to know how wonderful his Sherlock was. He went to their bedroom, hugged Sherlock's pillow, inhaled deeply and let the sleep take him away.
At some point in the night, John felt two arms wrapped around him and a cold body pressed against from behind. Despite those bloody freezing feet, John smiled sleepily and snuggled closer.
In the morning, Sherlock was gone.
~0~0~0~
"Where're you?"- JW
"Out." –SH
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Been waiting for you for hours and worrying sick. You didn't even bother to wake me up before leaving?!" –JW
"You said you wanted to sleep." –SH
John stared at the screen. He should have asked Sherlock what was going on. Should have coaxed him. Suddenly, that question in the car felt ominous.
"Where are you? Are you safe? When will you be home? Do you need me with you?"-JW
Sherlock took his time to reply. Meanwhile, John tried to calm himself down. He's just busy, that's why. Not because he's in any trouble. He's fine. He'll reply soon.
"I'm done here. On my way to home." –SH
Another text came while John was reading the previous one.
"I will always need you." –SH
Yes, something was definitely wrong.
~0~0~0~
Sherlock filled John in about the proceedings of the case after reaching home. He went to visit Milverton's solicitor but the law farm informed him that he was out of the country now and couldn't be contacted. Sherlock tried to 'convince' them but they made such a fuss that Sherlock saw himself out.
John hid a chuckle. Sherlock shot him a death glare.
"And then?"
"Then my pompous arse of a brother called me to gloat about the fact that he could contact the solicitor within a minute, if only I ask him to." Sherlock almost spat the words.
"And I presume you told him to fuck off?"
Sherlock scowled. "No. I thought you would be happy if I accepted Mycroft's offer regarding this case."
John made a duck face, clearly fighting to hide a full blown laugh. Sherlock wanted to punch him. Then snog him senseless.
"I'm very happy, love, that you sacrificed your ego and decided to be a wise man. Very happy indeed."
"John." He hoped that his voice conveyed the warning properly. "However, we have to go now, so if you are done with your mocking, we can leave immediately
"Leave for where?"
"Milverton Manor, of course! Where else?"
"What? But, he's dead, isn't he? And what did the solicitor say?"
"That he has been threatened, too, and had faced an attack before he removed himself from this country."
"Attacked? By whom? Don't tell me Natalie's father tried to kill his own solicitor!"
"There's a will, John. A will where late Edward Milverton has left eighty percent of his property to his children whom he "fathered out of wedlock with Olivia Shaw."
Sherlock watched John's eyes went saucer-sized. "Eighty percent?! Holy shit! That old bastard didn't bat an eye before leaving his kids to rot and now he left them his property?! Did he experience any Christmas Carol-y thing before dying?"
Sherlock tapped his foot and watched his boyfriend muttering all these ridiculously meaningless things, completely forgetting the most interesting-
"Hang on!"
Finally! Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"So, if he left property to them then surely he wasn't the one tried to kill. Then...who?"
"His nephew, Charles Milverton. The sole heir to the Milverton Empire, if not for that will. He tried to get his hands over this will to forge it, and when the solicitor didn't hand it over him, he tried to take it by force."
John worried his lips for a moment. "When did this happen?"
"Two months after Edward Milverton's death, according to the solicitor."
"Hadn't the solicitor tried to contact the police?"
"He didn't have any proof, except for his own words. Every threat was made very carefully and in person. But yes, he lodged an official complaint against the nephew which was rejected after a customary check. Money can cover almost everything, John."
Thought John didn't agree with the last statement but it wasn't the time to bicker. "And this solicitor, why didn't he try to contact Natalie's family?"
"There was nothing to track the twins down except for their names, date of birth and an old address. The solicitor claimed that he tried his best, which I doubt was sufficient enough, to contact the family before leaving the country. And he also claimed that he was very careful not to divulge even those vague details about the twins to Milverton's nephew."
John nodded thoughtfully, "And we are going to arrest this nephew?"
"Yes, after making him confess."
"Have you informed Greg?"
"Mmhm." He didn't want to outright lie to John and was relieved when John didn't seem to catch this lie. He wanted to solve this case by himself. It was his case, and he'd be damned if he let those NSY morons to muck things up.
"Okay, let's go then."
"Take your gun, could be dangerous."
John seemed to protest, but then decided against it and went upstairs where he hid gun.
Sherlock wrapped his blue scarf around his neck and waited for John. He could feel the thrum of excitement in his body.
It's showtime.
~0~0~0~
Approx fifteen minutes of taxi ride later, they found themselves in one of those multi-million pounds houses in Chelsea. The Milverton Manor. They were shown to a regally decorated sitting room, clearly meant for business clients.
Beside him, John was exceptionally quiet. Sherlock realized that this was John's battle mode. Tapping his foot and pressing one fisted hand against his lips, Sherlock's eyes swept around the room, cataloguing the possible escape routes and vulnerable spots. His deduction told him there would be violence.
The door opened to reveal a tall, blond and very handsome man in his mid-thirties, impeccably dressed in pinstripes three piece suit. The perfect image of Milverton heir. The man was smiling at him.
"Mr. Holmes, I presume?" Charles Milverton extended his hand towards Sherlock.
"You presume correctly, Mr. Milverton." Sherlock shook the offered hand curtly.
"And you must be his Robin, the sidekick?" The mocking tone was directed at John.
Sherlock openly rolled his eyes. This kind of provocation was really old and boring. And his John was way more intelligent to take the bait.
"Wow, I didn't know we are that famous! Yes, you're right, I'm the sidekick, one and only." John gave a dazzling smile.
Sherlock smirked. Milverton covered his bristle quite efficiently.
"So, Mr. Holmes, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Milverton sat facing them. His back towards the open French windows, overlooking the garden.
Sherlock knew their every move was being observed, and there were several gunmen hiding behind those bushes.
"Let me recall," Sherlock made a mock thinking gesture, "Ah! That would be four murders," and gave a toothy smile.
Milverton gave a hearty laugh. "Are you sure that it's just four, not six?"
"Mmm, pretty sure. And you know that too, unless," Sherlock frowned thoughtfully, "the Chinese assassin you have hired is collecting his bounty by feeding you false information."
"Good. I'm pressed. But do tell, Mr. Holmes, how did you find out that Chinese connection? I'm curious." A lope sided smile followed that comment.
"I thought that was obvious, but then again, I cannot demand intelligence from the people who have planned such messy and childish murders. It was that poison by which your assassin murdered one of the victims. The herb that was used in the poison is essentially of Chinese origin and it is somewhat of a signature weapon of an underground Chinese mafia gang called Black Lotus. So, tell me, Mr. Milverton, are you one of their investors or a blackmail victims?"
"Neither. A mere business client, you could say. But in any way, you can't prove anything." It was said in a bored drawl but Sherlock knew he had hit a nerve.
"Can't I?"
"No, because signature weapon or not, that claim has to be supported by solid evidence which you lack. Black Lotus is famous for hiding their tracks, didn't you know, Mr. Holmes? I don't do business with losers."
"And what about this confession?"
"You are the one investigating the case, so you can't present yourself as a witness without the physical evidence, neither can that sidekick of yours."
"Not even when I present the recorded proof?" Sherlock stroked his chin with his steepled hands. Not once John had averted his eyes from the person opposite them, Sherlock noted.
"No, not even then as you won't be given the opportunity." Milverton delivered another sugary smile.
Ah, the final threat. Sherlock was practically waiting for it. "You do realize that killing us won't really change the situation, as you'd still be trialled for two murders."
"You are not really that much clever as you claim, Mr. Holmes, do you know that? There is a reason my guards let Mr. Watson enter the room with his gun. It will help me to present my case as self-defence."
John's entire body went rigid almost instantly. Sherlock drummed his fingers on the side of their sofa. Should he have informed Lestrade? But Mycroft knew where he was, and was tracking him right now. No matter what he said to others, Sherlock knew his brother would always come to his rescue. All he needed to do was to buy as much time as he could. But what would he do if something happened to John in the meantime?
"So, we are dying today?" Sherlock's voice still sounded bored.
"Sherlock-" John was losing his calm. Bad timing.
Sherlock patted John's elbow reassuringly, without looking at him. Not now, John. We need time, more time.
"Yes, it seems so. Although, I must confess that I would have loved to have someone like you at my side, Mr. Holmes. You are too good to be wasted away like this. But I hope you can forgive my survival instinct. Nothing personal, I assure you."
"Oh no, don' it worry about it." Sherlock made a dismissive hand gesture, "It's not important." He could feel John's glare boring hole into the side of his face. John, please don't react. "But I have a question- why try to kill your Uncle's children now, when you had all those years to do so?"
"Because of that senile old hag, my uncle!" Milverton huffed exasperatedly and leaned back in his sofa. "Initially, I was the intended heir; there was another will before the current one where he had left most of the property to me. But after my engagement with someone he didn't approve of, and my involvement to some, let's just say, controversial people, my Uncle decided to cancel the old will and left his empire to his bastard children. Rather hypocrite of him, you know."
"How so?"
"You see, firstly, he denied giving them his name due to their lack of noble background, but he never had any qualms making their mother pregnant behind my Aunt's back. Then he wouldn't have even considered making them the heirs if not for my engagement. Don't you think that's highly hypocritical?"
"Indeed. But there wasn't any news regarding your engagement in the papers. Was it a secret affair?"
"Mmm, you could say that. My fiancée has a certain reputation that may attract unwanted popularity. Hence, I wanted it to be a secret till the wedding."
"And I presume, this fiancée of yours is a public figure?"
"Why, yes, she's quite popular in her field of work. And you know what, I think I'll tell you about her. I like talking to you, Mr. Holmes, you are an attentive listener. And it's not like you'll leave this room alive." He winked at Sherlock and threw a cheeky smile before continuing, "My fiancée is Irene Adler."
"Irene Adler...The Dominatrix, widely known as The Woman." Sherlock stated. A popular figure indeed.
"Irene who?"John asked quietly. But before Sherlock could say something, Milverton chirped in.
"You are aware of her, Mr. Holmes?"
"Not personally, not really my area. But yes, I am aware of her existence and her line of work."
"Irene who, Sherlock?" John asked again. And again Milverton interrupted.
"Not a very bright assistant, I see."
John visibly bristled at last. Sherlock couldn't really blame him. This Milverton was more irritating than Mycroft.
"Well, forgive me for not knowing someone whose name sounds like an exotic lap dancer. And you have a slight gap in your information. I am also Sherlock's boyfriend."
Sherlock knew he should be worried to see John practically handing the enemy more ammunition against them, but instead, he felt immensely proud. This was the first time John called him his boyfriend in front of a perfect stranger. He stifled his joy and murmured to John, "Your guess is close, John. She provides sexual pleasure to her clients."
John turned at him with raised eyebrows and then turned back to Milverton, "No wonder your Uncle kicked you out of the will. Or maybe he was a client too?" This time John winked.
Who would say that they were facing their possible demise? Sherlock smirked. They were a perfect match.
Opposite them, Charles Milverton snapped shut his jaw.
Oh, so John guessed that one correctly, too! Interesting.
"Now now, John, we must not rub embarrassing truths on their faces."
"Oh? You mean his fiancée's leash used to be around his uncle's neck? Bloody hell!"
"John, we should not have this much fun in our last moment, should we?"
John giggled in response.
Come on, Mycroft, don't be late. I can't let anything happen to John.
"I am glad that I could provide you with entertainment in your last moment. Well, I must cut this meeting short, as much as I enjoy your childish prattling, your time is up. But, I am a kind man, Mr. Holmes, so, I'm going to offer you an escape. Drop the case."
"In exchange of?" Sherlock mirrored Milverton's posture and rested his elbows on his knees, thus leaning forward.
"My friendship and a free supply of your poison of choice."
That last part echoed within Sherlock's head and everything froze within him. Around him everything went on in slow motion. He saw John lunged forward, tackling Milverton to the ground. Watched John punching the body beneath him again and again. Several doors opened at once and black clad gun men entered the room. And he closed his eyes.
People had despised him for his addiction. His mother cried holding him. Father called him the disgrace of the Holmes family. Mycroft grimaced in disgust. Dealers lured him for money. People who pretended to care pitied him. John stood beside him and held his hand.
But never in his life, had someone offered him drugs to be a criminal. No one ever considered him this low. He never thought himself this low. He wasn't an addict. Wasn't some common junkie. He needed it to slow down. To forget. He needed it to cope after Mum, after Redbeard, after John...John. John!
Sherlock's eyes snapped open. John!
John stood there, hands being wrenched behind his back. A gun was pointed at his left temple. Worried eyes focussed on him. He had a split lip. Drops of blood trickled down his chin.
Something kick-started within Sherlock.
"Earth to Holmes! Hello? Just a mention of it and you lost yourself? Why, you are a greater freak than I initially though! Oh, you make it so easy for me." The bastard jeered. Bruises were already forming on his pale face.
John snarled and struggled harder to wrench his arm back from the goon who was holding them. "Don't you fucking dare to talk to him like that, you fucker. Sherlock, look at me! Sherlock, don't listen to him, you hear me, do not listen to this son of a bitch."
"Do you still think that that freak of a boyfriend of yours will choose you over his beloved cocaine? Look at him! He's already drooling, sitting over there, lost in some ecstatic memory. Like a dog waits-"
"You fucktard motherfuc-"
A punch landed over John's jaw line. Sherlock got up at last and stood nose to nose with Milverton.
"You, you slime of the gutter, you dare to hurt John? My John? You think you can lure me with some petty drugs? You think you can exploit my addiction, use it against me?" Someone grabbed his arms from behind and dragged him backwards, pulling him from Milverton. "Do not compare me with you. You have nothing to control me. Nothing. You are hopelessly pathetic fool, and you think you can buy me? You have grown up like a parasite, spending your Uncle's money, satisfying your libido with your Uncle's leftover. You should have backed off and spend your life licking the bones your dear Uncle had thrown at you when you had the chance. But instead, you made the mistake of hurting John and threatening me. Do you honestly think a failure like you can ever have the upper hand? What can you do?"
Milverton gave a manic laugh at that, face twisting like an ugly beast.
"What can I do? You want to see?" His eyes never left Sherlock's "Kill the sidekick."
A tornado passed through the room after that.
Gun shots. Bullets came flying from the direction of those garden bushes. Several bodies fell to the ground at the same time. A body pushed Sherlock from behind, making him flat on the ground. Pain flared through his skull. Through the haze, he saw John's fallen figure. There was so much blood everywhere. He saw John's hair turned red. Sherlock's vision went black.
Screams. John. Blood. Bullets. Wound. John. More screams. John.
It took awfully long for Sherlock to realize that the scream was directing at him. He was being screamed at. He tried to squint his eyes, tried to steady his lolling head to see who it was. The voice sounded so familiar... and those eyes, those... John! John was screaming at him. John was alive. John was with him!
"Jawwn...Jawn...Jawnnnn...Joh-"
"Sherlock? Sherlock, I'm all right. Sherlock? Sherlock!"
Why was he shaking so violently? Why John couldn't hear him? Why everything was so blurry?
"Jawwn...Jaw..awwn."
"Sherlock? Look at me, LOOK AT ME! Love, I am all right. I am here, Sherlock! Open your eyes, look at me!"
Gradually he realized that it wasn't his inner tremor. It was John shaking him. Looking at him. There were blood on his face. Blood dropping from his face. Blood. John.
"John! John! Blood. John, blood."
"Not mine, not mine, Sherlock I'm not hit. I am okay, you are okay. Greg's here. It's okay, love. We are okay."
Sherlock buried his face in John's chest. He would have felt ashamed for being so vulnerable, so pathetic. But he didn't care. He couldn't. He was about to lose his John. Again. He couldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."
"What for? Sherlock, what are you apologizing for, love? You solved the case!"
John, holding him, rocked back and forth. Sherlock felt the motion bizarrely calming.
"No, I couldn't, I couldn't. You were almost killed. John, John...I almost lost you."
"No, love. You didn't. I am right here. We are right here. We are fine. Now can you get up for me? Medic's here, I want them to give you a check up."
Sherlock shook his head, and the movement hurt like hell. Possible concussion.
"I think, you have a concussion, Sherlock, let them check."
"Al-all right."
Sherlock got up and sat on a chair. And then only, the whole scene registered to his mind. There were dead bodies everywhere. Milverton's body was one of them, lying twisted and torn; lifeless eyes staring blankly. There were several bullet holes on his body. It looked like everyone died except for them. Sherlock tried to frown but that hurt so much that he resisted from frowning again.
"NSY didn't do this," Sherlock stated.
"No, we didn't." Confirmed Lestrade who was now standing beside John.
"You didn't? Then who?" John asked while wiping the blood with that garishly orange shock blanket. There was so much blood.
Sherlock again closed his eyes. He needed to find out who interrupted the killing, saving them. But he couldn't concentrate on anything when John was standing there. drenched in blood, and besides, his head ached so much.
"Hey hey hey, no falling asleep, open your eyes, Sherlock. No sleeping."
"I'm not sleeping." He snapped at John, who momentarily stopped his fussing and grinned at him.
Lunatic. Idiot. Mine.
But who killed Milverton and his men?
Mycroft? Highly unlikely. But...then who?
"You haven't gotten any lead?"
"No, I swept the whole building and the possible areas from where the shots could have come. But couldn't get any clue. Not even a footprint."
Sherlock tried to roll his eyes and grimaced again. "Since when NSY is known for solving crimes and collecting proper clues? But how did you get here? Mycroft?"
"Yes, your brother informed me. And I also got a text from John. But I was on the other side of London and without my personal presence Donovan couldn't have barged in, hence the delay. Sorry for that."
John sent him a text? Sherlock promptly looked at John.
"Don't worry, love, we'll have a loooong talk once you are safe at home." John's smile was anything but amused.
Sherlock wanted to scowl but couldn't. So he grabbed John and tugged him towards himself and buried his face in his chest once again.
They were safe. They were together.
~0~0~0~
Meanwhile somewhere in London:
"Was that really necessary to kill my fiancé?"
"Yep."
"But I was this close of getting married and gaining all the property. I could have killed him myself then."
"That's not the point, dearie."
"Don't tell me that detective kid is so important that you killed poor Charles to save him?"
"Your prediction is spot on, only the target is wrong."
"Wrong target? You mean... you killed all those men and blown up two good business deals for that washed up Army doctor?"
"I can kill you too for calling him names, darling. You bad, bad girl. Don't forget, you're just a puppet, Irene."
"I- didn't know he was...important to you. I apologize, Jim."
"No worries. All good. Just remember your position, all right?"
"Of course. So, my next task?"
"Mmmmm, I'll let you know. It's your mourning week, after all. My condolences."
"You are a piece of work, Jim, do you know that?"
"Am I? I have absolutely no idea! Now, shoo."
...
"Boss, who's next?"
"The Black Lotus chief."
"All right. Uh..."
"Sebby darling, do you think I should let her go for ignoring my direct order about not hurting John?"
"No, Boss."
"Right answer!"
"And what for now?"
"Ummm, I guess Indian take away. Would you like that, Sebby baby?"
"I would."
"You are a sweetheart. Now, go away before bringing me the new folder on John."
"Yes, Boss."
~0~0~0~
The name Charles Milverton is taken from "The Adventures of Charles Augustus Milverton" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (It is one of the stories from 'The Return of Sherlock Holmes' series)
My knowledge of Cerebral Palsy is mostly Wiki dependent. Therefore, I apologize for the mistakes you'll find. Freddie is one of my most favourite OCs I have ever written.