Chapter 12: Purpose and trying to make amends
Lestrade recognized the panic building up in his visitor. "Sherlock, calm down. Breathe for me." He laid a hand on the shaking shoulders; he looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes.
"Sherlock. I'm not angry with you. It's nice of you that you want to help. I will check it and maybe we will help a few people. Okay?" Sherlock was looking into his eyes searching for the truth and found it. He calmed down enough to be able to speak normally again.
"Sorry that I didn't ask for permission first." The hand around the paper tightened.
"No damage is done, promise. How about dinner? I brought Chinese. Hope you like chicken and duck." Lestrade changed the topic to distract his light distressed visitor.
They had dinner, Lestrade talked a bit about his day. Told him about the mistake his new colleague had made and about the case. Sherlock was very interested in every detail and even without crime scene photos or lab reports he pointed Lestrade in a few possible directions. Sherlock was good at solving puzzles.
A week passed like that. Lestrade went to work, came home with dinner and cold cases. He had checked the things Sherlock had figured out and he had been right on every point. His boss had asked him when he did all of that. A lonely flat and a divorce were really good excuses. He couldn't tell them about Sherlock. He had told Sherlock and he was fine with it. He actually preferred it that way. No one should know he existed.
The nightmares had become better. They didn't come every night and they weren't as bad as before. He had had two and, every time he had woken up, Lestrade was with him, offering comfort, a hug, someone to talk to or whatever he needed.
Sherlock began to miss his brother and John's letters but he wasn't ready to go back yet. He was a disappointment and wasn't sure with whom and how to live from now on. If he stayed here he could solve cases and help people. He felt better; it was a good feeling to be able to help people who had been victims of a crime. Not his crimes but he couldn't help those people anymore.
Sherlock sat with Lestrade on the sofa; he was watching a game, some sport. Sherlock hadn't checked. He was too busy reading the latest file Lestrade had brought home from work. It was an active one. His team couldn't figure out where the murder was or who, they found themselves at a dead end and out of desperation Lestrade had brought the file home.
Lestrade watched the game only with one eye, the other was on Sherlock who was writing down a few notes for him later to work on.
"You know Sherlock, I don't feel right using you like this." Sherlock looked up, confused. "You solve all this cases and no one is thanking you for it. You do all the work and I get the promotion. Not that it is official but there are rumors. Maybe I could present you as some kind of consultant. The police uses people from the outside sometimes. I could bring you to crime scenes and you could go to the office and morgue to work there with me." Sherlock didn't answer but stopped his working on the case, he was thinking.
Lestrade was offering him a job. A job he was apparently really good at. He could help people and he could lead the police to the people who needed to be punished. He also could go back home, if he wanted to. He was offered a chance but it was not what John or Mycroft had wished for him. He would again be surrounded by death and crime. But he would be on the other side this time.
Sherlock stood up and walked out the house for the first time since Lestrade had brought him to his home and sat down on the last step looking down at the pavement. He would like to write John and ask him if it was okay for him to choose this life. He felt like it could be the right thing for him.
Lestrade watched Sherlock from the window. He didn't know what had happened in the kid's past that had messed him up like that. But the offer he had made to him was the only thing that came to his mind that could help him. He played with the thought of calling who ever this Mycroft Holmes was to tell him where to find Sherlock but he didn't want to betray the trust he had earned.
When Sherlock came back inside he didn't look very sure about what to do next. The insecurity was painted all over his face.
"Sherlock would you like to call someone? Maybe the one whose number you gave me?" Lestrade offered. He was still a stranger; living together for a week wouldn't change that so fast. Sherlock nodded and took the phone. He heard the ringing and lost his nerves. He pressed disconnect and disappeared into the bathroom.
Lestrade understood, picked up the phone form the floor and waited for Sherlock to calm down and come out. Maybe the next time.
It only took an hour for Sherlock to enter the living room again. The game on television was over and Lestrade was watching the late night news. Without saying anything Sherlock sat on the sofa to watch too.
The doorbell pulled both of them out of their thoughts. It was close to midnight, who would visit this late? Lestrade got up and answered the door. Sherlock stayed on the sofa.
As Lestrade opened the door he found two men in front of his door. "Yes, how can I help you?" Polite but aware where his service weapon was, Lestrade watched the taller one who looked him up. It reminded him a bit of the way Sherlock did his deduction thing. The other one stood still in a military stile behind him.
"We are looking for someone. Sherlock Holmes is his name." Lestrade knew that Sherlock couldn't hear them from the door.
"And who are you?" That wasn't as polite as he had been at the beginning. But it was late and even if they didn't look like drug dealers they still could be dangerous.
"My apologies. My name is Mycroft Holmes. I'm looking for my little brother." He pointed with his hand at the smaller man behind him. "And that is John Watson, Sherlock's friend. We are very worried about him. He has been missing for weeks." That could be true. Mycroft was the contact he had gotten from Sherlock but if it really was his brother, that information could be find out easily by other people as well.
"Wait here a second." Lestrade closed the door in Mycroft's face, not caring about the man's opinion about him. He entered the living room and found Sherlock immersed deeply in the case file.
"Sherlock, you have visitors. But I won't let them in without your permission." Sherlock didn't look up from the file but Lestrade knew he had heard him. His whole body had stiffened while he was talking. "It's your brother and your friend." The word friend got a very fast reaction out of him.
"…John?" Whispered Sherlock, Lestrade nodded and couldn't look fast enough because Sherlock was on his feet so quickly running to the door.
When Lestrade arrived at the door he found a crying Sherlock in the arms of the shorter man, John, and a brother who suddenly looked ten years younger.
The first one to speak was Mycroft. "How about we go inside and not disturb the neighbors further?" Lestrade stepped aside and lead Mycroft into the kitchen followed by Sherlock and John who locked the door after he had freed himself from Sherlock.
Five minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. Sherlock wasn't crying anymore but still as close as possible to John without actually sitting on his lap. No one was sure what to do next. The two visitors didn't know the circumstances of how Sherlock had ended with the police man.
Surprisingly it was Sherlock who did the first move. "John I would like to show you something in the living room." The shorter man nodded and followed Sherlock out of the kitchen, leaving Mycroft and Lestrade alone.
"Thank you for watching my brother. I'm sure he didn't make your life easy." Mycroft started. "He… he has been a bit lost since he came to London." He stopped there.
"I don't know what happened to him but I found him high and hurt in an alley where he could have died. I took him in and he stayed because he wanted to. He is helping me with my job and he is nice company. He did nothing to make my life hard." Lestrade fixed Mycroft with his eyes because even had wanted to ask someone who was clearly traumatized what had happened, he could ask his next of kin for more information. That's what Lestrade needed. Some basic knowledge to understand Sherlock so that he could act in the right way. So that situations like the incident when he had found out that Sherlock was reading his case files and triggered a panic attack, could be avoided.
Mycroft must have had some idea of the reason why Lestrade was talking like that. It wouldn't hurt to tell him a bit. Sherlock wasn't able to apparently. "My brother was kidnapped as a child; it took me fifteen years to find him again but the damage was already done. The person that took him has hurt him in more than one way and the marks are not only on his body." Mycroft looked into the living room watching Sherlock and John on the sofa. They didn't hear what was being said in the kitchen too deep in their own conversation as they were.
"We tried to help him, to give him a normal life but it wasn't the right thing. I guess we tried to push him too hard in the direction we wanted to, the direction we thought was right." Mycroft looked back at Lestrade. He had only given him little information but, combined with the nightmares and Sherlock's behavior, he now had a better idea as to what made Sherlock tick.
John followed Sherlock to the sofa where they found a few papers. Sherlock picked them up and gave them to him. John could see that is was a file from the police man. Official documents looked all the same. The file was about a murder case and it was an open one. The suspect hadn't been caught jet. No clues which could be followed were left. I would probably end as a never solved cold case in one of the archives of the police department. But John didn't understand what was so important for it to be shown to him.
"I know who the killer is and I have a few ideas about where he could be." John looked up. "I can find them only with the pictures and reports form the crime scene. I'm really good at it, says Lestrade and… it makes me sleep." With the last word Sherlock's eyes fixed something invisible on the floor.
In John's mind it all clicked. He finally understood what they had done wrong. Even without Moriarty and the brain washing and conditioning - whatever you wanted to call it - Sherlock would never have become a 'normal' adult. He would still be special like he was now. It was the reason Moriarty had chosen him in the first place. Sherlock was special in more ways than one. He was amazing with his sharp mind. With his talent and knowledge he could easily solve crimes the police had given up on. He could do something no one else could.
"That's great Sherlock. Did you tell your friend the police man about it?" Sherlock looked up.
"No, we got interrupted. But I wrote it down for him so he can take it with him to work tomorrow." Sherlock's shy smile was back. "He offered me a job as consultant for the NSY… but I wasn't sure I should do it. I wanted to talk to you about it first."
"Why not? You said it would help you sleep. That means it is something that is good for you. Although you are helping your new friend and the people in these case files." Sherlock didn't look convinced.
"But it's not the life you all wanted for me, to be as far away as possible from the life I had with Master." Sherlock didn't notice his slip and John didn't make a fuss about it. Both hadn't noticed Lestrade and Mycroft in the doorway.
"Sherlock you don't need to live the life we tried to force on you. We were wrong. You can't just forget what happened to you and go on living as if it had never happened. I finally see that. Still you cannot stop and do nothing. You have your own life now and you can do with it what you like. And if the way you choose will be one surrounded by bodies and police than be it. I will support you whatever you choose. Lestrade offered you a job. If you want to try it, please do it. You don't have to go to university if you don't want to." John continued. "We will all support you in whatever you choose."
Sherlock looked to the door and saw his brother and Lestrade who were nodding encouragingly. He fixes his eyes with Lestrade's. "I would like to try to be your official consultant." With a look at his brother. "And I would like to go home with you Mycroft. I think I have used up enough of Lestrade's hospitality to last for a long time."
Lestrade grinned by the last comment. But decided not to offer him to stay longer. If Sherlock wanted to go home than he should go. He had heard the word 'Master' and could only imagine what he meant by that. A child taken and broken to work as whatever this person wanted to. It was a surprise that Sherlock turned had that good.
After saying his good bye to Lestrade with the promise to come to his office tomorrow, the three of them got into to the black car that had been waiting for them. Only in this moment Sherlock's mind finally caught up.
"John, why aren't you at your base?" In the semi dark car, only lightened by the street lights that passed the window Sherlock couldn't really see John's face.
"Oh I had to take a break. Family emergency." Sherlock nodded, family. Of course John had a family. "Idiot." John ruffled through Sherlock's hair. "I came because you stopped writing letters to me and I was worried."
"Will you stay for a bit?" He tried not to sound too hopeful.
"For a bit Sherlock. Another month then I have to go back. But I will have enough time to watch you do your new work." A whole month with John. And of course Mycroft. Smiling Sherlock looked out the window watching the sleeping city pass the car on their way home.