It's raining again, and it's barely gotten warmer outside. John tightened his coat around himself to block out the rain. He apparently had a meeting, and it meant walking outside.
Then again, if he stayed inside, Mycroft stayed out in the rain. That's always a plus. The downside is that if Mycroft stayed out in the rain for much longer, then it risked Sherlock finding out. Nobody in 221b quite recovered from the last time Mycroft was close to Mrs Hudson. The woman was positively wroth every time the elder Holmes was brought up. Sherlock would start a fight, definitely, no matter what John or Danielle did.
As for John's friend and neighbor, well, that was a different story. If John didn't go out soon, Danielle might take Mycroft a cuppa but of a flavor she knew Mycroft hated. She did it to Sherlock whenever he was in a poor mood. Plus she would be home soon from walking Erika, and the idea of them crossing paths wasn't good.
So John walked out of his flat. He looked at the man, frowning. Mycroft was smoking. That's more unsettling than anything John saw this week.
"You don't smoke."
"I also don't frequent cafes." Mycroft said back, as if scolding John for being so stupid. To see but to not observe. Mycroft tossed the cig aside, letting the rain put the thing out. He walked into Speedy's.
Maybe it was a mistake, and John should let Sherlock rip the man to shreds. Or maybe Danielle would let Erika do it. The cat might be better suited.
John walked in.
Mycroft sat himself down. John was given a cuppa by the staff. His favorite tea. Perhaps Mycroft arranged this entire thing just for John specifically, which meant he knew John would say yes and knew Danielle's sporadic routine of dog walking.
A folder was placed on the table. Labeled strictly confidential, a need-to-know basis. John opened it. If Mycroft wanted the contents secret, he never would have brought them to Baker Street in the first place.
The Phone sat on top.
"This the file on Irene Adler?" John asked.
"Closed forever." Mycroft answered. "I am about to go and inform my brother and your neighbor- or, if you prefer, you are- that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive-and thrive-but they will never see her again."
"Why would he, or Danielle, care?" John countered. Mycroft glowered. "He despised her at the end, and Danielle couldn't speak of her without crying. Sherlock can't even mention her name- just 'the Woman'."
"Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters." Mycroft mused.
John's jaw twitched. His lips stretched into a smug smirk. "You've really never seen him with her, have you?"
Mycroft smiled. Tight. Annoyed. "Yes. I'm aware of that...event." He glanced towards the street.
"I didn't even know he felt things that way...I still don't know."
It's the truth. It was true, and they were the oddest couple John had seen. They never argued, for one. Somehow. Anytime anything came close- Sherlock's smoking, his experiments, Danielle's cooking, her pets. Stuff John bickered about with his old girlfriends for ages. Those two handled them by talking.
Sherlock. Talking. Politely, and meaning it. It's stranger than Sherlock after Irene's 'death'. His usual mooing just cranked up to 100. John wasn't sure how he handled that, but he knew he did better after it was revealed as fake. But this? This? Dating their neighbor? John couldn't wrap his mind.
Seeing Mycroft struggle? Oh, John was very quickly coming to love the relationship. He would buy them a card. Or biscuits from Speecy's.
"My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?" Mycroft asked.
"I don't know." John replied.
"Neither do I...but initially he wanted to be a pirate." Mycroft mused. He smiled, immediately dropping it to gaze off at nothing.
John hadn't noticed that. He was too busy imagining a small Sherlock as a pirate. John was definitely telling Danielle. She would take complete advantage of that information.
He nodded to the folder. "They'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. They'll be fine."
"I agree. That's why I decided to tell them that."
John frowned. "Instead of what?"
"She's dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded." Mycroft revealed.
Dear God. Dear actual god. Save John Watson from Holmes madness.
That had been what Danielle was most frightened of, her actions killing the Woman. She was always scared of being like Moriarty. It came up at least three times a week. Danielle started crying out of nowhere, so Sherlock always took her aside to reassure her. Hearing about witness protection would have stopped it. Hearing Irene was dead? It would destroy her.
"It's definitely her? She's done this before." John tried.
"I was thorough- this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don't think he was on hand, do you?" Mycroft asked. He smirked. "Not with a new interest."
It's that same look of disgust he did whenever speaking of John or Danielle helping Sherlock. Solving cases was one thing apparently- and could be excused. Dating Sherlock was worth mockery.
John wanted to punch Mycroft for that.
"So..." Mycroft pushed the folder forward. "...what should we tell Sherlock and Ms Nolan?"
==MPH==
John found Sherlock with the microscope in the kitchen. He heard the shower running up the hall. Danielle was here, using their shower again. He refused to think about it- none of John's girlfriends ever used the shower.
It doesn't matter. He doesn't need to think about why Danielle is using the shower.
"Clearly you've got news." Sherlock remarked.
The folder sat in his hands. A detailed profile for Irene Adler's induction into witness protection. The right spots were blacked out. There's no mention of Karachi, terrorists, or anything. Sherlock and Danielle would believe Irene was saved by America. Mycroft wanted Sherlock to believe the lie, and Sherlock would tell Danielle without knowing.
But neither of them would mourn. Both could go about life thinking Irene was still out there. They have hope. Could John be the one to take it?
"If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring." Sherlock explained.
"Hi. Er, no, it's, um..." John walked up to the kitchen. The weight of the folder went up every step. "...it's about Irene Adler."
Sherlock lifted his face. The expression was carefully blank. It's the same face he made as John learned about him and Danielle. "Oh? Something happened? Has she come back? I'll get Danielle."
He couldn't imagine anything worse than looking in her eyes for this. "No, she's, er...I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs." John swallowed. "He had to take a call."
"Is she back in London?" Sherlock ands.
"No. She's, er..." John needed to brace himself. He must sell it, or Sherlock will spot the lie. "She's in America."
"America?" Sherlock repeated, surprised.
"Mmm-hmm. Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know." John excused, trying to sound unconcerned and hopefully succeeding.
"I know what?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, Danielle won't be able to see her again." John pointed out. He paused, pressing his mouth to a thin line. "Or you."
"Why would we want to see her again?" Sherlock asked.
John had 58 texts that proved otherwise. Hr wasn't sure how many messages Danielle had, but it could even be the same number. "Didn't say you did."
There was a beat of heavy silence. "Is that her file?"
"Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft." John said. He held it out to Sherlock. "Do you want to...?"
Sherlock immediately walked back to the microscope. "No."
John nodded. He watched Sherlock, waiting. The shower was still going. Maybe, maybe he could handle it. Maybe being with Danielle helped him move on. He could handle the truth. "Listen, actually-"
"Oh, but I will have the camera phone, though." Sherlock raised his hand, never looking away from the microscope.
"There's nothing on it any more. It's been stripped." John said.
"I know, but I-" Sherlock cut himself off. He took a moment before starting up again. "...I'll still have it."
"I've gotta give this back to Mycroft. You can't keep it." John tried.
Sherlock didn't move his hand.
"Sherlock, I have to give this to Mycroft." John explained. "It's the government's now. I couldn't even give-"
"Danielle needs to see it." Sherlock stated.
John knew he was right. Danielle would hate herself for hearing what happened, and Sherlock would hate to say it. The phone would be the quickest way of letting Danielle know without words. Like ripping off a bandaid. John pointedly ignored the fact that she'd not want to see it after. That Sherlock would hold onto it then.
So he handed over the phone. Sherlock took it. He caressed the phone with his thumb, tucking it away in his trousers. "Thank you."
"Well, I'd better take this back." John held up the folder. He probably needs to make an explanation for Mycroft.
"Yes."
An obvious dismissal. So John made to leave. Yet he turned back once more.
"Did she ever text you again, after...all that?" John asked. "You or Danielle?"
"Just me." Sherlock replied. "Once, a few months ago."
"What did she say?" John asked.
"'Goodbye, Mr Holmes. Give Miss Nolan a kiss for me.'" Sherlock replied. He was trying very hard to be disinterested.
John hummed. Then, he went out to talk to Mycroft again. Then he'll leave and hopefully not come back for a long time.
==MPH==
Sherlock stood up. He took his phone, searching for old messages. Danielle's shower would end soon. He needed a moment to think.
It was indeed 59 messages. Sherlock had counted, and knowing John counted too only irked him.
He scrolled. She messaged randomly with no clear pattern. Perhaps to her, this was another attempt to seduce him. Sherlock saw a correlation of major holidays, but also to times of his biggest stories in the news.
Dozens upon dozens of messages for him. All inviting him and Danielle for dinner. Complimenting his hat, John's blog, asking about he and Danielle's movie nights.
John had no way of knowing the Woman was alive and well, in acting as another country's problem.
Danielle had been horrified with herself. She begged Sherlock to find a way to save the Woman. Sherlock had no desire to run after her. The Woman deserved whatever she got, and then some. Of course, then Danielle started to cry.
She kept calling herself a murderer. Comparing herself with her brother. She didn't say any of it out loud, Sherlock could see it in her hunched shoulders and haunted eyes and how she would stay up all hours of the night playing the Woman's possible murders in her head. She always did that on her bad days.
Sherlock could still remember the shocked look on the Woman's face when his ringtone had gone off. When the smoke had cleared, he made sure to tell her after that it was only because of Danielle that he was saving her life. She'd caused enough heartbreak to his girlfriend, and Sherlock would let the Woman hurt her no longer. A last show of respect that the Woman had earned.
"The Woman." Sherlock mused. He stared at the phone, wondering if he should put it away now or wait.
"Did John want anything?" Danielle asked, walking out from the bathroom.
Sherlock whirled around, momentarily floored by the way her wet hair clung to the curves of her shoulders. Her magnetizing blue eyes were staring innocently at him, having no idea that John and Mycroft thought they'd pulled a fast one on them.
The consulting detective held up the phone. Danielle's eyes widened in surprise.
"She's in America." Sherlock explained quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. "Witness Protection, according to John."
Danielle stared at the phone warily, before understanding came to her. "Which he heard from Mycroft."
Sherlock nodded.
"So...she's really...gone?" She asked him.
"Yes."
"Oh." Danielle exhaled. She tapped her fingers along the wall. She looked down towards the floor.
Sherlock wondered what he was supposed to do in these circumstances. His usual assurances might not be well received. Anything from Sherlock about the dismissal of sentiment went poorly for Danielle.
"Sorry. I- umm." She awkwardly scratched at her wet hair. "I wasn't finished in the shower."
Sherlock tucked the phone away. "Oh? Need any help?"
Her cheeks turned pink. Funny even after these four months she was still so quick to blush. It was one of his favorite things about her.
"You'd come in anyway." She conceded, like it was a chore. She spoke with enough sarcasm for Sherlock to tell. She slowly made her way back towards the bathroom. "Another experiment on...what was it last time?"
"You will forget it in ten seconds."
Danielle giggled. "Feeling confident, are ya?"
Sherlock held out his hand. Danielle glanced at it. She smiled, biting her lip, before taking his hand.
Let the Woman live wherever she wanted. Danielle held no more weight of it. The phone was proof she was gone from their lives. Maybe one day, the Woman would be safe enough to reach out. Maybe then, too, Danielle can ignore her. Someone else was more worthy of her attention.