Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take- Chapter 10
Title: Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take (Part 3 Of A Different Take Series/Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count 3,146
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Chapter 10
An Invitation To Reichenbach Falls
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**************************
Date: February 8th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Late Morning
**************************
Sherlock opens his violin case, takes out his bow to clean as Mycroft turns off the telly. John sinks in his seat, the tension just leaking out like the air in a balloon does.
His arm that was grazed aches a little, and he feels a twinge in his other shoulder. The phantom pain in his leg threatens to spread. He closes his eyes and with as much willpower he can muster, the aches and phantom pain eases.
No sign of Moriarty or Moran in England. For now the danger has passed. For now, that is.
"The last reported sighting of the two of them was in France just as the press released their photographs," Mycroft announces, standing where he is, bloody umbrella in his hands. Anthea is just two feet behind him, focus on her blackberry.
John wonders what exactly is on there that keeps her so engrossed. The attraction he felt earlier towards threatens to flare up again, but remembering how she so easily brushed him off, dampens it once more.
"I doubt we have seen the last of them," Mycroft continues. "There have been more reports of other members of his organization. Some have disappeared from the radar of the authorities in other countries. This blow seems to have raised some awareness in them."
"They've gone deep underground to reorganize," Sherlock says from his spot on the sofa.
"A likely thought. You have had no other communications for Moriarty since he rang you at the hospital?"
What? John looks over at Sherlock, who is now glaring at his brother.
"No," he says shortly.
"Sir, we need to go."
"Yes of course my dear. John, Sherlock we will talk later." Mycroft nods to them both, then leaves followed by his assistant.
"He called you?"
"Yes."
"To deliver more threats?"
"Of course."
"Sherlock--"
"Excuse me John," Sherlock sets his bow on the coffee table next to his open violin case. "I just remembered something I need to say to Mycroft. I will be right back," he adds taking his coat and scarf off the hooks.
John doesn't try to stop him, or finish his question.
But he does wonder what it is Sherlock wishes to say to Mycroft that is urgent enough to make him go after his older brother. When he usually cannot wait for Mycroft to leave.
**************************
Date: February 8th, 2011
Location: Outside 221B Baker Street
Time: A few minutes later
**************************
Mycroft stares at his brother, his reckless brother that makes him worry constantly.
"Stop staring, Mycroft. Can you do it?"
"I am simply surprised you would come to me about this, little brother."
Sherlock scowls. "There is no one else to go to."
"What about--"
"No."
The worry in Mycroft beats like a drum in his head and heart. What Sherlock is asking for is something no brother should be asked, and brings up a certain memory.
"You took it upon yourself to protect Sherlock," his mother says in a low tone rife with disappointment. "To help him, to make sure he succeeds, to ensure he's still alive by the age of fifty. "
Mycroft never quite understands why Mummy picks that age whenever they have these talks. Does she think Sherlock might slow down by then? Or hope at least?
His mother looks away from it to the hospital bed where Sherlock currently lies, after surviving the pool explosion.
"You promised me, Mycroft, as well," Mummy continues, not looking at him. "Keep your promise. Whoever this Moriarty is.. if he is still alive as you think he is, then make damn sure Sherlock lives. We cannot lose him, nor can London. Whatever Sherlock asks of you, should he ask you, help him."
"Mycroft?"
"Oh, yes, Sherlock. My mind wandered a bit, dangerous I know. Yes, I can do it."
"How fast?" His reckless, impatient, foolish, and a constant worry of a little brother asks.
"I will contact you when it is done." Mycroft nods to him, gets into his car, the door shutting as his assistant gets in.
As the car drives off, his assistant's attention goes from her blackberry to him.
"What about John Watson sir?"
"Do not worry about John Watson," Mycroft answers. "It will be taken care of."
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital- Outside Molly's Room
Time: 1 pm
**************************
Sherlock sets his mobile back in his pocket, glaring at the nurse who walks away. She look satisfied that her harrassment ended the call. He'll let her keep that delusion. It was short for a reason.
Everything was ready. Mycroft does indeed work quickly. The only thing Sherlock likes about his brother.
Mycroft said everything will be at the flat, ready for him to pore over by the time he arrives. He would also let him know when the other part is in place.
The weight of the plan that Sherlock had started to formulate once Moriarty's call ended was starting to bear down on him.
It has to be done.
To save everyone.
It has to be done.
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Half past 5
**************************
John ends the call with his sister just as hears a knock on the door.
Surprise forms when he opens the door to see Mycroft Holmes.
"Mycroft?"
Sherlock's brother smiles apologetically. "Apologies John. I thought Sherlock would be home by now."
"No, but it shouldn't be too much longer. Come in. Any reason for the visit, besides seeing Sherlock?"
"Just to drop off something for Sherlock. Do you have any tea on? I find myself in the mood for a spot of it."
John notices a manila packet in Mycroft's hands. "Oh yes, it just finished brewing. I can pour you a cuppa."
Mycroft sets the packet on the desk, taking off his coat, the places the hook of the umbrella on the inside doorknob.
"Oh I can do that," he says smoothly. "You've been on your feet a lot lately, take a rest."
This is odd...
John ends up sitting anyway. "Glasses are--"
"I know where they are, John," Mycroft says with that nearly condescending smile of his as he enters the kitchen.
Right, of course he does.
Suspicion crawls into John's mind.
Since when was Mycroft wrong about Sherlock being home or not?
Since when did Mycroft get his own tea?
Since when does Sherlock ever ask his brother for anything, unless it's a last resort? A truly last resort.
John looks at the manila packet, then back at Mycroft currently busy fixing his tea. Looks back at the manila packet.
It would be rude to look.
John reaches over anyway.
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Evening
**************************
Sherlock closes the door to 221B Baker Street and looks up the stairs to the flat. He leans against the door, visualizing how the next few hours will play out.
Another phone call, this time from Mycroft's assistant, told him exactly what he needed to hear.
All he has to do now is get through these next few hours with John, and then when John goes to bed, he will begin.
Sherlock swallows as he forces himself to remain rational, logical. He cannot afford to be sentimental. He cannot afford to lose logic or rationality.
He slowly walks up the stairs to the flat, and enters.
Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a glowering Doctor John Watson.. and Mycroft.
Sherlock automatically scowls at the sight of his brother. But what he sees next displeases him even more.
On the table, next to John... is Sherlock's ticket. Passport. Other papers that were needed to carry this off.
Damn you Mycroft.
"I did not know he would be here when I came by," Mycroft says as he stands up, as always looking his usual self. Oh and lying of course. He knew.
"I best be off, have a few matters to finish detailing," Mycroft says smoothly, he turns to John. "Good bye John."
John nods stiffly, and Sherlock stays standing, only glaring at Mycroft as leaves.
"Do not be angry, little brother. I did not have to say anything," he says softly.
The door shuts.
"Sherlock."
"It's the only way," Sherlock says flatly, shoring up the walls around him. John could be persuasive. He could not be persuaded out of this.
"Right," John says with a bitter laugh. "The only way huh? You sure about that? So what were you going to do tonight? Go on pretending, which you can do quite well, be gone in the morning? Then I would find out through the news on the telly?
"Sounds about right," Sherlock says coolly.
"You are a right bastard at times."
"Technically I am not. My parents were married at the time I was conceived and born."
"Nice counter. You are not doing... this.. It's mad!"
The walls that were once so strong with everyone else start to waver. How can one protest from this man do that? Only John can do it.
"There is no other choice," Sherlock counters sharply. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "If I don't do this, then more people will die. Not just my contacts, but your sister, Sarah, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, you!" Sherlock almost chokes at that, but he forces himself ahead.
Who knew feeling things would be so disastrous at times? That caring about someone would be so... dramatic? Frustrating. He should blame John. Has every right to.
"This will never end. This war between you and I. Many will suffer, London will burn and you will lose. Everything. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
"It will not end. Moriarty will never stop."
"I know that Sherlock," John says quietly as Sherlock starts to pace. "Sherlock, sit down. Just sit down."
"I can't."
"Fine, then... I understand why you want to do it. It's mad, insane... so many things could go wrong. But from your point of view, I can see it as the only option."
Sherlock pauses in his pacing. "You do?"
"I do."
"Then why are we arguing about this?"
"Because I'm not going to let you--"
"I'm going to John. I don't care what your arguments are, I am going to--"
"By yourself."
Sherlock stops in the middle of his protest. He's stopped short by those two ordinary words coming from John.
"Pardon?"
"You are not doing this alone. I won't let you. You need someone there with you. I have to say you hide it all very well. Only the arrival of Mycroft made something seem off."
Mycroft did that deliberately, knowing John would sense something was not quite right.
"When he arrived, all sorts of questions started popping up. Then he went to go make his cuppa tea."
Well, talk about just giving it away.
"I got a look at that packet. A very good look. This plan of yours... you can't do it alone. Sherlock. I am going to be with you, every step of the way."
"What about Harry? Sarah?"
"Sarah and I have not been romantically seeing each other for over a month now. I thought you, the great Sherlock Holmes, would have realized that. We are just good friends and the occasional co-worker."
"Been a bit preocuppied," Sherlock murmurs.
"Right. Sarah will survive. Harry will too."
"John--"
"Spare me any counter arguments, protests. No. I am going to be by your side. Remember our chat when you tried to get me to move out after that mess with Irene Adler? Remember what I said?"
Sherlock remembers. Oh he remembers quite clearly.
"What we have is more than friendship."
"This isn't something that can be easily severed," John continues, his voice quiet, but firm. "You can't delete this. What you and I have been through since meeting each other... this thing between us.. I've only ever seen it happen between soldiers in the battlefield. We have our own battlefield that we navigate through here in London, and now there's a far more deadly enemy out there waiting in the wings to strike. Sherlock, this is a battle you cannot go through alone. I won't let you walk through this battlefield alone. Whether you like it or not, I am going to walk with you. By your side. Where I belong."
"This is just another new battlefield," John's words bring Sherlock out of his thoughts. "So, we are going to do this together. You will need someone by your side, even more so than now. We are more than just friends, or colleagues, or flatmates Sherlock. We are brothers. I will not, positively will not, let you do this on your own. "
Sherlock sees the determination, the will, the strength in John's eyes, in his body language.
He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that has irritatingly formed.
"You consider me a brother?"
John snorts. "Yeah, right stupid I suppose, considering how you treat your sibling."
"He deserves it," Sherlock says absently, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the warmth that spreads through him with John's words.
Brothers.
"I consider you a brother," Sherlock admits. "You fit the attitude of one, especially of an older brother. All your nagging about things. But as a brother, you are far less annoying than Mycroft... No wonder Mummy likes you."
John smiles.
He exhales, his mind racing, now trying to configure John's part in this. It does not take long.
"All right," Sherlock concedes after two minutes of thinking.
"Good. Don't try to be clever now, and sneak off or find some sort of way to leave me behind."
"I won't." Sherlock knows he can't. It's quite daunting sometimes to be brought to heel. It doesn't happen normally, not often. In the past, the only person that has been able to do it (Besides Mummy but that doesn't count) has been... John.
It should be annoying.
Actually itis annoying.
But Sherlock can handle it.
"Guess we need to find a way to fix all of this, so I can be included. You've been clearly working on this for a couple of days now--"
There's a buzz on Sherlock's mobile and he picks it up. Looks at the message.
Working on the papers for John. Ticket has been bought. MH
"Mycroft?"
"Yes."
"He's working on it, I suppose."
"Yes. He apparently knew you would talk your way into it."
"Smart man."
Sherlock scowls. "Unfortunately."
Two Hours Later
"So.. that's the plan?" John asks with uncertainty evident in his features.
Sherlock nods.
John pales a little, but Sherlock can see he's coming to terms with what this all means.
"Interesting," John finally says.
"As I said earlier, I can do this on--"
"No you can't," John says sharply. "Not by yourself. End of story." He takes a deep breath and rubs the back of his head.
"How long do you think we--"
"Don't know. Depends on a lot of factors." Sherlock sighs in disgust. "I do hate working without all the data."
"Is that why you went to Mycroft?"
"Yes," Sherlock mutters. "Bloody Mycroft. Unfortunately, he has to help in order for this to work."
John nods, and once more there's another buzz on his mobile.
Everything has been taken care of regarding John. Wait for my word on the other matter. MH
Sherlock just shakes his head at the text, then shows John.
He just chuckles.
30 Minutes Later
Sherlock stares at his laptop, his website. His fingers itch to type in the message he wants to send.
He can hear John in the background, going over the papers that had arrived for him just a few minutes ago.
A part of him regrets bringing John in on this. John.. the man who survived the war in Afghanistan, who came back to London. Then quickly submerged in another war, where the final problems of said war will be dealt with. Deep in the back of his mind, a part that he doesn't acknowledge much, regret lingers there for bringing John into this.
But deep down, the selfish side of him, is also glad.
His mobile buzzes again.
He looks down.
Everything is set. MH
Sherlock looks away and types the message on the forum board of his website.
He knows it will be seen.
He doesn't know why he chose Reichenbach Falls. When searching for the right locale for this, an image of the Falls appeared. The image seemed powerful in his mind.
Sherlock reads over his message one more time, his finger pausing on the enter button.
There's no going back now. Even if he wanted to.
"Send it," John's soft voice says firmly behind him.
"If I do, there's no going back."
"I know."
"Are you truly ready?"
"Not really, then neither are you."
Sherlock smiles. "Good deduction."
"I've been learning from the master."
"Think he'll do it? Risk it, even with his face all of the news right now?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Why?"
"Because, despite everything that he is, he is still human. He will be curious. He will want to come. He will see it an opportunity that he simply cannot resist."
Sherlock eyes his message one more time. Satisfied, he hits send.
Time to end this with Moriarty.
**************************
Date: February 10th
Location: Berne Airport, Switzerland
Time: 3:38 pm
**************************
They step outside of the airport, John glad to be out of there and walking a little. Too much time on that bloody plane.
"Taxi line down this way," he says, gesturing for Sherlock to follow. "It'll take us to the train. By train we should get there before six--"
"We'll get there in time," Sherlock says in an assuring tone of voice.
They stop at the correct spot, just as taxi looks to be coming around. Sherlock raises up his hand to get its attention. A couple of minutes later Sherlock is getting in, holding the door open for John.
"We're heading to Reichenbach Falls," he tells the driver first in Swiss, then in English, after John gets in and closes the door. The taxi drives off.
"When did you learn how to speak Swiss?"
"Remember that case with the Swiss tourists in December?"
"You learned Swiss because of that?"
Sherlock shrugs. "It kept my mind occupied."
John shakes his head, but he notices a smile.
Silence falls between the two men as they head towards Reichenbach Falls. A silence that only the two of them can appreciate.
And onwards to the Epilogue...
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count 3,146
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Chapter 10
An Invitation To Reichenbach Falls
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**************************
Date: February 8th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Late Morning
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Sherlock opens his violin case, takes out his bow to clean as Mycroft turns off the telly. John sinks in his seat, the tension just leaking out like the air in a balloon does.
His arm that was grazed aches a little, and he feels a twinge in his other shoulder. The phantom pain in his leg threatens to spread. He closes his eyes and with as much willpower he can muster, the aches and phantom pain eases.
No sign of Moriarty or Moran in England. For now the danger has passed. For now, that is.
"The last reported sighting of the two of them was in France just as the press released their photographs," Mycroft announces, standing where he is, bloody umbrella in his hands. Anthea is just two feet behind him, focus on her blackberry.
John wonders what exactly is on there that keeps her so engrossed. The attraction he felt earlier towards threatens to flare up again, but remembering how she so easily brushed him off, dampens it once more.
"I doubt we have seen the last of them," Mycroft continues. "There have been more reports of other members of his organization. Some have disappeared from the radar of the authorities in other countries. This blow seems to have raised some awareness in them."
"They've gone deep underground to reorganize," Sherlock says from his spot on the sofa.
"A likely thought. You have had no other communications for Moriarty since he rang you at the hospital?"
What? John looks over at Sherlock, who is now glaring at his brother.
"No," he says shortly.
"Sir, we need to go."
"Yes of course my dear. John, Sherlock we will talk later." Mycroft nods to them both, then leaves followed by his assistant.
"He called you?"
"Yes."
"To deliver more threats?"
"Of course."
"Sherlock--"
"Excuse me John," Sherlock sets his bow on the coffee table next to his open violin case. "I just remembered something I need to say to Mycroft. I will be right back," he adds taking his coat and scarf off the hooks.
John doesn't try to stop him, or finish his question.
But he does wonder what it is Sherlock wishes to say to Mycroft that is urgent enough to make him go after his older brother. When he usually cannot wait for Mycroft to leave.
**************************
Date: February 8th, 2011
Location: Outside 221B Baker Street
Time: A few minutes later
**************************
Mycroft stares at his brother, his reckless brother that makes him worry constantly.
"Stop staring, Mycroft. Can you do it?"
"I am simply surprised you would come to me about this, little brother."
Sherlock scowls. "There is no one else to go to."
"What about--"
"No."
The worry in Mycroft beats like a drum in his head and heart. What Sherlock is asking for is something no brother should be asked, and brings up a certain memory.
"You took it upon yourself to protect Sherlock," his mother says in a low tone rife with disappointment. "To help him, to make sure he succeeds, to ensure he's still alive by the age of fifty. "
Mycroft never quite understands why Mummy picks that age whenever they have these talks. Does she think Sherlock might slow down by then? Or hope at least?
His mother looks away from it to the hospital bed where Sherlock currently lies, after surviving the pool explosion.
"You promised me, Mycroft, as well," Mummy continues, not looking at him. "Keep your promise. Whoever this Moriarty is.. if he is still alive as you think he is, then make damn sure Sherlock lives. We cannot lose him, nor can London. Whatever Sherlock asks of you, should he ask you, help him."
"Mycroft?"
"Oh, yes, Sherlock. My mind wandered a bit, dangerous I know. Yes, I can do it."
"How fast?" His reckless, impatient, foolish, and a constant worry of a little brother asks.
"I will contact you when it is done." Mycroft nods to him, gets into his car, the door shutting as his assistant gets in.
As the car drives off, his assistant's attention goes from her blackberry to him.
"What about John Watson sir?"
"Do not worry about John Watson," Mycroft answers. "It will be taken care of."
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital- Outside Molly's Room
Time: 1 pm
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Sherlock sets his mobile back in his pocket, glaring at the nurse who walks away. She look satisfied that her harrassment ended the call. He'll let her keep that delusion. It was short for a reason.
Everything was ready. Mycroft does indeed work quickly. The only thing Sherlock likes about his brother.
Mycroft said everything will be at the flat, ready for him to pore over by the time he arrives. He would also let him know when the other part is in place.
The weight of the plan that Sherlock had started to formulate once Moriarty's call ended was starting to bear down on him.
It has to be done.
To save everyone.
It has to be done.
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Half past 5
**************************
John ends the call with his sister just as hears a knock on the door.
Surprise forms when he opens the door to see Mycroft Holmes.
"Mycroft?"
Sherlock's brother smiles apologetically. "Apologies John. I thought Sherlock would be home by now."
"No, but it shouldn't be too much longer. Come in. Any reason for the visit, besides seeing Sherlock?"
"Just to drop off something for Sherlock. Do you have any tea on? I find myself in the mood for a spot of it."
John notices a manila packet in Mycroft's hands. "Oh yes, it just finished brewing. I can pour you a cuppa."
Mycroft sets the packet on the desk, taking off his coat, the places the hook of the umbrella on the inside doorknob.
"Oh I can do that," he says smoothly. "You've been on your feet a lot lately, take a rest."
This is odd...
John ends up sitting anyway. "Glasses are--"
"I know where they are, John," Mycroft says with that nearly condescending smile of his as he enters the kitchen.
Right, of course he does.
Suspicion crawls into John's mind.
Since when was Mycroft wrong about Sherlock being home or not?
Since when did Mycroft get his own tea?
Since when does Sherlock ever ask his brother for anything, unless it's a last resort? A truly last resort.
John looks at the manila packet, then back at Mycroft currently busy fixing his tea. Looks back at the manila packet.
It would be rude to look.
John reaches over anyway.
**************************
Date: February 9th, 2011
Location: 221B Baker Street
Time: Evening
**************************
Sherlock closes the door to 221B Baker Street and looks up the stairs to the flat. He leans against the door, visualizing how the next few hours will play out.
Another phone call, this time from Mycroft's assistant, told him exactly what he needed to hear.
All he has to do now is get through these next few hours with John, and then when John goes to bed, he will begin.
Sherlock swallows as he forces himself to remain rational, logical. He cannot afford to be sentimental. He cannot afford to lose logic or rationality.
He slowly walks up the stairs to the flat, and enters.
Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a glowering Doctor John Watson.. and Mycroft.
Sherlock automatically scowls at the sight of his brother. But what he sees next displeases him even more.
On the table, next to John... is Sherlock's ticket. Passport. Other papers that were needed to carry this off.
Damn you Mycroft.
"I did not know he would be here when I came by," Mycroft says as he stands up, as always looking his usual self. Oh and lying of course. He knew.
"I best be off, have a few matters to finish detailing," Mycroft says smoothly, he turns to John. "Good bye John."
John nods stiffly, and Sherlock stays standing, only glaring at Mycroft as leaves.
"Do not be angry, little brother. I did not have to say anything," he says softly.
The door shuts.
"Sherlock."
"It's the only way," Sherlock says flatly, shoring up the walls around him. John could be persuasive. He could not be persuaded out of this.
"Right," John says with a bitter laugh. "The only way huh? You sure about that? So what were you going to do tonight? Go on pretending, which you can do quite well, be gone in the morning? Then I would find out through the news on the telly?
"Sounds about right," Sherlock says coolly.
"You are a right bastard at times."
"Technically I am not. My parents were married at the time I was conceived and born."
"Nice counter. You are not doing... this.. It's mad!"
The walls that were once so strong with everyone else start to waver. How can one protest from this man do that? Only John can do it.
"There is no other choice," Sherlock counters sharply. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "If I don't do this, then more people will die. Not just my contacts, but your sister, Sarah, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, you!" Sherlock almost chokes at that, but he forces himself ahead.
Who knew feeling things would be so disastrous at times? That caring about someone would be so... dramatic? Frustrating. He should blame John. Has every right to.
"This will never end. This war between you and I. Many will suffer, London will burn and you will lose. Everything. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
"It will not end. Moriarty will never stop."
"I know that Sherlock," John says quietly as Sherlock starts to pace. "Sherlock, sit down. Just sit down."
"I can't."
"Fine, then... I understand why you want to do it. It's mad, insane... so many things could go wrong. But from your point of view, I can see it as the only option."
Sherlock pauses in his pacing. "You do?"
"I do."
"Then why are we arguing about this?"
"Because I'm not going to let you--"
"I'm going to John. I don't care what your arguments are, I am going to--"
"By yourself."
Sherlock stops in the middle of his protest. He's stopped short by those two ordinary words coming from John.
"Pardon?"
"You are not doing this alone. I won't let you. You need someone there with you. I have to say you hide it all very well. Only the arrival of Mycroft made something seem off."
Mycroft did that deliberately, knowing John would sense something was not quite right.
"When he arrived, all sorts of questions started popping up. Then he went to go make his cuppa tea."
Well, talk about just giving it away.
"I got a look at that packet. A very good look. This plan of yours... you can't do it alone. Sherlock. I am going to be with you, every step of the way."
"What about Harry? Sarah?"
"Sarah and I have not been romantically seeing each other for over a month now. I thought you, the great Sherlock Holmes, would have realized that. We are just good friends and the occasional co-worker."
"Been a bit preocuppied," Sherlock murmurs.
"Right. Sarah will survive. Harry will too."
"John--"
"Spare me any counter arguments, protests. No. I am going to be by your side. Remember our chat when you tried to get me to move out after that mess with Irene Adler? Remember what I said?"
Sherlock remembers. Oh he remembers quite clearly.
"What we have is more than friendship."
"This isn't something that can be easily severed," John continues, his voice quiet, but firm. "You can't delete this. What you and I have been through since meeting each other... this thing between us.. I've only ever seen it happen between soldiers in the battlefield. We have our own battlefield that we navigate through here in London, and now there's a far more deadly enemy out there waiting in the wings to strike. Sherlock, this is a battle you cannot go through alone. I won't let you walk through this battlefield alone. Whether you like it or not, I am going to walk with you. By your side. Where I belong."
"This is just another new battlefield," John's words bring Sherlock out of his thoughts. "So, we are going to do this together. You will need someone by your side, even more so than now. We are more than just friends, or colleagues, or flatmates Sherlock. We are brothers. I will not, positively will not, let you do this on your own. "
Sherlock sees the determination, the will, the strength in John's eyes, in his body language.
He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that has irritatingly formed.
"You consider me a brother?"
John snorts. "Yeah, right stupid I suppose, considering how you treat your sibling."
"He deserves it," Sherlock says absently, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the warmth that spreads through him with John's words.
Brothers.
"I consider you a brother," Sherlock admits. "You fit the attitude of one, especially of an older brother. All your nagging about things. But as a brother, you are far less annoying than Mycroft... No wonder Mummy likes you."
John smiles.
He exhales, his mind racing, now trying to configure John's part in this. It does not take long.
"All right," Sherlock concedes after two minutes of thinking.
"Good. Don't try to be clever now, and sneak off or find some sort of way to leave me behind."
"I won't." Sherlock knows he can't. It's quite daunting sometimes to be brought to heel. It doesn't happen normally, not often. In the past, the only person that has been able to do it (Besides Mummy but that doesn't count) has been... John.
It should be annoying.
Actually itis annoying.
But Sherlock can handle it.
"Guess we need to find a way to fix all of this, so I can be included. You've been clearly working on this for a couple of days now--"
There's a buzz on Sherlock's mobile and he picks it up. Looks at the message.
Working on the papers for John. Ticket has been bought. MH
"Mycroft?"
"Yes."
"He's working on it, I suppose."
"Yes. He apparently knew you would talk your way into it."
"Smart man."
Sherlock scowls. "Unfortunately."
Two Hours Later
"So.. that's the plan?" John asks with uncertainty evident in his features.
Sherlock nods.
John pales a little, but Sherlock can see he's coming to terms with what this all means.
"Interesting," John finally says.
"As I said earlier, I can do this on--"
"No you can't," John says sharply. "Not by yourself. End of story." He takes a deep breath and rubs the back of his head.
"How long do you think we--"
"Don't know. Depends on a lot of factors." Sherlock sighs in disgust. "I do hate working without all the data."
"Is that why you went to Mycroft?"
"Yes," Sherlock mutters. "Bloody Mycroft. Unfortunately, he has to help in order for this to work."
John nods, and once more there's another buzz on his mobile.
Everything has been taken care of regarding John. Wait for my word on the other matter. MH
Sherlock just shakes his head at the text, then shows John.
He just chuckles.
30 Minutes Later
Sherlock stares at his laptop, his website. His fingers itch to type in the message he wants to send.
He can hear John in the background, going over the papers that had arrived for him just a few minutes ago.
A part of him regrets bringing John in on this. John.. the man who survived the war in Afghanistan, who came back to London. Then quickly submerged in another war, where the final problems of said war will be dealt with. Deep in the back of his mind, a part that he doesn't acknowledge much, regret lingers there for bringing John into this.
But deep down, the selfish side of him, is also glad.
His mobile buzzes again.
He looks down.
Everything is set. MH
Sherlock looks away and types the message on the forum board of his website.
He knows it will be seen.
He doesn't know why he chose Reichenbach Falls. When searching for the right locale for this, an image of the Falls appeared. The image seemed powerful in his mind.
Sherlock reads over his message one more time, his finger pausing on the enter button.
There's no going back now. Even if he wanted to.
"Send it," John's soft voice says firmly behind him.
"If I do, there's no going back."
"I know."
"Are you truly ready?"
"Not really, then neither are you."
Sherlock smiles. "Good deduction."
"I've been learning from the master."
"Think he'll do it? Risk it, even with his face all of the news right now?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Why?"
"Because, despite everything that he is, he is still human. He will be curious. He will want to come. He will see it an opportunity that he simply cannot resist."
Sherlock eyes his message one more time. Satisfied, he hits send.
Time to end this with Moriarty.
**************************
Date: February 10th
Location: Berne Airport, Switzerland
Time: 3:38 pm
**************************
They step outside of the airport, John glad to be out of there and walking a little. Too much time on that bloody plane.
"Taxi line down this way," he says, gesturing for Sherlock to follow. "It'll take us to the train. By train we should get there before six--"
"We'll get there in time," Sherlock says in an assuring tone of voice.
They stop at the correct spot, just as taxi looks to be coming around. Sherlock raises up his hand to get its attention. A couple of minutes later Sherlock is getting in, holding the door open for John.
"We're heading to Reichenbach Falls," he tells the driver first in Swiss, then in English, after John gets in and closes the door. The taxi drives off.
"When did you learn how to speak Swiss?"
"Remember that case with the Swiss tourists in December?"
"You learned Swiss because of that?"
Sherlock shrugs. "It kept my mind occupied."
John shakes his head, but he notices a smile.
Silence falls between the two men as they head towards Reichenbach Falls. A silence that only the two of them can appreciate.
And onwards to the Epilogue...