Text, Context and Sub-text - Part 4 - Sherlock/Hawaii Five-O crossover
Title: Text, Context and Sub-text Continued - 4/?
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sexual references, nothing too explicit
Word Count: 3,377
Pairings: Danny/Steve; Sherlock/John; Danny/John friendship
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc
.
Warnings: Slash; m/m sex; angst; h/c - major spoilers for Season 2 of Sherlock!
Spoilers: References to seasons 1 & 2 of H5O and Season 1 and 2 of Sherlock
Summary: John helps Danny and Steve crack the case.
Notes: A sort of sequel to Text, Context and Sub-text
A massive jump forward in time to deal with the events of The Reichenbach Fall. I may get around to the other episodes at some point but this one just demanded to be written. I have assumed a time line and, as with the end of The Great Game, have written an ending which is probably far from the brilliance of Moffatt and Gatiss but will have to do until Sherlock returns for a third season!
Many thanks as always to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Irene Adler was keeping a low profile. She was not precisely hiding but she was not in the mood for extraneous demands for explanations. Jim Moriarty was dead and the two imbeciles fighting over what was left of his criminal network were making a terrible mess of things. The network was not at all what it had been under Jim’s control. Key members of the organization had disappeared without trace; allies were turning against each other and the final coup de grace was not far off if Irene had anything to do with it. She had watched from the sidelines as the network was carefully picked apart by some very clever people, although she did not know whom, until there were only two protagonists left - Sebastian Moran and Wo Fat. She despised them both and had spun her own web around them, a fabrication of lies, half-truths, some facts and some irresistible temptation. They would destroy each other soon, she was sure, if only the Governor’s task force would stay out of it for a little while longer.
It was tedious having to stay in Hawaii, lovely though it was, but it was Wo Fat’s territory and Moran had ventured there when things got too hot in London. Someone other than Irene was out for blood, too, and Irene wished she knew who it was. She had suspected Mycroft Holmes for a while, and it seemed he had possibly assisted on more than one occasion, but he was not the driving force behind the witch hunt to destroy Moriarty’s brainchild. Whoever it was, they had driven Moran out of England and cut him off from all but the Hawaiian connection. Now she planned to finish their work for them. She hated being indebted to anyone, much preferring to be the one holding the upper hand, but she owed Sherlock Holmes her life and she intended to repay the debt. The fact that he was dead did not deter her, only made her more determined. Moriarty had destroyed Sherlock and, since Moriarty had denied her the chance to repay the compliment, she would help destroy his empire in return. It was not revenge for Sherlock’s death, it was just restoring the balance. She told herself that as often as was necessary when the memory of the consulting detective became a little too intrusive.
Her plan had been going well, the pieces falling into place, and then someone tipped off the Governor about the blackmailing scheme far too early in the game. She could not discover who had done so but it had complicated matters. The 5-O team had been making waves and Moran was running scared and had gone to ground. Wo Fat was much more confident but he did have home field advantage. Irene had adapted her plan to accommodate the involvement of the task force but she felt she was beginning to lose control of events. She had needed more time before she had finally turned Moran and Wo Fat against each other, playing on their suspicions and innate distrust of one another. She needed to step away now before she got caught in the maelstrom; she knew it but, perversely, she wanted to be in at the kill. So she stayed and found herself outplayed for only the second time in her life.
She was staying in a small bed and breakfast in Kaneohe and usually walked to a little restaurant called Honey’s to eat lunch if she wasn’t downtown in Honolulu or dining with Wo Fat. She had abandoned her glamorous persona along with the name Adler and had become just another British tourist, the penurious Mrs. Norton, who hid her figure under a muumuu and watched her pennies. The staff at the restaurant soon recognized her and remembered what she liked to drink and which table she preferred and she felt safe enough to relax her watchfulness while she was there. She was gazing out over Kaneohe Bay when an English voice asked her if the seat opposite was taken. As there were plenty of empty tables, Irene quickly decided on just how she would avoid being chatted up by the stranger before she even raised her eyes from the menu.
“I’m expecting someone,” she said and glanced up in annoyance when the intruder sat down opposite her anyway. Her heart stopped for a moment and she struggled to maintain her composure. She took a breath and glanced around the restaurant, noting the strangers strategically place at each exit. Tall, dark and handsome was near the front door; short, blond and handsome was hovering near the kitchen. Irene glanced between them and made a mental note: they were together - interesting. There was a pretty little blonde lounging by the ladies’ room and a Hawaiian couple at a table nearby. Irene’s eyes lingered briefly on the exquisite Hawaiian girl.
She gave a tiny shrug, accepting the situation, and smiled into the eyes of the man opposite her.
“Hello Doctor Watson,” she said calmly.
“Not who you were expecting, Ms. Adler?” John asked pleasantly but Irene wasn’t fooled. “Although I seriously doubt you were expecting anyone,” he added, looking pointedly at the single place setting on the table.
“Correct on both counts,” Irene replied. “But, since you are here, would you care to join me for lunch?”
“I’ll pass,” John said, “I have more important things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Like what you’re doing in Hawaii and what is your connection to Sebastian Moran and Wo Fat?”
Irene didn’t react, although she was surprised John knew so much about her activities.
“Who told you I was here?” she asked. “The Iceman?”
“No, actually, I told him,” John said with a little smirk. “I would prefer to ask the questions, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ve noticed the heavy police presence and I can tell you they are just itching to slap some handcuffs on you. Something of a reversal of roles for you, wouldn’t you say?”
“And why aren’t they?”
“Because I’m not one hundred per cent certain you are actively involved with Moran and Wo Fat. If you can confirm that I’m right, then you may get to walk away a free woman. If you can convince me, I’ll put in a good word for you. ”
“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Irene was genuinely interested. “I would have thought you would love to see me behind bars.”
“Until a few hours ago, I thought you were dead,” John replied. “I really don’t care one way or the other about what happens to you but I do need to know what you’re up to and if you’re working with or against the two gentlemen in question.” Irene nodded approvingly.
“You’re cleverer than you pretend to be,” she said, “but you would have to be for Sherlock to have bothered with you.”
“I would prefer not to discuss Sherlock,” John said softly but Irene was chilled by his tone all the same. This quiet man was not someone to underestimate. She nodded in acknowledgement.
“Would you believe me if I said I was working against them?” she asked.
“I might if you can give me a plausible explanation of your motivation for doing such a thing.”
“I could but you’ve forbidden me to discuss the subject.” She waited a beat for him to figure it out.
“You’re doing this for Sherlock?” John asked in a whisper. “Why?”
“Because he saved my life.”
“Oh, I see,” John said and then surprised Irene by laughing.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” she said frostily.
“You don’t amuse me at all,” John snapped back. “I was laughing because Mycroft said only Sherlock could have deceived him when it came to confirming the details of your death. He won’t be pleased when he finds out he was right. He’s already rather put out about you being alive, so be careful, Ms. Adler.”
“Point taken; he’s not a man to trifle with.”
“No, he’s not and he has a long memory.”
“He thinks I was trifling with Sherlock? No, that’s not it. Oh, I see; you’re the one who thinks that, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t forgotten either,” John said.
“But he won in the end.” Irene smiled at the memory and was startled when John leaned in close.
“He beat you eventually,” he hissed, “but he didn’t win in the end. Moriarty destroyed his reputation and then he destroyed him. That is not something to smile about.”
“No, it’s not and I was trying to repay the compliment,” Irene snapped back, betrayed into revealing herself. John leaned back, a satisfied look on his face.
“So you’ve been trying to destroy Moriarty’s network?” Annoyed at her slip, Irene shrugged.
“I don’t have the resources to do what has been done so far but I like to think I can do my part.”
“So you are trying to set Moran and Wo Fat against each other?”
“I admit it; neither of them deserve to take over from Moriarty, not even what now remains of his network. If someone hadn’t tipped off the authorities, I would have had them at each other’s throats.”
“So you didn’t make that call to the Governor’s office? Then who did?”
“I wish I knew,” Irene said. “I could have done without their interference.”
Irene glanced around again at the strangers. “I assume they are part of this task force I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“You’ll get your chance to meet them soon,” John answered. “They are very anxious to talk to you but I called in a favour and asked to speak to you first. You need to tell them everything you know about Wo Fat, Moran, Moriarty’s organization, the works; do you understand?”
“I do but I sense a caveat to that speech.”
“I can’t guarantee your freedom if you’re involved in the blackmail or if you lie to them. So, Ms. Adler, what’s it to be?” Irene sighed.
“I made a mistake, I admit it. I have certain information in my possession and I was stupid enough to share some of it with Moran. I needed protection and I thought he could provide it.”
“Protection from Wo Fat?” John asked shrewdly.
“You’re more like him than you realize,” Irene said and, when John frowned, she added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, it was meant as a compliment. Yes, I needed protection from Wo Fat but, instead, Moran devised this stupid blackmailing scheme and presented it to Wo Fat as a means of ingratiating himself. I advised against it but there you have it.”
“Okay. Do you know where Moran is?” Irene shook her head.
“The last I heard, he was staying somewhere near Ala Moana in a rented studio apartment. I don’t know exactly where.”
John leaned back and caught Steve’s eye. He and Danny strolled over and joined them at the table.
“Ms. Adler,” John said, “meet Commander Steve McGarrett and Detective Danny Williams of the Five-O task force. Steve, Danny, this is Irene Adler. She is willing to co-operate if you will offer her immunity - and protection.” Irene looked startled as she hadn’t been expecting that.
“We can certainly offer her protection,” Steve said. “Immunity will depend on the level of co-operation and the amount of her involvement.”
“I’m satisfied she isn’t involved in any criminal activity with respect to the blackmailing scheme,” John replied. “If she admits to anything else, then I leave it to your discretion.”
“Fair enough,” Steve said as he beckoned to Lori, Kono and Chin. “Ms. Adler, if you would go with Officer Kalakaua and Lieutenant Kelly, they will accompany you back to headquarters and take your initial statement; I’ll want to speak to you later myself.”
Irene rose to her feet and looked Kono up and down, a small smile on her lips.
“No handcuffs?” she asked. John cleared his throat meaningfully and Irene glanced down at him.
“Behave,” he said severely. Irene laughed and turned to go.
“Lori, you follow them,” Steve ordered. “Be on the alert, just in case Wo Fat or Moran has been tipped off we’ve found Irene. Danny and I still have another lead to follow with John.”
John got to his feet and was surprised when Irene held out her hand to him.
“Goodbye, Doctor Watson,” she said. “I doubt if our paths will cross again. Thank you for your assistance, even if I would have preferred to play my own game.” John shook her hand and was pleasantly surprised when she drew close and said in his ear, “Please believe me when I tell you I am truly sorry for your loss. He was a remarkable man.”
“Yes, he was,” John said. “Goodbye, Ms. Adler.”
~
John was tired. It had been a long, eventful few days but he could not rest. The net had closed around Moran and he was in custody awaiting extradition to the UK. Wo Fat seemed to have cut his losses after Irene was placed in protective custody and was currently on his way to Hong Kong, although that was probably not his final destination. This was all very satisfactory and the whole team and John had gone out to dinner and relaxed for the first time since John had arrived. They had drunk a little more than they should have and Steve and Danny had been in a celebratory mood when they arrived home. John envied them their happiness and had discreetly left them alone.
He’d gone out to the beach in front of Steve’s house. It was a beautiful night but, for once, John was not enjoying the tranquil scene. The pieces had slotted together so precisely that John could no longer deny himself the glimmer of hope he had been trying to suppress since he had deduced the source of the anonymous tip. He was waiting expectantly, his stomach churning with nerves. Surely, if he was right - and he had to be because he didn’t think he could bear it otherwise - if he was right, then he was about to witness the miracle he had begged for in his darkest hour. The time slipped by as he walked along the ocean’s edge, his whole being straining towards the anticipated resolution of his latest Hawaiian adventure. He eventually turned back, his certainty beginning to fade.
His heart leapt when he heard someone approaching. Taking a shaky breath, he turned slowly, his legs barely supporting him. His lips were already forming the name he was desperate to say as his eyes sought the figure in the dark: the short, blond figure in the dark.
“There’s a call for you,” Danny said, holding out the phone. “Are you okay, John?”
“I’m fine,” John managed to reply, taking the phone with a trembling hand. “I’m sorry for the interruption.” Danny’s face was in shadows but John could tell he was blushing. Pulling himself together, John smiled. “Go on back, Danny, it’s okay, I’m fine.”
Danny grinned and headed back to the house and John raised the phone to his ear.
“This is John Watson,” he said, pleased that his voice was steady.
“Hello John,” Mycroft said. “I’m sorry to call so late but I wanted to congratulate you.”
“This couldn’t have waited until morning?” John asked.
“No, I think not. You have done very well, John, under circumstances which I know have been rather trying.”
“Rather trying! That’s the understatement of the century, Mycroft. Just, please, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”
“Tut, John, there really is no need to be so aggressive. Other than to pass on the congratulations of those who really matter in the great scheme of things, I want nothing. It’s probably time for you to return to London; I’ll make the arrangements.”
“No, you won’t! I’m staying here,” John snapped.
“And for how long will you prolong your stay?” Mycroft sounded totally disinterested, bored even, but then he never sounded any different to John, no matter what.
“I don’t know - I’m waiting for - I have to be here, don’t you understand?”
“I understand that you are overwrought and not thinking particularly clearly. There is nothing for you there, John; your place is in London. Do I make myself clear?”
“No, I don’t believe you! What aren’t you telling me?”
“I am not withholding anything, John. It’s not like you to succumb to paranoia; what information do you imagine I possess?”
“I thought that you - maybe he had - I don’t know what I thought!” John sighed heavily. “Mycroft, it’s late and I’m very tired. I’ve been putting in sixteen, twenty hour days since I got here. I’m going to take a couple of days for the R&R you thought I deserved and then I’ll be returning to London.”
“Very well; email me details of your departure date once you know it. And if you feel the need to book a hotel, I can take care of that, too.”
“Why would I move to a hotel?”
“Really, John, you must indeed be tired. Aren’t you feeling a little ‘de trop’ by now? Detective Williams and Commander McGarrett are delightful people, I’m sure, but aren’t they entitled to their privacy?”
“They are my friends, Mycroft, and they invited me to stay with them. You do know what a friend is, right?”
“Very well, John, I see my good offices are not required, so I will leave you to your friends. I wish you a good night.”
“Goodbye, Mycroft,” John said but Mycroft had already gone.
John sat down on the sand with a thump as his self-control disintegrated and his legs finally gave way. His eyes burned with unshed tears and he couldn’t prevent a sob escaping his throat. He had been so sure, he hadn’t had a moment’s doubt and hope had risen unchecked, only to be dashed again. In a way, he was grateful to Mycroft, who had brought his fantasy to a halt before he had allowed his imagination to supply a Hollywood ending. What had he expected: Sherlock to rise from his grave and appear on the beach in the moonlight, to take his hand and stroll romantically along the water’s edge as they had done just over a year ago? All accompanied by swelling violins and rainbows, of course. What a fool he was! Sherlock was dead and buried. He had seen him smash to pieces on the pavement with his own eyes, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
Actually, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t . . . he’d seen him jump and he’d seen his body lying on the pavement but he certainly hadn’t seen him smash to pieces. Sherlock had made very sure of that, ordering him to stand in a certain spot where his view was obscured by a building. He’d wondered about that afterwards, once his mind had stopped screaming, and had concluded Sherlock had tried to spare him at least that much. It hadn’t seemed likely at the time but John had had no other interpretation of the scenario. Now, though, having convinced himself that Sherlock was, by some miracle, actually alive, it didn’t make any sense. If Sherlock had wanted to spare John the trauma of his suicide, why had he called him to say goodbye? Had he managed to fake his death in some spectacular fashion? Oh yes, he could certainly believe that of Sherlock and wouldn’t he tear a strip off him when he saw him for putting him through such excruciating misery. No! John shook his head to clear away such thoughts. He wasn’t going to see Sherlock again; he would never have the opportunity to speak his mind to him. He hadn’t seen Sherlock actually hit the ground but he’d been by his side seconds later, had seen the blood and felt for a non-existent pulse. Sherlock was dead and his ridiculous deductions had only misled him into false hope.
John wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them. Tears seeped slowly down his face unchecked as his grief overwhelmed him once more. Mycroft had been right after all; it was time for him to return to London.
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sexual references, nothing too explicit
Word Count: 3,377
Pairings: Danny/Steve; Sherlock/John; Danny/John friendship
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc
.
Warnings: Slash; m/m sex; angst; h/c - major spoilers for Season 2 of Sherlock!
Spoilers: References to seasons 1 & 2 of H5O and Season 1 and 2 of Sherlock
Summary: John helps Danny and Steve crack the case.
Notes: A sort of sequel to Text, Context and Sub-text
A massive jump forward in time to deal with the events of The Reichenbach Fall. I may get around to the other episodes at some point but this one just demanded to be written. I have assumed a time line and, as with the end of The Great Game, have written an ending which is probably far from the brilliance of Moffatt and Gatiss but will have to do until Sherlock returns for a third season!
Many thanks as always to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Irene Adler was keeping a low profile. She was not precisely hiding but she was not in the mood for extraneous demands for explanations. Jim Moriarty was dead and the two imbeciles fighting over what was left of his criminal network were making a terrible mess of things. The network was not at all what it had been under Jim’s control. Key members of the organization had disappeared without trace; allies were turning against each other and the final coup de grace was not far off if Irene had anything to do with it. She had watched from the sidelines as the network was carefully picked apart by some very clever people, although she did not know whom, until there were only two protagonists left - Sebastian Moran and Wo Fat. She despised them both and had spun her own web around them, a fabrication of lies, half-truths, some facts and some irresistible temptation. They would destroy each other soon, she was sure, if only the Governor’s task force would stay out of it for a little while longer.
It was tedious having to stay in Hawaii, lovely though it was, but it was Wo Fat’s territory and Moran had ventured there when things got too hot in London. Someone other than Irene was out for blood, too, and Irene wished she knew who it was. She had suspected Mycroft Holmes for a while, and it seemed he had possibly assisted on more than one occasion, but he was not the driving force behind the witch hunt to destroy Moriarty’s brainchild. Whoever it was, they had driven Moran out of England and cut him off from all but the Hawaiian connection. Now she planned to finish their work for them. She hated being indebted to anyone, much preferring to be the one holding the upper hand, but she owed Sherlock Holmes her life and she intended to repay the debt. The fact that he was dead did not deter her, only made her more determined. Moriarty had destroyed Sherlock and, since Moriarty had denied her the chance to repay the compliment, she would help destroy his empire in return. It was not revenge for Sherlock’s death, it was just restoring the balance. She told herself that as often as was necessary when the memory of the consulting detective became a little too intrusive.
Her plan had been going well, the pieces falling into place, and then someone tipped off the Governor about the blackmailing scheme far too early in the game. She could not discover who had done so but it had complicated matters. The 5-O team had been making waves and Moran was running scared and had gone to ground. Wo Fat was much more confident but he did have home field advantage. Irene had adapted her plan to accommodate the involvement of the task force but she felt she was beginning to lose control of events. She had needed more time before she had finally turned Moran and Wo Fat against each other, playing on their suspicions and innate distrust of one another. She needed to step away now before she got caught in the maelstrom; she knew it but, perversely, she wanted to be in at the kill. So she stayed and found herself outplayed for only the second time in her life.
She was staying in a small bed and breakfast in Kaneohe and usually walked to a little restaurant called Honey’s to eat lunch if she wasn’t downtown in Honolulu or dining with Wo Fat. She had abandoned her glamorous persona along with the name Adler and had become just another British tourist, the penurious Mrs. Norton, who hid her figure under a muumuu and watched her pennies. The staff at the restaurant soon recognized her and remembered what she liked to drink and which table she preferred and she felt safe enough to relax her watchfulness while she was there. She was gazing out over Kaneohe Bay when an English voice asked her if the seat opposite was taken. As there were plenty of empty tables, Irene quickly decided on just how she would avoid being chatted up by the stranger before she even raised her eyes from the menu.
“I’m expecting someone,” she said and glanced up in annoyance when the intruder sat down opposite her anyway. Her heart stopped for a moment and she struggled to maintain her composure. She took a breath and glanced around the restaurant, noting the strangers strategically place at each exit. Tall, dark and handsome was near the front door; short, blond and handsome was hovering near the kitchen. Irene glanced between them and made a mental note: they were together - interesting. There was a pretty little blonde lounging by the ladies’ room and a Hawaiian couple at a table nearby. Irene’s eyes lingered briefly on the exquisite Hawaiian girl.
She gave a tiny shrug, accepting the situation, and smiled into the eyes of the man opposite her.
“Hello Doctor Watson,” she said calmly.
“Not who you were expecting, Ms. Adler?” John asked pleasantly but Irene wasn’t fooled. “Although I seriously doubt you were expecting anyone,” he added, looking pointedly at the single place setting on the table.
“Correct on both counts,” Irene replied. “But, since you are here, would you care to join me for lunch?”
“I’ll pass,” John said, “I have more important things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Like what you’re doing in Hawaii and what is your connection to Sebastian Moran and Wo Fat?”
Irene didn’t react, although she was surprised John knew so much about her activities.
“Who told you I was here?” she asked. “The Iceman?”
“No, actually, I told him,” John said with a little smirk. “I would prefer to ask the questions, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ve noticed the heavy police presence and I can tell you they are just itching to slap some handcuffs on you. Something of a reversal of roles for you, wouldn’t you say?”
“And why aren’t they?”
“Because I’m not one hundred per cent certain you are actively involved with Moran and Wo Fat. If you can confirm that I’m right, then you may get to walk away a free woman. If you can convince me, I’ll put in a good word for you. ”
“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Irene was genuinely interested. “I would have thought you would love to see me behind bars.”
“Until a few hours ago, I thought you were dead,” John replied. “I really don’t care one way or the other about what happens to you but I do need to know what you’re up to and if you’re working with or against the two gentlemen in question.” Irene nodded approvingly.
“You’re cleverer than you pretend to be,” she said, “but you would have to be for Sherlock to have bothered with you.”
“I would prefer not to discuss Sherlock,” John said softly but Irene was chilled by his tone all the same. This quiet man was not someone to underestimate. She nodded in acknowledgement.
“Would you believe me if I said I was working against them?” she asked.
“I might if you can give me a plausible explanation of your motivation for doing such a thing.”
“I could but you’ve forbidden me to discuss the subject.” She waited a beat for him to figure it out.
“You’re doing this for Sherlock?” John asked in a whisper. “Why?”
“Because he saved my life.”
“Oh, I see,” John said and then surprised Irene by laughing.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” she said frostily.
“You don’t amuse me at all,” John snapped back. “I was laughing because Mycroft said only Sherlock could have deceived him when it came to confirming the details of your death. He won’t be pleased when he finds out he was right. He’s already rather put out about you being alive, so be careful, Ms. Adler.”
“Point taken; he’s not a man to trifle with.”
“No, he’s not and he has a long memory.”
“He thinks I was trifling with Sherlock? No, that’s not it. Oh, I see; you’re the one who thinks that, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t forgotten either,” John said.
“But he won in the end.” Irene smiled at the memory and was startled when John leaned in close.
“He beat you eventually,” he hissed, “but he didn’t win in the end. Moriarty destroyed his reputation and then he destroyed him. That is not something to smile about.”
“No, it’s not and I was trying to repay the compliment,” Irene snapped back, betrayed into revealing herself. John leaned back, a satisfied look on his face.
“So you’ve been trying to destroy Moriarty’s network?” Annoyed at her slip, Irene shrugged.
“I don’t have the resources to do what has been done so far but I like to think I can do my part.”
“So you are trying to set Moran and Wo Fat against each other?”
“I admit it; neither of them deserve to take over from Moriarty, not even what now remains of his network. If someone hadn’t tipped off the authorities, I would have had them at each other’s throats.”
“So you didn’t make that call to the Governor’s office? Then who did?”
“I wish I knew,” Irene said. “I could have done without their interference.”
Irene glanced around again at the strangers. “I assume they are part of this task force I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“You’ll get your chance to meet them soon,” John answered. “They are very anxious to talk to you but I called in a favour and asked to speak to you first. You need to tell them everything you know about Wo Fat, Moran, Moriarty’s organization, the works; do you understand?”
“I do but I sense a caveat to that speech.”
“I can’t guarantee your freedom if you’re involved in the blackmail or if you lie to them. So, Ms. Adler, what’s it to be?” Irene sighed.
“I made a mistake, I admit it. I have certain information in my possession and I was stupid enough to share some of it with Moran. I needed protection and I thought he could provide it.”
“Protection from Wo Fat?” John asked shrewdly.
“You’re more like him than you realize,” Irene said and, when John frowned, she added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, it was meant as a compliment. Yes, I needed protection from Wo Fat but, instead, Moran devised this stupid blackmailing scheme and presented it to Wo Fat as a means of ingratiating himself. I advised against it but there you have it.”
“Okay. Do you know where Moran is?” Irene shook her head.
“The last I heard, he was staying somewhere near Ala Moana in a rented studio apartment. I don’t know exactly where.”
John leaned back and caught Steve’s eye. He and Danny strolled over and joined them at the table.
“Ms. Adler,” John said, “meet Commander Steve McGarrett and Detective Danny Williams of the Five-O task force. Steve, Danny, this is Irene Adler. She is willing to co-operate if you will offer her immunity - and protection.” Irene looked startled as she hadn’t been expecting that.
“We can certainly offer her protection,” Steve said. “Immunity will depend on the level of co-operation and the amount of her involvement.”
“I’m satisfied she isn’t involved in any criminal activity with respect to the blackmailing scheme,” John replied. “If she admits to anything else, then I leave it to your discretion.”
“Fair enough,” Steve said as he beckoned to Lori, Kono and Chin. “Ms. Adler, if you would go with Officer Kalakaua and Lieutenant Kelly, they will accompany you back to headquarters and take your initial statement; I’ll want to speak to you later myself.”
Irene rose to her feet and looked Kono up and down, a small smile on her lips.
“No handcuffs?” she asked. John cleared his throat meaningfully and Irene glanced down at him.
“Behave,” he said severely. Irene laughed and turned to go.
“Lori, you follow them,” Steve ordered. “Be on the alert, just in case Wo Fat or Moran has been tipped off we’ve found Irene. Danny and I still have another lead to follow with John.”
John got to his feet and was surprised when Irene held out her hand to him.
“Goodbye, Doctor Watson,” she said. “I doubt if our paths will cross again. Thank you for your assistance, even if I would have preferred to play my own game.” John shook her hand and was pleasantly surprised when she drew close and said in his ear, “Please believe me when I tell you I am truly sorry for your loss. He was a remarkable man.”
“Yes, he was,” John said. “Goodbye, Ms. Adler.”
~
John was tired. It had been a long, eventful few days but he could not rest. The net had closed around Moran and he was in custody awaiting extradition to the UK. Wo Fat seemed to have cut his losses after Irene was placed in protective custody and was currently on his way to Hong Kong, although that was probably not his final destination. This was all very satisfactory and the whole team and John had gone out to dinner and relaxed for the first time since John had arrived. They had drunk a little more than they should have and Steve and Danny had been in a celebratory mood when they arrived home. John envied them their happiness and had discreetly left them alone.
He’d gone out to the beach in front of Steve’s house. It was a beautiful night but, for once, John was not enjoying the tranquil scene. The pieces had slotted together so precisely that John could no longer deny himself the glimmer of hope he had been trying to suppress since he had deduced the source of the anonymous tip. He was waiting expectantly, his stomach churning with nerves. Surely, if he was right - and he had to be because he didn’t think he could bear it otherwise - if he was right, then he was about to witness the miracle he had begged for in his darkest hour. The time slipped by as he walked along the ocean’s edge, his whole being straining towards the anticipated resolution of his latest Hawaiian adventure. He eventually turned back, his certainty beginning to fade.
His heart leapt when he heard someone approaching. Taking a shaky breath, he turned slowly, his legs barely supporting him. His lips were already forming the name he was desperate to say as his eyes sought the figure in the dark: the short, blond figure in the dark.
“There’s a call for you,” Danny said, holding out the phone. “Are you okay, John?”
“I’m fine,” John managed to reply, taking the phone with a trembling hand. “I’m sorry for the interruption.” Danny’s face was in shadows but John could tell he was blushing. Pulling himself together, John smiled. “Go on back, Danny, it’s okay, I’m fine.”
Danny grinned and headed back to the house and John raised the phone to his ear.
“This is John Watson,” he said, pleased that his voice was steady.
“Hello John,” Mycroft said. “I’m sorry to call so late but I wanted to congratulate you.”
“This couldn’t have waited until morning?” John asked.
“No, I think not. You have done very well, John, under circumstances which I know have been rather trying.”
“Rather trying! That’s the understatement of the century, Mycroft. Just, please, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”
“Tut, John, there really is no need to be so aggressive. Other than to pass on the congratulations of those who really matter in the great scheme of things, I want nothing. It’s probably time for you to return to London; I’ll make the arrangements.”
“No, you won’t! I’m staying here,” John snapped.
“And for how long will you prolong your stay?” Mycroft sounded totally disinterested, bored even, but then he never sounded any different to John, no matter what.
“I don’t know - I’m waiting for - I have to be here, don’t you understand?”
“I understand that you are overwrought and not thinking particularly clearly. There is nothing for you there, John; your place is in London. Do I make myself clear?”
“No, I don’t believe you! What aren’t you telling me?”
“I am not withholding anything, John. It’s not like you to succumb to paranoia; what information do you imagine I possess?”
“I thought that you - maybe he had - I don’t know what I thought!” John sighed heavily. “Mycroft, it’s late and I’m very tired. I’ve been putting in sixteen, twenty hour days since I got here. I’m going to take a couple of days for the R&R you thought I deserved and then I’ll be returning to London.”
“Very well; email me details of your departure date once you know it. And if you feel the need to book a hotel, I can take care of that, too.”
“Why would I move to a hotel?”
“Really, John, you must indeed be tired. Aren’t you feeling a little ‘de trop’ by now? Detective Williams and Commander McGarrett are delightful people, I’m sure, but aren’t they entitled to their privacy?”
“They are my friends, Mycroft, and they invited me to stay with them. You do know what a friend is, right?”
“Very well, John, I see my good offices are not required, so I will leave you to your friends. I wish you a good night.”
“Goodbye, Mycroft,” John said but Mycroft had already gone.
John sat down on the sand with a thump as his self-control disintegrated and his legs finally gave way. His eyes burned with unshed tears and he couldn’t prevent a sob escaping his throat. He had been so sure, he hadn’t had a moment’s doubt and hope had risen unchecked, only to be dashed again. In a way, he was grateful to Mycroft, who had brought his fantasy to a halt before he had allowed his imagination to supply a Hollywood ending. What had he expected: Sherlock to rise from his grave and appear on the beach in the moonlight, to take his hand and stroll romantically along the water’s edge as they had done just over a year ago? All accompanied by swelling violins and rainbows, of course. What a fool he was! Sherlock was dead and buried. He had seen him smash to pieces on the pavement with his own eyes, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
Actually, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t . . . he’d seen him jump and he’d seen his body lying on the pavement but he certainly hadn’t seen him smash to pieces. Sherlock had made very sure of that, ordering him to stand in a certain spot where his view was obscured by a building. He’d wondered about that afterwards, once his mind had stopped screaming, and had concluded Sherlock had tried to spare him at least that much. It hadn’t seemed likely at the time but John had had no other interpretation of the scenario. Now, though, having convinced himself that Sherlock was, by some miracle, actually alive, it didn’t make any sense. If Sherlock had wanted to spare John the trauma of his suicide, why had he called him to say goodbye? Had he managed to fake his death in some spectacular fashion? Oh yes, he could certainly believe that of Sherlock and wouldn’t he tear a strip off him when he saw him for putting him through such excruciating misery. No! John shook his head to clear away such thoughts. He wasn’t going to see Sherlock again; he would never have the opportunity to speak his mind to him. He hadn’t seen Sherlock actually hit the ground but he’d been by his side seconds later, had seen the blood and felt for a non-existent pulse. Sherlock was dead and his ridiculous deductions had only misled him into false hope.
John wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them. Tears seeped slowly down his face unchecked as his grief overwhelmed him once more. Mycroft had been right after all; it was time for him to return to London.