Cemetery Road - Chapter 11
Title: Cemetery Road
Author
revwestwood
Rating: Teen (Mild Violence, Medical Situations)
Status: WIP
Characters: Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson
Spoilers: Through "The Reichenbach Fall"
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Just having a bit of fun.
Summary: "You think that their dying is the worst thing that could happen. Then they stay dead."
Sherlock returns to 221B to take out the last strands of Moriarty's web with John's help, but Sherlock underestimates just how far that web stretched. This time, Sherlock won't fall alone.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my friends who encouraged this whole process. I. owe. you.
Chapter 11
Lestrade’s jaw drops.
Mycroft maintains a more subtle, knitted brow.
Sherlock directs his gaze to Cartwright. “I imagine you’ll need to see evidence of our civil partnership?”
“That’s not necessary just yet,” Cartwright begins.
“Of course you do. Shouldn’t take my word for it,” Sherlock cuts her off.
He turns back to Mycroft while still addressing Cartwright. “My brother will be happy to send someone to our flat to fetch the certificate. Won’t you, Mycroft? It’s right next to the papers that designate me as John’s health care proxy. I suppose we should bring those as well. I’m sure people as resourceful and fast as yours will have no trouble finding them.”
Mycroft stares back at Sherlock for several long seconds. He finally breaks the stalemate by taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, of course.” He stands and adjusts his jacket, giving a tight smile to Cartwright. “I’ll just need to make a phone call. Excuse me, won’t you?” he says primly and exits the waiting room.
Cartwright begins to fidget with the papers on her clipboard. “Mr. Holmes, I really should be going. Have your brother send your license to my office and I’ll put it in Dr. Watson’s file. We can have another meeting soon if that proves necessary to discuss...options.”
She stands and, after a moment’s hesitation, offers her hand to Sherlock before immediately withdrawing it when Sherlock extends his blood encrusted hand to meet hers. She gasps and Sherlock’s mouth twitches slightly, his eyes mean.
Lestrade attempts to salvage the situation by shaking her hand in both of his. “Thank you,” he tells her, hoping he sounds earnest. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”
“Likewise,” Cartwright mumbles and leaves the waiting room. She nearly bumps into Mycroft who has just opened the door. She gives a flustered apology and then walks away as quickly as her heels allow.
Mycroft watches her leave while replacing his mobile in his jacket pocket. He shuts the door and looks at Sherlock, eyes steady and cold.
Sherlock returns his gaze, jaw set.
“What is going on?” Lestrade asks when he can’t take the tension anymore. “Mycroft, I know this is a shock, I mean, I can’t really wrap my head around it either, but, come on! We all had our suspicions. Are you really this upset with Sherlock for getting married and not telling you?”
Both the Holmeses end the staring contest by simultaneously rolling their eyes and sighing in disgust.
“What?” says Lestrade angrily.
Sherlock gives him a pitying look. “We’re not married.”
“Not so,” says Mycroft softly to Sherlock. “You weren’t married. In about 15 minutes, Ms. Cartwright will get a fax that says otherwise.” He smiles thinly and adds, “Best wishes, brother.”
“So, you and John didn’t get a secret marriage?” Lestrade asks Sherlock.
“Oh, I’d say it was rather secret,” interjects Mycroft. “Only one of the grooms knows about it.”
“Shut up!” hisses Sherlock. “I had to do something! John has that awful living will that practically begs the doctors to kill him if he so much as sneezes, and without any regard as to how that would affect me.”
“In fairness to John, he did write that four years before he even met you,” offers Lestrade.
Sherlock continues on as if he hasn’t heard that. “And then that woman suggests we consult John’s alcoholic sister on how best to care for him. What was I supposed to do? Abandon him to a fate brought on by his own lack of foresight and his willingness to have drunken relatives? Please.”
Sherlock ruffles his hair violently and sits back down on the sofa.
Lestrade doesn’t quite know where the opening of this logic hedge maze might be. He tries anyway. “But, Sherlock, a fake civil partnership so you can be his health care proxy?”
“It’s not fake anymore,” says Mycroft helpfully.
“It doesn’t matter! We can deal with that later. I did what I had to do to save John. As always.”
Mycroft sighs heavily. “No one can argue with that, Sherlock. In one night you’ve managed to get John skewered, shove a car engine into his chest, and then marry him without his consent in order to override his final wishes. Where would he be without you?”