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William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Not everyone would be pleased upon hearing that name.Dr. John Watson was probably the only one who tolerate him, and that’s saying a lot already. Sherlock’s childhood was not very fun, but he did have caring parents. Downside of that was the overprotectiveness.His brother, Mycroft—who is doing God knows what—used to be quite kind to him. Used to. Sentiment, it makes life so dull and at the same time, complicated.Speaking of which.“Please, John. Just a few weeks? I’m trying to help her out.” Harry Watson insists with her brother through the phone.Harry Watson lived in America for a few years now. She only moved there because her wife lived there. Although, occasionally, she comes to visit him in London.“Now’s really not a good time, our flat isn’t the biggest for guests.” He clarifies with her.“I promise that she won’t mind. She’s not a very picky person, I tell you.” “Why didn’t you just change your flight to match with hers?”His sister told him that her friend scheduled a flight to London to attend a meeting with her. Harry, being the clumsiest person that John ever met, had to schedule on the wrong date, making her a few weeks later. It was frustrating, but he was glad that she contacted him.
“I know, but I have work to do and the thing with Clara...”
John just nods, even though she couldn’t see him. He understood that she was going through a divorce; maybe this is the least he could do. “Alright,” he agreed and heard her let out a breath in relief. “—but only for a few weeks.”
“Thank you, John. I owe you. She won’t be a problem, I promise you.”
“Did you tell her that I have a flatmate?” There is somewhat concern in his voice.
“That won’t bother her, don’t worry.”
John raises his brows, glancing at his dormant friend again. “You sure?”“Why? Is your flatmate a mutant or something?” She chuckles.“Never mind. When is she arriving?”
“Two days.”
“Alright. She can take my room. I’m sure that I’ll survive.” He reassures himself more than he reassures his own sister.
“Great, thank you so much, John. Call me when you need something.”
“Actually—” he begins, but is cut off when she hangs up. He scoffs and shakes his head at his phone. John makes his way to the man lying on the couch. “Someone’s going to stay with us for a few weeks. By my sister’s request.”The man stays silent, eyes closed.“Sherlock, did you hear me?”“Busy.”A sudden urge to swing at him strikes John, but he holds himself back. “Alright then. Well, don’t ask in a few days what a woman is doing inside our flat. She’ll be staying with us, and I really hope that you’ll behave.”Silence. Nothing from him.John rolls his eyes. “Alright, I’m going out for groceries. Her name is Jocelyn, by the way. I expect you to be nice.” He starts to walk away.Sherlock’s eyes opens, blinking once and twice before sitting up. It took him a few moments to process what he just heard. He’s heard that name before, which is all too familiar.“John.”“Yeah?”Sherlock had an intense gaze on John, who just stares back with a questioning look. “What did you say?” What did he say? Didn’t I hear him? I know exactly what he says.Oh, so now he’s paying attention? John thinks to himself sarcastically. “I said that I’m expecting you to be nice.”“No, no. The name. What name did you say?”“Jocelyn, why?”For a few moments, he just looks at John with a blank expression before he lies back down on his couch to close his eyes.John sighs and let himself out for groceries, still using Sherlock’s card since he lacks a job still. He turns his collar up to have it fight against the cold breeze the moment he steps outside.When he moved in with Sherlock two months ago, there was a lot to learn about him. At the same time, there isn’t enough information about Sherlock. To John, he is still a mystery.Of course, he knows the basic things about him. Like how he’s apparently a consulting detective. He knows that solving cases is his own type of drug. His brother works for the government.He knows that he can be so heartless with the things he deduces about people, as if reading them like an open book, but he is unaware of how horrible he sounds sometimes. It’s like dealing with a child, an intelligent child that doesn’t seem to know the difference between good and bad.***“Why would you let a stranger inside my flat?”John jumps in surprise once he got back. “Christ, Sherlock.” He sighed, looking away. “I’ll have you aware, it’s my flat too.”“If I have to let you know, I’m not overly fond of unwanted guests.”“As if you never remind me all the bloody time.”Sherlock rolls his eyes in exasperation and turns around to make his way to his usual spot on his chair. “Can’t you just tell you dear sister that now is not a good time?”“I did, she was very persistent.”“And how long is she staying here?” He bitterly asks.“Two weeks, I think.”Sherlock scowls, standing abruptly to retrieve his violin and bow. “And you can’t ask Mrs. Hudson if she has a spare flat for her to use?”“Sherlock, why is it a big deal? I was a stranger when you first moved in with me. What’s so different about another person?”He immediately stops playing, the last note being off-key. “That is because I’ve met you first-hand and I get to decide whether I move in with you or not. I, in fact, did.” He waves John off. “You, in turn, are forcing me to get along with someone else that I have never met and this woman will be living with us tomorrow—no, two days. You’ve been scratching the pad of your thumb for the last couple of minutes, so that means you’re nervous to meet this woman. Why? Because you’re hoping that she’ll be nice enough to ask to dinner.”“Wait, no, hang on—”“Since you’re likely to ask, she might as well be our age. The fact that your sister called you to ask for a place for her to stay means she’s a friend, more likely a co-worker. This means she’s likely to be a doctor. There will be an upcoming conference for Forensic Science in two weeks, which I know because of Molly Hooper. Which is why this woman, whoever she may be, needs a place to stay since our lovely and alcoholic Harry Watson informed her of a wrong date, therefore, misguiding her into booking the wrong flight. Am I wrong?”When John first met him, he was amazed by his deduction skills that he always mentioned how brilliant he was.“You’re absolutely on spot. Is Dr. Hooper going to be a speaker at the conference?”Sherlock makes a distasteful sound. He explains how he stopped listening after Molly said that her new boyfriend was joining in.John shifts in his seat, clearing his throat. “So, why do you think I’m going to ask our guest to dinner?”“Why wouldn’t you? She’s a woman, you’re a man. You’ll be living under the same roof. Upon reading your emails to various girlfriends, I’d say that it’s inevitable for you to do so.”“You read my emails?” He gapes at him.“Irrelevant.”John takes his laptop off the desk. “It’s password protected!”“It’s not exactly Fort Knox. It took me less than ten seconds to guess yours.”John rolls his eyes at Sherlock. He hopes that everything Sherlock does to John, he won’t do to the woman who will be staying here.John clears his throat. “Sherlock,” he calls out to the man turning his back on him as he continues to play his instrument. “I don’t suppose you could lend me some—”Sherlock stops playing, again. “I need to go to the bank.”***When they enter the bank, John is quick to notice how Sherlock is looking around to observe things. They are directed to the office of Sebastian Wilkes and are asked to wait for a few minutes.“Sherlock Holmes.” A man in a suit enters the office and greets Sherlock, reaching his hand over to shake his.“Sebastian,”“Hiya, buddy. How long has it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?”Eight years? So this man knew Sherlock way before Greg even met him. Subtracting eight years to Sherlock’s age, it would be around the time of University.Sherlock doesn’t bother to respond to his question. “This is my friend, John Watson.” John shakes hands with Sebastian and sit down. “So, you’re doing well. You’ve been abroad a lot.”“Well, so?”“Flying all the way around the world twice in a month?”“Right, you’re, uh, doing that thing.” He has an amused expression on his face as he points at Sherlock in a playful manner. He turns to John. “We were at Uni together; this guy here had a trick he used to do.”“It’s not a trick.”“He could look at you and tell you your whole life story.”“Yes, I’ve seen him do it quite a number of times now.”“Put the wind up everybody, we hated him.”John doesn’t see, but Sherlock blinks at Sebastian and looks away. He remembers that. Sherlock always believed that everything he said was true; people only hated him for saying them all out loud.“We’d come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know who you’d been shagging the previous night.” Sebastian looks at Sherlock’s way. “Well, not everyone hated you, huh? Me and the other blokes hung around throughout the years.”Sherlock almost rolls his eyes.“And there was this hot girl that always came round our dorm that Sherlock here chased after.” He teases him.John furrows his brows in confusion, but tries to keep a small smile on his face. Sherlock? With a girl? That doesn’t sound right, if he’s being honest.When he looks at Sherlock, his smile fades. The first true emotion he sees in Sherlock the whole day, and it was anger. He hides it quite well, but John knew anger when he sees it.“I simply observed.”“Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world. You’re quite right. How could you tell?” Sherlock inhales as if he is ready to explain, but the other man interrupts him. “Are you going to tell me there’s a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?”“No, I...”“Maybe it was the mud on my shoes?”Sherlock just stares at him, deadpan. “I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me.”Sebastian now felt stupid, but he tries to laugh it off. Sherlock gives him a fake smile, wanting him to just get on with the case.“I’m glad you could make it over, we’ve had a break-in.”***“What was he talking about?” “What?”“Sebastian. He mentioned a girl back in Uni. You seemed pretty annoyed when he did.”“Everything Sebastian said or did, disregard all of that. He and I were never friends and will certainly never be.”“That… didn’t answer my question.”“Not my problem. Stop here!” He tells the cabbie and climbs out of the cab as soon as he can.It was as if he just wanted to remove himself from that situation. John sighs, wishing that Sherlock would open up to him more.It is probably a good time to drop the subject. John still sticks to his thoughts; he can’t see anyone be with Sherlock. He’s intelligent and everything, but a girlfriend? John doesn’t even think Sherlock ever said the word ‘girlfriend’ in his life.***“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”“Talk about what?”“The fact that you actually had a girlfriend back in University?” He glances back at him with a grin. “So, what was she like?”“If you could be so kind as to not talk about this rubbish subject, it’s quite boring.” Sherlock sounds frustrated. “I have told you earlier today to disregard everything Sebastian has ever mentioned to you and you still decide to bring it up? After many hours?” He doesn’t even make the effort to look up from his microscope.“Yeah, but… a girlfriend! Sherlock, I never thought you could actually have one.”Sherlock finally lifts his face from the eyepiece of his microscope. “Never in my unfortunate life have I ever had a… girlfriend.” He says the word with pure disgust. “Nor will I ever have one. I thought I made it perfectly clear to you on the very first day we’ve met.”“What was her name then?”“Oh, for God’s—there wasn’t a girl or a woman or a boy or a man. So, if you could please just focus on your work and I’ll focus on mine.”The subject is dropped immediately after that line was spoken. Sherlock seemed so defensive over what happened during his University days.His flatmate didn’t seem to be overly fond of talking about her. Everyone else that John asks Sherlock about, he always tells him everything. Even gives a little bit too much information. What makes one woman from his past any different?***When John left for his job interview and comes back, Sherlock is still in his couch. He walks in and tosses his jacket onto his own chair when Sherlock talks to him. “So, tomorrow.”“Tomorrow?”“Our guest. She arrives tomorrow.”“Yeah. I’m going to be sleeping on the sofa. She’ll be taking my room.”“Don’t be ridiculous, John. Sleep on my bed like a normal person. I’m more likely to spend time here more than you.”John was surprised by the gesture. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Sherlock.”“I insist. It’s more difficult to think with you here, yapping around.” And there goes his sincerity.John rolls his eyes at Sherlock. “Genuinely thought you were being nice.”Seeing the slight upwards curl of the corner of Sherlock’s lips was refreshing. It’s nice to see him act like a human being sometimes. ***“Since our guest is arriving tomorrow, maybe you could tell me about what you know about her so far? Knowing you... you’d deduce her just from a single phone call I’ve made.”“Busy. Not now.”“Sherlock.”“What, now? I’m trying to figure out these two were killed.”“I’m only asking you to cooperate when this woman starts living with us.”“It’s only for two weeks. She’ll be on her way after that. Unless, of course, you ask her to dinner like you normally would. In which case, I’ll be unfortunately seeing her longer than that.”“Sherlock—”“Our guest will be around the age twenty-five or twenty-seven. She’s a Forensic Scientist, given how she’s not in the same department as your sister since they never bothered to book the flight together like how each department would normally do before attending an outside-the-country conference.”mSherlock inhales. “She’s isolated. Again, given by the fact she was not included to the group flight booked by each department, in her case, the Forensics Department. Probably because she prefers travelling alone. Air sickness, obviously.”He continues. “The fact that your sister asked you for a place to stay means our guest prefers a more comfortable place like someone else’s home that her friend trusts, which is her own brother, you. She could have gotten to a hotel or an apartment of her own, but no. This woman would prefer to be inside a home with people in it.”“If she does, wouldn’t that contradict your isolated theory?”He looks at John as if he said the most ridiculous thing. “No, don’t be absurd. A person can feel lonely even when they’re not alone.”“Well, none of what you said were told by my sister when she talked about her.”“What was the name again? Must’ve deleted it.”John sighs, not knowing what Sherlock meant by deleting it. “Uh... Jocelyn Grant, I think?”The consulting detective’s hardened face softens, as if something struck him. His lips parts as he stands still for a moment.Then, John witnesses something he never has. Sherlock Holmes is starstruck.
Jocelyn Grant. That name. It shouldn’t. It couldn’t be. Could it? It’s possible for two or more people to have the same name.
Unlikely for two people to be Forensic Analysts, have the same name, live in New York and are both isolated.
Too many coincidences, coincidences don’t exist.
Coincidences are just random patterns we see every day and think too much of. It must be her. It’s the only plausible explanation.
“Sherlock?”“No.”“No?”“She can’t stay here.” He walks to the door, taking his coat and sliding his arms into the sleeves.John parts his mouth in surprise. “Wh—Sherlock, we agreed on this already.”“Changed my mind. Find her a flat. Not on Baker Street.” Sherlock says, his tone is angry and annoyed.“She’s arriving tomorrow! I already texted her the address!”John doesn’t understand what changed Sherlock’s mind, but he certainly can’t do this right now. Not when the woman is already on her way to London and will be arriving tomorrow morning.What’s quite confusing is how Sherlock appeared to be angry. Sherlock is always annoyed and bothered, but he was never this angry. Did he...John looks at him, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking out. “Do you... know her?”Sherlock blinks, pulling his arm away. “No, I don’t. Now, can we proceed with this case? I’ve got to meet with someone.” He drops the subject and walks out of their flat, leaving John to sigh to himself and follow him out.***John walks inside the flat after a word at the police station. Sherlock was standing in front of the mirror like before. “You’ve been a while.”God, if I could be so allowed punching his face. John muses.“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they? Just formalities. Fingerprints, charge sheet, and I’ve got to be in magistrates’ court on Tuesday.”“What?” Sherlock is barely paying attention.“Me, Sherlock! In court, on bloody Tuesday. They’re giving me an ASBO!”“Good, fine.”John was furious. “Is this about the woman that’s going to stay here? You were being so cooperative of all this, as cooperative as you could get, and then you pull back? Why?”“It’s none of your concern. I simply would prefer it if she go look for another place.”“You got me to go to the bloody police station because you got angry at me for just saying a name. Who’s Jocelyn Grant?”He sees Sherlock visibly clench his jaw. “She’s nobody. Now, I’m trying to figure out what this symbol—”“She doesn’t sound like nobody.” John keeps pressing for information. “Tell me why we can’t have her in our flat and I’ll drop this subject.”“I told you, she’s nobody.”Realization dawned over John. The more he observed at how angry Sherlock was getting, the more he was reminded of the girl that Sebastian mentioned.“Is she—?”“We’re done here.”“No, hang on, is she the same girl that Sebastian was referring to?” John asks, a little amused. “That is a big coincidence.” He lets out a laugh, thinking of how his sister ended up to be a friend of Sherlock’s ex.“That’s a bit of a stretch, John. Of course it’s not.” Sherlock insists, looking away from him. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I’ve never met that woman in my entire life.”“Alright then, if that’s all then I don’t see a problem to her staying here with us.” John was quite amused at how Sherlock was behaving. He feels victorious when Sherlock could think of no comeback to his words.***“Sherlock.” He hears a voice inside his head.“Oh, not now.” Sherlock whispers to himself, turning on his heel and suddenly, he was in his head. He sees Mycroft sitting on his desk. “What do you want?”“Anxious, brother mine?”“Quite the opposite. I’ve figured out what Van Coon’s been doing just by arrange—”“You’re well aware that I am not referring to the case you’re currently on.” He offers him that fake smile Sherlock was always so used to. “Jocelyn Grant. You’ve locked her away somewhere, correct?”“I deleted her.”Mycroft lets out a chuckle. “Lying to yourself now, as well? I still accept it when it is to Dr. Watson. We both know that’s not quite true.” He says, picking up his tea and sipping from the rim. “So, where is she now?”“Aeroplane. Took off from John F. Kennedy International Airport. Eleven hours away due to delay—”“I meant, in your mind palace. I’m well aware that you’ve researched when her flight will begin and end. I’m you.”“If you are me, then you know where she is.”Mycroft has that grin on his face, but it slowly melts into a brotherly one. Out of character for the real Mycroft, but it was what Sherlock needed sometimes. “Pay her a visit. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”Sherlock scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I need to go back, I’ve got something for the case.” He tells Mycroft as if he was the real Mycroft and not just a creation by his magnificent mind, waves him off and he is back inside the restroom.***John and Sherlock arrived back in the flat and the detective just continues to discuss the case. Sherlock figures out that the dead girl’s brother reached out to her because the item stolen is an antique object. He then proceeds to browse through the internet about things in the market, pointing out the dates and prices of the objects that arrive from China.While browsing through antique items, John glances at Sherlock’s concentrated face. “She’s still staying with us, you know?”Sherlock doesn’t say anything and continues to type and scroll down, which was unusual since he always has something to say to anything.“Be honest with me, do you really not know her?”Sherlock stops typing, leaning back on his chair. “If she is who I think she is, then I used to. She moved away. She’s not a good person, John. If I were you, I wouldn’t let her inside of this flat.”“Why not? Is she a spy or something?” He jokes.The detective only sighs. “Can we focus on this? This is more important.” He gestures towards his computer. John just purses his lips and drops the subject. Mrs. Hudson comes up and interrupts their conversation, informing them of men carrying crates of books outside.Whoever this Jocelyn Grant was, Sherlock probably disliked them enough not to welcome them inside his flat. But then again, who would Sherlock welcome inside his home?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Around eight in the morning, their guest arrives. A brunette young woman gets out of her taxi the same time John comes walking home. He immediately knows it’s her since she’s currently taking her luggage out of the cab.John is delighted to see her as he walks up to her, still not seeing her face. “Hi, you must be Dr. Jocelyn Grant.”She just finally looks up at him. John almost starts to stammer, his smile fading a bit. She offers the kindest smile John has ever seen on someone.She grins and his smile widens. “And you must be Dr. Watson.” She shakes his hand. She had a British accent too, so she used to live here.“John, please.”She... doesn’t seem to be anything Sherlock described so maybe it was a different woman. She can’t possibly be the horrible person that Sherlock depicted. If she was, he found it hard to believe.“I’ve heard a lot about you, your sister is very chatty.” She teases.“I’m well aware.” He just instantly feels comfortable around her. The girl is radiant without even trying.“God, I forgot how cold London could be! It’s been so long since I’ve been here.”“Come on, then. I’ll show you the flat.” He leads her to the front door while carrying her blue suitcase.Jocelyn opens the door for both of them and was greeted by Mrs. Hudson. “Hello, dear. Are you the one to be staying with the boys?”“Yes, only for a short while.”“Oh, stay as long as you like, I’m sure the boys won’t mind.”Jocelyn just smiles, finding it endearing that she calls them boys even though they’re grown men. “Thank you.”John leads her upstairs and opens the door, cringing upon seeing crates of books. “Oh, God. Uh, obviously I can clean these up—”“Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t mind. As long as I can crash here for the next few weeks. What’s with all the books, then?”“Uh, my flatmate. Doing a bit of reading.”“He’s into books?”“Yes, well, these aren’t his. It’s for a case he’s solving.”“Your roommate is a detective?” She asks, excitement in her voice.John was fully convinced that this is not the same woman Sherlock was talking about. “Yeah, it’s a bit complicated.” “John! I need to get some air, we’re going out tonight...”Jocelyn turns her head to meet John’s flatmate, grinning a bit. When she locks eyes with him, her smile slowly fades.
Then, it happened.
Sherlock sees the woman and freezes. He gasps and looks around in the room. It was blank, with white walls and… nothingness. It was just him. “John!”
“Sherlock.”
Suddenly, he was in the middle of a room. His living room. However, no, it wasn’t his living room, it was their living room. In a flat that he rented near the University he briefly attended. The place where he would stay when his roommate would party in his dorm and he’d prefer peace and quiet.“You took your time.” He hears a voice behind him again, and when he finally turns, he meets with the face he pushed back into his head.She was sat on the table, her legs dangles in the air. Her hair is still the vibrant blue and she wore those ridiculous floral dresses she always had.It’s what she wore that day, the last time he saw her.“You...” He had an accusing tone. “Why now?”His Jocelyn conscience just sweetly smiles at him, a genuine smile that he tried so hard to forget. He did, that’s why he gulps at the sight of it. “I think I should be the one asking that question. You never visit me anymore. Why is that?”“I locked you away.”“Yes, well, you did use to have a little peek just to see me again.” She smiles while shrugging, her tone was playful.“I don’t have time for this.”“I’m only asking why you never visited anymore. Is it that bad?vAlso, do you like my new get up? I lost the ridiculous blue hair, as you always described it.” She laughs. “Still dress the same, though. Were you expecting me to show up in my doctor outfit?”Sherlock observes the way she moves. It is just like the way he remembers, and when he realizes that fact, he sighs and closes his eyes.“How are you here? I locked you away so even I wouldn’t be able to access you.”“Well, maybe something triggered it.” She picks up a book from the top of the fireplace. “Ooh, remember this one? Pride and Prejudice. You used to hate Mr. Darcy.”Triggered it, of course. Seeing her again must have triggered his brain. He doesn’t speak, just looking around the place as well. The smell, atmosphere and even the specks of dust in the air, everything was so detailed in his mind.“I missed you, you know.”He just rolls his eyes again, sighing in a frustrated way through his mouth. “You don’t, actually. Because you’re me. You’re a figment of my imagination. You’re just saying that to… comfort me, for some reason.”“Well, since I’m you, you’re wishing that I miss you. Because you miss me.”He laughs incredulously. “I do not.”“Oh? I thought you said I was you.”She really knows how to get under his skin. “I don’t miss you. Get out of my head.”“Tell me why you stopped visiting.”“You know perfectly well why I stopped visiting.” He counters. “Too dangerous to remember—”“Too precious to forget.” She finishes with a grin. “Oh, Mr. Holmes.” She says, reaching up to brush her fingers against the soft fabric of his coat, it makes his body stiffen. “Looks good on you.”“The coat?”“Sentiment.”He scoffs and moves away from her arms.“You should probably go back out there. Dr. Watson might assume you’re going into shock.” She chuckles. “It’s been two seconds since you saw me. Impressive what your mind can do—”“I’m not in shock.”He hates the way she smiles. He hates her ridiculous hair color. The way she dresses. The way she laughs. The way she walks. He hates everything about it. About her. Everything about her, it’s hateful.“I’ll see you soon.”I doubt it. He thinks to himself.“We’re going out tonight? I’ve got a date with Sarah. Uh, Sherlock?”The detective snaps out of his three-second daze and locked eyes with Jocelyn.She shifts in her place as she observes how he looked. He looks more grown up, yet still the same. His whole aura was familiar, but colder. Jocelyn didn’t know what to say. There are no words upon seeing him again.“Sherlock…”He tries to compose himself. “You...” The word slowly leaves his mouth, swallowing a bit and was followed by several blinks. “—changed your hair.” He points out, looking at the curly brown locks that framed her face.His comment made her subconsciously touch the ends of her hair. “Yeah. I, uh, lost the ridiculous blue hair, as you described it.”Dear God, she just said the same words as his consciousness did. He tries not to focus on that fact.“Wow, I haven’t seen you since graduation, was it? Six years?”“Eight.” He corrects, a blank expression on his face.“Eight...”John looks at him. The years correspond with what Sebastian said.Sherlock looks like he has no idea how to act, yet manages to keep the cold look on his face. He looks away from her and turns to John. “I’m going to St. Barts to continue my, erm… experiment.” He was stammering, John never thought he’d witness him like this. “Your date, take her here—” He fishes out a strip of paper from his pocket. “Instead of the cinema.”“How did you—”“They’re here for one night only.”“I don’t come to you for dating advice,” He scoffs at him, but nonetheless, slides the paper into his back pocket.Jocelyn presses her lips together at John’s words, glancing at the tall curly haired man. “It’s great to see you, Sherlock.” She softly says, frowning when he says nothing and just makes his way down outside. “Did he know that it was me?”They both talked about each other like there was some kind of dark past that happened between them. Was there? “He did. He’s quite fine with it.”Jocelyn notices him hesitating and sighs. “I don’t think I should stay here, John—”“No, hang on. Why not? What happened between you and Sherlock?”She is very concerned, still overwhelmed by how she just saw someone she never thought would see ever again.--“Can I get two cappuccinos, please? Extra cinnamon on both.” A nineteen-year-old Jocelyn spoke to the woman behind the counter. Her bright blue hair was tied into a bun, typical but that was how she usually does her hair.It was Saturday and she was running late for her rehearsals. She had an upcoming recital in a week, and she was really ruining it. She glances at her watch, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh anxiously.When the lady finished with the drinks, she paid and thanked her before turning around, ready to run out. She bumped into someone and almost spills the coffee on them.Thankfully, they didn’t and Jocelyn regained her balance. “I am so sorry.” She said with a small laugh and looks up at the boy.He had blue eyes and curly black hair. She expected him to say it was fine, but instead, he just walked past her to go next with ordering since he was in queue. She swallowed, a little embarrassed as she walked out of the coffee shop and started to walk to campus.It took her fifteen minutes to arrive at the campus. Her professor was already pulling her into his office. “You’re late.”“I’m very sorry, I lost track of the time. What was it you’re going to tell me?”“Ah, yes. There’s a new student coming to our school today.”“A new student? Finals are almost here. That’s not a very wise decision.”“I’m afraid this student is very... peculiar. Her parents came to us yesterday and discussed all her limits and well, uniqueness.”“Alright, what’s this have to do with me?”“This new student will be joining the recital in a week, I need you to partner up with her.”She then sits upright. “What? But I’ve been practicing for months now and it’ll be a miracle for her to learn all of that in a week. And... not to be self-centered or anything, but it’s my performance. This is my shot at transferring into a good school. I can’t have anything to ruin that, please, Mr. Carlyle.”He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Until then, maybe try to get to know this student more. She’s probably in the studio now.”“Have you met her?”“No, I haven’t even seen her. Can’t even recall her name.” He laughed a bit. “Give it a try, Miss Grant.”She just nodded, standing up and gathering her things before leaving the office. She walked to the other side of the building to the studio where bands would practice.Jocelyn went inside the music room, humming the notes to the piece she composed. She closed the door behind her and sipped her coffee again, noticing a boy at the other side of the room. He had his back towards her, cleaning the bow of a violin with a cloth.She looked around the room and saw that it was only him, so she approached him. “Uh, hello. Are you in the right room?”The person stopped cleaning and turned around. She immediately recognized him as the boy she almost spilled coffee on earlier in the coffee shop. Her face heated up at the thought as the person looked her up and down before sighing.“Room seventeen of the main building. I don’t think I got it wrong.”“You’re the new student?”He curtly nodded and turned back to cleaning his bow. He didn’t say anything else.“I thought you were a girl. Mr. Carlyle referred to you as a she.” She sighed. “Well, I’m Jocelyn. Mr. Carlyle told me that I’d be guiding you? He—”“You don’t want this.”“Excuse me?”The boy turned to her. “From your posture, you’re usually upright and stood straight. Right now, you’re slouching. This means that you’re not really fond of doing a duet with me.”“My.... posture?”“The shakiness of your hands hints that you’ve been practicing day and night with your piano solo, which is very odd since we’re at a campus and everyone is required to have a dorm. Either your roommate is very forgiving or you have another flat outside of the campus. Probably the latter. University roommates are quite annoying.”“How...”“Observation.”She just lets out a scoff mixed with a laugh, still shocked. “Well, that was... that was something else. You got all of that by looking at me?”“Of course.”Jocelyn bit her lip. “Anything else to add?”He looked surprised, but masked it by looking away from her. “There’s a single strand of hair on your leggings,” he said, making her look down at her leg. “Means you have a cat.”“How do you know that it’s not a dog?”“Statistically, how rare are ginger dogs in Britain?”“What if I dyed my dog?”“Then I could report you for animal abuse.” He finished with a sarcastic smile, crinkles forming by his eyes.His words made Jocelyn laugh, enjoying his company. To his surprise, she was comfortable with him. He imagined her to be repulsed and accuse him of being a stalker. Instead, she just laughed along to what he said.“Yes, I do have a ginger cat. How are you getting all these?”He disregarded her question, moving on with more information about her. “Your hair is bright blue, meaning that you like being unique. And although you dislike too much attention, you don’t mind when you receive it. Your clumsiness from our first encounter tells me that you’re not really good with people, but you’re quite popular around the campus.”“How can you tell?”“You’re the person asked to orient me. He could have asked the President, yet he chose you. Also because on the way here, people greeted you. Nobody does that to an outsider, so popular it is.” He answered. “You go inside the room breathing in, probably because you wasted your air from saying hello to everyone. Dull.”Jocelyn just looked up at him with amazement. “Wow, that was very observant of you. Incredible. Who are you?”He paused, taking in her compliment and not knowing what to say back to her. He stretched his hand to shake hers. “Sherlock Holmes.”“I’m Jocelyn.” She smiled and took his hand. “Jocelyn Grant.”Sherlock’s lips parted, her name practically etched itself into his mind on a golden plaque. “Jocelyn.” He muttered back, her soft hand is small inside his.“Are you a psychic or something?”“I simply deduce.”“Like a detective?”“Possibly.” He said before letting go of her hand.“So, how did you figure out that I played the piano? It’s not even out yet.”“Your hands, quite curled up than normal. The average person has their fingers curled when they relax it, yours are above average. No other way to get that unless you’re a pianist or a flute player. Your breathing pattern doesn’t suggest flute player, so last choice. Pianist.”“You’re quite right again,” she said, observing her hands. “Amazing.”“You… really think so?”“Yeah, of course! How could I not?” She laughed, very amused by him. “Come on, let’s get started.” She had a feeling that she won’t regret working with him.Sherlock watched her gather the keyboard from the cabinet and set it up by herself, opening her bag to take her compositions out. She gave him a copy by putting one on the table in front of him.He took his violin out of its casing and settled it between the space of his shoulder and chin. Without her telling him to, he started to play the piece laid out in front of him.--“I know that he doesn’t want me here.”“He’s not the only owner of the flat.” John offers a smile.Jocelyn is still hesitant. “I don’t know, John.” So many thoughts are already flooding her mind. Everything from her past is coming back. Sherlock, his words, Mycroft—Oh, God. Mycroft.Dr. Watson just sighs. “All hotels are pretty far from the conference place. It’d be best if you just stay here. I mean, I already cleaned up my room for you.” He persuades her with a smile. “Stay, I’m sure Sherlock won’t mind. He’s like that. He probably won’t even notice.”But Sherlock notices everything.“Jocelyn, whatever happened between you and Sherlock, I can assure you that he already has forgotten about it. It’s been years, I doubt that he still holds on.” He assures. “Come on up, let me show you the room.”She hopes that John is right as she slowly nods, and follows John to the room upstairs. She still feels as though she might regret this.***Sherlock is at St. Barts, taking a break from the antiquities case to clear his head. He can’t do this right now, his heart is pounding very fast when he enters the building.He’s greeted by Molly’s friendly and familiar face, whose smile fades upon seeing Sherlock’s pale face. “Are you alright?”“Fine. I need a syringe.”“A... syringe?”“No, Molly, I’m not going to relapse. I just need a syringe for this experiment I’m working on.” He explains and starts walking to her lab to find one.“Wait, Sherlock—”He rummages through the shelves and finds a syringe still inside a plastic, relief flooding through him as he slides it inside his pocket. He hesitates, but takes another syringe as well. She’s back. It really was her. He can’t deal with this. Not right now.Molly just watches him go through the drawers. “Are you sure you’re okay?”“I need to figure out what these symbols mean,” he goes to take his phone out from his pockets, but feels nothing in them. He looks for it in his coat, but finds nothing. “I must have left my phone in Baker Street.”It was unusual for Sherlock to forget important objects. So, Molly grows worried. “What’s going on?”“A young girl died at a museum and some cult is after something that went missing—” He’s talking excessively fast that Molly has to put her hand up and nervously laughs.“No, Sherlock, I meant with you. What’s going on with you? You look... unwell.”“Is that not normal? In my context?”“Maybe, but… you’re never this anxious.”He scoffs, walking past her while shoving his hands into his coat pockets, feeling the syringes inside the plastic. He leaves without another word and Molly just disappointedly walks back into her lab. She sighs when she sees how there were two syringes less inside her drawers.***Jocelyn walks in front of the mirror, staring at the pictures that are hung up. John is currently making tea for them. John has been meaning to ask her about how she knew Sherlock, but he doesn’t want to pry. She only just got here.She looks back at the photos. “Is this for a case?”John walks over, handing her a cup of tea. “Yeah, it’s Sherlock’s case. He’s trying to figure out what they mean.”“Ancient Chinese symbols. Hangzhou.”John glances at her, furrowing his brows. “That’s... correct. How did you know that?”“Used to read books about Asia when I was a child. Kind of remember a few things by accident. I have an aunt who loves the culture there.”He chuckles. “It took me and Sherlock days to figure it out, and we haven’t even cracked it yet.”“It’s a cipher?”“Yes, it’s what he refers it as.”“One and fifteen.” She mumbles. “I haven’t the faintest. Is this what you and… Sherlock do?”“I just moved in with him two months ago, actually. It’s mostly him doing the investigating thing. I just trail after him. He’s a handful.”She smiles. “I bet.”He wants to ask how she would know, or anything about them. Sherlock never struck him as someone who’d be capable of a relationship, but he didn’t know him during his University days. For all John knows, Sherlock could be a very different person in the past and this woman in front of him could know all about it.“Fancy some lunch at Angelo’s? It’s just right down the street from here.”“Would love some.”They both made their way to Angelo’s, seeing Mrs. Hudson on the way up to give them cookies, but John tells her that they’ll be having lunch together down the street. She just smiles at Jocelyn on the way out.“Mrs. Hudson is quite lovely, I don’t think I’ve met a landlady that nice.” She tightly wraps her coat around herself because of the cold.“Yes, well, Sherlock was the one who found her. We even got a discount for the flat because he helped her with her husband once.”“Helped her with her husband how?”“By ensuring his execution in Florida, apparently.”Jocelyn gives him a look before she laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. John was expecting her to be put off at least, but she somehow had a dark humor like Sherlock. “Sounds oddly like him.”“So, you’re a forensic scientist, then?” She nods, still feeling a bit cold from the weather. “Yes, I work for NYPD. I think that I might relocate here, though. If I get accepted.”“You’ll work for Scotland Yard?”“Don’t know. Until then, my workplace is still with the NYPD.”He takes note of her words and opens the door for her when they reach the restaurant.They take a seat and Angelo comes greeting them. “John, how’s Sherlock? Haven’t seen you two in a while.” He glances at Jocelyn. “And who’s this?”“This is Jocelyn, a friend. Can you get me anything from the menu? And she’ll have...” “Some chicken stew would be nice, thank you.”Angelo watches them both and then back to John. “Did you and Sherlock—”John sighs. “Sherlock is not my boyfriend, I don’t understand why people don’t seem to understand that.” He grumbles, Angelo just nods and leaves awkwardly.Jocelyn lets out a laugh. “Do people really assume you and Sherlock are together?”“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re wondering.” John chuckles.She holds her hands up in defense. “By all means, be whatever you’d like. Nothing against it. Sherlock just doesn’t seem the type to... you know.”“Be with a man?”“Be with anyone.” She corrects.John looks at her for a second. “Really?” He asks, shifting in his seat to turn his body towards her. “So... you’re not his ex-girlfriend, then?”Jocelyn parts her lips in hesitation. “Oh, of course not… not really, we were just friends. But you know, he probably put all that way back into his past. He probably doesn’t care anymore.”John wanted to disagree. The look on Sherlock’s face upon seeing her again only told him that Sherlock still remembers everything. The man thinks that marriage is pointless and relationships are utterly nonsensical, how can John believe that he was capable of being in a relationship with a woman like Jocelyn?“But I’m very glad that he’s found his path. He’s finally a detective. He always used to say that that’s what he always wanted to be when he finishes Uni.”John couldn’t imagine a young Sherlock Holmes in University, deducing everything about anyone. Solving crimes after classes, being a complete nuisance to everyone. It is an amusing thought.“He started quite young, did he?”She laughs. “Yeah, you could say that.”“How did you meet him, then?”“I used to be part of this orchestral group, university-based. Sherlock was the new student. I had to, you know, show him around and welcome him to the group. He played the violin.”“He still does, you know. Around ungodly hours, too. Can’t really complain, he plays quite good.”“Yes, he did.” She smiles. “I had a big recital coming up, and Sherlock was paired with me. It was later changed into a duet.”“That sounds quite…” Romantic. “Exciting. I hope Sherlock was much decent back then.”She smiles, hinting many hidden memories. “He was. He’s a complicated person. I’ve never met someone as complex as he is. I’m guessing that he still is that way?”“Quite.”“Is he... enjoying his life here?”“I guess he is? He can be a bit much, but I do consider him as my friend.” He adds, making her smile. “He can be good sometimes.”“Yes, I know. He’s just a lot to handle, really. How did you meet him?”John lets out a breath and an awkward laugh. “Well, I met him at St. Barts through a friend who works there. He saw right through me. Figured out I was an army doctor during Afghanistan, even deduced something about my sister. I even met his brother, who I thought was his arch enemy.” He jokes.Jocelyn tenses. Oh, God. “Mycroft. He’s here in London?”He notices how tensed she suddenly became. “Well, yeah, he works for the British Government apparently.” He suspicious says. “Why?”She shakes her head. “Nothing, it’s just that Mycroft and I were friends.”“You were friends with Mycroft Holmes?” He asks in surprise before looking at her with an incredulous grin.“Well, yes, I guess. Is it that bad?”“No, no, of course not. It’s just... a surprise, that’s all. I’ve met Mycroft, he doesn’t seem to be friendly at all. He offered me money to spy on Sherlock once. I said no, of course, and he mentions to me that he was only concerned about his brother.”“Wait, he offered you money?” Jocelyn pauses. Mycroft a big deal now, then.“Working for the government really has its perks, huh?”She really can’t wrap her head around Mycroft being part of the British Government. Jocelyn looks down at her food, slowly losing her appetite from talking about the Holmes siblings.***Sherlock was inside the living room when Jocelyn and John came home. He is still viewing the books. When he hears the door closing, he doesn’t even look up and continues his research.The woman takes her coat off and rubs her chilly arms with her hands to warm herself up. She glances at Sherlock and sees how he was ignoring them.“I called the circus booth and booked you tickets for your... date tonight. Two tickets under the reservation of Holmes.” Well, ignoring her, that is.“I haven’t told you if I’d decided—”“You have. You think the cinema is too typical.” He says without looking up from flipping the pages of his books. “Did you a favor.”“How—never mind.” He sighs and walks off to the bathroom to have a wash.“So, what’s the case about?”He’s silent, still opening books from a certain page and closing them after, moving on to another book. It was as if he’s looking for something.She frowns, a little hurt. “Sherlock—”“Some peace and quiet would be great right now, thank you.” He interrupts, still not looking up to peek at her, as much as he feels like he wants to.He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. It’s absolutely repulsing to even look at her right now.“So, we’re not going to talk about it?”“Nope.”“Right, then. Can I ask how you’ve been?”Sherlock sighs, setting his book down. Of course, she’ll disturb him during his work. It’s not surprising that she still does. “I’ll sleep well when I solve this case.” If he sleeps.“Trying to crack the code?”“Obviously.”“They’re all in pairs.”“Obviously.”Jocelyn lets out a laugh. When she does, he finally stops working and looks at her. His tenses shoulders relax upon seeing her smile and fill the room with laughter. It is all too familiar.“I didn’t say anything funny.” He absolutely hates her laugh.She grins at him. “Oh, but you did. Not sure if you recall but you used to do the same thing with me back then.”Sherlock is about to say something, but doesn’t have anything. He can’t think of a reply and just closes his mouth and rolls his eyes, turning back to his work. “Reminiscing about the past is a waste of time.”“Time is a construct created by human beings to measure their lives by the means of the hands of a clock.” She says, making him look at her again.“Quoting what I said eight years ago is irrelevant.”“But it does bring back memories.”
Memories that Sherlock would prefer to be locked inside the shack inside his mind.
John enters the room, holding a towel as he wipes his face. “I heard laughing, what happened?” He smiles, believing that they both got along.“Ah, John, that was just me. Sherlock doesn’t find anything amusing at all.” She comments with a smile, her voice was still kind and soft.John looks at Sherlock, who busies himself with the book matching and searching. He ignores both of them and turns around to view the ciphers once more.“What’s the case about?”The consulting detective almost thought she was asking him again since he has his back turned towards the two of them, in which he opens his mouth to tell her off, but John beats him to it by explaining everything.Jocelyn widens her eyes at one detail, though. “Sebastian Wilkes is a banker now? If we’re talking about the same Sebastian, then that is the biggest surprise I’ve encountered today.” She giggles, finding it amusing. “Still rude?”“The rudest.” John tells her.“Nice to see that nothing’s changed.” She says, briefly glancing at Sherlock’s back. “Most things, that is.”Sherlock audibly sighs. “Peace and quiet, I need peace and quiet.”“Best if we leave him be.” John tells her.“Okay, well, I’m going out to buy a few things. Do any of you need anything?”“No, we’re good here. Unless you want to buy Sherlock some lunch.” He says, making the other man scoff and roll his eyes, walking out of the living room to his own. “God, he’s such a man child.”***“You’re stalling.”“God, not you again.”When he opens his eyes, his room in Baker Street turns into his old flat back in the Musgrave Hall flat. The contrasting ivory color scheme is familiar and sends a warm feeling of comfort to the pit of his stomach. He is sat on the sofa instead of his bed, still remembering how soft it feels under him.He turns to his left and scowls disapprovingly when he sees his Jocelyn consciousness sitting next to him, looking away immediately. She now has brown hair, every detail of her current wavy locks were etched into his brain and installed into his creation.“Told you I’d see you soon. You took two syringes from that doctor from St. Barts. Don’t tell me you’re relapsing.”“I’m not.”“You can’t really lie to your consciousness, Sherl.” God, not that nickname. “I know what you’re planning to do.”“And that is?”“Making me go away again. Me, the Jocelyn consciousness. We both know you can’t.”“I can give up drugs. I’ve done it before.”“That’s exactly the point. Drugs won’t do anything.”“Yes, it will.”“Maybe for like five minutes before your head goes,” she makes a playful disgruntled expression, mocking an explosion with her hands like the childlike woman she is. “—again.”“The five minutes of quiet will be worth it.”“But it will get worse after the drugs wear off. Maybe just stick to the nicotine patches. I know how much you like those.”“They’re dull. And I’m all out.”“So your best solution is to buy heroin from your homeless network? Come on, Sherlock. Don’t do this.” Her voice is soft and oddly comforting, familiar and just...“I have to.”“We both know you don’t need to.” She urges him, grabbing his hand and taking it into hers.Sherlock could almost feel the warmth of her hand, he still remembers so clearly. He hates it, he despises it. He loathes every bit of everything about this.She just squeezes his hand and it made his facial expression soften. “Talk to me.”“I am, aren’t I?”She dissolves into laughter. “No, I meant me. The real me. I’m right there, in the flesh. You don’t have to imagine me anymore.”“Oh, God, can I just lock you away again?”“Talk to me. I know you want to.”“I don’t.”Jocelyn sighs in defeat and just shifts in her seat, lying down on the couch and settling her feet on his lap.Sherlock groans at her childishness and glares at her, but makes no move of removing her legs from his lap. “Would you quit doing that?”“I will not quit bugging you unless you talk to the real me.”“You are a creation of my mind, I can easily shut you down—”“With drugs? That’s a bad first impression. Imagine how I’ll react upon finding your OD’ed body. What then?” She asks him, to which he doesn’t know how to answer. “Thought so. Go out there and have a chat.”“She’s not in the flat.”“Then wait for her to come back. Honestly, for a genius detective, you can be quite ludicrously stupid sometimes.” She says with an amused laugh, Sherlock snapping his gaze towards her upon the insult. “Quite funny how you’re fighting against yourself. Good thing you have me, then.”“Having you around is hardly a good thing.”“I do believe that those words for both of us. Your conscience and the real me, huh? By all means, do what you want with your syringes. But please remember that I’m here now. You’re better than this, Sherlock.”Sherlock listens to her speak, knowing that it’s just him talking. Trying to remind himself that this is not really Jocelyn. She’s only a representation of how he perceives her. Of how he used to perceive her, that is.“You’re not real. She would never say any of that nonsense to me.”“How can you know that if you don’t talk to her?” She simply says before reaching over to cup his face. He finds himself closing his eyes and leaning forward to feel her hand on his cheek, but it never came.He opens his eyes and feels angered when he realizes that he is now back in Baker Street, holding a syringe while having his left sleeve rolled up. He sighs and fixes his sleeves, throwing away the still full syringe in the bin next to his bed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A nineteen-year-old Jocelyn looks up, her face was framed with laboratory glasses and her hands were covered with gloves.She saw Sherlock walking inside the lab, looking around the room and immediately spotting her bright blue hair. The professor told him that there was an experiment to be done, and he would need a partner.Sherlock felt he didn’t need one, but sat down on the empty spot next to Jocelyn. He had a blank expression on his face as he looked down at the book on the table, reading the experiment they had to do.Jocelyn was still wiping the glass beaker. “I didn’t know you had this class.”“Talking about myself is repulsive.”“Lab coat and gloves.” She told him, but the boy made no move to retrieve the items. “You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you?”He only rolled his eyes, taking the gloves only and slipping them on. He locked his eyes with hers, mocking a happy expression. “Satisfied?” Then, his fake smile vanished.She mirrored his mocking face. “Maybe.”“This is too dull and boring.”“Why’d you take this class then?”“It was never my intention to attend University at all, Miss Grant.” He started to mix two substances together. “I never picked any of my classes.”She frowned. “Everyone has the right to pick their own path, right?”Sherlock took precaution of her words. He only met her three days ago and now she acted as if they were the closest people in the world.“Okay, I think we have to... Sherlock—” Her mouth fell open as she observed the sudden mist forming from the beaker and was pouring out. “Wait, how did you—”“Followed the instructions.” He blankly stated and watched the beaker as the liquid changed color.Jocelyn was speechless. “Did you just finish a two-hour experiment in five seconds?” She had an idiotic grin on her face.“Four and a half, but thank you for your input.”When the professor checked their output, he was clearly impressed and suspicious by how Sherlock had done it. He was skeptical on how he did it, but he had no words. No one has ever done the experiment that fast.The minute the stepped outside of the classroom, Jocelyn laughed. “I can’t believe you did that! And to think that you didn’t even choose this class.”“I was only following instructions. And added a little something,” he revealed a small vial of liquid in his sleeve, and she beams in surprise.“Pretty sure that’s cheating.”“Not if you avoid getting caught.”“You are something else.”“Something… else?” “Yes, I’ve never met someone like you before. I mean, you’ve figured many things out about me on the first few minutes we’ve met and you even learned my composition in less than five minutes. Which brings me to a question, are you a direct descent of Paganini?”He was quite good. One glance at the notes and then he could play the whole thing in a minute. It was surprising and then all of her worries about having a duet are gone.He was flattered, of course. “No. Close, but no.” He tried to go along with her joke. “Are you a direct descent of Chopin?”Her cheeks heated up. Sherlock noticed and knotted his brows at in confusion. “No. Close, but no.”She was quite aware of how he barely smiled. It was unusual how Jocelyn mentally kept count of the times he so much as had a distinct expression on his face.Sherlock looked at her, wondering why she still chose to be around him. Normally, everyone ignored him throughout the day. Everyone in his class thought he was a freak, and it was only the beginning of University for him.High school was much worse, though. University was tolerable because Sherlock learned to ignore the comments. Well, some of them, at least.“Are you getting a dorm today?” She asked as they enter the music studio.“Yes, I’ll be having a roommate as well. Tedious.” He huffed, opening the case of his violin and taking the instrument out to proceed into cleaning it as he always does. “I’ve met him, he’s way too loud and too annoying for me to deal with every night.”She looked at him, seeing how he was somewhat nervous even though he claimed the opposite. “Don’t worry. I remember my first day, everyone made a fuss about the hair and the clothing.”From what she said, Sherlock couldn’t help but observe her. He didn’t see anything wrong with her appearance, maybe it was because beauty doesn’t mean anything to him.Beauty is a construct manifested from childhood fantasies and societal norms; in short, he didn’t care about how she looked.He was much more interested with how her mind works, as much as he never liked to admit it to himself. Still, her appearance is difficult to ignore. Before he could even notice it, he was memorizing every detail about her that he was already aware of, along with the new details.“Your blue hair is a bit ridiculous.” He bluntly stated, not aware that he said it aloud.Instead of being offended, she just dissolved in laughter. This woman really did love laughing. It’s only a sound made by people’s mouths, so why was her laughter so intriguing? Anyone can laugh, why was hers so important to him now?“Well, thank you.” She huffed playfully, sitting down in front of her keyboard and sighing. “Let’s begin.”--Jocelyn leaves the plate of food on the kitchen table, wincing. The whole flat was a mess. Crates of books were everywhere, books on the floor, laboratory equipment filled with various liquids.Sherlock doesn’t seem the mind the mess, only contributing to it by throwing books onto the floor without much of a care.“Where’s John?”Surprisingly, Sherlock answers her. “Gone. Wanted to buy some flowers for Sandra.”“Her name is Sarah, don’t forget. If the date is a success, you might be seeing a lot of her.” She reminds, crouching down to pick up some of the books that Sherlock so carelessly threw.She begins to collect them and closing them properly, stacking them inside of an empty crate.Sherlock doesn’t know why she’s helping, but it made him roll his eyes. He fishes his phone out of his coat and dials the number of the Circus that John and his date will be going to, ordering an extra ticket.He slips the phone back into his pocket and starts to walk to the kitchen. He sees the food on a plate and glances at Jocelyn with suspicion. She is still sorting out the books from the floor, her back towards him. He knows that she already had lunch with John, his flatmate specifically stated that earlier.His face relaxes when he realizes that the food was prepared for him. “You may have misplaced something.”“Oh?” She walks to the other side of the table, facing Sherlock at the opposite side. “I got some lunch for you.”“Digestion interferes with my thinking.”“I know, I also know that you have no other leads except that circus event. Why else are you crashing John’s date?” She teases, knowing that she revealed into eavesdropping. “Since you have nothing else to do until eight, I think you should eat. I’m going upstairs to sleep. Call if you need me.”“Why would I need you?” Sherlock distastefully remarks, not moving an inch from where he stood.“It’s just an expression.” She mutters while leaving.Sherlock tilts his head, looking at the food. He scoffs, taking the plate and throwing the food into the trash bin, not wanting any rats to accommodate the table if he ever leaves the food untouched.***“You didn’t have to crash his date, you know?”“Are you always going to be there whenever I make a mistake?” He whispers, closing his eyes and when he opens them, he’s in the middle of his old living room again instead of the circus venue.She gasps in mock surprise. “Are you admitting into making a mistake?”“Will you leave me alone? I need things to be quiet. I’m working.” He clutches his temples with his hands and shutting his eyes tightly.Jocelyn circles around him. “Uh... what are you doing?”He winces, hands shaking as he forces himself back into the backstage of the circus. “Waking myself up from this foolish trance. I’m wasting time.”“You do realize that it’ll only be a second that has passed in real life while you’re here in your mind palace, right? You did spend hours here, years ago.”He slowly puts his hands back down and peers over at her. She really hit a nerve, this time. Only it isn’t Jocelyn. It’s Sherlock; he’s the one who’s been telling him these.“Years that I’d rather not dwell upon.” He icily said, stepping forward until their bodies were mere inches apart.She never looks away, still watching him with those green eyes that Sherlock still remembers. Every detail of her face is there. It almost feels as if she’s the real Jocelyn, and that fact made the hole in his chest widen. His eyes were fiery and bitter. Sherlock only wishes that he could destroy this place.“You’re thinking about it. About getting rid of this place.”“Leave me alone. I don’t need you. I certainly will never do. You never should’ve came back.”“The mere fact that you don’t want me to stay is the exact reason why you need her. Find out why she did what she did. And forgive her.” She advises, making him snicker in cynically. “It’ll be good for both of you.”“You don’t get the right to decide what’s good for me.” Sherlock points at her with an accusing finger. “I will never forgive you.”“You’ve never been one to hold grudges.”“I can make an exception for you. Now leave me alone.”Jocelyn blinks at him and just sighs, turning around and walking away. Sherlock looks down and closes his eyes, gasping for breath the next second when he is brought back to reality.***“They’ll be back in China tomorrow.”“They won’t leave without what they came for.” Sherlock tells him and just in time, Jocelyn descends from the stairs and looks at them with her baffled expression.“What happened to you all?”John tells her everything is fine and introduces her to Sarah. The two women shake hands and smile at each other before Sarah turns to John. “Well, maybe I should leave you all to it.”John looks at her with a frown. “No, you don’t have to go.” At the same time, Sherlock says, “Yes, it’d be better if you left now.”John sighs. “You can stay. He’s kidding. Please stay if you’d like.”Jocelyn glances at Sherlock with a stern look, shaking her head as if to ask him, ‘what are you trying to do?’In which Sherlock, absentmindedly, responds by scrunching his nose in disgust, telling her by body language that he just doesn’t like being around people like Sarah.“Is it just me or is anyone else starving?”“Oh, God.” Sherlock exasperatedly says under his breath, ignoring his internal organs screaming at him to eat. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning.Jocelyn runs her fingers through her hair to push it back and lets John walk past her into the kitchen to look for something to eat.Jocelyn just goes over to John. “Find anything?”“No, not a single decent food. God, help me. I ought to be single forever now.”Jocelyn laughs quietly. “I got you covered, I’ll run down Speedy’s to get some snacks first.” She offers, making him sigh in relief, thanking her afterwards.She grabs her coat and walks out of the flat. Like some kind of sense, Sherlock looks back and sees her descend down the stairs whilst John emerges from the kitchen. Sarah picks up a plastic zip lock with another copy inside. Sherlock looks up at her, visibly bothered by her invasion of space. Jocelyn was a whole lot worse, honestly. She would’ve just sprawled across the table just to try to get his attention—Oh, God, why is he thinking about her now?It wasn’t until Sarah points out that Soo Lin Yao already translated some of the numbers, and Sherlock runs out to go to the museum.Jocelyn is exiting Speedy’s with snacks packed inside a bag when she sees Sherlock grunting in frustration as he looks for a taxi.She walks up to him. “What’s wrong?”“I figured it out, the key to the cipher. It’s on a young girl’s desk, at a museum. I need to—” He pauses and leans back, realization sweeps over his body and he starts running past her, going after the couple he bumped into earlier. Jocelyn looks back and watches him.Sherlock walks back to Jocelyn with a book in his hands, flipping through the pages and murmuring the numbers fifteen and one. Sherlock looks at the page he flipped to and says, “Deadman. They were threatening to kill them.”They both look at each other for a second and Sherlock could sense the familiarity of staring into her eyes.Sherlock, without taking his eyes off her, takes a piece of paper from his pocket. He hesitates, but gives the paper to Jocelyn, who looks at him with confusion. “Write what I’m going to say. Quickly.” He says, making her nod.She takes his pen and starts to write down the words on top of the symbols he tells her to.“Nine mill for Jade pin, dragon den, black tramway.”“We need to tell John.” Jocelyn says, and Sherlock nods before he starts to run back to the flat.They get to the flat and Sherlock is already calling for John. “I’ve got it! The cipher, the book. It’s the London A-Z that they’re using,” He looks around the flat for John, examining the kitchen.Jocelyn goes to the living room and her mouth parts at the enormous symbol painted on the windows.“Sherlock, that doesn’t say Deadman, does it?” She cautiously asks and Sherlock walks up next to her, looking at the symbols. His eyes widen in realization that his flatmate, his friend, along with Sarah, have been captured.“Do you know where they are?”Sherlock goes to the bookshelves and finds a map, whispering the word ‘tramway’ under his breath as if he would forget it. He is quietly panting, more on because of anxiety. The thought of John being in danger is absolutely unbearable, and Jocelyn can see how much he cares about the doctor.He frowns when he realizes that she’s in distress. “I do. Stay here.”“Wh— I’m coming with you!” She declares and follows along his trail after putting down the bag she carried from Speedy’s.“No, you’ll only slow me down.”“Excuse me? Slow you down?”“Yes, slow me down. Didn’t you hear me?”“I want to help!”Sherlock is aggravated by the thought of her coming along. He doesn’t want her to. Only because he knows that she’ll slow him down. Even so, distract him. Get herself killed. These people are likely armed.“You’re staying here.”“There’s no time to argue,” she simply says as a cab pulls over in front of them, immediately climbing inside and waiting for him to just go along with it.As much as Sherlock hates how she’s right, he decides to just sigh and climb inside the taxi. Sherlock leaves the car at the very second it stopped, Jocelyn pays for the ride and soon follows the consulting detective, sprinting after him. He continues to walk, yet Jocelyn slows down.She can hear muffled groans and Sherlock doesn’t seem fazed at all, which is unusual because he looked somewhat worried earlier.Now, he looks focused as he turns to her, leaning close. “Listen to me, John and Sarah are in danger. I have reason to believe that they will not die, but due to the balance of probability, death is somewhat likely. You have to do exactly as I tell you, or else they die. Do you understand?” His eyes are intense and burning through her soul.“I’m not Sherlock Holmes!” John yells.“I don’t believe you!”“You should, you know.” Jocelyn snaps her head towards Sherlock, who is speaking to the woman. The woman turns around and points her gun at his direction. “Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him.”Jocelyn widens her eyes as he makes a move in exposing himself in the open. “Sherlock, don’t—” Too late, he already has moved behind another wall to protect himself. “God, Sherlock, you moron.”Jocelyn peeks over and sees that both John and Sarah are tied up. Sarah is placed in front some sort of contraption and Jocelyn sees how a heavy rock is slowly lowering itself.Jocelyn jumps when Sherlock kicks down a big can that had fire in, putting out the light and the woman ends up escaping before Jocelyn could even catch her. She looks around in panic and before knowing it, she is making her way to Sarah to untie her, looking up at the ball as it lowered down. Something about that makes her stomach churn.Sherlock catches the sight of Jocelyn and something boils inside him. He isn’t sure if it was anger or… something else.
Don't tell me you are worried about her, brother mine.
John looks shocked from seeing her. “Jocelyn, what are you doing here?”“Oh, you know, enjoying my time in London.” She jokes as she tries to untie her, but feels something wrap around her throat.She goes tumbling backwards, the cloth tightens around her neck, cutting off her air supply, and she starts to choke. She couldn’t breathe, but she is still trying to reach for the ropes around Sarah. John tries standing up whilst being tied as he fails to knock over the contraption in front of Sarah.With all the strength she could muster, she manages to kick one of the legs of the chair and knocked Sarah over, getting her out of line from danger.Jocelyn grasped the cloth around her neck and tries reaching behind her, desperate for air, when suddenly, the pressure around her skin vanishes. She takes a deep breath and coughs a few times, her vision is a bit blurry.She can still see Sherlock struggle with the man who tried to strangle her, faintly seeing John crawl to the giant crossbow, and then she hears the arrow be released and a loud piercing sound, along with a groan.Sherlock pushes the impaled man away and goes to Sarah, untying her. “It’s alright. You’re going to be alright.” Oh, brother mine, indirectly speaking to people, now? He ignores his brother’s voice in his head. “It’s over now.”Jocelyn coughs as John goes to help her on her feet. “Okay?”“Yes—” Her voice breaks, so she clears her throat. “Yes, all is fine.”Sherlock frowns at her voice, but tries not to pay that much attention.John stretches his arms, panting. He goes to comfort Sarah. Poor woman must be traumatized now. He hushes her when she starts to sob into his chest. Sherlock only folds his arms and watches the scene in front of him. He briefly looks over at Jocelyn, who is brushing off the dirt on her dress.John looks at her. “I can help you pack your things when we get back.”Sherlock isn’t at all surprised that she chuckles, shaking her head at John.Sarah thanks her and is still shaking, so John rubs her back. Jocelyn decides to leave the couple alone and walks over to Sherlock, who is now calling the police.“You did great today, you know?”Praise? So far, Sherlock has done nothing but horrible things to her and he still receives praise from her?He turns to John. “Stay for a while until the police come. They might need some questions. Then, bring Miss Sarah home.”Minutes later, the police came. Sherlock, with not a single expression on his face, looks to the detective and talks to him. Jocelyn, John and Sarah remain at one corner and after being questioned by the police. He comes back to them and still sees Jocelyn around, he rolls his eyes. “I told you to stay where you were. Now, you almost got strangled to death.”“Well, I wasn’t just going to sit there and do nothing.”“Well, instead of that, you got hurt and still managed to do nothing.”If John was mistaken, that is one of the few times that Sherlock has ever shown care towards someone. In his own level of care, that is. “She did knock the chair over. Something you didn’t think of. Got Sarah to safety sooner.”Sherlock huffs. “Baker Street, now. The case isn’t over.” He swiveled around to start walking off to the end of street where cabs stop.Jocelyn goes to follow him, but Sherlock shakes his head without looking back. “No, get your own cab. I need to think. John, take your lady friend home. I think she’s seen enough for tonight.”She just doesn’t listen, which makes Sherlock frustrated even more. “I won’t be loud.”“You always say that.” He says without thinking, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. Jocelyn just smiles. So much for not reminiscing in the past. She doesn’t say anything else and watches as Sherlock calls a taxi. John is surprised when Sherlock opens the cab door for him and Sarah, but nods in appreciation.The consulting detective just presses his lips together awkwardly and waits for them to slip onto the leather seats of the taxi. He closes the car door and watches as the taxi drives off.“You take another cab. I need to think.”She frowns, but just lets Sherlock be. While waiting for another cab to pass by, Sherlock glances at her. He finally looks at her, all while she looks around for any sign of a cab wondering down.Only by observing her physique, her familiarity. Sherlock relaxes, for an unknown reason. Unknown, in a sense that he doesn’t understand it. Her brunette hair is still a slight mess from the sleep she had just woken from, but they were still tied up into a half-up do.Sherlock finds himself distracted, his chest caving in from how he is starting to remember. No, no, no. I cannot have this right now. I cannot deal with her right now. I can never again.When she turns back to look at him, his expression turns cold. She can almost feel his disinclination and it makes her cower down.Overall, he is still the same Sherlock she met eight years ago. Someone who didn’t understand emotions, even though he makes music with one or two too many. Someone who made deductions about random people in café’s just to make her laugh. Someone who read too many books to fill his head with, or did countless of experiments for his own love of science.Only much colder.
And he hates her with every fiber of his being.
They take separate cabs, Sherlock relaxes back into his seat and closes his eyes for a fleeting moment. When he opens his eyes, he sighs when he finds himself seated at Mycroft’s office yet again.Mycroft is sat in his own seat at the opposite end of the table. His brother is leaning back into his chair with an amused smile.“What is it now?”“You saved her life.”“I did nothing of the sort.”“Our dear Jocelyn was almost strangled to death. You could’ve been shot while throwing yourself at the attacker, aware of the escaped criminal behind you?” He looks down at the table and now, the tea set was replaced by a game of chess. The chess pieces were in their rightful places for the start of the game. Mycroft’s pieces were white so he makes a move with his knight.Of course, he was aware of the possible shooter behind him. He didn’t want to admit it to his Mycroft conscience, and just moves one of his pawns.Nevertheless, Mycroft still notices, so he hums while smiling. “You were absolutely terrified.” He moves his pawn.“I was not.”“But you were.”“John would be upset if I let her die.”Mycroft lets out a deep laugh. “I’m almost certain that you’re not referring to Dr. Watson this time.”“Miss Jocelyn Grant is none of my concern. I simply tried my best to aid her situation. John might have found it pleasing that Miss Grant is alive, considering their fast formation of a bond. Your move.”“You’re not known for your sentimentality, brother mine. Maybe it’s best if you try to talk to her. Discuss things, once and for all. Your move.”“Why does everyone want me to speak to her?”“On the contrary, Sherlock. ‘Everyone’ is only Miss Jocelyn in your palace version of the Musgrave Hall flat, and me inside this office. Seems very dramatic to say that everyone wants you to speak to her, all while knowing that we’re only copies of your consciousness. Checkmate.”“You’re not suggesting that I want to speak to her?”Mycroft taps the desk with his slender fingers. “I’m suggesting that you need to. It’s killing you inside to know, isn’t it? To know why she did it.”“She doesn’t concern me, not anymore. It’s been years.”“And yet that one place inside your head, decided to open. What do you make of that, brother mine?”“It happens.”His brother lets out a low chuckle. “No, Sherlock. It does not. You can delete and store many memories, yet you keep this one. One that you claim is irrelevant to your everyday living. Wonder why.”He laughs incredulously. He shakes his head, a confident grin on his face. “You’re not really insinuating that I have feelings for her? Oh, feelings. Feelings are boring. They are overrated and irrelevant to one’s life. Why would I need certain hindrances in my life? I’m Sherlock Holmes.”“That, you are. So why do you think she stuck by you for years?”“...I entered University five months before graduation.”Mycroft grins. “I was not referring to the physical form of Miss Grant.” He finally tells him. “Make do, brother mine.”His words struck through Sherlock and even made him gasp and open his eyes. Suddenly, he is back inside the back of a cab.The cabbie driver glances at him through the rear view mirror. “You alright, Mister?”Sherlock tries to compose himself. “Stop at that corner.” He can’t believe he lost in a game of chess, against himself.***Jocelyn reaches Baker Street and is greeted by Mrs. Hudson. “Hello, Mrs. Hudson. How are you?”“Oh, I’m doing fine, love. Where are the boys?”She thanks her when she starts pouring her some tea. Mrs. Hudson is now noticing how disarrayed she looks. “John went with his date back at her place. I guess Sherlock is off somewhere. They’ll be back soon.”“Are you quite alright, dear? You seem very pale.”“Just got caught up in a crossfire,” she half-jokes.“So you are Sherlock’s girlfriend?” Says Mrs. Hudson with an excited smile. She sputters on her tea. “Have I said something wrong?”Yes, actually. Why does everyone assume that Sherlock and I are together? Jocelyn thinks, but did not want to upset her at all. Therefore, she just shakes her head. “No, no. Of course not.” She laughs nervously. “Sherlock and I... we’re not together.”“I believe John has mentioned it to me earlier.” Her words make Jocelyn sigh, John also had a loud mouth like his sister.“We just knew each other back in Uni.”“Oh, well.” She smiles at her and stands to gently pat Jocelyn’s shoulder.Jocelyn thanks her again, leaves her home and climbs up the stairs to John and Sherlock’s flat. Seeing the mess, she starts tidying up.While cleaning, she sees a violin case and her heart warms.She does recall John saying that Sherlock still plays, but she has never seen that violin case in years. He never changed it, since the slight scratch at the bottom was still there, from Jocelyn dropping the case like the clumsy person she is. She chuckles at the memory and traces her fingertips against the scratch.Without thinking too much, she opens the case and it reveals the polished violin that Sherlock owns. He never changed anything, never bought anything new. And by the looks of it, he still cleans it probably every day.She picks up the violin and and bow, settling it between her chin and shoulder.“What are you doing?”She gasps, immediately dropping the violin in surprise, but a hand caught the long bridge of the instrument before it could break on the ground.Sherlock lifts the violin back near his chest from his knee level, and watches Jocelyn turn around to look at him. “I was cleaning. And I saw the violin.”“If you’re going to be staying in Baker Street, it’s awfully preferred for you not to touch anything that may be part of my belongings. You almost dropped it.”“You snuck up on me. Again.”“I never deemed it necessary to make my presence known. Especially not to you.”Jocelyn gives up and just strides away from him, to which he looks back and watches her walk up the stairs to John’s room. Sherlock looks away and just stares at his violin for a few seconds. He never replaced it.It’s just an object, there are millions other creations similar to this violin, and maybe some are even better. He remembers how she used to take his violin. Back then, it didn’t bother him. He taught her how to play, too. She used to teach him how to play piano, even though he knew perfectly well how to.He was so naïve back then. He believes his younger version is weak-minded. He couldn’t believe that he let that woman do what she did to him.However, he can’t believe that Mycroft is correct; he can delete and store many memories, yet he never deleted anything that involved the woman upstairs. Now, he’s wondering why.He closes the violin case and turns off the white noise from the radio.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I’ve just settled in, don’t you worry. It’s quite comfortable here. Swing by in two weeks, yeah?” “John always offers that. Maybe this time, I might.” Jocelyn can hear the smile on Harry’s face.“He’s quite a man, as you said. He has a girlfriend now.”“Ooh, I should ask him.” Harry lets out a laugh. “Anyway, John’s fine. How about his flatmate? Heard he was an odd one.”“Well, I actually know his flatmate back in Uni.”
“Really? Wow, well that’s a big coincidence. You two close before?”
“We lost touch after Uni.”
“Oh, well, maybe you two will be close again. Who knows?”
“He’s not really the type.”“How did you two become friends in the first place, then?” They end the call after saying goodbyes and Jocelyn sets her phone on the table. She feels the sheets and how soft it is, sighing in relief.“Comfortable?”Jocelyn sits upright and meets with John, who’s smiling widely. “Well, jet lag does that, I heard.” She laughs. “Your sister just called.”“Oh? Any news?”She just laughs. “She just called to check up on me.”“Well, at least she checks up on you.” He teases.“How’s Sarah?”“She’s alright. I don’t think I have a next date with her. With what happened and all. It’s a bit surprising that you want to stay. So, why did you?”“Why did you?”“I don’t think I need to mention that Sherlock will be very difficult to live with.”“Yeah, I know.”John raises his brow. “You’ve... lived with him before?”“Uh, I’m... well, no.”John has an amused smile on his face. “Right, okay. Get some rest. You had a long day.”The woman just nods and watches John close the door behind him as he left his room.Sherlock is sat on the floor with his legs crossed. His eyes were shut as he tries to organize his mind.John is about to walk to the kitchen to eat, but decides to approach Sherlock. “She used to live with you?”“Who?”“Jocelyn, she used to live with you. In the same flat.”Sherlock opens his eyes, frustrated. “Is that what she fed to you?”“No. She said no, but she was lying. To protect you, for some reason.”“Why does it matter if she told the truth or not? It’s insignificant.”“Sherlock... you had a live-in partner.”“Isn’t that what you are? What’s the difference?”“It’s different, between you and me. And you keep shifting the topic. Your bloody ex is in the flat and you have nothing to say?”He only rolls his eyes and stands. “She is not my... ex.” He grimaces at the term. “She is not my anything. She is simply a person I went to University with, that’s the lot of it. I would say that I’m not overly bothered by your concern of what Miss Grant’s position is in my life, but it appears that I am. Why are you meddling?”“I have no idea, but something in my gut is telling me that you’ll make a big mistake.”“You and thousands of other men.”“I’m being serious here, Sherlock.”“So am I. My life is none of your business.”“I know it isn’t, Sherlock, but dear God above... make the right choice. Whatever happened between you and Jocelyn, it’s been years. Surely, you’ve moved on. You can start again—”“John, I would advise you not tell me what to do.”“She’s right there.”“And? What are you expecting me to do? Waltz inside and tell her that everything she has ever done to me is forgiven?” He towers over John.John softens. “What did she do?”Sherlock’s face relaxes, diverting his gaze from John. “You never should have let her stay.” He mutters before walking past John to leave.A few hours later, Jocelyn finds herself awake at night. She sits up and takes her small case before going to the living room.She opens the window and stands in front of it. Jocelyn takes out a cigarette and a lighter. She sets the cigarette between her lips, and sparked a flame from the lighter. She slips the lighter back into the pencil case as she held the cigarette between her fingers, taking a drag. She lets out a breath, smoke coming out of his mouth and nose. It relaxes Jocelyn. Darkly enough, the thought of dying sooner.She turns around and hides her cigarette behind her when the light turns on. She watches as Sherlock briefly glance at her and look away, taking off his coat. He probably figured her out already, so it was no use for her to hide the cigarette that she possessed.“Mrs. Hudson is very strict with the no smoking rule.”“I take it that you don’t smoke anymore?”He rolls his sleeves up and shows some patches on his forearm. “Nicotine patches. Gives you the same high, minus the burnt lungs.”“Well, I don’t think you’re supposed to have four patches at once.”“It’s a four-patch problem.”Jocelyn just crushes the end of the cigarette, fully extinguishing the burning light. She throws the leftover into a trash bin, sitting down on the couch. Sherlock knows, from the way the chair’s spring creaked to the way her weight is settled into the softness of the chair that she is sitting in his.He stays quiet. John’s words kept ringing in his head and he really wants to ignore them. However, his mind, it refuses to ignore anything of relation towards Jocelyn Grant.“John is currently asleep inside my room, for solely one reason.”“And that is?”“To lend his room to a guest. Which in this case, is you. Why are you not currently inside his room?”“Couldn’t sleep.”Sherlock says nothing as he flips through the pages of the files he brought home.“So... where’d you go earlier? It’s two in the morning.”The consulting detective almost rolls his eyes, but he refrains. “I have another case. Well, cases. Scotland Yard assigned me a few.”“Ooh, so you’re a very big deal here now, huh?”“Not quite. Trying to keep a low profile.”“Ah, no point as to asking how you’ve been then?”“Don’t see the use of it. Irrelevant information.”Jocelyn grins and lets out a giggle. The sound makes Sherlock look at her from his peripheral vision. “You used to do that quite a lot.”“Do what?”“Brush things off because they’re not important. You do that sometimes.”Sherlock blinks, processing her words. “I delete unimportant things. Surely, you remember that.”“Sherlock,”“What is it?”“I’ve missed you, you know?”Her words finally make him stop looking through the files he had. His mind stopped rotating its axis and he found himself staring ahead of him. Sherlock barely hears her walk towards him, sitting on the desk.Sherlock’s face is emotionless. So many questions flood his mind due to how she spoke and what came out of her two rosy lips.“Interesting choice of word; miss.” He stands, feeling anger bubble up inside him, but remains calm. “Do you know what other synonyms the word ‘miss’ has?” She is about to answer when he interrupts her. “Longing. Do you know what ordinary humans do when they long for something? No, you don’t. Why should you?”Jocelyn realizes that he really is angry towards her and it makes her face fall.Sherlock notices this whilst looking into the mirror and rolls his eyes. “Oh, spare me your dejection, Miss Grant.”“Sherlock, I’m sorry—”“I don’t need apologies. Any expression of regret from you will be quickly dismissed since it does not matter, so if you please,” he gestures towards the stairs.Jocelyn’s takes a step forward. Sherlock holds his head up high, eyes downward towards her. Her face softens, frowning. “If you want to forget the past, then go ahead. I won’t stop you. I just want to hear you say it.”“What would you like me to say in order to stop this nonsense?” His deep voice sent shivers down her spine.“That you won’t question it.”“Question what?”“Why I left.”She left. Yes, that is what she did. Jocelyn Grant, at nineteen, managed to leave Sherlock Holmes.Now, twenty-seven, Mr. Holmes has done quite well during her absence and did not question the fact that she never once came back. She left him, with no explanation, no regards to what his thoughts may be of the matter, and it left Sherlock emptyhanded. Both clueless to the reason why and how his Musgrave Hall flat was empty.--“Why did you leave your hometown?”Jocelyn, with her bright blue hair tied into a messy ponytail, took a bite of the apple she brought with her.Earlier, she was just confused as to why he invited her so early, using a text that says, ‘You’re needed. Park bench, Harrington Park. SH’ and she only came because he said that she’s needed.“I just wanted to leave Cheshire, you know? Family issues and all that.”It’s been almost a week since they’ve first met and both have warmed up to each other. Sherlock surprised himself, he wasn’t the friendly type. Their recital is in three days, and neither was nervous about it.“Family issues?”“It’ll bore you, trust me.”“I do trust you, and I know that this will not bore me.”“My mother is here, in this part of London. I miss her, so I came here.”“You… missed her?”“Yes, it’s when a person longs for someone. Or something.”“So you came to see her? Because you missed her?”“Of course, silly. That’s what people do when they miss someone. Paying them visits.”“Right.” He agreed, seeing the logic in it. “How is that a family issue, then?”“My father, he didn’t want me to come visit her. Said that I should’ve stayed in Cheshire. I didn’t want to live with him anymore because… of reasons, I guess. So I moved here the minute I turned eighteen.”He glanced at her, seeing how she watched families in front of her with a longing expression. It was quite obvious how she did not have the childhood that every person deserved.Sherlock was quite privileged, having two parents who immensely love each other and an elder brother who gives him advice every now and then. Jocelyn had no one, except her mother and aunt. She was an only child after all, her father did not want any children after her. It made growing up quite lonely.“I believe you have a question for me.”“Why are we here, Sherlock? You said you needed me.”“I didn’t say I needed you. I said you were needed.”“By who?”Sherlock took a piece of paper from his jacket and gave it to her. “Your mother is paralyzed waist down. Is she not?”“Yes… how did you know that?” She asked and started to read . “This… this is the report of my mother’s missing diamond ring from six years ago. It was never found. How did you get this?”He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small box, passing it to her without saying anything. Jocelyn parts her lips, unlacing the ribbon wrapped around it.She opened it and widened her eyes. “Sherlock, is that—”“Yes.”“You… you found it?” She examined the jewel. “How did you find it?”Sherlock took in her shocked expression and felt slight panic. “Do you not like it? Did you not want it found?”“No, I-I mean, yes! I did want it found. But how did you find it?”“I simply retraced what your mother said in the rapport. I’ll spare you the long detail. Agree to disagree?”She just grinned widely and stood up. Sherlock looked at her with puzzlement, until she pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace.“Thank you, Sherlock. You have no idea how happy this makes me.”He was clueless into what to do. Nobody ever embraced him this way, not even his mother since he never let her do so. Therefore, he awkwardly placed his arms around her waist.Sherlock took his time to memorize the perfume that she used. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Grant.”“You better stop calling me that, Sherl.”“Don’t call me Sherl. It’s fairly ridiculous to hear.”Jocelyn had the biggest smile on her face, her eyes turned to slits. “You have no idea how happy you’ll make my mother, she might even crack a smile for the first time in years.”Jocelyn looked very happy that it made Sherlock smile, his heart warming. He somewhat found it pleasing to see her smile, and so he thought of many other ways to keep that smile etched onto her face. And he really did. Every single time.--“I won’t question it. I’ve never questioned it before, Miss Grant. Make no mistake. I simply do not care about your reason.”Jocelyn lets out an easy breath through her nose and chooses not to say anything. Sherlock hears her footsteps continue and the small quiet sound of the door closing. He holds his head up high and just closes his eyes briefly.He hates this, no, he loathes the thought of memories resurfacing. He loathes the fact that he has to live with her presence—her real presence—for the next two weeks.It was finally morning a few hours later. John gets up with a groan. His back felt sore since Sherlock likes having a hard mattress apparently. John might have it replaced but his flatmate would definitely dislike the idea.“Morning,” Jocelyn greets John the minute he leaves Sherlock’s room. “Sleep well?”John just lets out an awkward laugh and walks in the kitchen, watching her make breakfast. “I got kidnapped yesterday, but it’s all fine.”Jocelyn laughs and glances at him. She still wore her baggy sleeping pants and wide sweater as she cooked, already feeling at home. “Work today?”“Yes, I’ll possibly apologize to Sarah for the millionth time. Where’s Sherlock?”“Out. Probably for the case yesterday.”John nods. He sees how she is quiet at the mention of Sherlock. “You alright?”His question made her look up in surprise, but quickly covered it with a smile. “Of course.”“You sure you’re alright? You don’t seem fine.”She sighs. “Sherlock doesn’t want me to be here.”John remembers what Sherlock told him yesterday, about how he never should have let Jocelyn stay in Baker Street. Much less to Sherlock, someone who doesn’t exactly hold resentments. Not because he never feels angry towards someone, but because he deems it unnecessary and time consuming to hold grudges.“If it doesn’t ruin your morning, what really happened between you two?”“I’m not sure if Sherlock would like me to chatting about our Uni days.”“Well, whatever it was that happened, as I said, Sherlock probably moved on already.”She just gives him a small smile, sipping her tea. “Are you trying to set us up?”“What? No, of course not. No, just curious. By nature. I live with a consulting detective that talks too much and too little, you know how it is.”A small chuckle leaves her lips. “If you really want to know, we lived together, not because we were together or something.”John only raised his brows. “Oh. Then how did you end up living together?”“To be honest, I wasn’t sure how. It just kind of happened, really.”“What just kind of happened?” A voice from the door right behind Jocelyn erupted, making her turn.John saves her by adding a question. “Where have you been?”Sherlock moves to the fridge and is placing something inside the freezer. It was a zip lock containing God knows what. “Bank. I informed a woman about the seven-million-pound-worth pin currently tucked in between her strands of hair. It appeared as if she had an epileptic shock.”“Case solved, then?”Sherlock doesn’t answer him. Instead, he walks straight to his room. By the time Jocelyn was washing the dishes, John left for work and Sherlock emerges from his door wearing his usual blue dressing gown. The man practically creates a beeline towards the living room and says nothing to anyone. He just picks up his violin from his case and starts playing a slow and hypnotizing melody.She listens to the melody she never heard him play before. Jocelyn feels herself relax to the tune the he is playing. She missed days like these. Whenever Sherlock finds something difficult or awful or just feels bored, he’d play his violin. He even used to pull Jocelyn out of her room just to make her listen.Jocelyn steps inside the living room and watches Sherlock slightly sway with the violin, looking out the window and entirely ignoring her presence.Except, he isn’t. It was difficult to ignore a woman with a strong aura. No, it isn’t just difficult, it is impossible. He stops playing when Jocelyn takes another step, and she stops her movements as well.Sherlock tilts his head to his left to meet her eyes. “What?”She bites her lip. She looks quite different from when she wore dresses. Sherlock is naturally an observant man. He never noticed them solely because he is interested with her appearance. No, that is not the case.“I like what you’re playing. It’s beautiful.”“I’m only playing it correctly, according to the notes that Johann Bach has deliberately arranged. I’m simply following his work, doesn’t mean it’s—”“No one else can play it that beautifully, Sherlock.”Last time Sherlock checked, humans don’t praise the ones who insulted them the night before.“Seeing as you’ve clearly complimented my playing, John believes that the correct response would be thanking you.”She just crosses her arms and tries to suppress her laughter.Sherlock is perplexed. “Have I said something funny?”Jocelyn just snorts, turning around to sit on John’s chair, shifting until the back of her knees were on one side of the armrest, and her feet dangling.Sherlock didn’t notice himself staring for too long until Jocelyn looks away from the ceiling to have their eyes locked. She is humming a familiar tune and the man just blinks at her. Sherlock snaps out of his trance and impulsively reacts by tucking the violin back into its case. He doesn’t say a word before he goes straight back to his room and locks the door behind him.He breathes while pressing his forehead against the door, and closes his eyes for a second.
“God, you’re a bloody moron.”
He opens his eyes and suddenly, he is inside the flat once again. His head was against a mirror now, instead of the door in his room from Baker Street. He leans backward and straightens his back, turning his body until he is met by Jocelyn.Sherlock glares at her. “Moron?”“Yeah, you heard me. You’re a moron. For a genius, you’re a bit thick.” She walks to the radio and turns it on. It plays a Sinatra song, the same song that the real Jocelyn was humming along to. And she does just that, swaying playfully as she strides towards Sherlock, who is just observing her little movements. She extends her arm and has an amused expression written on her face.Now, Sherlock realizes, this is his memory of the day she moved in with him.She wore the same pink pajamas from years before; hair was bright blue and a mess. Sherlock looks down and he is wearing his formal plain dark green button-up, tucked into his black dress pants.He looks down at her hand and hesitantly reaches for it, slipping his hand into hers. She grins and pulls him to the middle of the living room. They were surrounded by some opened boxes of Jocelyn’s things, and Sherlock just at her. Weak at the knees while he slides his other arm around her back. Jocelyn’s hand rests on Sherlock’s shoulder and they swayed to the music.“Sherlock,” she rests her head on his chest, eyes fluttering close. “My Sherlock.”Sherlock is breathing normally now and closes his eyes as well. Reliving a memory, one of his favorite memories such as this one, was one of his horrible addictions.He opens his eyes and he’s in the middle of the room again. His arms were in a position as if he was waltzing with someone. He blinks and slowly puts his arms down, nose flaring in anger as he flops down on the bed.Jocelyn enters the bathroom with a towel around her torso. She looks around and examines the shampoo and soaps. Jocelyn couldn’t help but chuckle at how Sherlock still uses the same brand of shampoo to take care of his curls.Jocelyn finishes her shower and steps outside with a towel around herself. She picks out her clothes and goes downstairs while carrying her purse. Jocelyn puts her coat on and wraps her scarf around her neck. The woman goes outside and breathes in the London air, exhaling through her mouth.When John arrives home, he sees Sherlock in the kitchen, a small paper in his hand. John takes off his coat and took in the disheveled appearance of his flatmate. He isn’t sure how long Sherlock’s been staring at the writing, but when he noticed that John came home, he puts down the note on the table.“Lestrade hasn’t phoned. I’m growing incredibly bored.”John looks down at the note. “She’s out, then?”“Obviously, John. Read the note properly.”“You’re not going to tell me what happened between you two, are you?”“What are you on about?”“I’m not stupid to believe that nothing happened between you and Jocelyn. I know that you two were friends, and may have been more than that—” Sherlock is about to interject so John raises a finger, “—but, as your friend, I would tell you to just go for it.”“Go for what?”“Go for... asking her to have dinner!”“Why on Earth would I do that?”“Because you like her, don’t you?”The consulting detective scoffs. “What ever gave you that impression, John?”“You did.” He informs Sherlock, making him tense up. “The first time Sebastian mentions her, you were angry. When you found out that she’ll be the one to stay here, you were angry. When I said no to your brother putting her in a different place, you were angry. But when you came face to face with her, you were nervous. Now, I’m not like you. I can’t read body language, but you were very nervous to see her again.”Sherlock is at loss for words. He did not know how to counteract John’s understanding.“Sherlock, there’s a reason why you two saw each other again. Chances like that are gone before you know it. You sure you don’t want to take it?”He slowly puts down his newspaper and locks his gaze with John’s eyes. “I would rather have my head bashed in, than take a chance.” His voice is low and menacing, but it just made John frown.“Alright, fine. I won’t bring it up again.”This made the other man breathe in relief. He doesn’t express his gratitude, but simply leans back on his seat. John gives him one last look, maybe he’ll find out soon what happened between both of them. But whatever it was, he hoped that they’ll be able to resolve them.Jocelyn comes back a few hours later with a tired look on her face, her cheeks and nose reddening from the cold weather. She climbs up the stairs and sees that no one is home. Jocelyn looks around and spots a note on the table.
‘Case. SH’
She smiles to herself and goes to the living room where the fireplace is. She doesn’t hesitate in taking Sherlock’s violin and bow. Unlike Sherlock, she doesn’t clean it before using it. She remembers him always reminding her to clean it before using, but she doesn’t recall herself actually following.She settles the violin between her chin and shoulder, setting the bow against the strings before she starts to play. She closes her eyes and just sways with the music.“Heard that one before, Sherlock plays it all the time. Not sure which composer it’s from.” The landlady enters the flat with groceries.“Sherlock composed it, actually.”“Ah, yes. The sad ones are his specialty. I even thought it was Sherlock playing when I came up here, I wasn’t expecting it to be you!” She says in an amused tone. “Did he teach you to play it?”“Yes, he showed me the piece he wrote and—”“No, dear. I meant the violin, did he teach you?” She smiles. Jocelyn just nods, making Mrs. Hudson sigh with a pleased expression. “I never took Sherlock as the teaching type.”“We were good friends, Sherlock and I.”“Oh, I never doubted it, love.”Jocelyn turns to get the violin again and continues playing. The music takes her back to so many memories. This is her favorite piece by Sherlock, as well. He used to play this a lot, especially whenever she shows up at his doorstep with tears in her eyes.She stops playing. It’s been eight years, surely she’s moved on. Sherlock clearly has, why couldn’t she? Maybe she just missed him a lot and hated how things ended up between the two of them. Then again, it was her fault that they’re like this. She started everything, after all.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
John and Sherlock comes back just in time for her spaghetti cooling down. By the smell of food, John’s stomach grumbles. It was a wise decision for both of them to come home instead of eating outside. Solely because Sherlock told John that it’ll be likely for Jocelyn to cook their meals more often if she knows that they’ll be coming home.It only proves that Sherlock still knows what kind of woman Jocelyn is. Although, Sherlock speaks about her with no hint of affection.“You’re a gift from the heavens, Jocelyn. How’s London treating you so far?”“It’s been so long since I was here, actually. Eight years, to be precise.”John emerges from the kitchen and sits on the couch right behind to Jocelyn. She closes the browser and reveals her desktop wallpaper.John catches sight of the photo. “Is that your son?”For the first time since they came home, Sherlock’s attention is grabbed and he looks up pointedly at John and then to the woman. She looks back at her laptop and realizes that her wallpaper is a picture of her with her arms around a small boy, big smiles on both of their faces.“No, uh, my neighbor had a son and I used to babysit to get money. Shane. He was a nice kid.” She nods.John just looks at Sherlock, who has an unreadable expression on his face before he goes back to work quietly. Sherlock is unsure why, but the thought of her having a son with some person from New York, felt odd to think about.“Do you have a family here in London, then? Or anywhere in England?”“Not really. Well, no one close to me, at least.”Not close to her? Sherlock thinks.“Oh, where do your parents live?”Her smile falters a bit, but she quickly recovers. “My father is in Sussex or somewhere. He has another family to take care of there,” she explains. “And my mother died a few years back.”Sherlock freezes, blinking a couple of times. He felt… he doesn’t understand what he felt upon hearing those words. Emotions are something he divorced himself from, ever since that day.John didn’t even notice his flatmate react, he only frowns and gives Jocelyn an apologetic expression. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”“Oh, don’t be. You couldn’t have known. It’s a long time ago.” She stands to grab a book from the shelf as John leaves to his room.There is an urge to say something, it settles inside his body but he tries to ignore the impulse.“When?” Sherlock asks her without looking back.Jocelyn turns to him, surprised to hear him speak. “Seven years ago.”“How?”“Her body slowly gave up.”Sherlock clenches his jaw and just blinks slowly, processing her words. He’s used to a lot of murders and violent deaths as he solves case after case, but somehow, the death of Jocelyn’s mother hits him harder than he expected.Sherlock stays silent for a bit, as he opens his mouth to say something. “My condolences.”She just smiles a bit. “Thank you. But it was a long time ago.” She says, trying not to remember the times she was sobbing on the bathroom floor to cope with everything.It’s quite odd to hear those words from her, Sherlock thinks.You only think that because I moved on from my mother’s death quicker than you moved on from me leaving. He hears her voice in his head. He shakes his head to remove it from his mind. He should listen to John for once. However, something inside him is preventing him to do so.--“Is she here already?”“She will be here.” One of Jocelyn’s friends just patted her back comfortingly before leaving.Her mother doesn’t really speak properly anymore, but she can still make facial expressions. She’s not mute, she just refuses to talk. Jocelyn wanted her to be here, this was a big day for her.She was feeling jittery and anxious. Then, there was a knock on the door. She assumed that it was one of the staff, telling her that the show will be starting in ten minutes. Jocelyn stood up and walked over to the door, opening it to reveal her partner. Sherlock looked down at her, a faint smile on his lips upon seeing her. He hasn’t smiled all day, too. He hasn’t seen her for the whole day.Today, they decided that they’ll have a break and just meet here at the venue.Jocelyn smiled, although it didn’t stop the shakiness of her hands. “I didn’t think you’d sneak yourself into my dressing room.”Sherlock observed her clothes, a formal white blouse tucked inside a black and white skirt that reached above her knees. Her clothes were in black and white, making her hair look brighter than it already is. It made him smile, and also the fact that he knew she was nervous from the way she grabbed the doorknob.“I suppose it’s proper to visit you on such events, would you say?”“I guess.”“Are you alright?”“I don’t think I can perform without throwing up on stage. I’ll be the laughing stock of the night. And my mother might not make it here.”“I saw her in the audience before I came here. Front row, may I add.”“What? She’s here?” She had a big smile on her face, it was very contagious that it also made the corner of his lips curl up.“Your aunt, as well. Obviously. They’re situated in the front seats.”Jocelyn was glad about that. Her aunt, is the one who’s been watching over her mother. They were sisters and Jocelyn knew that her aunt wouldn’t mind watching over her while Jocelyn goes to University.“Did they look excited, at least?”“Erm... from the distance, I could not tell.” Alternatively, maybe because he can’t read facial expressions that well.“What about your family?”“My parents are here. My brother won’t be attending.”“But this is an important night. For both of us.”“He has more important matters that require his full attention.”She felt upset, somewhat. As much as Sherlock didn’t want to make it seem like tonight was such an important day for him and his music, Jocelyn could see how upset he was that his big brother couldn’t be present.“He should be here too, like both of our parents are. To watch and hear us perform together.”“But at least our parents are here. You have nothing to be nervous about.”“How come you’re not nervous?”“Anxiety, sadness, heartbreak, loss. They don’t always show on the outside. Sometimes, it’s best to keep it in and seem confident.”She processed his words more carefully. Is he hinting that he feels some of those, as well?She’s quite mesmerizing, that’s one word for it. Sherlock had no doubt that she’ll be able to astound each and every person in the function hall.“Is that what you do?”“With what?”“Pretend to be confident? For the sake of others.”“Now and then, yes.”A smile found its way back on her face. The door opened from behind them and they both turn to look at the woman with a headset on, carrying a clipboard.She informed both of them that the show has started before leaving in a hurry. Although, she gave Sherlock a dirty look. He wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but she didn’t say anything.The two of them were alone again and they looked back at the other. There was silence before they both went bursting into a fit of laughter. However, she was louder and his low chuckles were an imitation of rumbles from his chest.“I told you yesterday to not sneak in here,” she pointed out, acting as if she was scolding him but failed with a grin on her face.“But you were nervous.”“And? We might get in trouble later.”Sherlock just offered her half a smile. “I wanted to let you know that your mother was here.”Jocelyn just scoffed mixed with a laugh. Sherlock followed her every step, watching as she gathered her written pieces.“My friends think you’re odd.”“It doesn’t bother me. I’ve learned to live with it. What difference do their opinions make?”“Is that you being confident?”There was a hint of a smirk on his face when he held the door open for her. He followed beside her as they made their way backstage.“Always.”--“You alright?” John looks up from his phone.“Yes, why wouldn’t I be fine?” He grumbles, getting on his feet and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.Sherlock grips the edge of the sink and just lowers his head to try to steady his breathing. He doesn’t even notice himself being transported inside his palace yet again, more specifically in that flat he loathes being in.Instead of the sink, he’s gripping the marble fireplace in the middle of the living room. He breathes out of his mouth and just pushes himself off the fireplace, turning and is met with a frowning Jocelyn. She’s wearing black clothes and her brown hair framed her face.She’s sat on the edge of the table. Her eyes were bloodshot red, standing out because of her pale skin. Sherlock just observes her, not saying anything.She sniffles. “You didn’t know that my mother is gone. Until now.”He blinks, a blank expression on his face. “Why would it affect you? I created you in my head.”“And what you feel is what I feel.”Sherlock, irritated at what she said but chooses to ignore, just adjusts his collar to distract himself. “Your mother is a fine woman.”“She was.” Jocelyn nods, wiping her tears away. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”He says nothing, watching her weep quietly.Jocelyn sniffles again and smiles. “Well, that’s enough of that. Don’t want you to see me like this.”“Then why am I here?”She has this look on her face that made Sherlock want to... no, he’s not going to do anything to her—for her.“Sherlock Holmes, you’re so brave with all the cases you’ve solved, all the murderers you’ve faced. But you’re such a coward when it comes to dealing with human emotions.”“It’s not being cowardly, it’s being—”“Confident. Yes, I remember. God, I’m such a mess. Speaks a lot of volumes, don’t you think? Since I’m you.”His facial expression relaxes, and he slowly raises his head. In a way to say that she got him.“Remember the day we performed together at the function hall of our school’s campus?”“I do.”His Jocelyn conscience looks at her own fingers, fiddling with the lace on her dress. “I was so nervous that I stopped playing. You helped me by improvising with your violin. Everyone thought it was a solo of yours, but you only did it to let me catch my breath.”“What do you want me to say?”“There’s nothing to say now. Well, that’s the case for earlier. You said nothing. You almost did, but you pulled back. What were you about to say? Word for word, Sherlock.”“Your mother is a wonderful woman. I certainly will never forget her, even if it did seem that way. She never came with you to New York, which means she passed here in England. You haven’t visited her grave, ever. From your words, you haven’t been to London in eight years. You never attended the funeral. Too painful to do so.”She stays silent for a while before Sherlock continues to speak.“I promised her that I would always be with you.” He muttered. “A vow that I had not kept.”“That’s not your fault. I left, remember? Now, what question would you have asked me?”“Question?”“Yes? I know you have one.”He realizes what she meant. “What happened in New York?”“That’s it, that’s the one. What exactly happened to me in New York? Did I just continue my study? Did I have many problems during that time? Boyfriends, girlfriends?” She grins and walks over to Sherlock, settling her hands on his shoulders, taking him by surprise.“I... those aren’t what I meant.”Right now, her hand reaches up to cup his face, tracing his sharp cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Sherlock tries his very best not to seem affected, but even by memory, he could still remember how her hands felt.The pure loathing he had for her, it was maddening.“Those are absolutely what you meant. I’m you, aren’t I? Keep in mind, Sherl.” She slowly rises on her tiptoes and is about to press her lips against his cheek.Sherlock closes his eyes at the impact, but it never came. Instead, he opens his eyes again and he’s back in the bathroom with his body towards the sink.***“You should come with us to St. Barts.” John says to Jocelyn.It’s been four days since Sherlock somewhat had a row with his own conscience. He hasn’t been to his mind palace in a while.As for John, he is now extremely fond of her. Mrs. Hudson comes over quite more often now. Sherlock would always see her in his flat chatting with Jocelyn, or the other way around with Jocelyn inside his landlady’s flat. Both women enjoy each other’s company quite a lot.Although, it was surprising how Mrs. Hudson never notices the faint smell of cigarette smoke inside the flat.“But you two are on a case. Wouldn’t I probably cause a distraction?”Definitely a distraction, Sherlock thinks behind his newspaper, peeking at her from above it.Jocelyn is pouring herself a glass of water, already dressed up. Her hair is properly done, and her dress is in a dark shade of blue. She looks wonderful, as usual. It is sickening to Sherlock.“Of course you wouldn’t be. Unless you’d like to stay here?”She hesitates, glancing at Sherlock when he wasn’t looking. “Uh, I don’t know. Would that be alright with both of you?”“Yes, of course. Sherlock?”He sighs through his mouth, the sunlight from the window created a shadow from his Cupid’s bow and high cheekbones. “I don’t see why not.”Jocelyn suspiciously observes him. “I think I’ll just stay here and help Mrs. Hudson with her furniture.”Sherlock frowns, but continues walking downstairs.John stays. “Mrs. Hudson’s furniture arrived two days ago. He wouldn’t have noticed, but I did.”“It’s okay, John. I’m just not feeling up to it.”He curtly nods, offering her a smile before he goes to follow Sherlock downstairs and outside.***“Look at what Sherlock has done to my wall!” Mrs. Hudson complains to Jocelyn, looking at the yellow smiley face painted on her wallpaper.Jocelyn offers her a sympathetic smile, glancing at the doodle. “He’ll probably pay for it.” She urges and just pours Mrs. Hudson some tea. They glance at the door when it was suddenly opened, revealing an annoyed John who has a glare on his face.“John? You're back early.”“Yeah, he’s bloody insane. Kicked me out as soon as he found chlorine in the substance he was examining. Said that he wanted to be left alone. God, he’s too full of himself.” He mumbles and goes to take a seat on his chair.“I was about to go outside and walk around London again later, do you want to come along?”“Anything to be out of these walls would be great.”A knock on the door catches her attention as she checks the closed door for a second. She opens it and sees a man carrying a folder, facing the other door while waiting for it to be answered.When Jocelyn opened the door, the man’s head turns to her, a sarcastic grin on his face. “Dr. Watson, my...”She has a smile on her face, but it slowly fades when the man stares at her with shock.Jocelyn’s whole body goes rigid when she realizes that it is no other than Sherlock’s older brother.Jocelyn’s heart drops. “Mycroft...”He just stares at her with utter shock. It takes him a second to form actual words. “Miss Grant.”Jocelyn doesn’t notice John walking in the kitchen and noticing Mycroft. “What… are you doing here?” John asks in confusion, looking down at the folder he was holding.Usually, Mycroft just abducts him with a car if he actually needs something. He never really shows up himself.“Sherlock’s not here.”Mycroft has an unsure expression on his face, unable to get his eyes off the woman. “On the contrary, I came to have a word with you. Although, it does concern Sherlock. The secrecy of our interaction will be left to your discretion. I have high hopes that you’ll make the right choice.”Mrs. Hudson calls for Jocelyn back in the living room and she scurries off, avoiding Mycroft’s intense gaze as she walks downstairs.On the other hand, Mycroft grips his folded umbrella and walks to the living room. “What is Miss Grant doing in Baker Street? Most specifically, Sherlock’s shared flat?”What is with the Holmes brothers and Jocelyn? Surely, Jocelyn didn’t do anything to harm them. Did she?“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”“He’s my brother. What goes on in his life, is my business.”“Sherlock wouldn’t approve me speaking about him to you.”“I can assure you, Dr. Watson. I do things for my brother’s best interests.”“Jocelyn is a friend of my sister. She asked me if Jocelyn could stay here for a while.”“And what did Sherlock have to say about her sudden intrusion?”“Tell me one good reason why I should even share that with you?”The eldest Holmes’ face hardens. “Miss Jocelyn Grant poses a greater danger than you can ever fathom—” he stops himself, holding his head up high.John’s brows knot, how can the Jocelyn that he knows, be such a greater danger?“Why are you really here?”Mycroft seems to divert the attention from why he came here. “Have Jocelyn Grant leave the premises and then we can discuss Sherlock.”“And why would I do that?”The elder Holmes just gives him a bitter smile. “Well, it’s very much obvious to me how you care about my brother. You’d do what’s right for him. And I can assure you, being around that woman is not one of those things.”“She’s Sherlock’s friend.”“Is she?” When John doesn’t answer, Mycroft gives him a sly smile. “I thought so. I suppose he told you the opposite. As he should.”“Jocelyn? The woman who cooks spaghetti and dances to Sinatra? She’s the danger you’re referring to?”“You’ll hardly understand it, Dr. Watson.”“Maybe you can make me understand.”“I have good reason to believe that Sherlock refused to let Miss Grant live among you, and he has a fair point. I can have arrangements made, and you can tell her that she’ll be moving elsewhere.”“She’s already settled here—”“And she can settle herself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be a hardship for her. She moves... quite frequently.” The words seem like fire on Mycroft's tongue.“What am I going to say to her?”“She’ll be suitably compensated, don’t worry. Tell my dear brother about my arrangements. I can assure you that he’d be pleased.” He starts walking back to the front door. “Just remember, Dr. Watson. Jocelyn Grant is far more capable of doing things, other than cooking spaghetti and dancing to Sinatra.” He reminds him before he leaves without another word.***Sherlock comes back in two hours. The flat is empty and he’s greeted by Mrs. Hudson, who informed him that his two flatmates have left to have a walk two hours ago.His eyes narrow into slits, realizing that his brother came into the flat for some reason. He noticed the knocker on the front door, but decided not to think about it. Now he can see fresh marks of the tip of an umbrella all over his floor.That’s the unusual part of all of it. Mycroft rarely goes to places. He has people to do that for him. Sherlock realizes that Mycroft may have seen Jocelyn.He rolls his eyes at the thought, thinking of how overjoyed that reunion may have been. Mycroft was probably ecstatic to see her again. She brings out the hugger in Mycroft.He doesn’t understand how Jocelyn can do it. Make everyone adore her. She’s just a normal woman doing normal things, what’s so special about that?He hears footsteps from the front door and so he goes back to the living room to get his violin, cleaning it with a wipe. Jocelyn exhales in frustration, but breaks into laughter with John.Jocelyn giggles to herself, sliding the gloves off her hands. She takes off her beanie and frees her brown hair, walking inside with John who had an amused expression on his face.“That was the most fun I’ve had so far.”John is grinning from ear to ear. “I’m not sure almost getting arrested could count as fun.”“I didn’t know it was private property! They should’ve put up a sign!”Sherlock’s jaw clenches, gripping the bow even tighter. Listening to their stories from their walk earlier is annoying him for some reason. He keeps playing when Jocelyn runs upstairs to change and John walks in the living room.“Saw your brother today.”“I take it that he saw her, then? What, are you about to tell me that you were shocked about how friendly Mycroft can actually be?”What confused him was how John’s face twists in puzzlement, confirming that he never witnessed anything that Sherlock described. “What? He saw her and asked me to tell you about the arrangements he made. He wants to move her.“And?”“Yeah, I didn’t tell her. I promised my sister that she’s staying with me. She stays here, Sherlock.” John inhales. “What did Jocelyn ever do to you? Even Mycroft is trying to make her stay away from you. He even used the words greater danger to describe Jocelyn.”Sherlock is surprised that Mycroft thought the same way. He does recall his brother and Jocelyn being inseparable at times. Sherlock frowns when the memories play before his eyes, shaking his head to stop himself from thinking about it.“Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with my brother tomorrow.”“And tell him what?”“It would please you if she stays, correct?”“Yes?”“Then she’s staying. I’ll ask Mycroft to cancel all arrangements.” Sherlock casually says and John feels surprised. “Why was he here in the first place?”“He didn’t say, but he was carrying a folder. Probably has a case for you.”“A case? He can solve it by himself or have his employees do it for him as usual. Why come to me personally?”“Must be important.”“What did Jocelyn say about Mycroft?”“We barely spoke about him actually. She just mentioned that they used to be great friends.”Great friends? The only way to describe it was how Mycroft treated Jocelyn like the sister they never had. He loved her, adored her than anyone.“She’s not wrong. They were.”“...Really?”“Yes. Rest. I might not have any cases soon. Most of them are quite boring now. Tomorrow shall be a very boring day, indeed.”It was quiet inside the flat when John proceeds to Sherlock’s bedroom to sleep.The detective is standing by the bottom of the staircase, looking up. He can hear the faint jazz music of Billie Holiday, another artist that Jocelyn is extremely fond of. He hesitates, but his foot already settles itself on the first step, the other was still on the second floor. He walks to the door that led to John’s room, knocking twice.The music doesn’t stop when Jocelyn opens the door with another one of those pure smiles she has. It fades slightly in surprise. “Sherlock, is there something wrong?”Quite odd how she always seems concerned when Sherlock voluntarily interacts with her.Her face is free from makeup, her brown hair is still in its place from earlier, probably because she hasn’t lay down or brushed through it yet.He exhales and looks down at the ground. “Your... mother was a wonderful woman. I certainly will never forget her. Even if it did seem that way.”Jocelyn softens and just stares back at him.“She never came with you to New York, which means she passed here in England. You haven’t visited her grave, ever. From your words, you haven’t been to London in eight years. You never attended the funeral. Too painful to do so.”She looks down at the ground for a second before she meets with his eyes. “My aunt hates me,” she softly says. “You’re right, I didn’t go to the funeral. I couldn’t bear to see her body. I should’ve been there, not only for the funeral. I should’ve been with her.” A tear leaves her eye and she quickly wipes it away.The man just watches her with a faltering expression, truly fascinated by human emotions even when he says he isn’t. “I promised her that I would always be with you. A vow that I had not kept.”“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t really a serious vow. I don’t even think it was a vow. It’s certainly not your first or last vow.”“A vow is a vow, Jocelyn.”“In that case, I broke it first.”“Yes.”Jocelyn doesn’t even look hurt. “I understand that you hate me—”“Right, I’m done here.” Sherlock turns to walk away. However, the young woman gently grabs his arm to stop him.“I’ll stop... but thank you for saying what you said.”Sherlock spares her one last glance before nodding curtly, walking away and downstairs. Jocelyn sighs, leaning against the doorframe and buries her face into both her palms. One of her hands move down to cover her mouth while the other clutches her beating heart.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You want me to do what?”“Cancel the arrangements you’ve made so far.”Mycroft offered a confused sound. “I thought it would please you if I removed her myself.”“It doesn’t. Cancel the arrangements.”“I’m afraid that it’s already done.”“Cancel it. I know you came to my flat for a case. If you let this go, I will investigate away.”“And why are you so eager to keep her within your home? You’re not exactly known for your sentimentality, brother mine.”“Cancel everything. Miss Grant remains in Baker Street.”“You’re very persistent, may I ask why?” He paints a dry smile on his face.“I don’t need to prove anything to you.” He stands up and adjusts his coat. “I expect all arrangements to be canceled by the end of the day.”“Have you forgotten what she has done?”He can never question why Mycroft’s perspective towards Jocelyn has changed, since the same thing happened to Sherlock as well. His words make Sherlock stop at his tracks.“I’m only allowing her in my home because it is also John’s home. And he wants her to remain there without anything or anyone interfering. That includes you and I.”“Very well. I’ll have my assistant take care of it. Would that be all?”“Yes,” he answers and turns to walk away.“Oh, and little brother?”He rolls his eyes. “What?”“I hope you won’t make the same mistake again.” Mycroft simply says.Sherlock grimaces. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” He disdainfully says before he walks out of his office.His deductions were correct when he came home from Minsk, Belarus. It is quite boring today. Nothing to work on. Sherlock might go insane if he stares at the wallpaper of the flat for too long.John is at work and Jocelyn is in the kitchen. Sherlock feels utterly bored out of his mind as he sits on the couch.“You don’t have a case today, at least have lunch. Mrs. Hudson gave us some baked macaroni and cheese.” Jocelyn brings the casserole to the living room. She settles the plate near Sherlock, whom only glances at it and looks away. “Come on, Sherlock. You haven’t eaten in days and the last thing you ate was half a sandwich from Mrs. Hudson’s refrigerator.”“If I want to eat, I would.”“But there’s a lot of food. I can’t finish all of this on my own, John won’t be home until tonight, and he’s got a date.”Dates, how dreadful. He doesn’t notice how he mumbles that out loud, making her laugh a bit. “What?”“You know, dates aren’t that dreadful as long as it’s with the right person. John likes Sarah quite a lot.”Sherlock sighs and turns to stare at the ceiling. They’re having a conversation, it’s normal. He should tolerate this. “I suppose.”“Have you read John’s blog? The Study in Pink? I read it earlier when he showed me. You got into the cab of a serial killer?”“And what of it?”“Smart people don’t get into the cabs of a killer.”“Understandable, but it was for the reason as to how he does his killings. I wanted to see for myself.”“Almost getting yourself killed in the process.”Sherlock stays quiet after that remark; eyes closed and is deep inside his mind. He thinks of the past cases, and deletes them before solving them again in his head.He barely notices Jocelyn putting a blanket over him from the cold of the night. He flinches and opens his eyes, Jocelyn looks at him with alarm.She is wearing something quite different from earlier when she had lunch. Her ironed dress is more formal and she smells of Chanel with a hint of cigarette smoke. Sherlock’s eyes dart to the blanket in her hands and to the window, showing how it’s already nighttime.“You aware that you were frozen for four hours? I thought you passed out.”Sherlock blinks slowly and presses his palms together, resting his fingertips by his chin. He sits up as his eyes dart to his room, where John moved the gun into his drawer. He feels the sudden urge to take it and just, well, start shooting the wall for some noise at least.“Alright, I’m going to the drugstore to get you nicotine patches. Would you like that?”Although he knows that he can do it himself, he nods, not even looking at her. “Yes.”Jocelyn just grabs her coat and gloves before heading downstairs. “Don’t do anything stupid.” She mutters more to herself, but Sherlock still heard it on her way down the stairs.***“What the hell are you doing?!”“Bored.”Dr. Watson wasn’t sure if he heard him right. “What?”“Bored!” Sherlock exclaims as he stands up and aims the gun at the wall.John takes the gun with a glare. “Where’s Jocelyn? I don’t suppose you’ve scared her off now?”The bored detective only closes his eyes and lies on the sofa. “Off to a drugstore. Not sure what she was going to buy.”After a brief scolding over a head being refrigerated, John brings up the fact that Sherlock does not know how the solar system works. “Well, if I ever did, I’ve deleted it.”“Deleted it?”Sherlock inhales and sits up. “Listen, this,” he points at his head. “—is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. Really useful.”All of his consciences must be laughing at him from his usage of words. Good thing he hasn’t made contact in a while.Sherlock and John bicker until Sherlock insults him at the end. Annoyed, John decides to leave the flat around the same time Jocelyn and Mrs. Hudson arrive. Jocelyn raises her brows and holds her hands up as John pushes past her without a word. She helps Mrs. Hudson walks inside the flat as the old woman knocks on the door.“You two had a little domestic?” She teases and makes Jocelyn chuckle. She sees Sherlock stand up and over the coffee table, making his way to the window to watch his friend walk away.Sherlock looks over his shoulder to glance at her, reaching out and held his hand out. She immediately knows what it means and gives him the nicotine patches. “Two at a time.”Sherlock snorts and shakes his head, tossing the box into the couch.Mrs. Hudson complains about her wall, and Sherlock only smirks at his work. Jocelyn chuckles and watches her leave before turning to Sherlock. She catches him mirroring the smiley face with bullet holes in them, and laughed. He realizes that she’s still here and drops his smile.“Sherlock—” She starts but gets cut off by herself being forcibly thrown into the ground and a loud explosion, her head bumping on the ground.Glass shards flew everywhere and she hears a loud thud of Sherlock’s body pushed to the ground as well. The windows were broken by an enormous force and the two toppled onto the ground together.Jocelyn can hear the car alarm going off from outside and her vision blurs. There was a ringing in her ears and her head was hurting. She can faintly hear Sherlock shuffling towards her, but she can barely see his face. His panicked face.“Jocelyn, Jocelyn, can you hear me?” He lifts her head from the ground and coughs at how dusty the place became, squinting his eyes as he held her head between his hands.She slowly sits up, rubbing her head where it hurts. The man absentmindedly rests his hand on the small of her back, helping her to sit upright.She hisses when seeing blood dripping down her elbow, from one of the glass shards. Sherlock swallows and stares at her with alarm, overwhelmed by his own concern for her wellbeing. He stands up and hesitantly stretches downward to lift her on her feet.“What happened?” She winces and keeps a hand on her head.Sherlock is still watching her, analyzing where she could be hurt. “Not quite sure. All evidences point to gas leakage.”“In Baker Street?”“Yes, right across from here. Two floors were destroyed.”“Mrs. Hudson?”“Alerting the police as we speak.”“Are you alright?”He stares at her. “Still breathing.”She sighs and just looks down at her arm. He sees the blood trickling and so he goes to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.Jocelyn smiles as he opens the box. “Thank you.”“Don’t thank me. I don’t want blood all over my floorboards. The suspicions of Scotland Yard about me being a murderer might get confirmed.” He keeps his voice low as he cleans up her wound.She just chuckles at his words and it made Sherlock confused. That’s not how you respond to someone showing no concern for you, in his opinion. Nonetheless, he continues to gently wrap the bandage around her.***“What are you doing here?”The elder Holmes steps inside the flat. “When the flat of my younger brother is compromised, I’m the first person to be called.” He glances around the mess of a home and winces upon seeing glass shards. “Where’s your dearest blogger?”“Out.”Jocelyn walks in, eyes widening when seeing Mycroft in the middle of the living room. She falters for a second, but Mycroft offers her a smile. A kind one as well.“Miss Grant. I believe we barely have spoken upon our first reunion.”She nervously laughs, eyes darting to the left to see Sherlock roll his eyes at Mycroft before taking his violin out. “Yeah, I mean. It’s great to see you again, Mycroft.”“Yes, good to see you as well. I suppose you’ve done well during your time in New York?”She offers him a kind smile. “As well as I could.”“Yes, yes. Jocelyn and Mycroft, reunited at last. How wonderful.” Sherlock bitterly remarks. The consulting detective steals a glance at the young woman when she goes to the kitchen as he holds the violin in his hands.Mycroft notices this small interaction. “Brother mine, I hope you know why I came here. It’s not only just to check up on you and your… guest.”“And why did you come here?”“The same reason I came by two days ago. A memory stick is missing from the hands of the British Government—”“There was a gas leak nearby my home and you’d like me to run along the streets doing your work for you?”“Aren’t you forgetting about the condition we both agreed upon your unwarranted visit yesterday morning?”The younger Holmes clenches his jaw, resting the violin on his lap. Suddenly, footsteps emerged from the steps and Sherlock can hear both his and Jocelyn’s name being repeated.Sherlock plucks a string from his violin and sees the doctor walk inside the messy flat. “John.”John sees Mycroft and presses his lips together. “I saw it in the telly. Are you okay?”“Me? What? Oh, yeah, fine. Gas leak, apparently.”Jocelyn walks in the living room carrying a tray with tea. The doctor sees the bandage around her arm. “What happened there?”She just chuckles it off. “I fell. It’s fine now.” She waves it off, offering tea to Mycroft, to which he accepts.John nods at her, relieved that she’s okay. Mycroft shifts in his seat, sipping his tea. It’s quite impressing how the young woman still remembers how he takes his tea.“Join us, Miss Grant.” Mycroft gestures to the couch to his right.Jocelyn, out of instinct, only hesitates but she just nods and goes to the couch without another word. Mycroft gives her a tight-lipped smile.Sherlock feels sick. “I can’t.” He responds to what Mycroft said to him earlier.“Can’t?”“Stuff I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time.”“Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance.”“How’s the diet?”“Fine.”Jocelyn crosses her legs and leans against her seat. In all Jocelyn’s life, she never thought she’d witness the two brothers taunting one another in a brotherly way again.“Perhaps you can get through him, John. I’m afraid my brother can be very intransigent.” He says, making Jocelyn snort at his fancy words. “Have an opinion, Miss Grant?”“I thought you’re a big deal in London now. Whatever you’re making him do, you can pay people to do it, right?”Sherlock sees logic in what she has said, plucking the strings of his violin with his fingers. “Yes. If you’re so keen, why don’t you investigate it?”“Oh, no, no, no, no, I can’t possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Besides, a case like this requires…” he cringes. “—leg work.”Sherlock plucks an off-key note from his violin and presses his lips together, annoyed.Mycroft pulls out a folder from his suit, standing up to hand it over to his younger brother who only glares at him. Mycroft seems annoyed by this, and turns to John. He begins to talk about his Bruce-Partington Plans that went missing in the hands of Andrew West.“Goodbye, John. See you very soon.” He shakes the doctor’s hand.Mycroft glances at Jocelyn, discreetly flicking his head towards the entrance of the flat. Jocelyn wavers. As Mycroft looks starts walking to the other couch to retrieve his coat, Sherlock starts to play a rapid phrase and his brother walks out.Jocelyn listens to his footsteps fade away and she stands up, Sherlock watches her leave. She walks down the stairs and into the pavement of Baker Street, feeling the cold air warp around her body. She sees Mycroft holding his umbrella.The eldest Holmes sibling watches her for a moment, remembering just how everything was like eight years before. Mycroft is secretly pleased to see her, which is why he gives in and opens his arms.Jocelyn tries to fight off her stinging eyes and steps forward, wrapping her arms around his torso, her forehead on his shoulder as she inhales his cologne. Mycroft leans down to embrace her, closing his eyes.Eight years, and he never thought he’d be able to see her again. As much as he didn’t want her to be in Baker Street within Sherlock’s arm of reach, it was a pleasure to see her again. Maybe during the first time he saw her, it didn’t seem that way, but he did indeed miss her.Jocelyn leans into his embrace. “I hope this wasn’t just because I was cold.” She jokingly says.“Isn’t it? I can hardly tell, myself.” He closes his eyes and squeezes for a second before letting go. “You’ve grown. No longer have your dyed hair, I believe?”Jocelyn chuckles. “Yeah, time for a change. You certainly look different.” She points out, saying that he looks healthier than ever. That makes her so happy.At that, Mycroft’s lips curled up just a little bit. “It’s good to see you again, Jocelyn.”She smiles. “You too.”“May I ask, what are you doing here?”“I don’t know. It just happened.”Mycroft stares for a brief moment. “When I came here, I asked Dr. Watson that I can make arrangements to move you to a different place. Far from Baker Street. I’d like for you to know that I changed my mind.”A look of confusion writes itself on her face. “He never told me any of that.”“I figured. Dr. Watson is loyal quite quickly. I’d say he’s taken a liking towards you.”“He’s been a really good friend to me.”“As he is to my brother, as well.” He agrees. “I must go, Sherlock will complain if he sees me still around. You know what he’s like.”Jocelyn hesitates. “Do I?”The older Holmes just gives her a nod. “His antics haven’t changed that much, I can assure you. He’s just a bit…” He looks for the word. “Well, you’ll be able to tell.”She just nods.He stares at her for a moment. “Jocelyn,”“Yes?”“I hope you won’t make the same mistake again.”She stands there, frowning to herself as she watched him get into a car and drive away. The cold keeps seeping through her dress, making her shiver and go back inside.--Sherlock opened the door upon hearing some knocking. When the door was opened, he was met by the blue-haired girl he met a week ago. She had the biggest grin on her face and she was wearing one of her usual dresses and black boots.“I ordered pizza and stuffed crust with garlic.” She held up a paper bag and a pizza box.“What are you doing here?”“Well, I thought that maybe we could hang out since it’s Friday. I figured that we could just watch a movie together?”The boy glances behind him, closing his door slightly until his body was the only thing that was peeking out. She finally frowns, realizing that he was blocking the view to his room. “You’re not supposed to be here.”“Relax, I know the guard. Having a reputation really has its perks.” She showed off, smirking.“Our performance was over two days ago,”Jocelyn’s smile faded. “And… you’re just going to cast me aside?”“What? No—no!” Sherlock denied, half-whispering with his narrowed eyes.“What is it then? And why are you whispering?”“I just thought, you know,” he made gestures and she only stared at him with confusion.The realization makes her frown. “You thought I was just going forget about your existence just because our performance is over?”Sherlock looks relieved that she understood, but at the same time, he was sheepish. He pursed his lips, nodding.“You know I’d never do that.”There have been many instances wherein a person leaves Sherlock after taking what they needed from him; he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jocelyn was the same. Although, he would have been disappointed the most if she did the same.He gave her a nod and hesitated, before pushing the door open again to let her in. Jocelyn walked in and stopped upon seeing another person inside the room. She awkwardly smiles at him, seeing how he sat on a chair while holding an umbrella.Sherlock glared at him. “This my brother, Mycroft. Mycroft, this is Jocelyn. She performed with me at the show.”His brother, Mycroft stands up, wearing a proper white button-up shirt and black dresspants. “Miss Grant. I’ve heard quite a lot about you. I do apologize for missing the astounding performance everyone has been discussing. Although, Sherlock left out the bit where you had, er… bright blue hair.”Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion. Does hair matter that much? He thinks hers is perfectly normal.Jocelyn laughs and puts down the pizza box to shake his hand enthusiastically. “The pleasure is all mine, Mycroft Holmes.” She grinned happily. Mycroft raises an eyebrow at Sherlock while shaking her hand, upon realizing just how hyperactive and energetic she really is. “I am happy to make your acquaintance.”“Well, brother mine, it’s best if you leave. Wouldn’t want to miss that dinner party, now would we?” He literally grabbed his brother by the shoulders and led him outside of the dorm.“Sherlock—”“Goodbye!” He offered his brother a grin before slamming the door to his face.Jocelyn burst out laughing. “So, you talk about me to your brother?”“He asked about you, what was I supposed to answer?”“He’s just like you, you know?”“How?”“Talking in fancy words like old Brits, and he talks with some kind of suave, do you know what I mean? Miss Grant, I’ve heard quite a lot about you. My God, you two talk the same!”“Says you, Miss Forensic Scientist.”“Forensic Scientist—as if I’ll ever become one.”“I think you’d make a fine scientist.”Sherlock goes to sit on the edge of the bed again, but Jocelyn pulled him down to the ground. He was caught off guard but remained poised as he sat down on the carpeted floor with her, watching as the starting credits rolled.He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel his breath catching on his throat. He couldn’t breathe for a second and scientifically, he never thought it was possible for anyone to be alright with being unable to breathe.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Hello, I’m Jocelyn Grant.” She sticks her hand out to wait for a handshake.The man, completely star struck by her, looks like a fool as he reaches for her hand and shakes. Jocelyn remains quite oblivious and just smiles. “Detective Inspector Lestrade. Sorry, do you live here?” He glances at John, who gives him half a shrug. Sherlock rolls his eyes.“Only temporary. John’s letting me stay here.” she smiles. Lestrade is briefly surprised by how charming she is.Their conversation was cut short when Sherlock opens the door and walks inside the room, seeing a pair of shoes in the middle of it, neatly placed on the ground. The three men stare at it, very confused as to why there would be shoes in the room.As Sherlock proceeds to walk near it, John stops him. He quickly reminds him being a bomber and the consulting detective proceeds with caution.Sherlock kneels down and goes into some push-up form to identify the shoes when the phone starts to ring to his surprise. He lets out a breath of relief and stands up, answering the call. The other men stare at him while he answered, anxious about what it could be.Sherlock hesitates. “Hello.”
“H-hello, sexy.”
***Hours later, Jocelyn leaves the cab after paying and enters the hospital. She observes for someone and spots a young man. She feels a bit anxious but brushes it off. “Uh, hi,” she tries catching his attention and walks towards him. “Do you work here?”The man offers her a smile. “Yes, can I help you?”“I’m looking for Dr. Hooper’s lab? I feel like this place is very big, I might get lost. Do you know where it is?”The man’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I do know! I’m actually on my way there now. I can take you there.”“Really?”The man nods at her. “Come on.” He flicks his head towards the other hallway, already walking.She chuckles. “Uh, I’m Jocelyn.”“Oh, um, Jim. I work in IT.” He shakes her hand and leads her to the lab. Whilst walking, Jim glances at her. “What’s your business here? If you don’t mind me asking.” His tone is friendly and very welcoming.“I have friends there, they might be working on something. One of them asked me to come along, and I desperately needed to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “It’s so cold in London, as well.”“You don’t like the cold?”The question makes her laugh. “I quite like the cold. It’s just different where I just came from. Cold is nice. I missed it.”Her words make him laugh a bit. “I’m going to be honest, I’m actually dating Molly. So, I’m warning you.” He grins at her, making a funny face as he stops in front of a door to open it.Upon entering, Jim seems a bit shy. Jocelyn stays behind the door and waits for Jim to walk in. She can hear a woman’s voice call out to him and he finally steps inside the room, with Jocelyn following suit. She doesn’t recognize the woman wearing a lab coat, but she notices the other two men.John pats her back. “How’s your arm?”“It’s fine now, don’t worry about it.”Molly introduced Jim to both Sherlock and John, and Jocelyn introduces herself to Molly with a polite handshake.“So, you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?”“Jim works in IT upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.” Molly claims with a happy smile.While the couple is laughing things off, Sherlock takes one glance at Jim and goes back at his experiment. “Gay.”Jocelyn raises her brows in surprise. John only closes his eyes, knowing this won’t end well for any of them. Jim is, well, he is unfazed. Actually, he is smiling for some reason.“Sorry, what?”“Nothing. Um, hey.”“Hi,” he airs before accidentally knocking down a petri dish and scrambles to pick it up. “Sorry, sorry,” he nervously laughs it off.Sherlock looks upon him and slowly shifts away his gaze, the atmosphere is thickening with awkwardness. Jocelyn goes to help, but Jim shakes his head, telling her it’s fine while he stands back up and puts the dish back.Sherlock, now annoyed, blinks rapidly to control his impulse in just analyzing him on the spot to put him in his place. Jim says goodbye to just Sherlock. He shakes his head at John’s attempt to defend Molly. “You wash your hair, there’s a difference. No, no. Tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines. Those tired clubber’s eyes. Then, there’s his underwear—”“Sherlock, enough.” Jocelyn steps in and gives Sherlock a glare. The consulting detective leans back on his seat and locks their gazes. Sherlock has a blank expression on his face while listening to her speak. After a moment, he finally opened his mouth to inhale. He then tells them about the number under the petri dish and Jocelyn closes her eyes in frustration.Molly looks down, before running off outside the lab, slamming the door behind her.“Charming, well done.” John tetchily remarks.However, Jocelyn sees the confusion on Sherlock’s face and is instantly reminded of how he can barely comprehend human emotions.“Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?”“You hurt her, Sherlock.” Jocelyn pointedly says.“Yes, and in the process, I showed her the truth.”Sherlock realizes that none of them will argue with that and gestures towards the shoes at John. He tells him that he needs an outside eye, but John refuses to be humiliated by him. Sherlock continues to press until…“I’ll do it.” Jocelyn walks towards the shoes. She looks at Sherlock and gives him a sly smile.She’s a forensic scientist; these are the things she’s good at. Sherlock observes her with crossed arms.Jocelyn takes a pair of latex gloves and puts them on, taking one of the shoes and lifting them to eye level. She tells them about the shoes, and how there were flakes of skin on the laces. That, plus the fact that these shoes were old.Sherlock watches her intently, realizing the improvement she went through during the last eight years. He only snaps out of his trance once John speaks, telling them that the shoes can’t be old because there were mud on them. Sherlock says that someone has kept them that way, and he talks about the other deductions she missed. As it turns out, there were only a few.“So, the kid wore these trainers, came to London from Sussex, twenty years ago and left them behind.”Jocelyn senses something is off from what he implied. It almost sounds like—“What happened to him?”“Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember. He’d never leave them filthy. Wouldn’t let them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets…” He stops himself, face dawning with what he just remembers.“Sherlock,” Jocelyn begins. “Shoes.”“Oh,” he echoed.John watches him. “What?”“Carl Powers.”“Sorry, who?”“Carl Powers, he was a boy who attended a swimming championship. He died in a swimming pool, everyone assumed it was some sort of stroke while swimming. It happened around twenty years ago.” She tells him.“Astonishing that you remember.” Sherlock grumbles out, still in deep thought.She cracks a smile. “How could I forget? It was your first case.”“Hold on, if it was twenty years ago, you would’ve been eight. You’re telling me that Sherlock got his first case at eight years old?”***Now a few hours later, Sherlock sits in the kitchen quietly while Jocelyn and John lounge around the living room. John explains the whole thing to her, how there is someone out there strapping people into bombs and forcing Sherlock to solve cases. There was even a time limit and it made Jocelyn frown with worry.John’s phone beeps and he pulls it out of his pocket to read the text. “It’s your brother. He’s texting me now,”Sherlock does not reply.“I don’t know if you’ve read some of his texts, but he asked for Jocelyn, specifically, to be the one to perform forensics for your part.”He makes a sound of distaste. Of course, he would do that, why wouldn’t he? “She doesn’t work for the British Government.”“You can’t just ignore it.”“I’m not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it, right now.” Sherlock finally eyes him, giving him a knowing look. It dawns over at John and his shoulders sag, rolling his eyes in frustration as he walks out of the kitchen to grab his coat and leave. Sherlock grins to himself, going back to work.Jocelyn notices John’s abrupt leave, so she slowly paces to the kitchen and leans against the sliding door. Sherlock notices her presence, looking at her through his lashes and refuses to stop working.Jocelyn hesitates. “Remember when you first told me about Carl Powers?”
Yes, I do. We were sitting nearby a tree in the campus. I remember the book you were reading, what page you were on, and how it was bookmarked by a green paperclip that you stole from the Professors’ lounge. I remember the dress you were wearing, I remember the way you did your hair, I remember the dirt on the side of your shoes, I remember how thicker your accent was compared to now. I remember the weather’s temperature, the date, the time; everything.
“No, I don’t.”Jocelyn nods, flushing. “Stupid question. Of course, you don’t. It’s been years,” she says with a laugh. “I think I was wearing an awful pink dress.” Wrong, it was blue. Correct, it was awful. “But anyway, listening to you talk about it was… nostalgic.”“Poetry or truth?” he asks without lifting his eyes away from the microscope.“Truth.” She admits. “It made me admire you a lot.”He stops, blinking twice and finally fixes his gaze on her. Jocelyn freezes under his eyes. It’s been years, that fades along with it. This is why she can’t understand why her body is reacting this way, weakening in front of him.He finally tears his eyes off her and she let out a breath she didn’t know she held. “I have to finish this—”“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jocelyn immediately agrees. “Okay, uh, well, I’ll be upstairs.”“Jocelyn,”“Yeah?”He waits for a second before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he simply mutters and goes back to looking under the microscope.Jocelyn purses her lips and made no attempt to further the conversation, sliding the door close as she ascends upstairs.Sherlock listens to her footsteps fade and sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the skin between his eyebrows. When he opens his eyes, he scowls upon realizing that he’s in his mind palace. The ivory walls of the flat remains its color. More importantly, he doesn’t have time for this.“Oh, technically, you do have time for this.”He wheels around to peer at her, and she’s wearing the same dress as she is right now. “What happened in there, Sherlock?”“Well, you’ve admitted that you admired me from the very start.”“It’s not like I was hiding that.”“I didn’t know that.”“Oh, you knew. You’ve always known. It’s one of the things you prided yourself with.”Sherlock angrily sneers at her. “Why am I back here?”“Why do you think?”“I’m in the middle of an important case—”She makes a mocking sound. “Cases, when are you never on a case?”“This case is different. There’s something about it that I can’t put my finger on.”Jocelyn gives him a frown. “Something brought you back here.”“I shouldn’t be back here. There’s no reason for me to be here, same with the previous encounters. I never gain anything.”“You come to your mind palace to find something,” she reminds, standing behind him. “In your case, someone.”Frown lines formed on his forehead, a scowl written on his face. “I’m not here to look for you. I’ve been forced to be here.”“Then delete me.”He falls silent, swallowing. There are no words to say to that, because he knows that he couldn’t. As much as he tries, as much as he denies it, everything about Jocelyn in his mind palace, every memory he has of her during those five months that happened eight years ago; he doesn’t want to forget them.“Why are you doing this to me?”“Why are you doing this to yourself?” She corrects and walks forward, hands reaching up to grab his, removing them from his face. “Oh, Sherlock, I’m so sorry,”Sherlock stifles a mocking laugh. “You are far from sorry.” He whispers to himself. “I knew you were poison the minute I saw you and I still indulged myself into that.” He looks down at their hands.Then, all of a sudden, his eyes widen and he meets hers. There is a big grin on his face. Jocelyn smiles happily, but there is a hint of sadness. The natural sadness that Sherlock has seen on her face for five months.“Glad you got what you came for.” Jocelyn squeezes his hand and he blinks rapidly, the image of her fading away and is replaced by what he saw under the microscope.
“Poison!”
***“Oh, elegant.”John glares before sighing. “Elegant?”“What was the point? Why would anyone do this?”“No, I can’t be the only person in the world that gets bored.” Sherlock mutters before the pink phone beeps.The door opens and Sergeant Donovan enters, telling Sherlock that there is a phone call for him. Sherlock accepts the phone and is immediately greeted by a similar situation, although this time, the hostage was a man. The consulting detective’s blood runs cold upon the caller telling him that he only has eight hours to solve this next puzzle, since he solved the last one in nine.The pink phone rings while Sherlock is in the middle of an experiment. He picks it up and immediately recognizes the voice from earlier. He gives Sherlock a clue, saying that the name of the car company says it all.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Is this one of your games?”“You’ll like this surprise, I can promise you that.” The stolen voice suppresses a sob from his throat. “We were made for each other, Sherlock.”“Then talk to me in your own voice.”“Patience,” he simply says before hanging up.***John was angry at him, and it was obvious. It was mostly because Sherlock let the old woman be in prolonged fear, and Sherlock didn’t care. All he cared about was the case.Sherlock goes to typing into his laptop and when the finishes, the phone rings almost immediately. Lestrade and John were right behind him as he does, anticipating the phone call. He listens to the woman cry for help and asks the address so he can be able to direct the police to her. Then, she starts to describe the culprit and Sherlock could feel the rise of panic inside him.“No, no. Tell me nothing about him—”“He sounded so soft,” she slowly says, until he hears a loud explosion and the line goes dead.Sherlock freezes as though his breath was caught in his throat. Eyes widening as he speaks into the phone to clarify if no one is on the end of the line anymore. Upon realizing that, he swallows and slowly. John shows his disappointment by sighing aloud, rubbing his forehead.They leave afterwards to Baker Street. John doesn’t say a word to him and he somewhat understands why. His flatmate slams the door closed behind him as Sherlock is left alone inside the living room, contemplating his actions.He hears footsteps behind him. From the pattern, he can tell that they belonged to Jocelyn. He looks over his shoulder to glance at her, only to direct his gaze back to the window.“I heard what happened.”“Let me guess. Lestrade.”“Yeah, I managed to catch him on the way here. The situation could’ve been handled better—”“You’re saying that it’s my fault.”“I’m not saying it’s your fault. You were doing what you thought was best.”“I left an old woman strapped into explosives for twelve hours while I could have saved her at any given time. Now she’s dead.”Jocelyn tilts her head. “Well, now that you put it like that, you really did fuck up.”Sherlock remains quiet as she walks to the window, facing him as she extends her arm. He looks down at her hand and notices a small box that contains one cigarette, and glances at her face again.She raises her brows. “It’s not low tar. Promise.”He hesitates for a second before taking one stick from the box, observing it while Jocelyn flickers her lighter on. Sherlock settles the cigarette between his lips and she lights it for him, and he lets her. Sherlock takes a drag and closes his eyes briefly, suddenly feeling relaxed. One thing he thanks human beings for inventing are cigarettes.Jocelyn just watches him for a moment, before she shifts her focus to the buses, cars and the people outside. They stood together in front of the window with Sherlock smoking her last cigarette and Jocelyn listening to the traffic. For the first time in a week, the silence between them was comfortable.***The next day, Jocelyn walks around London. She only has around two days until the conference and after that, she might go back to New York or find a new place in London if her relocation is approved.While walking down the pavement of the busy street in London, she accidentally bumps into someone and she immediately goes to apologize.“Jocelyn!” She recognizes the man from St. Barts a few days ago, smiling down at her. “I didn’t think I’d bump into you today.”She lets out a chuckle. “Literally! No work today?”“Day off. Where are you off to?”Jocelyn notes how he’s wearing a cap and a thick jacket from the cold London weather. He’s also wearing earphones, one plugged into his left ear and the other just hanging down so he can still hear her speak, and he’s holding his phone.She just shrugs. “Nowhere really, just out to get some air in my lungs. I’m so sorry for Sherlock’s behavior. He crossed the line.” She sympathetically tells him, but he waves him off.“Oh, it’s fine. Molly and I never would have lasted. I was on my way to a restaurant, do you want to come with?”There is something inside Jocelyn that she couldn’t understand. Her mind is telling her to decline and just go home to have some cookies with Mrs. Hudson. She doesn’t know why.“Oh, it’s fine. I should go home for some lunch.”“Have lunch with me, come on, you said you wanted to fill your lungs with some cold and fresh London air.” He offers, glancing down at his phone for a second. “It’s only down the street.”She hesitates, but accepts. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat, already feeling the London breeze seep through it. Jocelyn nods and it makes him smile, gesturing to the pavement as if to say ‘ladies first’ and the gesture makes her chuckle, walking ahead with him by her side.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“So,” John starts, catching Sherlock’s attention while the detective is scanning through his phone.“What?”“The conference is in two days.”He stops typing for a second, and continues. “What of it?”“Oh, nothing. It’s just that after the conference, Jocelyn goes home to New York.”“She’s relocating here. She only needs to find her own home.”“Yeah, but… she would still need to sort out some files back at her old workplace before she moves here. That would take almost a month, wouldn’t it?”His words make the other man purse his lips, lifting his gaze from his phone to his companion.Jocelyn leaves in two days and Sherlock feels somewhat agitated about it. Why? He should feel ecstatic upon her leave. Isn’t that what he always wanted?***“It was just an idea. A spark in which he blew into a flame.”Sherlock’s attention is grabbed. “Who?”“I don’t know. It took a long time but I was soon put in touch with people. His people. There was never any real contact. Just messages, whispers.”“And did those whispers have a name?”She hesitates. It was as if the name is a curse to never be spoken aloud. However, she finally gives in, looking Sherlock in the eye. “Moriarty.”His suspicions were confirmed as he leans back on his seat, exhilarated. A slow grin finds his lips and he hides it behind his praying hands.After the questioning, John and Sherlock proceed home. They were both quite tired, barely had any break ever since this whole thing started.Mrs. Hudson knocks on the door. “Have you two had any dinner yet?”“We might go out and have some. Where’s Jocelyn?”“Haven’t seen her this morning, but she did tell me she’s having a walk.”Sherlock listens to their conversation while typing into his laptop, downloading useful information that he might make use of. He hears a phone beep and he goes to reach for the pink phone, but he sees that there are no messages whatsoever. Sherlock reaches for his own phone and opens the new message.“Is it Mycroft?”Sherlock frowns. “It’s Jocelyn.” He never saved her phone number, but the text has her name on it.“What did she say?”Sherlock passes his phone to John and forms a line with his mouth.John takes the phone and holds it out in front of him. “Met up with a friend and staying the night, don’t wait up. With an ‘x’ at the end.” He grins a bit. “Are you going to reply?” He asks Sherlock, who only ignores him with a glare on his face. “What? I’m not saying anything.”“You’re thinking it.”“You do know what an ‘x’ at the end of a text means, don’t you?”“Of course, I do.”“It’s a kiss, Sherlock.”The detective cringes. “A… kiss.” He recalls the same deduction he made during his and John’s early days of knowing one another.“I mean, yeah. Thought you already knew that.”“How would the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet used for texting be condemned into a physical act that you humans coincide naturally for sentimental reasons?”“I don’t know, but that’s normally what it would mean in texts.”John finds it amusing how Sherlock focuses on a single letter more than he ever had in his previous cases, it’s very odd. There’s something about the text that makes Sherlock a bit suspicious, surely Jocelyn knows what an ‘x’ would mean, correct? She would never add it there.“Shut up.”“I’m not thinking about anything.” John grins and goes to the door. “Hey, you promised to eat after this case.”“I made no such promise.”“Sherlock.”He groans, getting on his feet and following him outside to a restaurant. While the two had dinner, Sherlock keeps looking down at his phone. He has no idea why he keeps reading the text over and over again.***The next day, Sherlock and John proceed with the case that Mycroft assigned them to since the beginning.Jocelyn never came home last night, just as she told him. The text is still safely inside his phone, he never bothered to respond.The pink phone beeps and Sherlock immediately reaches for it. He opens the message and five pips were heard. Sherlock purses his lips as he opens the next message, it is a picture of a restaurant’s sign. One of the biggest restaurants in downtown London.“Is that a restaurant?”“It is, come on.” He grins to himself, wondering what Moriarty has in store for Sherlock this time.They take half an hour to arrive to the restaurant, and Sherlock leaves the cab almost abruptly. As they stand in front of the restaurant, the pink phone rings in John’s pocket.Sherlock reaches for it and answers. “Hello?”“H… hello, Sherlock, my dear.” A woman’s voice addresses him in between sobs. “You’ve... done so well with the past cases, now, it’s time for your surprise. Call it as your reward.”“My reward is having dinner at a restaurant? Very anti-climactic, so to speak.”“It’s not the food… silly,” she sniffles. “Go to the backdoor.” The line disconnects.“What did they say?”“We might have to break inside.”“Wait, shouldn’t we call the police?”Sherlock knots his brows together. “While we’re about to break in? You really are not a natural at this, are you?”“Why do we need to break in?”The consulting detective smirks. “It’s what he wants. Come along, John.”John sighs and follows after him. Sherlock notices how the backdoor is already open. The back of the restaurant leads them to a basement in the kitchen. Sherlock is greeted by a small room, filled with ingredients. John switches the lights on, closing the door behind them.The consulting detective catches sight of something at the end of the room. He walks towards it and realizes that it’s a walk-in freezer. He immediately feels suspicion of the temperature. He glances to the left and sees a television stationed on top of a table. Sherlock carefully walks towards it and crouches down to observe whatever he could gather.The screen flashes on and his face relaxes, eyes widening when he sees the figure of a woman’s body standing at the corner of a room.Sherlock’s lips part, rising on his feet again as he stares at the television screen in shock. The image is grainy, but he can tell it’s her from the brown hair and distinguishable color of her dress. It’s what she was wearing yesterday.John notices the look on his face, glancing down at the television. “Where… where is that?”“There are shelves at the corner of the frame. Possibly…” he pauses and glances at the door of the walk-in freezer.John follows his gaze. “Oh, God.”Sherlock couldn’t help the impulse of immediately going to the freezer and pushing the handle to open it. He exerts all his force into pushing the door handle to turn. He groans in the process of opening it, but the door didn’t budge.John realizes that it won’t work, so he lets go and grits his teeth. Although, Sherlock keeps pushing with short grunts. “Sherlock, this isn’t going to take us anywhere.”“Look at the discoloration on her skin, she’s been here since last night, but the freezer just turned on only now. Call the police, now!” His deep voice booms through the basement. John goes to reach for his phone and almost immediately, the pink phone rings.Sherlock takes the phone out, hitting loudspeaker. “What is the puzzle behind this?” He asks, trying to sound calm and collected, but his chest is pumping fast with blood and panic.
“N-No puzzle this time, Sherlock. D
o you like your reward? Would have… wrapped her myself.”
Sherlock fixes his gaze towards the young woman on the screen. He watches her wrap her arms around herself, a mist forming in front of her mouth every time she exhaled.“We both like having the dramatic flair. No police. If you call any police officer, I will know about it and… I will set her on fire. No running out of the restaurant. You wouldn’t want to leave her alone. Trust me, you won’t. G-Goodbye.”“No, no! How do we solve this puzzle?” Sherlock yells into the phone, making John flinch.
“The game begins… when she does it.”
“Does what?” Sherlock presses, eyes moving from side to side in an anxious manner.“When she falls, Sherlock.” Simply put and the line goes dead.John is bewildered. “What did he mean by that? Falling?”“He means literal falling. When she’s cold enough to fall on the floor.”“Jesus,” John whispers. “We can’t wait that long, Sherlock. If she stays there for the next fifteen minutes, she’s going to collapse from either lack of oxygen or hypothermia.”“Someone walks in here to moderate the temperature according to her ability, keeping her alive.” Heart attack, hypothermia, lack of oxygen, frostbite. Oh, Christ.The two of them can’t leave to take any sort of machine to destroy the walk-in freezer, and they certainly can’t phone a friend. Come on, think. He tightly closes his eyes and transports himself to his mind palace.He is greeted by Molly Hooper and Mycroft, standing next to a corpse covered with a sheet. Sherlock goes to uncover it and gasps upon seeing the pale face of the woman he—“No, Sherlock, focus,” Molly is suddenly up on his face, gripping his head in between her tiny hands. “She is going to die if you don’t focus right now. Look for clues, any clues. What have you got?”“Whoever kept her inside must have shifted the temperature so she could survive the night and the rest of the day. The foot print by the stairs, from the way it’s leveled, must be from a man’s shoe.”“Oh, never mind the obvious things, brother mine.” Mycroft steps forward, tilting his chin up high. “Tell us something John wouldn’t know.”“I know Jocelyn. Better than he does.”“And better than anyone ever will,” Mycroft offers him a smile. “And what’s one distinguishable characteristic that you admire in Jocelyn?”Admire? Realization dawns over at him. “She fights, until to her greatest extent.”“Which means?”“She must have known who abducted her.” Sherlock claims, looking at Mycroft with wide eyes. “Moriarty?”“Possibly. Yet, it’s also possible that he hired someone else to kidnap her for him.”Sherlock shakes his head. “Moriarty is careful. He would never leave a shoeprint or an indent on the floor just because he was clumsy. No, he wants me to know that someone’s been here.”John whispers for him to look, making the detective force his eyes to watch as the young woman finally falls on her knees and fall on the ground, her body trembling. Sherlock stares in shock.The pink phone starts to ring and Sherlock grabs it from his coat and answers it, putting it on loudspeaker. “Dr. Watson. There’s a microphone under the top of the television screen. Please... speak into it.”John nears the television. “Uh, hello?”“John?” The voice of Jocelyn croaks out, making the two men stand in alert. “John?”“We’re right outside, Jocelyn. We’re figuring out how to get you out!”“Here’s how the g-game works. For every secret you will tell, the door handle will turn once.”“I do not have any secrets to tell.” Sherlock speaks into the phone, gripping it so hard that his knuckles turn white.“E-Exactly. Nothing you would tell. Giving you a chance now. No time limit, th-this time.” The line goes dead.“No time limit?”“Don’t be ridiculous, John. Our time limit is her life,” Sherlock swallows. “My time limit.”“Well?” He quickly asks Sherlock.“Well what?” There is panic in his eyes, no matter how he tries to hide it.“A secret, Sherlock. For God’s sakes, just get on with the game! She is dying, and you’re worried about the secrets you will reveal? Does she mean anything at all to you?”
Of course, she means something to me, John.
“Everything you’ll say will stay between us. She won’t hear anything, Sherlock.”A secret? “I… solve cases not to just get high, but to try to fit into society and solving cases is the only thing I know that I’m good at.” Sherlock declares and John watches him with a frown. Suddenly, the door handle of the freezer turns just the slightest and he gapes. “I don’t have many secrets.”“Keep going, it’s fine.” John understands how this situation is making both Jocelyn and Sherlock suffer. Jocelyn physically, and Sherlock mentally.“As opposed to popular belief, I dislike my mind and how it works sometimes.” He makes known, and the door handle turns again.He glances over to John. “On the day I met you, I told you I was looking for a flat share, but that was a lie. I can afford the flat, but felt… lacking in the company sense.”John offers him a small smile, but turns back to Jocelyn. “Jocelyn, talk to me.”“A-Are you almost...”“We’re almost there, just keep talking to me.” John says, but when he notices that her eyes are slowly drooping, he tenses up. “No, no! Keep your eyes open! Talk to me,” he pleads before turning to Sherlock. “Speed it up!”Sherlock’s eye twitches. “How many secrets do you need?”
“Just five, Sh-Sherlock. And your lady friend can go.”
John keeps speaking to Jocelyn. “Tell me a story while we’re at it, okay? We’re almost there.”“W-What story?”“Anything. How about your life in New York? We can start with that.”Her laugh is weak and hoarse. “Y-You just want me to keep talking. I-I’ll never wake up if I fall asleep.”Sherlock hears that and forces the words out. “As much as I like to not show it, I still try my best to impress my older brother. His approval is of importance to me. And I… do go through a phase of remorse whenever I fail those who are closest to me.” he looks at John with a frown, remembering how he reacted when Sherlock let that old woman die.The door handle twists as John sternly nods at him, encouraging him to keep going. One more secret.His thoughts were cut off by Jocelyn’s soft and shaky sobs coming from the television.John panics, seeing symptoms of hypothermia all over her body. “Sherlock!”“I don’t have any secrets left!”“Think! There has to be another one!”Sherlock groans and leans down, hands gripping his temples as he goes through his mind palace for any secret.“What about me?” He hears her voice and Sherlock opens his eyes, only to be greeted by his Jocelyn conscience. “You can tell them about me, I’m the only secret left.”“No. I can’t.”“Why not? You’ll be saving my life—”“No, there has to be another secret hidden away somewhere.”“I’m the only one left, Sherlock. He wants the good secrets. Secrets are things that no one else knows, except you.” She walks toward him, slowly, agonizingly.“How would Moriarty know anything about you?”“Because he knows how your mind works, but he was wrong about something.”“About what?”“How you two were made for each other.” She smiles and just like that, her image vanishes.Sherlock opens his eyes and it’s only been a second that has passed. He goes in front of the door to the walk-in freezer, glancing over at the television screen before he briefly closes his eyes. He clenches his jaw and inhales. “I took advantage of how my mind works and created different consciences in the shapes of people in my life. Jocelyn is one of the most significant figures inside my mind palace, which I’ve chosen to lock away. But failed.” He admits and the door handle turns again, before clicking and opening, a mist of cold air came with it, oozing out of the door.Sherlock doesn’t even have time to look at John’s reaction, he only sprints inside and looked for Jocelyn.“Keep the door open!” Sherlock stops John from following him, touching her cold skin and feeling his own crawl.Sherlock hooks his arm under the crook of her knees, the other arm around her shoulders as he lifts her up and launches across the walk-in freezer. He settles her carefully on the ground to check if she’s still conscious. “Jocelyn? Can you hear me?”The pink phone rings and Sherlock almost couldn’t be bothered to pick it up, but remembers that there’s another woman’s life on the line, so he reaches for it, tossing the phone to John since he has to tend to the woman on the ground in front of him.John answers the call immediately, the other woman cries for help, and it indicated how the game was over.Jocelyn looks as though she’s about to lose consciousness, and the two men both frantically take off their coats to wrap them around her.“Sh-Sherl…”“That’s right, it’s me. Keep talking.” He nods at her before looking towards John. “The game is over, call an ambulance and then the police. In that order.” He couldn’t help but graze the tips of his fingers against her cold cheek.“P-Please, please,” she whispers. Sherlock nods, understanding the request immediately. He wraps his arms around her, pulling the woman to his chest to warm her up. “T-Thank you.”Sherlock frowns, realizing how all of this is his fault and she shouldn’t express her gratitude towards him at all. John watches the scene in front of him, wondering what Sherlock meant with his last secret.Before they even knew it, Sherlock finds himself standing by Jocelyn’s body on a stretcher with an oxygen mask. The sirens across the streets were loud, but Sherlock could only focus on Jocelyn for now. He doesn’t even realize caressing her cold hand as she lay there, filling her lungs back with oxygen.John is speaking to Lestrade since Sherlock refuses to leave her side now, the two men were discussing the other woman that was saved by the bomb squad from the other side of London.Sherlock walks to John. “We have to follow the ambulance.”“No, hang on, you haven’t answered all my questions yet!” Lestrade stops them, but Sherlock keeps walking.“Tomorrow.”“Sherlock!”“I will answer any question you have, but I will do it tomorrow.” He glares before walking off. John gives Lestrade an apologetic look as he goes to follow after his friend.They both go to the hospital and ask for her room number, then they’re immediately directed to the room she was treated in. They were not allowed inside yet, saying that she’s stable and sleeping. Sherlock observes her through the glass, a blank expression on his face. John stands next to him, frowning.“Twelve days. That’s how long it took for her life to be in danger while living with me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. For Moriarty to use her against me.”“How did he do it then? How did she end up in that freezer?”“I have reason to believe that she has seen Moriarty and he did the kidnapping by himself. You've read the text she sent.” He should have known.“What if she was drugged? Dragged into a car?”“She is smart. You’ve known her for twelve days, and I know that you’ve observed how she only takes walks on busy streets. Whoever took her, she knew them.”“Maybe it wasn’t Moriarty, maybe he hired someone else that she might have known?”“The thought had occurred, but you’ve heard the words. He likes having a dramatic flair for everything he does. I rely on that for my suspicion that Moriarty kidnapped her himself.”“He used her because she’s your weakness.”He scoffs. “Weakness, is that how sentimental people word it? Don’t be absurd.”“You admitted something that involves a conscience. What did that mean?” “I’ve told you before how my head is a hard drive and how I only save useful information. Consciences are… different. They’re copies of me manufactured into different figures.”“Figures, as in, people? People in your head?”“I guess one could put it that way.”“And what do they do?”“They… speak to me.” Sherlock admits, feeling a bit ridiculous, although John doesn’t seem to think so. In fact, he appears to be impressed.“So, they have your knowledge, but they act like the people you know in real life? They look the same as the real ones?”“Their appearances vary, but yes.”“Like for example, who are in there?”The consulting detective shrugs. “Mycroft, Dr. Hooper. Even you.”“That’s… that’s brilliant. So this Jocelyn consciousness, what’s it like?” He asks, but sees how Sherlock tenses and hesitates. “You don’t have to answer that.”“I will if you will never mention it to her.”John is surprised. This is the most he’s opened up to him. “I won’t. I meant what I said.”Sherlock purses his lips, taking a deep breath. He has never talked about his consciences out loud before, not even Mycroft knows about them.But to John, he seems to be accepting and understands quite easily. Sherlock made the correct choice of a friend, after all.“The figure is situated inside the duplication of the flat we both once shared. She acts, speaks and thinks the same as her, but her mind coincides with mine.”John slowly nods along, processing it. “So, what, you just... summon her and she appears?”“The consciences in my head appear during times of need. There’s not much of a difference except…”John looks at Jocelyn. “She appears more often.” He finishes Sherlock’s sentence. “What did you mean about… locking her away?”“The consciences bring too much baggage.” Sherlock simply says. “Visiting hours are over, you must return to Baker Street and check on Mrs. Hudson. I need to bring the memory stick to my dear brother.” Sherlock tells John, who nods before walking down the hallway on his way out.Sherlock checks the time, which was half an hour until midnight. He turns his focus back on the unconscious woman on her hospital bed. Maybe he can stay for a few seconds before he leaves.Just then, his expression softens upon seeing her body shift and her eyes fluttering as if to open. Sherlock glances around and sees that no nurse is paying attention as he goes to slip inside the room. She has a nasal tube on, to help her breathe. Jocelyn finally reveals her green eyes to him, the heartbeat monitor is steady.She notices his presence and musters a soft smile, to which Sherlock’s stomach twists. “Hi.”“How are you feeling?”Jocelyn looks around the room without moving her head. “I can’t feel my body, but I feel alright.”“That’s normal. You suffered mild hypothermia.”“Oh...”“Do you remember anything?”“I’m… I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”Sherlock eyes her before he realizes. “He doesn’t want you to reveal anything. If you do, my life is threatened. Oh, he’s good.”Jocelyn frowns at his compliment. “Sherlock, how did you get me out?”“No need to worry about that. You’re safe now, that’s…” He trails off and finishes it with a nod.“Thank you, for saving me.” Her words make Sherlock hands ball into fists behind him. “I’d thank John as well, is he here?”“He went back to Baker Street. There’s no need for your gratitude. My reputation as a detective has been used to his advantage. I’m afraid you’re no longer safe in Baker Street.”“What are you saying?”“We’ll speak about this in the morning, I’ve got something I have to do first.”Jocelyn barely has any time to respond when Sherlock abruptly leaves the area, and so she sighs to herself as a nurse enters and tends to her wellbeing.***Sherlock opens the door and walks inside, seeing the way the water inside the pool glinted under the light. He looks around for a second and sees the way it’s seemingly empty.Sherlock holds the memory stick up in the air to show it. He announces that he knows about how the cases were just to distract him from the memory stick.The sound of a door opening has caught his attention, anticipating it to be Moriarty and so he has a grin on his face, but what Sherlock sees, strikes him with horror. For a moment, he thought John was behind everything, until John opens his coat and reveals the bomb.Then, there’s a small red dot aimed towards John’s chest and it makes Sherlock’s chest cave.“I can stop John Watson, too. Stop his heart.”“Who are you?”Then, he hears another door open from behind. “I gave you my number. Thought you might call.”Sherlock’s brows furrow, that voice. Where have I heard that voice?“Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket. Or are you just pleased to see me?”Sherlock draws the gun and aims it towards him. “Both.”Moriarty is unalarmed. “Jim Moriarty. Hi.”Sherlock’s face softens in realization.“Jim? Jim from the hospital? Did I really make such a fleeting impression? Though, I suppose, that was rather the point.”Sherlock glances at John and towards the red light on his chest, implying a rifle.“Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. Except for one incident though,” Moriarty adds, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock with a smile.“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.”Sherlock cocks his gun. “I did.”“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”“Thank you.”“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”“Yes, you did.”“Yeah, okay, I did.” Jim shrugs, lifting both his shoulders in an amusing way. “I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Thirty million quid. Even got Jocelyn, just to get you to come out and play.”Sherlock tries his best not to seem affected.“She is quite something, I’ll give you that. I’m impressed, Sherlock. Almost couldn’t believe it.”“Couldn’t believe what?”“What do you mean what? Have you seen her? That pretty little woman,” he sighs. “The personality, the class, the physique. She’s nothing like you, Sherlock.”Sherlock can concede to that. Jocelyn was relatively ordinary, if one would ask for his opinion.“It makes me wonder how you were able to acquire such a woman.” He nods, smiling but pausing as if he remembered something. “By the way, did you like the freezer? I had it made when the owner of the restaurant once asked me to fetch him human beings to feed on.”“Why a freezer?”“Jocelyn told me, upon a conversation about the London weather, that cold is nice. I thought I was doing her a favor.” He chuckles.“People have died.”“That’s what people do!”Sherlock keeps the gun pointed to him. “I will stop you.”“No, you won’t.”Sherlock reaches out the memory stick to Moriarty. As soon as the stick is out of Sherlock’s hand, he immediately grips the gun, points it towards Jim in front of him, all while the consulting criminal holds the memory stick to his mouth, and presses a kiss on it, smiling down at Sherlock. He makes a move to throw the memory stick to the pool, completely destroying it, shocking Sherlock just before John wraps his arms around Moriarty to hold him hostage.“Sherlock, run!”Moriarty only laughs. “Good! Very good! Although, this still won’t top the champagne bottle that your other pet tried to swing at me.”Sherlock couldn’t help the way his upper lip curls up in subtle anger.“Don’t worry, Sherlock, I had someone else listen in and turn the handle whenever you spill the beans. And that guy is long gone. Your secrets are safe. Won’t be fun anymore if I knew all of them.”“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”“Would you like me to send you a souvenir? You should have heard her scream, Sherlock. I bet you noticed that, didn’t you? You should have seen how horrified she looked when seeing the body parts in that freezer. Oh, it was wonderful!”“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up.”“Isn’t he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touchingly loyal. But, oops!” He grins upon seeing the red dot aimed into Sherlock’s forehead.John freezes, eyes widening at his companion. The look on his face said it all to Sherlock, knowing that John will let go of Moriarty to keep Sherlock alive.“Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you?”“Oh, let me guess. I get killed.”“Kill you? No, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it, though. I’m saving it up for something special. No, no, no, if you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you.” Moriarty almost whispers. “I will burn the heart out of you,”“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”“But we both know that’s not quite true.” The consulting criminal shakes his head, reminding Sherlock of what happened in that freezer. “Well, I better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.”Sherlock nears John, his gun still aimed towards Moriarty as he leaves.The consulting detective lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Sherlock, without a warning, throws the gun to the ground and gets on one knee to start taking off the coat that wrapped around John. He asks his friend if he was all right, and John breathes out an agreement.John watches how the same panic he saw from the basement earlier reflects again in his face. Sherlock moves on to the doors, checking to see if anyone is still there. John goes to follow him, but his knees weaken, giving out as he tries to gain his balance again while cursing.John goes to stand up but notices the small red laser pointed on his chest again, the same way it did earlier. John freezes, hearing the door open.“Sorry, boys, I’m so changeable! You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you, but everything I want to say has already crossed your mind!”Sherlock glances at John, who nods at him, clearly receiving the message from just one look. “And probably my answer has crossed yours,” he turns and aims the gun towards Moriarty before slowly lowering the aim towards the bomb.It isn’t until music started to play. Sherlock can’t recall the title of the song, but he remembers it being played by Jocelyn once, dancing to the song in the middle of the kitchen of the Baker Street flat. He looks around for any source of the music, but his sight falls on Jim Moriarty, who looked annoyed.Jim and Sherlock have a mocking banter as he answers the phone.“Say that again! Say that again and know that if you’re lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you.” He exclaims. “Wait,” he lowers the phone before walking forward. “Sorry, wrong day to die.”“Oh, did you get a better offer?”Moriarty glances down at the phone and grins. “You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock.” He walks off, continuing to talk to whomever was on the other end of the line. Then, he snaps his fingers and almost immediately, the rifles were gone.John sighs. “What happened there?”“Someone changed his mind. The question is; who?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The time was eight in the morning when Jocelyn wakes up on her hospital bed. She grumbles in pain when a pair of arms attack her.“Oh, God, when John called, I came as soon as I could!” Harry Watson exclaims into her hair, her voice is dramatic as usual.“H-Harry?”She lets go after a few seconds. “John called me and I boarded the earliest flight. I heard you were stuck inside a freezer! How did that happen? Did he put you up to this?” She turns her head across the room.Jocelyn follows her gaze and sees John sitting on the chair by the door, holding his hands up in defense.Jocelyn scans the room and manages to spot Sherlock just outside, speaking to the detective that she met back in Baker Street. At a split second, their gazes meet, but she looks away when Harry continues to speak.“I’m so sorry for my brother, I do hope that you can forgive him.”“It’s not his fault. Besides, I’m okay now.”“I don’t want to alarm you, Jocelyn, but your whole body was—ow!” John exclaims when Harry hits his arm.“Don’t scare the poor girl!”“Really, I’m fine!”Sherlock and Greg walk inside the room and closes the door. Sherlock laces both his hands together behind his back. Harry scoffs at him, shaking her head. Then, Jocelyn notices how John glances at Sherlock. Most importantly, the one side of his face.Her eyes widen a bit and gapes at Harry. “Did you… did you slap him?”“He had it coming! If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have been inside that freezer in the first place.”“You didn’t have to slap him!”“It’s fine… Lestrade here wants to question you, it’s mandatory.” Sherlock gives John a look and makes the doctor escort his sister out.“But… I’m not supposed to say anything.”“It’s alright now, Jocelyn. Sherlock and John confronted Moriarty last night. He showed his face. I don’t think he’ll bother anyone in a while.”Her eyes widens. “What? You’ve met him? How?”“I scheduled a meeting, set up a place and he came. Although, he used John as a hostage, just like what Moriarty did to you, but he was strapped into explosives.” His words leave her mouth hanging.Lestrade gives Sherlock a look before turning back to Jocelyn. “How exactly did you end up in that freezer? Can you start from the scratch?”She collects a much of her memory as possible. Jocelyn explains how she thought that Jim is only Dr. Hooper’s boyfriend, and he was nice to her when they met. Sherlock frowns, realizing how manipulative Moriarty can be. Even Jocelyn has been fooled by him.“Jim asks me to have lunch with him. He takes me this restaurant, and we sat at a booth so we were completely out of sight from others. I think he spiked my drink, I tried to fight back but the drug kicked in faster than expected and… I woke up in that freezer,” she eyes Sherlock for a second. “Other than that and freezing me to death, he just asked questions. I never answered any of them.”“What kind of questions?”“I barely remember, but all of them revolved around me. You don’t have to worry, he asked nothing about you.”That was the least bit of his worries. Now, whatever Moriarty gathered from Jocelyn, it can certainly be used against her. This is even worse for Sherlock, it made his lips twitch in stress.Lestrade leaves an hour later. He offered Sherlock another case involving the cannibal owner of that restaurant, but he finds himself declining before going back to Jocelyn’s room.Greg purses his lips and stands outside the room to watch Sherlock for a moment, observing how he looks at the woman. Greg smiles before he leaves.On the other hand, Sherlock pours tea into a cup and offers it to Jocelyn. She quietly thanks him, sipping the hot liquid and sighing. He looks over at the table and spots green apples stacked in a basket. Harry brought those earlier and Sherlock does remember how fond Jocelyn is about apples.He takes one and hands an apple to her, and she smiles at the gesture. Sherlock only gave her the apple because she needs one, of course. Not because he’s concerned.“I can leave in a few hours, right?”“The doctor said you’re likely to be released tomorrow evening.”“Tomorrow? But the conference is tomorrow!”“Yes, and John’s sister insists that you should not attend and remain here for your recovery.”“I came all the way here for that conference, to be a guest speaker in it, and you’re telling me that I can’t attend?”“You almost froze to death.”“Sherlock, I need to attend that. Or else, I’m just letting Moriarty win.”Sherlock looks reluctant, but gives in. “I’ll speak with your doctor. You speak with Dr. Watson, the eldest. I’d rather not have a red handprint on my face.”“I’m sorry, again. For that. She can be a bit overprotective.”“She cares about you.”Jocelyn only offers a small smile. “She was good to me while I was in New York.”He didn’t know what she went through the past eight years, and it’s getting even more difficult to continue hating her.“Excuse me,” he turns around to leave the room, finding the restroom. Jocelyn watches him leave with a frown on her face. Sherlock passes John and Harry.“Sherlock—”“Yes.” He answers before John asks him if he was fine, and continues to walk past them.Sherlock walks inside the restroom and locks the door after making sure he was alone. He grips the edge of the sink and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. He transports himself to his mind palace and immediately sees himself inside the Musgrave Hall flat.“Ooh, something is definitely wrong. You came here willingly.”“I needed to speak with you.”“Is this about Harry Watson slapping you? Because—”“No. Moriarty.”Her face fell. “The man who kidnapped me.”“He admitted into killing the man who listened to me reveal all of that. And he calls to tell me the meaning of a secret. He was listening, he had to be. Did he make a mistake?”“You’re viewing this from the wrong direction,” she points out, walking forward and grabs his shoulders to stop him from pacing. “The man he killed was the one manipulating that woman into speaking. Which means?”“Both Moriarty and the man questioned Jocelyn without her realizing.”Her smile widens. “Problem solved. Find out who the man is. Are we done here?”He hesitates. “When I held you in my arms, you felt dead.”“And what did that feel like?”Sherlock pauses, not sure if he can really say it aloud or not. “Terrifying. I can never admit that to John, or Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson. Especially not to you.”“Sherlock—”She is cut off by his arms wrapping around her body, making her gasp and still for a moment. Sherlock buries his face into the crook of her neck, arms tightening around her. Her familiar scent fills his senses and God, it feels so good.He sighs, eyes fluttering closed and he fears that when he opens them, she wouldn’t be here anymore. He feels are arms slowly reach up to embrace him as well, her slender fingers slightly caressing his back.“You could lose me at any possible second. Might as well finally speak to me about certain things,” she mutters into his shoulder.That brought him back to life, his eyes open and he lets go of her. He is ashamed by his actions and stumbles backwards.“You’re manipulating me, again. Oh, this is just brilliant. You just want me weak and pathetic.”“Sherlock, please listen—”He lets out a deep groan in his mind palace, screwing his eyes shut and clutching both of his temples with his hands. He crouches down as he opened his eyes to the sound of his phone ringing.He finds himself back in the restroom, knees wobbling as he gripped the sink to balance himself. He needed a fix, he desperately needed a needle.When he came back to the hospital room, Mrs. Hudson and Harry are currently inside with Jocelyn. Mycroft is standing outside with John.“Quite like you to put Miss Grant in harm’s way.” Mycroft has a humorless smile on his face, which only makes Sherlock’s blood boil. “You should have listened to me when I offered to move her elsewhere!”“Don’t be ridiculous. You offered to move her because you thought it was for my sake, not hers.”“Boys, please. Not here.” John reminds.“That was for both of your sakes,” he huffs, clutching the handle of his umbrella. “It’s clear that you cannot handle having an addition to your flat, it’s best if we move her now.”“She’s leaving in two days, anyway. There’s no point to find a place and have her stay there for a day.”“Dr. Watson, as much as I appreciate your... presence around my younger brother, I’d like to speak to him alone.”John glances at Sherlock, who only nods at him before he gives Mycroft one last look as he walks inside the room where Jocelyn is situated in.Sherlock turns to Mycroft, cautious. “I know what you’re going to say—”“A bloody freezer, Sherlock!” He keeps his voice whispered, but stern.The detective sighs. He was quite aware of how sentimental Mycroft is when it comes to her. The years haven’t washed that away. Although, it is still a mystery to him onto why his brother offered to move her in the first place, with his reason being Jocelyn posing as a great danger if he was so caring towards her now.“In my defense, I wasn’t the one who put her there.”“You are the reason why she ended up inside in the first place. Taunting a criminal mastermind? Have you lost your mind already? I’ve deduced it wouldn’t happen until your sixties.”“I know that you’re, well, angry—”“Miss Grant was put in a freezer to rot, while you frolic around different cases that never mattered more than her life. I’m obviously not angry.”Sherlock’s body fills with rage. “Why are you being so incompetent? Stop acting as if you care about her. And since when did you even forgive her for what she’s done?”“Oh, for God’s sake—this isn’t about what happened anymore!”“I seem to recall how you were trying to remind me of what happened during the time I asked you to cancel your arrangements.”“If you’re so inclined to dwell in the past, then you should have listened. None of this would have happened—”“As if your arrangements would have prevented all of this in the first place. Moriarty would have still taken her.”“He wouldn’t have known of her existence if you have contacted me the moment she arrived because of your lovely army doctor.”“If you’re going to blame anyone, pick me. Not John Watson.” He interjects. “I’ve had enough of this.” Sherlock mutters, walking past him to leave the building.***“It’s about time you came in. You kept lingering by the window,”“I’m not one to barge into a room filled with people to speak to a person I prefer to be alone with.” Mycroft takes a seat next to the hospital bed and balances both his gloved hands on the umbrella handle. “I’ve spoken to your doctor, you’re free to leave this evening. Dr. Watson informed me of your eagerness to leave. I suppose this has something to do with that conference you’d be attending. Is such an event that special?”“Yes, it is. It’s my job.”“You continue to astound me, Miss Grant. I deeply apologize for any inconvenience that my brother has brought to you.”“This wasn’t his fault, Mycroft. If that’s what you’re getting at, it’s not.” She assures him, reaching over to place her hand on top of his, and made the eldest Holmes look down at her frail hand in alarm. “Don’t blame him for this.”Mycroft pauses. “Look at you,” he sighs, observing her with a defeated expression. “Years later and you are still protecting him even when he’s wrong.”Jocelyn softens. “He saved my life. I don’t know how, but he got me out. That’s all that matters to me.”“I had a feeling you’d try to convince me,” he reaches inside his coat for a folder and places it on her lap. “It’s optional for you to go back to New York.”“I got relocated?” Her voice came out in a hushed tone of disbelief. “Mycroft, you didn’t have to do this.”“I didn’t do anything, you’ve been relocated for a week now. I simply sent someone to retrieve all the files for you.” He says as if it was no big deal, but certainly has changed Jocelyn’s life.She can’t believe it, she’s staying permanently in London now.“I... don’t know what to say.” She lets out a laugh, overwhelmed with happiness.“You’re allowed to go back to New York, if you have any belongings or any person waiting for you back there. If not, we can find you a place to settle after your conference.”“Why are you doing this?”“You’re not a stranger to me, Jocelyn. And I will not treat you as such.” He pushes his feet to lift himself up when hearing the footsteps of the Watsons nearing the door.Harry walks in after John does, carrying paper bags of Chinese takeout with them. Mycroft nods at the two before letting himself out.--“You shouldn’t have done that.”A few minutes ago, another student had been harassing Jocelyn. He can’t even remember why, but he remembered some of the boy’s words being very sexist.Sherlock was normally quiet, but seeing how offended Jocelyn looked made something surface from deep inside him and he couldn’t bite his tongue back.“He was being rude.”“Yeah! Before you revealed to everyone that Wilkes is cheating on his girlfriend! And why he got bored of her in the first place.”“I meant no offense to her, it was simply to point out how shallow Mr. Wilkes is and how he had been sleeping with another female the night before, which is somehow a very big disappointment for the other half of the relationship. In my defense, she deserved to know.”“Yes, I know that she should have known but you didn’t have to reveal it to an audience. She was humiliated! And you got us both kicked out. Fantastic. I didn’t even get to eat my damn apple.”“If you hadn’t gone to my defense, you wouldn’t get kicked out as well.”“Well, too bad, Sherlock. We’re friends, and I have to stick up for you.”Sherlock frowned, looking down at his shoes before he revealed the apple he hid behind his back. He took it while she wasn’t looking, when they left in a hurry outside.Jocelyn’s face softened and she peered at the boy.“I’m sorry,” he quietly said.The words brought a small smile on her face. “You’re lucky that you’re cute,” she blurted out, but immediately reddened.Jocelyn backtracked as Sherlock observed the way her cheeks flushed, much to his confusion.“I mean, you’re lucky that I forgive you.” She simply said and took the apple from his hand. “I have to speak to the Chancellor now, you go ahead to class.”“Will you be alright?”“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She turned around to walk away, but thankfully, Sherlock gently grabbed her arm.Sherlock frowned. “You’re dreading to see the Chancellor.”“I just don’t want you to get in trouble. His parents might get involved here. I don’t want your brother to be so hard on you again.”“You don’t have to keep defending me.”“Sometimes, he just doesn’t understand you or the things you do.” Jocelyn couldn’t help but reach over to grab both his hands. “Sherlock, you are my friend. Standing up for you has always been my pleasure.”“Well, you’re certainly no longer a stranger to my older brother now.”Sherlock felt something inside his chest, a warm feeling. He felt it as he stared into her green eyes, seeing the natural light in them. His mind was racing, memorizing the feel of her soft hands, every single inch as if he feared that he might never hold her hands ever again.Every new thing, he looked at it with such mesmerized eyes. She slowly slipped her hands out of Sherlock’s grasp. “I have to go.”He cleared his throat, reaching up to swipe the pad of his thumb on his cupid’s bow. “Yes, yes. Of course.”Jocelyn nodded and gave him one last look before heading down to the office. Sherlock watches her leave, and lets himself smile a bit.--She’s released from the hospital hours later, and is being helped by John to walk up the stairs to his flat. She repeatedly told him that she can walk, but John insisted. He leads her to his armchair, setting her down carefully and starts a fire within the fireplace.Sherlock is conducting an experiment in the kitchen when they arrived, complete with the laboratory glasses, gloves, lighter and a thumb he picked up from the morgue.John cringes, that is not a good sight for someone who just left the hospital. “Mycroft got her the files she needed to be transferred here.” He makes Sherlock glance at him for a moment before standing upright.“Oh?” Sherlock raises an eyebrow.Of course, Mycroft is doing everything he can to help Jocelyn now. From this conversation alone, he already knows that his dear brother is going to find Jocelyn her own place in London.“Yeah, she’s not going back to New York. Mycroft said he’s going to help her. Never thought I’d see your brother help anyone, at all.”“I believe that pleases her. And my dearest big brother.”“And you?”“What about me?”“You’re not the least bit glad that she gets to stay in London?”“Why would I be?”“I don’t know. I just thought you’d care. What, with after everything that happened.”“Caring is not an advantage, John. You’d do well to remember that.” He goes back to his experiment, completely ignoring his presence.John scoffs at him, shaking his head disapprovingly as he makes his way back to the living room. To John, this wasn’t the Mycroft who he met at that isolated place during the first days of him and Sherlock meeting. The Mycroft he met was the cold and unemotional man.This man, though, the one helping Jocelyn settle in the city of London, the same man who stood outside of her hospital room to watch over, wasn’t like the Mycroft that John first knew.A few hours later, John slept in Sherlock’s room as usual. Jocelyn is in the living room, reading about Scotland Yard on her laptop.The kitchen door slides open and the light coming from the kitchen shines over her face. She glances to her right and sees Sherlock enter the living room still wearing his clothes from earlier but lacking the coat.It surprises Jocelyn when the consulting detective decides to break the silence. “Two people were there during your detainment inside that freezer, when Moriarty questioned you.”“Oh? How do you say that?”“A minor slip-up, of course.” He nonchalantly says, as if he hadn’t just revealed that there was another man observing her with Moriarty. “I have to find this man, but as of now, I have no lead.”“…Okay,” her eyebrows furrow, not quite sure how to receive that information.Sherlock pursed his lips. “John mentioned how you’ll be staying in London after all.”“I don’t really have anything to go back to at New York.”He knots his eyebrows together. What about the child of her neighbors? Surely, he’d be important enough to be her desktop background.He finds himself not asking, and he felt ridiculous because the only reason he could think of why is because he didn’t want to give her a reason to go back.“Mycroft is helping, I heard.”She smiles to herself. “You know how he’s like.”“Protective over you.”She lets out a small laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, Sherlock.”“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” Sherlock looks appalled.“Don’t worry, he loves you too.” She jokingly reassures him, going back to her computer.Sherlock relaxes, realizing how she meant. He sets the violin on his shoulder before positioning the bow on the strings. He starts to play, and it’s a very familiar tune to Jocelyn’s ears. Not one that he composed, but she recognizes it immediately.“Second Nocturne, Opus nine. Chopin.” She softly says. When he heard her immediately tell him the name of the piece, he switches to another one. “Prelude in C Major. Bach.”Sherlock turns to her, not that impressed just yet. He switches to another piece that she takes too long to answer.“Moonlight Sonata. Beethoven.”“Wrong.” Sherlock immediately told her, and she smiles. “It’s actually Liszt, second Hungarian Rhapsody.”“They’re quite similar, wouldn’t you say?” She teases.He crunches his nose. “More differences than similarities, I’d say.” He plays another piece and she was much quicker with this one.Jocelyn grins. “Twenty-fourth Caprice. Paganini.”The only person she knows that could play Paganini without breaking a sweat was Sherlock.He continues to play even after she answered, and all she could do is admire him. The light coming from the window seeps through and settles on half his body, while the rest remained in the dark.Then, he shifts smoothly to another piece that she recognized almost immediately. A sad smile appeared on her face, watching as he played slowly, the movements of his arm are slow. She bites her lip and gives him a moment, afraid that if she answered, he’ll stop.Sherlock frowns, still not receiving an answer from her so he stops after a minute.“Clair de Lune. Debussy.” She quietly answers.“You took too long.”“That was my favorite piece.”He pauses, hesitating. “I know.”She couldn’t explain the thumping of her heart as she looks at Sherlock, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. A fitting use of music. The moon looks so beautiful, especially when they were in his eyes.It hits her all at once, the feeling of longing. Sherlock knows her more than anyone, it wouldn’t take him long to deduce how much she actually misses him and the way they were all those years ago.Sherlock clears his throat and goes to sit on the couch, he could feel the tension rising slowly but he isn’t quite sure what to do about it.He glances at Jocelyn, seeing how she’s standing up and carrying her laptop. “I better sleep.”The moonlight washes over her side, and Sherlock could feel the dull beating of his chest. He gives her a curt nod and shifts his glance to the ground.She presses her lips together awkwardly, nodding to herself before walking upstairs to get some much-needed sleep. The sound of violin and the light of the moon are still circulating inside her mind.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Wow.”Jocelyn walks inside the kitchen and clears her throat, a grin on her face. John turns around and raises his brows at her appearance. She wore a classy black and white pencil dress that definitely looks formal.She teasingly bows, thanking him with a laugh. John offers her a cup of coffee and she checks her watch. “Your sister will be here in about five minutes.”“Oh, God, more noise in Baker Street.” John makes both of them laugh. “You all right?”Jocelyn wavers a bit, remembering slight flashbacks to her time inside the freezer, still feeling how numbingly cold the tips of her fingers were, to the point where they ached.She forces out a small laugh. “Of course.”He presses his lips together, feeling as if he shouldn’t bring up such an experience. “You know, you’re always welcome to come over here.”“John, save the speech when I really am moving out,” she teases him, making John push her in a joking manner.Heavy footsteps from the stairs were heard by both, making Jocelyn go to the door and swing it open. It reveals a man wearing glasses and a formal attire.Jocelyn tilts her head in confusion, which is returned by a genuine smile. “Hi,” she offers half a smile, a bit cautious around strangers now.“Hi, are you Dr. Jocelyn Grant?”“…Yes, sorry, do we know each other?”“Harry sent me, actually. She won’t make it and might be late to the conference. I’m Dr. Jackson Palmer.”Jocelyn is still cautious. Ever since the freezer incident, she felt weary around strangers.John finally walks into the scene with a smile. “Jack?”“John!”She feels more comfortable with the fact that John actually knows him. No one is ever too careful.“Thought you went to Germany after graduation.” John laughs, patting his back. “This is Jack, I went to Uni with him, he’s also one of the best criminologists in England.”“And Harry forced him to drive me.”“No, it’s fine, anything for Harry. Although she didn’t mention how beautiful you are,” he smiles at her.Jocelyn reddens and just laughs. “Oh...” She was sure how to respond to that, and only looks to John nervously.Sherlock walks calmly into the living room, complete with his usual attire. When he sees the stranger, his eyebrows furrow in suspicion. He glances at him for a second, John already knows that his flatmate is starting to scan him with his usual deductive gaze.John prepares himself to apologize to Jack, but something happens. Sherlock glances between Jocelyn and Jack, frowning as if he realized something very upsetting. Jack gives the detective an odd look, a bit uncomfortable under his gaze.“Well, we better be off. I’ll see you guys later,” she nods at John, who holds up his hand as a wave and wishing her luck.“Sherlock? What’s the matter?”“Lestrade hasn’t called, and I’ve checked my emails. I have no cases today and I might lose my mind.” He grits his teeth, not sure what he was feeling right at this second.John slowly grins. “You sure that’s the only thing bothering you at the moment?”“What do you mean?”“Jack is a nice man, I know him.”The consulting detective narrows his eyes. “Are you implying that I’m jealous?”“Little bit, yeah.” John grins at him.Sherlock scoffs. “Why would I be jealous?”Jealous? There’s nothing to jealous of an intelligent man in his early thirties, with a steady normal life and job, skilled with the guitar, living in a penthouse surrounded by different breeds of dogs. A man that should be with a woman like Jocelyn. Sherlock frowns, why would he ever be jealous?“You’re the detective, figure it out yourself.”--Three weeks since their performance together, Jocelyn finally heard a callback.“Really? Okay, thank you so much.” She whispered and put the phone down, still unable to process everything she just heard.In front of her, Sherlock remained sitting upright, anticipating what she might say. “What is it?”“I have a sophomore scholarship in New York, I could take performing arts, but they’re also offering other courses like forensics, the possibilities are endless, I—”Sherlock’s face softened. There was a sudden rush that coursed through him. Was that… pride? He found himself tracing his eyes over her wide grin. “I do believe I’ve told you that you had nothing to worry.”“Yeah, yeah. I told you so, yeah. Oh, God, I have actual schools waiting for me in New York.”Then, the smile faded from his face. Jocelyn has to go to New York, she has to study there and achieve the career she longed to have. Sherlock has to remain in London, under the surveillance of his brother.Sherlock felt another emotion, he can’t decipher what it is. All he knew was that he could feel his stomach twist at the thought of her going to New York. It was as if his body was drained all of a sudden and he hated the feeling.“I’m very happy for you.”Jocelyn reached over to slip her hands inside Sherlock’s. He was taken aback by the gesture, but he easily relaxed into it.“Thank you, I couldn’t have gotten this without you.” She had a genuine smile that resulted for Sherlock to be loss of breath for a split second.“I did not play the piano for you.”“You performed with me, you helped me with many things, Sherl. I’ll forever be so thankful to you.” Her voice felt like liquid gold and Sherlock can’t believe he’s thinking of different poetic verses he could relate to everything she is.He covered his larger hands on hers. “I do believe that the feeling is mutual.”--“My God, you were amazing!” Harry gives her a tight hug, clearly proud of her.Jocelyn is grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, Harry. I couldn’t have done it without you.”It was true, she wouldn’t be a speaker here at all if Harry hadn’t pushed it and showed everyone just how brilliant she is.Many people came to congratulate and compliment her share of the cases that she’s been involved in. Many people were fascinated and future forensic scientists are even more inspired to pursue their dreams. Jocelyn felt absolutely loved.Molly came over and spoke to her about a few cases. Eventually, it led to her apologizing about what happened. Even though Mycroft kept it under wraps, John trusted Molly enough to tell her what happened to Jocelyn. Jocelyn appreciated the gesture, although she didn’t want to think about the freezer.Jocelyn looks around and immediately notices a familiar man walking up to her. Harry excused herself, making Jocelyn curse in her head. Jocelyn knew where this was going, and after a few small talk with Jack, he smoothly asks her out.At the end, she says no. The disappointment on his face was awful, but not unfamiliar. She doesn’t exactly remember the last time she went on a date. She always turns everyone down.A few hours later, Harry and Jocelyn both go back to Baker Street and finally had tea. John walks in. “How was it?”“Oh, it was great. You should’ve been there, Johnny. Jo was on fire!”“Oh, stop it.” She shakes her head at both of them.Harry tells them that she’s leaving to New York in an hour and gives both of them an embrace. Once Harry is out, Jocelyn’s phone rings.She holds the phone up to her ear and sighs. “Hi, Mycroft.”
“Miss Grant, I’ve heard you did quite impressively during the event. I suppose you’d be surprised about the upcoming pages of the newspaper.”
Her eyes widen. “No...”
“Oh, yes. I have a great feeling that this conference will go nationwide. Well done, Miss Grant.”
She smiles softly. “Thank you.”
“I’ve called because I’ve found several apartments for you to look at, ones that are most affordable for you. I will send you photos of the interior right about now and you can tell me which one you like most.”
“You don’t have to do any of this.”“That’s true, I don’t.” He calmly says, just before her phone beeps to indicate a new email. “Scotland Yard would be very well in luck to have you.”For the next few weeks, Jocelyn has finally started working for Scotland Yard. It was a delight to everyone, after hearing so much about her work. Her first day was great, everyone welcomed her and she learned quite a lot from different forensic scientists.She successfully moved out of Baker Street just a few days before her first day and settled down at a nice little apartment for herself.On the other hand, Sherlock was ecstatic that it was just now him and John in 221B Baker Street. He and John kept solving cases and although he sees Jocelyn in Scotland Yard sometimes, he was glad that she no longer resides in his home.Ever since Jocelyn left the flat, the consulting detective hasn’t seen her mind palace version. He has never felt more pleased.***Much later, a confused John walks through the corridors of the very heart of England. He has no idea why he is inside Buckingham Palace, and so he strides into a room, seeing Sherlock, still wrapped in his bed sheets while sitting on the very expensive sofa.John continues walking, taking a seat next to Sherlock. He glances around for a bit and realizes that Sherlock Holmes isn’t wearing any pants.As if on cue, Sherlock sees his brother walk into the room at the corner of his eye. John sees Mycroft and couldn’t help the loud laugh he makes, and they both start laughing.Sherlock begins to refuse the case even before it was explained, only because the client is anonymous. The two brothers have a bickering, as usual, and it ends with Sherlock finally clothing himself and having tea with the rest of them.Mycroft opens a suitcase from next to him and takes out a few files, handing him a few photos of a woman wearing little clothing during a photoshoot.“Who is she?”“Irene Adler. Professionally known as the Woman.”“Professionally?”“There are many names for what she does. She prefers dominatrix,”“Dominatrix.”Mycroft was amused by his brother’s confusion. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s to do with sex.”Sherlock snaps his head towards his brother, a bit incredulous. “Sex doesn’t alarm me.”His older brother scoffs softly at him, a mocking smile on his face. “How would you know?”Those words made Sherlock’s face relax in realization.John glances at Sherlock after Mycroft asked him the rhetorical question. It would be odd to think of Sherlock like that, if you ask John.Sherlock suggested paying her full, but then his brother tells him that Miss Adler isn’t after any money. That she had been in contact to say that the photographs exist and Sherlock is now intrigued.A few minutes later, Sherlock finally walks out of the palace with John, revealing the tiny object he swindled from the palace just to make his friend laugh.***Jocelyn takes the passenger’s seat as Donovan drives both of them back to the Yard. “So you used to live with Sherlock Holmes, huh?”She is caught off guard by the question. “What?”Sally briefly glances at her. “Sherlock and John? You lived with them, right?”“Oh. Right. I stayed with them when I first got here.”“That would have been very interesting. Sherlock is a bit of a freak.”Her words make Jocelyn’s smile falter. “Well, I wouldn’t describe him as a freak. He’s just misunderstood, that’s all.” She simply says, to which Sally snorts at.“Did he threaten you to say that or something?”“No, he doesn’t need to.”“Oh, God. Don’t tell me you got the hots for him?”The way Sally said ‘him’ in a disgusted manner was unsettling for Jocelyn. “I just choose to see the good in him.”“Well, good luck with that.” She pulls over and exits the car.Jocelyn frowns and lets out a sigh, taking her things. She wonders if everyone in the Yard views Sherlock the same way as Sally does.Sometime later, while viewing a substance under the microscope, her phone rings in her pocket. Jocelyn pauses grin at John’s name. She answers the phone. “Hey, John. What’s up?”
“I didn’t know you were handling forensics for the Hiker case. I just left the scene this morning.”
“We’re keeping this case under wraps for a bit. Did he solve it then?”
“Apparently he did. Mycroft as well.”
“You were with Mycroft?”
“Well, Sherlock was driven to the palace while I was transported by a helicopter.”
“The palace? Really?” Her voice is in disbelief.
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Why not? Is it government confidential?” She teases.
“Probably. Heard of Irene Adler?”
“No, not exactly. Is she on the news?”
“I’ll explain to you later. Come over when you can, we’ll probably be home after you’re done working. Sherlock and I are going to see this Adler woman.”
“It’s a date then. Good luck.”***“Hello, sorry to know that you’ve been hurt,” Sherlock quickly pretends tend to his injured cheek. “I don’t think Kate caught your name.”And he looks to his left. No doubt, that this is the Adler woman his brother was talking about, she looks exactly as she did in the photographs he showed.Minus one tiny detail, though; her clothing.Sherlock isn’t sure how long he remained quiet.Irene smiles at how speechless he appeared, mistaking it for astonishment upon her body. “Oh, it’s always difficult to remember an alias when you’ve had a fright, isn’t it? Well, there, now.” She takes a seat on his lap, making Sherlock lean back on his seat, eyes focused on her face. “We’ve both defrocked, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”His facial expression remains blank, except for the split second he looked surprised upon seeing her disrobed body. “Miss Adler, I presume?”“Look at those cheekbones, I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?” She seductively says before biting into Sherlock’s clerical collar.In Sherlock’s mind, he wonders, do humans really enjoy this sort of torture?Sherlock is trying his best to read her, but nothing seems to come to mind. Usually, he deduces from clothing and hands, but in this way, she is exposed quite literally, without revealing anything of herself.He hears John’s voice before the man even walks into the room. He stops as soon as he sees a naked woman on Sherlock’s lap, not sure how to respond. John thinks for about a second, how he just went to the kitchen to get the first aid kit, and then he comes back to Sherlock with a woman on his lap.Sherlock feels exasperated and confused, not because of how she appears, but because it seems as though he cannot read her the same way he reads endless of people.He glances at John, and immediately has hundreds of deductions; two day shirt, electric razor, evening date with a woman—although, Sherlock isn’t sure who it is.He slowly cranes his neck towards Miss Adler, and nothing comes to mind. This is not how his day is supposed to be. He frowns, conflicted as he observes her.“Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes? However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait.”“You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?”“I think you’re damaged, delusional, and believe in higher power. In your case, it’s yourself.” Irene counters, making the detective glare at her.Soon enough, Sherlock deduces that the phone was located here in this room. John mans the door and leaves Miss Adler with Sherlock.“Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything, for instance,” he pauses just before the alarm goes off. Sherlock knows that John has set it off just outside.Irene immediately looks at the mirror from behind Sherlock, making him follow her gaze.“Thank you. When hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.” Or a freezer.
For God’s sake.
He cups for any sort of lever or button, and immediately presses it, making the mirror slide upwards and reveals a safe with a pass code.“I’d tell you the code right now, but you know what? I already have.” She smirks at him. “Think.”However, suddenly, the door swings open and reveals quite unfamiliar men with John as hostage. Sherlock feels his eye twitch, can’t believe his doctor is in danger once again because of him.“At the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson.”“What?” John alarmingly says.Sherlock visibly stiffens. “I don’t know the code.”“One.”“I don’t know the code.”“Two.”“She didn’t tell me, I don’t know it!” “I’m prepared to believe you, any second now. Three.”“No, stop!” Sherlock musters every nerve inside his brain. “Is this a joke?”“No, of course not.” He hears her voice, turning to his left and widening his eyes, immediately looking away and exclaiming.“For Christ’s sake.”Jocelyn, a figure of her stood to his left, missing her clothes from the upper-half of her body, and only wearing those small shorts of hers.Her arms were wrapped around her to cover her chest. “Is this a bit uncomfortable for you?”“This is bloody ridiculous.”This consciousness has been gone for weeks and she decides to show up in the most undignified way while his best friend is about to be shot?“What, were you not having fun comparing body sizes earlier? I think Miss Adler would be flattered by your... lingering gaze.” Jocelyn laughs.“The lingering gaze would be for research.”Jocelyn only raises a brow, mocking a nod as if making fun of him by pretending to agree. “Research. Right. Comparing the two living feminine bodies that you have witnessed throughout your lifetime?”Bodies are only material, the mind is much more advanced than the workings of a living human body. Yet here he is, in disbelief of himself for being so materialistic. So… human. He almost scrunched his face in disgust.“This is unnecessary.”“Is it? If you hadn’t just done the compare and contrast, you wouldn’t have gotten the code. Her skin is much lighter than mine, narrower hips, bigger chest, more prominent curves. Crafted like a mannequin.”Sherlock rolls his eyes at her choice of words.“Yet, you don’t feel any sort of attraction towards her. Not like John, which was fairly obvious. Men, right? Times like these when we were in college, you’d question yourself if you could feel any attraction at all—”“Stop, just... I do not have time for this.”She slowly lowers her arms and Sherlock’s gaze remains into her eyes. Jocelyn smiles when she realizes that he still had such respect as to not let his eyes wander.“Ever the gentleman.”“The female body is not appealing. It is the chemicals in one’s brain that stimulates certain organs to function in order to oblige to the natural need of human beings to procreate. Now, quit bothering me. I’m working.” He glares, blinking her image away.He hesitates, but reaches for the keypad, keying in the digits replaying in his mind.The safe makes a clicking sound. Sherlock is correct; her measurements were the code.“Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please.”Sherlock twists the handle, slowly glancing at Miss Adler, who looks away almost immediately. He looks back at the safe, clearly realizing how it’s been rigged with a weapon meant to kill anyone who’d like to access it. Sherlock signals John to duck down and everything was quick. Now, all the other men are unconscious.***“This is how I want you to remember me,” he hears Miss Adler’s voice, feeling the soft leather against his cheek. “The Woman who beat you.”Well, in that case, she’s not the only one.Jocelyn walks outside of the Yard, gloves covering her shaking hands as the cold instantly reminds her of her time in that freezer. It feels ridiculous, to still feel this way even after weeks.She hails a cab and quickly slips inside, shivering from how cold it is. Just then, her phone rings and she immediately knew it was John. Jocelyn goes to answer the phone. “Hey, I’m on my way over now.”
“About that, I think we’re going to have to cancel tonight.”
“Did something come up?”
“Yeah, you can say that. Sherlock got drugged, he’s sleeping right now.”
Her soul almost leaves her body as her eyes widen. “He was what? Is he okay?”John knows how much the two of them care about one another, although Sherlock shows it in a more spiteful way, as if he refuses to care about her even when he does.
“Don’t worry, he’s quite fine now. You can still come over, if you’d like. I was only cancelling since maybe you’d prefer—”
“I’m coming over.”***When she arrives in Baker Street, she’s immediately greeted by Mrs. Hudson. The landlady is delighted to see her again, giving her a warm hug before letting her continue upstairs.The door is already open and so she walks inside as if she lives there, John wouldn’t mind. Jocelyn slips her gloves off, hearing footsteps come from the stairs that leads to John’s bedroom. She grins upon seeing John, stepping forward to give him a hug.“Nice to see you around here again. Madman’s asleep. An unsettling sight, if you ask me.” He mutters, making her giggle at the small nickname, but her worry is still present.“What exactly happened?”“Irene Adler, she’s a dominatrix.”“Dominatrix?”“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but something from the Royal Family got caught between that mess. Now, this Adler woman has some scandalous photos.”“And Sherlock get drugged for trying to get them? It didn’t have any serious in it, right?”“No, no, we had his blood tested. It was just to put his body to sleep. Thankfully. I’m really glad about how quiet the flat became.” He laughs it off but there was an edge to his voice, clearly terrified earlier.“He’ll probably be okay in the morning, if it’s just a sleeping drug. Sherlock is much stronger than he looks.”Just then, they both hear a loud thud, following Sherlock’s voice. Jocelyn gets onto her feet in alert, clearly worried. John holds up one finger, asking her to give him a moment before he walks to Sherlock’s room, opening the door and peeking inside.“You okay?”“How did I get here?”“Well, I don’t suppose you remember much. You weren’t making lots of sense. Oh, I should warn you, Lestrade probably filmed you on his phone.”“Where is she?”“She’s right outside, why?”Sherlock’s head snaps toward him. He inhales the air around John, and immediately recognizes the perfume and almost glares. “Your evening date is with Jocelyn?”“Friendly date, Sherlock. If you need knowing. Why were you looking for her?”Sherlock scoffs, repulsed by the idea. “I’m not looking for her, I’m referring to the Woman.”“Who?”“The Woman, that Woman. The Woman woman!”“Oh, Irene Adler? She got away, no one’s seen her.”When Sherlock drops to the floor with a loud thud to view under the bed, Jocelyn slowly walks up to the room, slightly peeking inside to see if Sherlock was fine. She observes how John helps him back onto his bed and covers him with the sheets.John gives her a tight smile, leaving the room and letting Jocelyn walk inside, although she feels unwelcome inside. Sherlock’s back is towards him, so he can’t see her. She looks around his room, realizing how she has never been here the entirety of her stay.Sherlock groans, knowing that she’s in his presence. “What are you doing here? You should not be here.”“John invited me over.”“Aren't you supposed to be occupied with work? Or with a certain criminologist.”Jocelyn raises her brows in surprise. “I’m done with the case. As for Dr. Palmer, he and I can never end since we never began,” she clarifies it to him, amused how Sherlock lets out a hum. “Not sure why that matters to you, though.”“It doesn't.”Jocelyn nods along, clearly amused by the situation. “Glad John invited me over."“To watch me like this? Drug-induced?”She smiles to herself. “No, to hang out. He tried cancelling because of what happened to you.”“If that’s the case, why did you still come?” Sherlock closes his eyes, unable to keep them open anymore.“Because.” Because you always put yourself in danger, and I worry.“That is not a reason. Because is a subordinating conjunction, not the companion of effect.”“You were drugged and I wanted to see how I can help John. Maybe try to make things better.”“How were things worse?”“You know what? You’re right. You’re perfectly fine now.” Jocelyn softly says, fingers feeling the soft fabric of the sheets he is currently wrapped around in.She accidentally, but delicately, brushes her fingertips on his back and it’s surprising how he doesn’t flinch or move away from the touch. Instead, he slowly fell asleep to it.Jocelyn sighs to herself, slowly becoming aware of how she still cares about Sherlock the same way she did back then. Views like that sometimes never change, which is why Jocelyn isn’t surprised that she still cares even after years. Much like Mycroft has shown her. The eight years were mere illusions, it feels as though she’s nineteen again.Only difference now is that Sherlock hates her with every nerve in his body.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sherlock awakens the next morning, still feeling his head hurt as he tries to sit up. He lets out a soft groan as he clutches his temples. He sits up and hears an odd noise coming from behind his door. He stands on his feet while stumbling back before he carries himself towards the pocket of his coat.He reads the text in with his eyes. “‘Til the next time, Mr. Holmes.” And he did not need anything else to conclude that this is the Woman.Sherlock leaves the room and is immediately aware of an unwanted presence within his flat, just by seeing the tilted door handle that leads to the bathroom. He sees John putting on a kettle while three mugs settled on the counter.“You let her stay the night?”“Ah, you’re awake. Take the pill and drink.” He observes the detective for a second. “What’s that on your face?”Sherlock frowns, immediately reaching up to wipe the corner of his mouth and taking a whiff of his fingers. Lipstick, not the particular brand that Jocelyn uses; thank God. Therefore, that would mean they came from the Woman.He huffs, rolling his eyes as he goes to the sink, cleaning his skin with water.The doctor is still unsure of what the mark was, but chooses to ignore it. “She slept on the couch, it took me around an hour to convince her to take my room, but I gave up. You know how stubborn she is.”Too well, John, too well. “Be ready for an unwarranted visit from Mycroft, I hear he’s quite displeased with our failure to acquire the photographs.”And he stands corrected as a few minutes later. Mycroft is slightly confused upon seeing Jocelyn, who is now awake with her hair a mess as she sits on the sofa.“Shouldn’t you be in Scotland Yard, Miss Grant? I thought you’ve already found a new apartment for you to settle in.”“Don’t act all cautious, Mycroft. Jocelyn already knows.”Mycroft glares at the two men. “Naturally. Of course, you’d assume it would be a wise decision involving her into this.”“The photographs are perfectly safe.”“In the hands of a fugitive sex worker?” “She’s not interested in blackmail. She wants… protection. For some reason. I take it you’ve stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?”“How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.”“She’d applaud your choice of words. You see how this works, that camera phone is her get-out-of-jail-free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like Royalty, Mycroft.”“Though, not the way she treats Royalty.” John adds to the sarcasm, making Sherlock smile a bit.Jocelyn is just lost. “There was a shooting at her house? While the two of you were there?”Her question remains unanswered when they suddenly hear a small, but distinct noise as a text alert. The sound processed itself in the three’s minds, unsure of what they heard.John is the first to ask. “What was that?”Sherlock side-eyes, exasperated. “Text.” He simply says, closing his newspaper and getting onto his feet. Jocelyn knots her brows together, trying to recall the noise she just heard. “Did you know there were other people after her, too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA trained killers, I think excellent guess.”“Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft.”Jocelyn feels even more worried, now knowing that the two were caught in crossfire and almost were shot, probably. She can’t believe she’s only finding about this now and not last night. All she knew last night was that Sherlock was drugged, and she’s not even aware of how it happened.--It had a been two months and a half since she met Sherlock and the two of them were inseparable. Sherlock might not notice it, but he’s growing quite attached to the pianist as time went by.Which was exactly why he felt nervous as he stood in front of her door. He presses his lips together as he stared intently at the doorknob. Sherlock exhaled and raised his fist, knocking gently on the door.Jocelyn looked towards the door, frowning. She swung open the door and instantly lights up upon seeing Sherlock.It was quite amusing, in all honesty. Sherlock, wearing black pants with his dark purple button-up tucked inside it, completed with his black shoes. while Jocelyn wore a white shirt and pajamas as if she never left her bed this morning.She stepped aside to let him in. “I’m so stressed out with school.Sherlock sits on her bed, shifting a bit as he took in the sight of scattered papers and books on the table and floor. “Shouldn’t you be packing and off to your mother’s for Christmas? Isn’t that what families do?”“I’m not going anywhere for Christmas break, honestly. My mother and aunt are travelling to Asia, I can’t really go with them.”“Why not?”“I don’t have a passport.”“Why do you not have a passport? Everyone has passports.”“Mine expired years ago. Didn’t really think of having it renewed.”“Oh…” And just then, Sherlock had a brilliant idea. “I know. Why not spend the next three weeks at home?”“I can’t go home, it’ll be empty. My mother and aunt will be long gone.”Sherlock was now confused, squinting his eyes. “No, not your home. I meant… my home.”She appeared to be surprised and speechless. “You mean spend Christmas with you?”“And the New Year’s, of course.”“Okay, yes. Sure!” She agreed in between a few laughs, making him smile as well.“Good.” He noticed how red her face is once again. It has been happening quite often.“Will your parents be fine with it? Me coming along?”“I wouldn’t take it personally if my mother force feeds you with pudding with how much she’s going to enjoy your presence. My father will admire you, quite so. As for my brother, well,”“As for your brother, what?”“I haven’t told you why I actually came here. My brother wanted me to invite you to a small celebration, just a few days before Christmas.”“A celebration? For what?”“Our parents’ silver wedding anniversary. Mycroft asked me to invite you, and since you’ll be staying with us, maybe you can bring your things already.”“Look at how posh you sounded while saying all those words to me,” she laughs.Sherlock nodded, clearly agreeing how posh it all sounded. “It’s going to be quite elegant. Mycroft’s inviting many people as well, but he wanted me to ask you.”“To ask me?” She suppressed a grin. “Like a date?”His face paled. Sherlock may not be aware of many humanly things, but he is perfectly aware what a date is. “Um, I, uh, well—”“I’m only messing, Sherlock. I’d be honored to attend, by your brother’s request.”“You didn’t make a fleeting impression, of course. I believe my brother now calls you the cotton-candy haired lady.” Sherlock added, making her laugh and shake her head at him, quite fond of the boy more than she ever expected herself to be.--“Lovely, Sherlock! That was lovely!”A few months flew by and now it’s Christmas. John and Sherlock—well, mostly John—held a small get-together in their flat, consisting of a few friends.“Mm, marvelous,” John nods at his friend.Mrs. Hudson turns to John. “Is Jocelyn coming? I’ve got a gift wrapped for her.”John looks at the time and frowns. “Mm, not sure. Hopefully, she’ll come.”Sherlock is barely aware of how attentive he suddenly became. Due to the balance of probability, it’s evident how Jocelyn may not make it.Small talk happens, of course, and Sherlock only focuses on his computer. He complains to John about the blogger having a photo of him with the hat, looking incredibly awful. Sherlock doesn’t know why, but something didn’t feel right about tonight.Something was missing. He’s not sure what, but maybe it’s because he’s quite used to being alone for Christmas, and now he has many people inside his flat.Of course, it’s not Sherlock if he completely ruins something for someone else, in this case, his Christmas gift from Molly.Molly is so close to tears, but she manages to hold them back. Apologize, Sherl. Please, apologize to her. You hurt her feelings, and it’s Christmas. He hears her voice and makes him look down at his feet.He takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. Forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.” Sherlock leans down and kisses her cheek.Then, of course, the moment was ruined by Sherlock’s text alert. He sees a gift, tied with a rope. Sherlock immediately knows that it’s from the Woman, knowing how a rope can be used during sexual activities and the Woman loved playing mind games. He proceeds to his bedroom where he opens the box. Sherlock takes the camera phone and inspects it to see if it’s the real one. He reaches for his own phone a dialing a number.
“Oh, dear Lord. We’re not having Christmas phone calls now, are we? Have they passed a new law?”
“I think you’re going to find Irene Adler tonight.”
“We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out; it hardly matters.”
“No, I mean you’re going to find her dead.” He quietly says to him just before hanging up.John is nearby his door. “Are you okay?”“Fine. I need a drink.” He tells his friend, walking past him back to the kitchen.He keeps thinking of the dangerous camera phone just sitting on his nightstand at this moment as he brings the glass to his lips and sipping. And his mind eventually wanders to Irene Adler, whom he assumed is dead on a slab in a morgue.Sherlock is never one to hold grudges so he definitely didn’t resent Irene for injecting him with some unknown substance. He frowns at the thought, knowing how much of a loss her intelligence can be.A small knock on the door took everyone’s attention and made them look up, seeing the young lady wearing her long-sleeved midnight blue dress.Sherlock pauses his movements, eyes on her the entire time as John comes up to greet her with a hug. Sherlock falters his movements, not sure which he should drink; his scotch or the sight of her.“Sorry, I’m late. Difficult to get cabbie at this weather.” She softly says, and Sherlock still sees the slight shiver she had that no one else can notice.John takes the champagne bottle. “It’s fine, let’s pop this open, shall we?”Jocelyn sees Sherlock at the corner near the window. She hesitates, but approaches him. “Hey.”Sherlock looks up and pretends as if he never noticed her come in. “Oh. Hello.”“I got you something.” She reaches inside her pocket. Sherlock knots his brows at her.Jocelyn extends her arm to let the wrapped gift within his reach. Sherlock slowly takes it from her hands. He doesn’t see John watching the two of them with a small smile on his face. Sherlock rips open the small pack, pulls out a pen, and widens his eyes.“I, um… I found it in one of my moving boxes, I thought you might want it back.”Sherlock is unable to hold back the smile and the short chuckle. John raises his brows from the distance, it really is Christmas. “Astonishing how you still have it.”Mrs. Hudson turns her head. “Still have what, dear?”“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just the first science project he made during high school.”Lestrade squints his eyes over it. “A pen—you made a pen in high school?”“It’s not an ordinary fountain pen. It can emit a signal that can cause momentary paralysis by affecting the chemicals within the brain, disrupting the nervous system.” He casually explains to everyone, and John only raises his brows at the man. “The judges disproved of my work. Said that it was dangerous.”John glances at Jocelyn to frown. “You had this in your pocket on the way here?”“It didn’t go off, so…” Jocelyn just smiles at them before sipping her wine, proceeding to give the others their gifts.He starts to wonder how everyone’s gift seemed to have no emotional attachment from Jocelyn whatsoever, unlike his gift. His gift would appear to be quite odd unless he explains it. Sherlock wonders if Jocelyn remembers the day he gave the pen to her, because regrettably, he does.When John remains in the kitchen to speak with his girlfriend and Mrs. Hudson went downstairs to take something from her flat, Sherlock sighs and picks up his violin. Jocelyn is standing by the window, watching the snow fall from the sky.“I’m confident to say that Mrs. Hudson might wear that dress first thing tomorrow.”She laughs a bit. “I won’t hold it against you if she doesn’t.”Sherlock cleans his violin with its rag, catching himself staring at Jocelyn for too long. He pauses, unsure if he should just ask her. He almost scoffs at his shaking hands, hating the way he’s clearly affected by her. Not after what she’s done, he should feel very angry.“Jocelyn.”“Yes?”“The pen, why did you still have it? It was years ago.”“Couldn’t throw it out, who knows who’ll find it.” She gives him teasing looks, almost making him smile.What was happening to him? Why is he pretending everything was okay? Why is he slowly being all right with her presence in the flat?“If it’s of any consolation, I… quite appreciate the gesture. Thank you.” He quietly says, immediately playing his violin to prevent any words coming from her mouth that might make him regret thanking her.Jocelyn only smiles at him, watching the man turn around and move along with the music. Sherlock’s phone beeps, with a normal text alert this time. He unlocks the phone and reads the text from his brother, slowly feeling agitated.Jocelyn watches him, seeing how his expression changes from contentment to annoyance. Before he could slip his phone back to his pocket, it starts to ring.He sighs through his mouth and accepts the call. “I’m on my way. And no, I’m not bringing her.”
“You’re quite too late, brother mine.”
Just before he could respond, Jocelyn’s phone starts ringing inside her coat. Her small smile fades a bit as she glances at Sherlock, who visibly looks bothered. She gets up and takes her phone from the pocket, answering the call.Sherlock rolls his eyes, sighing. “Really?”
“Convenience, working to our advantage, dear brother. I’ll see you in St. Bartholomew’s.”
***Sherlock looks towards Jocelyn and Molly. “You both didn’t need to come in.”“That’s okay. Everyone else was busy with Christmas.”Although, Jocelyn lets out a small yawn, clearly tired and in need of sleep. Sherlock frowns, glancing at the dark circles from under her eyes.“The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult.”“That’s her, isn’t it?”“Show me the rest of her.” He tells Molly, who awkwardly smiles before pulling the sheet. Sherlock scans the body and keeps the measurements inside his mind. Jocelyn tilts her head at him in confusion before her lips part in realization. “That’s her.” He simply says and walks off.Mycroft pauses and feels his own mouth open in surprise. “Thank you, Miss Hooper—”“Who is she? How did Sherlock recognize her from… not her face?”Jocelyn can feel her stomach twist, seeing the way Mycroft looks at her with those knowing, but puzzled eyes. He offers Molly an inauthentic smile, nodding at Jocelyn as if to say he’s leaving.Sherlock hears the door open from behind him, and sees a cigarette from the corner of his eye.“Just the one.”“Why?”“Merry Christmas.”Sherlock slowly smirks at it, taking the stick. “Smoking indoors, isn’t there one of those… those law things?”Mycroft lights the cigarette for him. “We’re in a morgue. There only so much damage you can do. How did you know she was dead?”“She had an item in her possession. One she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up.”“Where is this item now?”His question is left unanswered as they both hear a family to their left, weeping over a probable dead family member.“Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there’s something wrong with us?”“All lives end, all hearts are broken.” Mycroft chooses not to answer his question, but in his mind, he screams yes, I do wonder that quite often, Sherlock. “Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.”He coughs out the smoke, cringing. “This is low tar.”“Well, you barely knew her.”“Merry Christmas, Mycroft.”“And a Happy New Year.” He watches his brother leave before looking behind him to the door that leads to the morgue. Mycroft stands outside the morgue, dialing John’s number.--When the celebration rolled by, Jocelyn found herself standing in front of a mirror, shaking her head at the yellow floral dress and coat she’s wearing. Her hair is done in a bun, strayed away from her line of vision.She heard the buzz of her doorbell, and quickly grabbed her coat. Outside, she saw Sherlock in a white button up, standing straight as if he stiffened at the sight of her.“Is this okay? I don’t want to freak out your family.”Sherlock softened. “You look… nice.”“And you look rich, posh boy.” Jocelyn teased him, reaching over to touch the collar of his white buttoned shirt.“Mm, you’re only envious. It’s not my fault you’re poor.” He grinned, the rare dents on his cheeks were showing when he felt Jocelyn slapping his arm in an incredulous but playful way.“Ooh, Sherlock, not quite you to show off how rich you are. Maybe when we graduate, I’m assuming you’d own a big mansion in the future.”Sherlock knotted his brows together as he drives the car. “A mansion? Oh, no.”“Why not?”“Mansions are too big. Too much space for just one person.”“You don’t think you’d be with someone in the future?”“Who would want me as their flatmate?”“I wouldn’t mind it. And I’m sure someone won’t mind you as well. I can’t be the only one who’ll understand you.”“I still don’t believe it. No one can tolerate me.”“If no one can, then, how do I?”“Because you’re different. In a way that you try to understand me and help me understand you. We’re a team.”And of course, she looked absolutely stunned, yet proud.The sun was setting by the time they arrived, and she looked out of the window to view how simple yet elegant the venue was. Jocelyn excitedly exited the car and waited for Sherlock to walk with her inside.“Sherlock!” His mother sighed in complete joy. Sherlock leaned down to hug his mother, giving her a soft kiss on her cheek. “It’s so good to have you back for Christmas. And who’s this?”Jocelyn stepped forward and awkwardly waved. “Hi, I’m Jocelyn. Sherlock’s friend.”“I performed with her during the concert. You do remember, mummy, don’t you?”“You doubt me too much, Sherlock, dear. How can someone forget about a person with such unique hair!” She teased before she wrapped her arm around her son.Jocelyn watched the interaction with a warm heart. From the scene alone, Jocelyn knew how much Sherlock loved his mother.Apparently, the party was being held at the back of the building, near the snowy gardens. The Holmes Family really loved the open area for the occasions.Sherlock didn’t have any time to think about it as he reached for Jocelyn’s hand, leading her to where his mother was going. Jocelyn was stunned, looking up to see Sherlock’s calm and collected face.Slowly, their fingers interlaced and it made Jocelyn tilt her head to the side in order to hide a smile. The doors that lead outside opened, and Jocelyn almost gasped at how beautifully designed the venue was.Sherlock let go of her hand when he was pulled away by his father to introduce him to a few people. Mycroft casually strolled by right next to Jocelyn, whilst Sherlock was still speaking to their father and a few of his co-workers.He handed her a drink. “Having fun?”“I’ve never attended a party like this.”“You’ve never been to an anniversary party?”“Haven’t been the luckiest when it came to families, but this is beautiful. I’m really flattered that I got invited by you.”Mycroft questioned himself. He does not remember inviting her. Sherlock told him that he was going to ask her to come along. Mycroft only said that it was no problem. That isn’t the same as actually inviting someone personally.“You’re quite welcome, Miss Grant. I’m glad you’re here.”“I don’t think you’ll be too glad once you’ve invited me into your house.”Mycroft smirked at her. “Careful, Miss Grant. Your words can be weaponized.”She squinted at him, unsure what he could mean.He opened his mouth, but was cut off by his own chuckle. “You have no idea what is about to come, Miss Grant.”The night went on and many had a few laughs shared as the married couple being celebrated shared their first dance for the night.Mycroft noticed how his younger brother was staring quite longingly after Jocelyn, who was talking to one of the guests. It would not take a blind man to see just how much Sherlock is conflicted with these normal but complex human emotions.When Sherlock turned to him. “What?”“Seems to me that dear mother is enjoying your… female companion. I don’t think she’ll be too opposed of the thought of having her spend Christmas here, do you?”Sherlock only scoffed, a slight heat rising into the sides of his face. “I have no clue onto what you’re speaking about.”“Go on, dance with her.”“Are you quite well, brother mine? I thought for a second that you had too much to drink. Have you had your head hit or something?” Sherlock incredulously looked at him with such surprise.“Don’t be smart, Sherlock. You love dancing. We’re both quite aware what you want.”“Now, that is genuinely horrifying. Stay away from me.”“With pleasure.” Mycroft lightly bows, quite teasingly as Sherlock suppresses a smile.The two brothers had a good relationship growing up. Mycroft and Sherlock loved each other dearly, and Sherlock held him with much respect and admiration.And his brother was right, as always. Sherlock found himself glancing at Mycroft and giving him a nod before walking over to Jocelyn. Sherlock pressed his lips together. “Hello.”His mother turned and felt delighted upon seeing her son. Jocelyn’s eyes lit up when Sherlock came to view. They both couldn’t take their eyes off each other, and Mrs. Holmes only silently grinned to herself as she danced with her husband.Sherlock blinked and looked down at the ground, mouth opening but no words came out. The boy cleared his throat awkwardly, and her heart warmed. “I don’t suppose, you’d, um,” Sherlock begun, but trailed off in a lost manner. “I don’t suppose you’d—”“Like to dance?” She finishes of him, already reaching for his cold hand.Sherlock is startled by how warm and calm her hands are compared to his. His hands were shaking in anxiety probably. Sherlock nodded at her, a worried look on his face as if he might disappoint her.Some people were partnered up and dancing as well, but it seemed as if they were the only ones who still classified their relations as a friendship.Sherlock visibly swallows when Jocelyn stopped walking, slowly reaching upwards to slide her palms across his shoulders, and settling on his nape. He felt too focused on where he’s supposed to put his hands. He’s a skilled dancer, but now that Jocelyn is here, it seemed as though everything he knew about waltzing was thrown out of the window.He didn’t quite comprehend it, but so many faces were beaming happily at them.“Sherlock, don’t be nervous.”“People are looking.”“Since when did you care about what other people thought?” Jocelyn’s thumbs brushed against the line of his jaw. “Just look at me.”He directed his attention back to her, blue eyes glinting under the light. They gazed at each other for a moment before both of them grinned widely.Sherlock’s mother stood next to her eldest son, both of which were watching the youngest Holmes and Jocelyn.“Do you think they’re together, Mycroft?”“No.”Mrs. Holmes only let out a soft laugh, almost in tears. “I have never seen him this happy, Mycroft. Look at him.”“I am.”He could see how happy his brother is, even when Sherlock is not aware of how immensely joyful his own expression looks like.Mrs. Holmes, as happy as she is, she’s quite terrified at the same time. Her smile wavered a bit as she glanced worriedly at her eldest son.Mycroft looked at his mother, sighing. “Worrying won’t do you any good, mother. Today is a special day for our family. Our dear Sherlock is happy, you and father are happy. Everything will be fine.”“Do you think this is it? Do you think Sherlock will be happy this way?”He paused, eyes on his mother for a second before he glanced at the two laughing duo with their hands around each other while they danced. This has been the longest that anyone has ever seen Sherlock smile in a genuine manner.Most of them knew of Sherlock’s past so, everyone was delighted to see the youngest Holmes son be this incredibly happy, it was a heartwarming sight. Mycroft slowly formed a smile on his face, feeling his own chest fill with joy upon seeing his brother this way. And with a short intake of the cold air around him, he says...
“Hopefully, yes.”
--Jocelyn arrives in Baker Street, exiting her cab and rubbing her hands to generate a bit of warmth. She finds John sitting on his usual chair as he stares ahead of himself. “What happened?”“It’s Sherlock. We’re not sure if he’s clean or not. I’m getting worried.”The way John worded his sentence could mean that it’s not only cigarettes he uses. It only makes her regret the time she gave him a cigarette. “Why would you think that he’s not clean?”“Irene Adler.”“The woman I brought to the morgue not too long ago?”“I think Sherlock and Irene had something going on. I don’t know, but I do know this is happening because of her.”Jocelyn takes a deep breath, looking at the wooden floor for a moment. She gathers herself together and looks to John, feeling how stressed he is over this. “Talk to him.”“It’s not really that easy to talk to Sherlock Holmes.”“Then, give him some time to grieve, it may be healthy for him to just be alone for a while.”“What if being alone is not exactly what he needs?”“I get that you’re worried that he might relapse, I understand that. But I think we should trust him to decide for his own well-being.”John sighs and gives her a nod, patting the back of her hand to comfort her as well.The moment the front door shuts behind the lady on her way out, the consulting detective softly pushes the door of his room shut, hearing the soft clicking of the lock. He frowns, hand still on the knob. The words he heard, it seemed as if she genuinely cared.Sherlock can at least admit to himself how human emotions are not his field of expertise. He furrows his brows, moving back onto his mattress as he takes the camera phone off the nightstand to open it, only to be met by the same password unlock that he can never figure out.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sherlock’s antics were normal; never sleeps, never eats, always going through cases, playing his violin during the night or day—everything was normal.Except they weren’t. John felt as though something is different about Sherlock.Mrs. Hudson walks inside, immediately checking the detective’s food intake. When she realizes that once again, Sherlock refuses to eat, she gives John a look of disappointment and worry while shaking her head.“Lovely tune, Sherlock. Never heard of that one before.”John clears his throat as he watches his friend. “You composing?”“Helps me to think.”Mrs. Hudson appears to be so worried. She had been Sherlock’s only mother figure for the last few years and it’s quite heartbreaking to see him this way.John pulls her to the kitchen. “Listen, has he ever had any kind of relationship lately? Or before I met him? Girlfriends, boyfriends?”“I don’t know. The only one that comes to mind is Jocelyn,”“Whatever Sherlock and Jocelyn had, it ended years ago.”“Well, he could’ve been heartbroken by that as well, we may never know.”John sighs. “How can we not know?”She just sighs and shrugs. “He’s Sherlock. How can we ever know what goes on in that funny little head of his?”--Jocelyn fitted right in to the Holmes residence. Their home was warm and cozy, Jocelyn has never felt so welcome and at home. The laughter of each and every member of the family could still be heard even while Jocelyn was wiping the table. Even Mycroft couldn’t stop laughing, solely because their mother kept telling Jocelyn embarrassing childhood stories that made Sherlock want the ground to swallow him up.“It’s very nice of you to come with Sherlock all the way here. I wasn’t expecting him to be home for Christmas.”“Why not?”“Oh, I imagined him to be too wrapped up in science experiments to remember that it’s Christmas.”“I don’t think you should thank me. He invited me here. It was his decision to come home.”“Yes, of course. He wanted us to meet you, love, and see how you’ve made him happy. You have no idea how happy a mother becomes upon seeing joy in their children’s faces.”Jocelyn could see how much she loved her two sons.“You have to understand that it takes a very special person to understand Sherlock. And to care for Sherlock is one of the most difficult task one can ever face.” She sighs, aware of how different her children may be to others.Jocelyn flashed a smile. “I can assure you, Mrs. Holmes, it’s not.”And with that, the older woman pulled her in a tight embrace.After that, Jocelyn went to the guestroom, slipped on her pajamas. A thud coming from the room opposite hers made her pause her movements, looking over her shoulder.She went out of her room and knocked on the door opposite hers. The door opened and revealed a distressed Sherlock. Jocelyn almost found his state amusing, although, she thought he looked absolutely mesmerizing.He slowly formed a smile at her, and she blushed. “I heard a noise, are you okay?”Sherlock nodded, hesitating a bit before he gestured for her to walk inside. “I dropped a few books.”Jocelyn only stood in one place as she looked around, grinning to herself. She noticed two framed pictures of the Holmes siblings. One photo had them as children, and the other was recent.Sherlock watched her for a moment. Mycroft informed him that he knew what Sherlock wanted, but what was that exactly?“Jocelyn, I have something to ask you. I do hope you wouldn’t feel any type of intolerance upon my words.”“…Okay, what is it?”“Were you being serious during the anniversary?”“Serious about the anniversary?”“That… came out a bit wrong, um, you said to my mother that we are friends. Were you serious about that?”“Of course, Sherlock. Of course, we’re friends. You still think we’re not? After two months, you still believe that?”“That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t think I believe that we’re friends.”“What are you talking about?”“Is there a chance that we may be,” he paused, looking for the correct word. “—beyond what you say we are?”Jocelyn felt as though the world stopped revolving the minute his words reached her ears. Her breathing slowed down, or maybe she became much unaware of it. All she knew was that Sherlock somewhat admitted something that he may never take back.He became confused when the girl in front of him stepped forward and tilted her head upwards, eyes on him the entire time. “I’m going to try something, and I want you to tell me immediately if you want me to stop, okay?”Sherlock’s brows knotted together in confusion. “Okay.”“Promise me.”“I… I promise.”The corner of her lips curled up for a split second, and his heart was pounding the entire time, almost ringing in his ears until it’s all he could hear.Sherlock feared that Jocelyn might hear just how loud his heart was beating. She took another step forward. Jocelyn raised herself on her toes, leaning in slowly until her nose was just brushing against his.It didn’t occur to him how she was waiting for him to just lean in only a centimeter more to close the distance, wanting his consent to this.“Sherlock…”He only blinked and gulped nervously, finally realizing what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He finally leaned in and pressed their lips together, eyes fluttering shut as they melted into each other’s bodies.Sherlock couldn’t hear his pulse racing, he couldn’t hear anything else. All he could do is feel. He could feel her, just her; and that was more than enough for him.He reached up to cup her cheek, unsure what to do with his other hand. He could feel the young girl smiling against his lips, and it gave him a sudden rush, making him smile in return.They pulled away and Sherlock’s eyes were still closed, a small smile on his face.“Goodnight.”“Goodnight,” he nodded, clearing his throat and trying to recompose himself.Jocelyn is flushed, bursting with happiness. She turned around and left the room with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her and leaning her back against it.As soon as she left, Sherlock stopped trying to suppress his wide grin and just felt himself overflow with happiness and surprise. He let out an amused scoff, turning around to pick up the books he dropped.--“You... flirted with Sherlock?”“At him. He never replies.”“No, Sherlock always replies to anything. He’s Mr. Punchline. He’d outlive God trying to have the last word.” Although, he does recall one instance where Sherlock visibly showed to John how he never replied to a text and it was from Jocelyn.“Does that make me special?”John doesn’t remember how he became so concerned over his best friend’s relationships. Maybe because it’s been so long since he knew him and he has never seen the detective even show an ounce of affection toward anyone.Jocelyn might be an exception. John believes that their encounter at the freezer only showed how much Sherlock cared, but it was so rare.“I don’t know, maybe.”“Mr. Sherlock Holmes is quite a man, Dr. Watson. It’s not every day you meet someone like him.” She smirks at her phone. “There. I’m not dead, let’s have dinner.”He only scoffs at her, just before the familiar sound of an unusual text alert made him widen his eyes. John realizes how his friend is in the building and probably heard everything that had been said.***Sherlock is about to grab the door handle of his home, but something caught his eye. The way the lock seems to have been broken, as if the door was kicked open. Sherlock pushes the door open slowly, walking inside only to see the cleaning materials that clearly belongs to his landlady.He glances to his left, inhaling and sensing a familiar fragrance. Chanel.Sherlock could not explain the sudden boiling rage he feels upon realizing that two women had been grabbed and possibly hurt inside his home. He slowly goes up the stairs and opens the door that leads to his flat.The person he immediately sees is Mrs. Hudson, sitting on a chair with the man pressing the barrel of the gun into her temple.Sherlock looks around, but could not find the other woman that he imagined to also be inside the flat. It occurs to him that she might not have been inside the building when the men arrived. He almost sighs in relief.“You know what we’re asking for, Mr. Holmes.”“I believe I do.”***Jocelyn comes back to Baker Street with a paper bag full of groceries. She’s humming a soft tune as she knocks on the door, only for it to slide open from the impact of her fist.She furrows her brows and just walks inside. “Mrs. Hudson?”Jocelyn left to buy groceries for the two men. Their refrigerator was empty and Mrs. Hudson was complaining so naturally, Jocelyn insisted.She pushes the door open, planning to just put the groceries away until she sees a man strapped into a chair with duct tape covering his mouth.Jocelyn widens her eyes, seeing the blood on his forehead trickling down his face. “What—”“Oh, hello, Jocelyn.” She snaps her head to her right, seeing Sherlock calmly sitting down with his legs crossed and a gun aimed towards the man. “Sit down, have a cup of tea.”“Oh, God. Are you okay, Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock stands to hand her the gun. Jocelyn eyes him with shock. “Are you serious?”“Of course. Mrs. Hudson’s been attacked and I will not deal with the attacker so lightly. I have to write a note on the door, excuse me.”Naturally, Jocelyn trusts his judgment. She keeps one arm around Mrs. Hudson while the other held the heavy gun aiming towards the man.Minutes later, John comes back, only to be greeted by the same scene Jocelyn witnessed.“Lestrade, we’ve had a break in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance.”Downstairs, Jocelyn is watching John treat the cut on Mrs. Hudson’s cheek. Her arms are crossed, a bit nervous about the whole ordeal.“John, who were those guys?”“They were the ones who broke into Irene Adler’s home while we were in there. Good thing Irene was wearing Sherlock’s coat during the whole thing. Would have been uncomfortable.”“Uncomfortable how?”“Oh, uh, well. She kind of showed up without, err, her clothes? During the first time we met her. Bold move of hers, Sherlock had to offer his coat.”“Naked? Why on Earth would she meet with Sherlock while being disrobed?” She asks the question that Jocelyn wanted to ask.Dominatrix. The only word Jocelyn can think of, repeating it over and over inside her head.***Jocelyn stands with Lestrade and Sherlock right outside of 221B, watching as the ambulance drives the so-called burglar to the hospital.Sherlock practically admits that he threw the man out the window multiple times. Greg only shakes his head at him, giving Jocelyn a look of acknowledgement, barely noticing the hint of amusement on the woman’s face as he walks away.She clears her throat. “Nice of you to save Mrs. Hudson.”“I didn’t save her. I’m the one who got her into this mess.” Sherlock mutters.Jocelyn’s smile slowly fades away. Before she could even say anything, he goes back into Mrs. Hudson’s house. He lets Jocelyn slip past him first before he closes the door and begins to wipe the soles of his shoes onto the mat.“She’s in shock, for God’s sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it anyway?”Sherlock wipes the corner of his mouth. “Safest place I know.” He glances at Mrs. Hudson.“He left it in the pocket of his second best dressing gown, you clot. Jocelyn managed to sneak it out while they thought I was having a cry.”Sherlock raises his brows, looking towards the young woman who mockingly gives him a bow. “You’re very welcome.”“Shame on you, John Watson.”“Shame on me?”“Mrs. Hudson, leave Baker Street?” He wraps an arm around Mrs. Hudson and pulls her close. “England would fall.”Jocelyn could feel her heart pounding from the sight of Sherlock making Mrs. Hudson happy.Some time later, the three of them leave Mrs. Hudson in her flat and went back upstairs.“Irene Adler is alive.”Her eyes widen. “Alive? But her body was...”“Yeah, fake body, my guess. I met up with her earlier.” He explains, seeing the mixture of expressions flashing on her face. “I would really love some help right now, to watch over Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson is starting to worry.”“Oh. So, will that make things better? Her being alive?”“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” John watches Sherlock clean his violin and clears his throat, but the detective doesn’t look up. Jocelyn stays by the kitchen doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame and watches them.“So, she’s alive, then. How are we feeling about that?”There is a pause, and Sherlock doesn’t want to answer his question. The Big Ben suddenly tolls its bell, making all three of them look in its direction.The consulting detective looks away from the direction of Big Ben. “Happy New Year, to you both.”“Do you think you’ll be seeing her again?”Sherlock ignores him, taking his bow and violin to play the familiar tune of Auld Lang Syne. John feels himself waver, but he decides not to push his flatmate into talking to him, recalling what Jocelyn advised him not to do.***Jocelyn stands in the kitchen, wiping the wine glasses. She lets out a sigh, putting away the glasses and just thinks to herself for a second. This flat has felt like a second home to her, which is probably why she insisted with staying for a bit during New Year’s Eve. Jocelyn doesn’t exactly want to be alone during this time of the year.She slightly jumps upon seeing Sherlock standing behind her. “Christ.”“Why are you still here?”She walks past him to the shelves. “Go to sleep, Sherlock. I’ll see myself out in a few minutes, I just need to clean all this mess up.”“You don’t live here anymore. Everything within 221B is none of your top priorities.”“Just… leave me be, Sherlock.”“You’re here because John asked you to be. He asked you to monitor me, did he not?”“Yes, he did.”“I’m not a child.”“I understand that, Sherlock. But the past few days haven’t been easy for you. Including John and Mrs. Hudson. They need help, just as you do.”“Why would I need help?”“Ask John, I’m just here if you need me.”“Why… would I need you?”Jocelyn isn’t sure if he’s aware that he’s uttered those exact words to her already. It makes her throat tighten.“I don’t know.” She truthfully answers, turning around to clean the sink.When she assumed that he left already because of the silence, she breathes more freely. Jocelyn closes her eyes and reaches up to wipe her eyes, keeping herself awake.Her body tenses upon feeling warmth behind her, her gaze goes downward. Jocelyn feels a hot breath brushing against her neck, and there is a hint of scotch and whiskey that indicated his alcohol-induced state.Jocelyn gasps as she feels Sherlock’s fingers on the skin of her arm, tracing upwards agonizingly slow. “Sherlock, what… what are you doing?”He doesn’t answer, but his movements are quite enough. She turns to face the man and sees his confused expression. Their bodies are almost pressed against each other.She looks down and sees how his hand is still curled around her wrist in a gentle manner. “Sherlock, what are you—”“I loathe you.”His words makes her stomach twist in pain.“Whenever you are inside my home, I feel as though you are always intruding my life.” His deep voice had a certain timbre to it and it sends shivers down her spine, albeit the words he just uttered. “You continue to burden me with your existence and antics around me, disturbing me from my work, disrupting the natural process of my thoughts and most importantly…”Jocelyn prepares herself for the worst, just looking down at the ground and feeling downright miserable from the way he talked her down.“Most importantly, none of which I have mentioned is bothering me. Not anymore. Your presence has become… crucial to my everyday work, and I… I dislike it.”A tear still manages to escape her eye. “Sherlock—” Her voice breaks, but gets cut off by Sherlock leaning down onto her to press his forehead against hers.“Jocelyn,” He mutters under his breath. His large hand still curls itself around her wrist in such a soft manner.Despite how much she wants to remain in that position, she knew that the sober version of Sherlock can never bring himself to do this. So, she reaches up to his chest to push Sherlock away. Sherlock’s face fills with confusion just around the same time the door swings open to reveal John.Upon seeing the very odd sight in front of him, John’s grin slowly fades and turns into a face of surprise.On the other hand, the young woman clears her throat and feels her face heat up. “Er, sorry for the mess.” Her voice is slightly shaking, walking past the two men and going to the living room.John gives Sherlock a look, seeing the way the detective’s gaze follows the young lady. It takes a few moments until Sherlock meets gaze with John, who shakes his head in confusion as if to ask him what happened. Sherlock doesn’t answer, turning on his heels before walking straight to his room. John enters the living room and sees Jocelyn wrapping the scarf around her neck.“What happened back there?”Jocelyn gives off a nervous laugh. “Oh, John, I don’t know and I really don’t want to know.”“Hey, it’s two in the morning. You should at least stay the night.”“No, I can’t. I really can’t.”He sighs again. “Jocelyn…”She stops herself and turns around, smiling bitterly. “Fuck, I am so bloody confused right now. What made him think that was an okay thing to do?”The way tears are currently filling her eyes and she immediately wipes away anything that escapes, it could only confirm that she cares about Sherlock more than she lets on.“I just can never win with him. I don’t understand him, I just... want to know what he wants from me, I’m so tired of guessing/”“Jocelyn, I am so sorry,” he tells her, stepping forward but stopping himself from getting any closer when Jocelyn steps back while shaking her head as she leaves.Sherlock remains inside his room, standing nearby his door. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the camera phone that the Woman left to him. Meanwhile, Jocelyn settles inside her apartment, already deeming this to be the worst way to start the New Year.
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The next day, Sherlock wakes up with a slight thrumming in his head. Sherlock slowly leaves his room, spotting John in the main area, reading today’s newspaper with the radio on. He glances at the kitchen counter and sees an Aspirin pill and a cup of tea. The consulting detective takes the pill, the cup of tea in between his hands and took a sip.John raises his brows at Sherlock’s morning state, noticing how he slept in his clothes from last night. “Hey,”“Good morning.”John watches his for a second, looking down at the detective’s hands. They were shaking while he grips the cup of tea.“I think you had too much to drink last night.”“Don’t be absurd. You and I both know that I can never be too intoxicated.”“Does Jocelyn know that?”“Do make sense, John. I cannot see how and why Jocelyn fits into the narrative of me handling my liquor.”John isn’t sure which head he wants to slam onto the wall more; his or Sherlock’s. “You suppressed your urge to relapse by drinking last night. Yes, Sherlock, I did notice. Is it because of Jocelyn?”“No.” Sherlock immediately answers. “No. I am fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. If there is, it’s normal.”“Sherlock, there’s nothing normal here.”“Nothing is going on.”“Then would you explain to me what happened last night?”“Last night?”“Yes, last night, in the kitchen. Do you even remember?”“Of course, I remember. I hid the phone where no one can find it, came back here and… went to sleep,” He slows down with speaking by the end of his sentence, even questioning himself if that’s really all he did.“You and I remember last night very differently.”Sherlock doesn’t remember everything, but the instinct of touching his own fingertips from the memory of them being against her warm skin; it was all he needed to know. He clenches his jaw, puts down his cup of tea on the small table next to him, presses his palms together.--“Come on, Sherlock! You work all the time, you’re missing out on a lot!”Sherlock pressed his lips together, wrapping the coat around himself with his gloved hands. “It’s too cold out, Jocelyn.”“Which is why you’re missing out!” She laughed, and her grayish blue hair peeked out of her hat and framed her flushed face.“I fail to see the point of leaving the house to hold a ball of snow and carelessly thro—” He was cut off by a snowball hitting his face and the loud laugh leaving the young girl’s mouth.He also hears a snort to his left, making him tilt his head and see his brother covering his mouth with his gloved hand. He glared at his brother.“Sherl, stop being so pristine, gosh.”“Yes, Sherl, do stop being pristine.” Mycroft emphasized on the silly nickname that Jocelyn gave him, chuckling a bit.Sherlock gave up and stepped into the snow, feeling repulsed as his boot sank into the pile. His teeth almost chattered from the cold, but when he saw the genuine look of happiness in her face—which Sherlock is slowly recognizing—it was worth it.Soon, it took a long conversation with Mrs. Holmes to get Sherlock off the pile of snow, since he was quite enjoying making snow angels as Jocelyn showed him.Jocelyn now wore a sweater after being outside for almost three hours. Mrs. Holmes bringing them hot cocoa.This week has been the time Jocelyn saw Sherlock wearing something else other than his fancy looking suits and shiny black shoes.While holding her hot cocoa mug, she leaned her shoulder on Sherlock’s shoulder as he reads a book and becomes more comfortable that way. Mycroft silently smiles at them as he passed the living room.New Year’s Eve came by quite quickly and Sherlock watched his parents share a sweet midnight kiss. He saw no point in how special New Year’s Eve kiss is when a person can engage in such activity with their significant other in all occasions.He felt a soft nest of hair tickle the skin of his neck, looking down and recognizing the bright blue hair. Jocelyn leaned her head on his shoulder.Nothing else happened that was remotely close to their kiss weeks ago. Just them acting like nothing happened, but at the same time, like everything changed.“Happy New Year, Jocelyn.”She said nothing, but he knew that she was smiling.When it was time to go back to campus, Jocelyn found herself embracing each family member too long and too tightly. They have become her second family in the course of three weeks. They arrive at her flat, and Sherlock turned to her.“I, um, have something for you.” He said, reaching behind to the backseat and takes a wooden box with a hinge that could let the lid be opened and closed.“Oh? What is it?”Sherlock opens the box and reveals a steel pen. “A fountain pen.”She smiled in a confused manner, taking the thin pen out of the box. She narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion. “This isn’t a normal pen, isn’t it?”Sherlock wasn’t that surprise with her immediate guess. “You know me so well. It can emit a signal that can disrupt the chemicals of the brain, making the person react by being paralyzed momentarily.”“Really, Sherlock?” She asked in a much more sarcastic tone.“I made it in high school.”“Of course, you did. Thank you, I love it.”Sherlock nodded, helping her with her luggage and now stood in front of her door. Jocelyn was right in front of him, just looking up and waiting for him to do anything he might feel like doing. “Thank you for staying with us for three weeks, I highly appreciate it.”“No, Sherlock, I’m the one who has to thank you, okay? I have never celebrated Christmas that way. So, thank you for inviting me.”“What was that?” He asked, pretending as if he didn’t hear.“I said, thank you.”Sherlock had half a smile on his face. He had never felt happier than he did the last few months. He pressed his forehead against hers and reached down to grab her hand.Never has he ever felt as though only one person mattered to him at one moment. She leaned in and pressed their lips together, eyes closing immediately as her hand reached up to cup his cheek. It was just a peck, but it was enough to send him in frenzy.His mind recorded every single millisecond of it. Everything he felt was in record and put into a single place inside his head; everything about Jocelyn. It was just space, no specific place—not yet, at least.--Irene shows him the photograph of an email on her camera phone, talking about an MOD official who was associated with her.He views the code on the screen, looking for any clues and barely noticing Irene Adler leaning closer to him than she should. “What can you do, Mr. Holmes? Go on. Impress a girl.” She goes to kiss his cheek.Yeah, Sherlock, impress a girl. Sherlock can almost hear Jocelyn’s contagious laughter in the back of his head. He can definitely see her laughing at Irene’s attempts into seducing him. He begins to explain the code, speaking in a rapid speed. John looks at Irene for a moment, seeing the way she looks at Sherlock.“Please don’t feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing.”Irene’s gaze is intense, Sherlock can see how other men can get weak in the knees when they lock eyes with her. Fortunately, Sherlock is never one of those men. What she says next is quite unexpected though, especially right in front of John. “I would have you right here, on the desk, until you begged for mercy twice.”The room goes silent.Sherlock just stares back at her, trying to see what she’s playing at.“…John, please can you check those flight schedules, see if I’m right?”“Uh, yeah, I’m on it.”Sherlock barely blinks. “I’ve never begged for mercy in my life.”“Twice.”Sherlock isn’t sure what she means by that, before John speaks and confirms his deductions. Bond Air is go. Flight Double O Seven. Coventry lot.
“Sherlock, you know what this means, right?”
“Coventry.” Sherlock plucks at the violin strings as he tells her.What surprises him is that the image of Jocelyn was never there, it is only Irene, still sitting on John’s chair. She has been watching him, just thinking to himself while plucking the strings of his violin.Sherlock’s lips part in surprise. “Where’s… John?”“He went out a couple of hours ago.”“I was just talking to him.”“He said you do that. What’s Coventry got to do with anything?” She asks him and he tells her the story of Coventry, since he thought she was genuinely curious.“Have you ever had anyone?”Sherlock pauses. “Sorry?”She gives him a slight smirk. “And when I say ‘had’ I’m being indelicate.”Sherlock hates the way he can feel the heat travel up his neck and onto his face from humiliation. “I don’t understand.”“I’ll be delicate, then,” she unfolds her legs exposing her thighs before she kneels in front of him, face closer than he is comfortable with. She places the warmth of her hand on top of his.“Let’s have dinner.”“Why?”“You might be hungry.”“I’m not.”She smiles. “Good.”He looks down at their hands, feeling how hers is much softer than the pair of hands he remembered holding. It did not feel right.He twists her hand slowly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. “Why would I… want to have dinner… if I wasn’t hungry?”“Oh, Mr. Holmes…” she sighs, eyeing his lips. He notices the way her pupils have dilated. “If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night; would you have dinner with me?”He narrows his eyes, hand still curled around her wrist. Sherlock is about to answer when they both hear footsteps up the staircase and land right outside the door. Sherlock looks from the corner of his eye and see the familiar brown curls belonging to Jocelyn. He freezes.“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she turns away almost immediately.“Jocelyn.” Sherlock speaks up before he could stop himself, and it startles Irene, who just lets go of Sherlock’s hand and moving back to her previous seat.Irene bites her lip, looking over her shoulder to see if the other woman might come back. And she does, a bit nervous now. “Sorry, John just told me to come. He didn’t really mention any guests,”Sherlock pushes himself off the chair and stands on his feet. “Did you need something?”“Uh, I was, um, meaning to talk to you, but that can wait if you have a guest over.”He watches her for a moment before glancing at Irene Adler, who looks between the two of them. “Not a guest. Client. This is Miss Irene Adler. She’ll be staying here for a while, given her circumstances.”Irene smiles at her. “It’s nice to meet you.” Jocelyn parts her lips in shock, seeing the way the perfect structure of her face compliments her body. She’s wearing Sherlock’s dressing gown, which means she’s wearing nothing underneath. Jocelyn can never explain the type of pain she felt upon realizing that.“You’re the—”“Dominatrix, yes,” she cheekily tells her with a glint in her eyes, eyeing her from head to toe.“I was going to say ‘The Woman’ but dominatrix is fine as well.” She mutters, only making Irene chuckle.“And you are?”“Jocelyn.” She stretches her hand and walks over to her, to shake hers.It feels quite awkward, and Jocelyn is still unsure of what exactly she interrupted.Irene narrows her eyes at her. “I know you somewhere.”“Oh, you probably don’t.”“No, no, you’re the doctor from the papers a few months ago, I remember you.” She grins, letting go of her hand. “I can go upstairs or to Mr. Holmes’ room if you two need to talk.”“It can wait, really.”“Jocelyn…”“No, it’s okay. You have a… case ongoing. Bad timing. I’ll just head on home, it was nice meeting you, Irene.” She smiles at her as well, going to the front door and leaving before Sherlock could even make another mistake of calling out to her again.Sherlock clenches his jaw and takes a seat on his chair again, putting his violin back on his lap to pluck at the strings.Irene watches him for another moment, a smile forming on her face. “Is that why you don’t want to have dinner with me?”“Pardon?”“You love her, don’t you?”Sherlock narrows his eyes. “And what has led you to that conclusion?”“Body language says almost everything, Mr. Holmes, and earlier, you were saying a lot.”“I don’t have to deny it. It’s untrue. You don’t have to lecture me, Miss Adler. I know exactly what love looks like. I do watch television and read the papers.” He sarcastically remarks.“I rarely read the papers, Mr. Holmes. But I’ve broken into your room. How nice of you to keep a newspaper in there to help me kill time while waiting for you. Regardless of how outdated it is.”Irene smirks once Sherlock is at loss for words.“We all feel love at some point in our lives, Mr. Holmes. The only conflict is if we don’t reach for it in time.”***“That’s all it takes. One lonely, naïve man desperate to show off. And a woman clever enough to make him feel special.”“You should screen your defense people more carefully.”“I’m not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock, I’m talking about you! Is that really all it takes for you to unravel? A woman making you feel special? Is that the great Sherlock Holmes’ weakness?”“I don’t understand.”“A damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook.” He gives him a disproving look. “You’ve already been through the same cycle, although the previous one was much worse. The promise of love, the pain of loss. The joy of redemption. Then, give him a puzzle, and watch him dance.”The consulting detective watches him for a moment, finding it ridiculous how Mycroft is comparing Irene Adler and Jocelyn Grant. “Don’t be absurd.”“Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it a full minute? Or were you really eager to impress?”“I think it was less than five seconds.” He turns to face the Woman.Once again, Sherlock let a woman get the best of him.***“You’ve been very thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you.”“I can’t take all the credit, I had a bit of help.” She informs, glancing at Sherlock. “Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love.”And that was finally something he can work with.Sherlock is about to speak, when something catches his eye. He glances to his right and sees Jocelyn sitting on the edge of another chair. He slightly gapes at her for a moment, glancing behind him and seeing no one there.Finally, the whole room melts into the Musgrave Hall flat, ivory staining the walls. Sherlock lets out a frustrated groan. “I can’t have this right now.”“Miss me?”“No. I’m in the middle of a case.”“Doesn’t feel like a case, anymore. Big, bad, Mycroft looks very disappointed.”“As he always looks when he’s speaking to me, what is the point of you?”“You figured out the code, haven’t you? Or else, I wouldn’t be here. I’m how you figured out the passcode.”“Don’t be absurd.”“It’s true!” She lets out a small laugh once Sherlock turns away from her. “You recognized the signs, didn’t you?”“What signs?”She walks over towards him again and putting a soft hand on his cheek.Sherlock blinks, lips parting in surprise. The image of her suddenly turns to smoke and fades away. He finds himself sitting on his chair like before.“And here you are, the Dominatrix that brought the whole nation to its knees. Nicely played.”“No.”“Sorry?”“I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away,” he stands on his feet, making his way towards the pair. “The game was too elaborate, you were enjoying yourself too much.”“There’s no such thing as too much.”“Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side.”“Sentiment? What are you talking about?”“You.”“Oh, dear God. Look at the poor man. You don’t actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you’re the great Sherlock Holmes? The clever detective in the funny hat?”“No,” he steps forward, hand reaching down to curl around her wrist.She held her breath once Sherlock is close to her, even eyeing his lips for good measure. Sherlock can feel it radiate from her body; love and lust.He leans down close to her ear and whispers, “Because I took your pulse, elevated. Your pupils dilated.” He reaches behind her, taking the camera phone with him.“I imagine John Watson thinks that love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive.”His words were enough to receive a raised eyebrow from Mycroft, which goes unnoticed.“This is your heart and you should never let it rule your head. You’ve once lectured me about how love is something we all feel at one point in our lives, and the only conflict is how we do not reach for it sooner.”Irene Adler appears conflicted, tears filling her eyes as if to confirm that she had been caught. Loving Sherlock Holmes is quite impossible, she realizes. Because then, no one can truly hide their feelings from him.“I always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you, for the final proof.”Irene reaches for his hands and he glances at them. Her hands are cold, a clear sign of distress. Most importantly, he did not feel anything once she made contact with his skin.“Everything I said, it’s not real. I was just playing the game.”“I know, and this is just losing.”***Sherlock walks down the street on the way home. He declined Mycroft’s offer of a car drive, wanting some time alone to reflect on everything he has done today. Another reason is that he isn’t exactly headed to Baker Street.Once he reaches the apartment building, he uses the elevator to the third floor. Sherlock walks down the empty hallway and searches for a specific number on a door. He stands in front of the door and recalls what he has to say, and closes his eyes. He has to do this.He raises his fist to knock on the door, immediately looking down at his shoes and observing the wooden floor as though it is the most interesting thin he has seen all day.The handle of the door jingles a bit before it swings open, revealing Jocelyn in a jumper and shorts. Her hair is an utter mess and her face is clear from makeup. Sherlock notices the glass of wine and a bottle placed on the coffee table.Jocelyn widens her eyes. “Sherlock.”“Good evening.”“It’s… midnight.”“Hence the ‘good evening?’”“How did you even find my apartment? Was it Mycroft or John?”“No. I found it myself. You came to my flat to talk about something. Well,” he decides to welcome himself into her apartment. Jocelyn only sighs and rolls her eyes, closing the door behind her. “Talk.”“Talk? Sherlock, look at the time.”“Exactly. And evidently, you’re still awake.” He gestures towards the drink on the coffee table.“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”“You clearly didn’t when you came to Baker Street this evening.”She scoffs, crossing her arms. “You had a guest over. I’m not going to interrupt that.”“She was not a guest, she was a client.” He insists. “I may have caused a… national project to be cancelled.”Until now, she can’t believe Sherlock is inside of her flat.“But it’s fine now. I’ve solved it. I have given the camera phone to my dear brother, and now I can finally talk about the night before.”“…The night before? What are you on about?”“Isn’t that why you came to Baker Street? John has informed me of unclear actions I have done, so I am here to try to understand.”“Sherlock, can’t this wait?”“No, it can’t. You see, I have another case tom—”“Then fucking don’t bother me, okay?” She snaps at him, making the consulting detective silence with wide eyes. “If you’re too busy, don’t bother me. Make time if you really want to talk about things, alright? I’m going to bed, lock the door on your way out.” She headed towards her bedroom.Sherlock eyes her, a bit surprised that she decided to not give him her time now. She looked drained and tired, Sherlock almost wants to ask why. As much as he dislikes being in the same space as her, Sherlock knows that deep down, he still respects her.So, when Jocelyn closes the door of her bedroom, Sherlock pauses and lets out a sigh, glancing at the bottle and glass on the table. He looks to his right and sees a bin filled with empty alcoholic bottles.Sherlock sees a few boxes at one corner. What caught his eye about the box is the label with a name, blocked by other boxes. Of course, he soon deduced it to be his name.He chooses not to open the box and proceeds to the exit with a heaving sigh.
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“Where did you say you went last night?” John feels the need for Sherlock to repeat his words.Sherlock is calmly stirring his coffee. “Jocelyn’s apartment.”“…You just went there in the middle of the night?”“Yes.”“What did she say?”“I believe she said something along the lines of fucking don’t bother me.”“Oh.”Meanwhile, Jocelyn grips the edge of the sink and lets out a breath, remembering how Sherlock came over last night unexpectedly. The look on his face, why did it appear so easy for him to finally come up to her and speak when he always looked annoyed by the thought of talking to her?She was tying her hair when her phone suddenly starts ringing. Jocelyn walks towards it by the coffee table and picks it up without looking. Turns out, it was Jack, calling to ask her out on a date tonight. Jocelyn hesitates, but he sounded very sweet and kind. It only pushes her to say yes.She didn’t want to disappoint another person again. And on top of that, she has to stop thinking about Sherlock.Jocelyn goes to Scotland Yard, greeting some people along the way. Once she opens the door, she jumps in surprise upon seeing three men already there.“Morning, you’re late.” Lestrade points out and circles around the desk to push the pile of papers towards her.“Sorry for coming so early,” John lightly chuckles, seeing how tired she still is. The last man remains quiet, just watching her movements and frowning to himself.Jocelyn coughs. “Well, can’t really say no. What are you all doing here?”“Are you alright?” Lestrade asks.“I’m fine.” She says, but finishes off with a sneeze into her handkerchief.John presses a hand over her forehead. Jocelyn groans and pushes him away. “You have a fever.”“I said, I’m okay. Let me work, yeah? I’m alright.”John holds his hands up in defense, glancing at the others as if to say that they should leave her alone. Lestrade and John left the room and only two remain. Jocelyn hardly notices Sherlock, and only does once she looks up and sees him standing on the other side of the table.“What are you still doing here?”“You’ve been working nonstop for weeks now.”“As if you never do that.”“I’ll have you know that I still sleep and eat, I’m not a robot. I know I’m still human.”Jocelyn looks at him with confusion in her eyes. “You come over my apartment at bloody midnight to talk and now you’re telling me to take care of myself? What’s going on with you?”Sherlock only clenches his jaw, not sure how to answer her questions. He remembers saying to Jocelyn that he never questioned why she left, when really; it was all he could think of for the next few years.“I’m only advising you to rest.”Jocelyn looks away for a moment. “I’m fine. Another homicide case?”Sherlock pauses, realizing that he cannot win against a stubborn woman like her. Therefore, he pulls out some papers and hands them to her. She stares for a moment and grabs them.Sherlock straightens his back, arms settling behind him as he watches her gather the things she needs into a container. She says nothing as she carries the box outside the lab and leaves Sherlock behind without another word. Sherlock frowns, but exits the lab as well.***Jocelyn is crouching near the bodies, taking photos of it all with her camera. She is wearing her latex gloves and wearing her mask. Jocelyn is not very keen with wearing those gowns that most of the team wears, and of course, only her and Sherlock refused to wear one.Jocelyn is so confused, to say the least. Well, it’s a fit emotion when someone feels watched by a person and she can definitely tell that Sherlock is observing her work.“Something is quite definitely, out of place,” Sherlock points out, taking a few whiffs of the air. “Can you smell that?”“Smell what, perfume?” Lestrade can definitely smell something.Sherlock narrows his eyes into slits, squatting down next to the dead woman inhales sharply. He repeats his action and almost smirks to himself. Jocelyn rolls her eyes.“That woman has not put any perfume on herself.” He answers as if it makes a lot of sense. His smirk fades away once no one else says anything. “There’s no perfume in the air.”“But, there is. Lestrade could smell it, I can smell it.”“No, what you both sensed was the perfume belonging to Jocelyn. The perfume that the woman owns is not on her right now.”John glances at Jocelyn, who appears to be surprised that Sherlock can still identify her perfume.“I can vouch for that, the wounds are fresh and couldn’t have been less than two hours earlier.” She agrees with what Sherlock has said. The consulting detective only gives her a nod and looks towards John.John gives a nod and walks out of the house where the police were. Jocelyn sighs and sorts her things inside the box.Sherlock walks towards her. “Get the bodies to Dr. Hooper’s morgue. Have them go through their post-mortems.”“Sherlock, I’m quite aware of what my job is.”Sherlock purses his lips and watches her. “Jocelyn.”“Yes?”“We have to talk.”“Talk? About what?” She asks while sliding off her latex gloves and putting them into the box.“Everything.”“…What do you mean?”“Just that. We should talk.”“Alright… not here, maybe.”Sherlock gives her an odd look. “Why not here?”She raises her eyebrows at him, directing her pupils towards the bloodied ground. “Dead family in their home—?”“Oh, right, yes. No, of course. Not here.” He glances at the bodies on the floor being carefully placed onto a stretcher by one of the people of her team. Sherlock slips his hands into his coat as Jocelyn closes the lid of the box.“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk again, after I basically kicked you out of my apartment.”Sherlock stays quiet for a moment. “After work?”“Um, I have plans after work.”“Oh. Would tomorrow suit your schedule?”Jocelyn opens her mouth, thinking that Sherlock might change his mind if she tells him that she’s unavailable tonight, but he doesn’t, it’s fairly surprising how he’s pushing this.“Yeah, tomorrow is good.”“I will meet you at your apartment.”***“Jocelyn is not free tonight.” Sherlock says out loud.John raises his brows. Of course, this is about Jocelyn. “She’s going on a date tonight.”This makes Sherlock grimace and sit up from the sofa. “Who is?”“Jocelyn. She’s going on a date tonight with Jack.”“How appalling.” He scoffs. “Did you even seen her today? She looked terrible. Ready to collapse at any given second.”His worry only makes John chuckle. “She’s pretty strong. She can handle herself. By the way, why did you solve the case this quick?”“How do you mean?”“I mean just that. You solved this way too quickly. Not even two hours, Sherlock, you managed to figure out the killer’s address.”“I always do that, John.”“No, you don’t. You let cases drag on so you don’t have to stay home for the whole day. What’s going on with you, seriously?”“Nothing is going on with me, John.”--Jocelyn was blindfolded, grinning from ear to ear as she was led inside a building. She was giggling to herself, yelping whenever she took the wrong step.Sherlock had never been this happy. Last time he remembered smiling this often was when his brother, Mycroft, still used to live with their parents. That is, until Mycroft had to go to university to study.They only just got back a week ago and Sherlock thought it would be a great idea to show Jocelyn his flat outside the campus.He has never shown it to her, so he thought they could have a night in. Although, the blindfold is much too extreme in Jocelyn’s opinion.“Sherlock, the blindfold is a bit much.” She laughed.“Stand here, that is brilliant. Alright, you can take the blindfold off.”Jocelyn excitedly took the blindfold off, eyes lighting up to see the place. “Oh, wow. This place is amazing, Sherlock. Did you clean this up yourself?”“Yes, only for the best guests.”She caught sight of a few picture frames, presumably photos of Sherlock and Mycroft. “I love your place, Sherlock. It’s cozy and quite lovely.”“It’s nothing much really.”She widened her eyes in disbelief. “Are you kidding? If this was my place, I would never leave.”“It could be.”She froze, hands tensing up. Sherlock noticed and he immediately felt as if he regretted everything he just said.She slowly turned around, silent for a second. “Sherlock?”“Yes?”“Did you just ask me to move in with you?”Sherlock stammered. “Yes, I did, but I will be quite understanding if—”“Yes.”Sherlock stopped talking out of shock. “What?”“I said yes,” Jocelyn talked too fast.“…Oh, okay. Um, I wasn’t expecting an answer right at this second, or even on this day, but that’s… that’s good.”“Yeah, it’s good.” She agreed, just facing him with an astonished look. “This is fast.”“Too fast.”“I don’t find it in myself to care.”Sherlock pursed his lips together. “Neither do I.”From those words, Jocelyn broke out into a fit of laughter before throwing herself towards him, embracing him tightly with a squeal. Sherlock grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall onto the ground with him, laughing into her neck.After that, Jocelyn found herself packing everything she owned by the end of the day. She moved in with him the following day, not wanting to wait anymore.When Sherlock came home, Jocelyn was in the middle of the living room surrounded by moving boxes. Jocelyn had a burst of energy, bouncing off the walls and Sherlock could never find it in himself to ever get used to this.He smiled and walked towards her, seeing how she wore pink sleeping clothes in the middle of the afternoon. Sherlock pulled a single rose from behind his back and she scoffed at it, already beginning to laugh.He only brought her a rose to mock those awful couples at Uni who show each other off way too much to a point of utter toothache.“God, you’re a bloody moron.”“Moron?” He went along her joke.“Yeah, you heard me. You’re a moron.” She teased him, reaching for the collar of his formal dark green button-up to fix it.Sherlock put Jocelyn’s hand on his shoulder and wrapped one arm around her waist, another holding her other hand. They danced to the music, looking into each other’s eyes. It was their own little world.“I call this place as my Musgrave Hall flat.”“Musgrave Hall is miles away from here.”“I know. This is my home away from home. My Musgrave Hall flat.” Sherlock informed her with a lively grin on his face. “Now, it’s yours as well.”She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you.”It still surprises him how Jocelyn shows her gratitude as if she got more out of this than he ever did, when it is the other way around. He just spun her around during their dance and dipped her, and it made the girl laugh before she threw her head back.--Meanwhile, Sherlock narrows his eyes at the pinned photos on his wall. Photos of everyone associated with Moriarty. His eyes catches the photo of Irene Adler and his expression softens.He reaches for her photo and plucks it off the wall, staring at her for a moment. Her mind would have been a valuable ally, quite a shame that she decided to use it to con everyone she comes across.He rolls his eyes and pins the photo back on the wall. The only conflict, not reaching for it in time.Is she enjoying the date? Did he take her to a dreadful restaurant? Is he even aware of how traumatized she may be of even entering a restaurant after what happened to her? Is Dr. Palmer even aware of what her favorite dish is? Does he even know how Jocelyn is feeling sick enough to need—“Oh, for God’s sake. John, get your coat. We’re leaving.”He barely even notices Mrs. Hudson welcoming herself inside with a plate of food. “Sherlock, it’s a new year. Do you even have any idea how to take a break, do you?”“Where’s John?”“He left this afternoon, love. Did you not notice?”“No.”“Well, you should eat at least. Get some rest. Or, you could go outside and have a bit of a fresh air, how does that sound?”“Thank you for the food.” He dismisses her, focusing on the matter at hand. Where are you hiding, Jim Moriarty?On the other hand, Jocelyn cautiously observes her surroundings, taking in the soft Jazz band from a distance as the waiter fills her glass with wine. Jack smiles at her and compliments her appearance for the fifth time tonight.The hue of yellow light illuminates the entire area as indistinct chattering fills the restaurant. They talk casually, and somehow, the topic goes to their academic studies.“You were in New York for eight years?”“It felt longer than that, really.”“How’s New York, then?”Jocelyn’s smile falters. “Uh, well, it certainly wasn’t the grandest time of my life, but I finished my studies there and I’m very happy about that.”New York was supposed to be her chance to have a new beginning. After she left England the very next day of her graduation, it was a little bit comforting knowing that New York was waiting for her.But of course, that wasn’t exactly the case. See, New York never waits for a stranger like her.After they’ve finished their meals, Jack is now discussing his plans for his class this year. Jocelyn looks towards the glass of wine again.“Is there something wrong?”“Uh, no. No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just... I’m just not used to being in a restaurant after, um,”He furrows his brows. “After what?”Jocelyn takes a deep breath, her chest suddenly feels tighter than before. The light dims itself, but another source of light casts themselves upon her. The blue light washes over her.“Why did you leave England eight years ago, Jocelyn?” Silence.“What’s your favorite dish, Jocelyn?” Silence. “Nothing? Favorite drink, then?” Silence.“How about your relationship with our dear Sherlock?” Silence. The words echo around her.Jim Moriarty breathes down her neck. “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden,” He has a sinister tone to his voice as he sings what used to be a happy song in Jocelyn’s head, a tiny whisper laced with such menace.She freezes, seeing the figure of him circle the table where she’s sitting, much similar to how he walked around her while she was still inside that horrid place.He was wearing a grey suit, fitting his figure and making him look posh all while terrifying. “Jocelyn adores it when she’d talk, but not if I watch her like a hawk. She lost her voice and now I see, a freezer is definitely her cup of tea!”“Jocelyn?”She pushes her chair backwards and cringing at the sudden noise of it. She looks up and the image of Moriarty is gone. “I’m so sorry, I need to use the loo, excuse me.” Jocelyn apologizes to Dr. Palmer, who sits with confusion as he watches her walk away.Jocelyn pushes the door open and breathes heavily, clutching the edges of the sink with all the strength she can muster. She retches and immediately covers her mouth in distress. Disappointing a man who has been good to her is not really something she likes doing.But, for Christ’s sake, Moriarty has to leave her head. It’s been months! How has she not moved on?She keeps repeating that question in her head as she imagines what it was like to try to fight back while being drug-induced. The weight of the champagne bottle in her frail hands. The feeling of being dragged into the back of a car and being so powerless to stop it, and waking up inside a foreign place filled with butchered human beings.Jocelyn leans down and shakily sobs, tears directly dropping onto the marble sink. She wipes her face and fixes her clothes, making sure she doesn’t appear like a mess. Hopefully the dim lighting will do wonders to her reddish eyes.Jocelyn exits the restroom. Jack immediately sees her and shifts in his seat. Jocelyn takes the seat in front of him again and notices the look of confusion and concern on his face.“I want to go home.”“What? But we’ve just—”“Jack, I’m so sorry for cutting this short, but I really want to go home now.” Jocelyn rushes out the words from her mouth that it makes herself uncomfortable.He anxiously looks around, raising his hand to signal a waiter. The itch to leave this restaurant keeps building and building. She can barely keep up with it. They both walk to his car in silence.They reach her apartment, and Jack finally speaks. “Please, tell me what’s going on. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?”“No! Of course, not. I just, um, it got a little too much.”“What got too much for you? Me?”“No, not you. I’ve just been having a hard time being around people. Being in… restaurants. Drinking served wine.”“What happened to you, Jocelyn?” Jack asks cautiously.“…Thank you, for tonight. I really appreciate your efforts. You’re a nice man, but I just don’t think I’m the person for you.”Jack appears to be devastated. “Is there someone else?”Jocelyn blinks, parting her lips. That question would suggest that the certain someone else and Jocelyn are exclusively together, but that is not the truth.“Jack,” she trails off, not sure how to answer that now.He nods at her once before turning to his right and begins to walk towards the elevator they came from.Jocelyn frowns, hesitating as she walks inside her own apartment and locks the door behind herself. She flicks the light on and jumps in her place upon seeing the familiar dark figure just sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room.“What—How did you get in here?”“One question at a time, Jocelyn.” Sherlock mumbles, glancing at the door. “I don’t suppose I’m taking much of your time, then?”
Oh, bloody hell, this is going to be a long night, indeed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Was that the lovely doctor?” His tone is slightly mocking, which deliberately makes Jocelyn tilt her head. She is not sure why he spoke about Jack that way.“We had dinner. Should I be concerned about frequent visits now?”“You had dinner at a restaurant?”“Yes, what about it?”“You hate restaurants.”“I don’t hate restaurants. It’s just—now, hold on a minute. You broke into my flat! How did you even get in?”Sherlock calmly holds up a set of keys without tearing his gaze away from her.Jocelyn gives him an unimpressed look. “Did you really just nick John’s keys?”“Of course, it wasn’t that difficult. Given his state once he came home. Is Dr. Palmer even aware of what you have dealt with inside a restau—”“Sherlock, I swear, if you keep talking, I will duct tape your mouth and tie you to the post until the sun comes up.” Jocelyn palms her forehead, and Sherlock immediately stops talking. “Look, I just want to rest. I don’t have time for your…your Sherlock-ness tonight, okay?” She turns and makes her way to her bottle of whiskey and pouring it into the glass.“I take it that the evening did not go so well.”She scoffs, taking the bottle into the living room. “No, not really.”“What happened?”“Please, do you really want to know?” She takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.“I am not entirely sure.”“What a dangerous world to live in. Sherlock Holmes being unsure of himself. Why are you here, Sherlock?”“John’s staying in some woman’s house. Mrs. Hudson is asleep. No one else would listen to me.”“And you just decided to steal John’s keys and go through almost an hour’s drive to where I live? I’m your last resort for company, then?”“Miss Grant, I do believe you should have called in sick this morning. Your temperature has gone up half a degree.”“We agreed to talk tomorrow after work.”“This could not possibly wait until tomorrow.”“Jesus, Sherlock. What can’t wait until tomorrow?”“Seeing you again.”Jocelyn’s face softens. She analyzes his words and the way he is looking at her, it is almost impossible to look away.This is all of a sudden. Jocelyn is now just confused that it happened and how Sherlock obviously appears to be making an effort to actually talk to her this time.She lets out a sigh and gives him one last look before turning around and walking to the kitchen without another word. Jocelyn walks back to the living room with another glass in her hand. Sherlock parts his lips, almost as a refusal, but he does not voice out his thoughts.“I am not drinking alone during this strange situation.”He stares at it for a moment. Jocelyn sighs and is about to pour the extra drink into her own glass, only to be stopped by Sherlock’s much bigger hand. Jocelyn relaxes and lets the detective take the glass and sip from it.Sherlock finishes his drink in fewer than four gulps. “So, what happened?”Jocelyn fiddles with the drink in her hand. “Moriarty happened.”Sherlock is in full alert, sitting upright all of a sudden with wide eyes. “Where is he now? Why did you not call the police? Or John?”Or me. Sherlock thought to himself ridiculously. Thinking about the possibility of Moriarty even being twenty feet away from Jocelyn, it made Sherlock panic.Jocelyn jumps when Sherlock sits up straight, almost spilling her drink. “Calm down, Sherlock. It was only an apparition.”“Oh.”“Yeah, he just showed up and I felt… trapped. I needed to leave, and I obviously upset Jack and made him think it was his fault.”She has no idea that things would even end up like this, with Sherlock inside her flat casually sitting with her and drinking wine.“You were triggered by the familiarity of a restaurant and created a hallucination of a vile person. If you would ask John, I do believe he’d tell you that you did Dr. Palmer a favor.”“What?”“If you refused to acknowledge the presence of Moriarty, you would have chosen to stay in the restaurant. All chances would point towards the possibility of the situation to worsen. Leaving would have been better.”“Now that you’ve put it that way, I somehow feel a lot better.”A slow smile finds its way onto her face and surprisingly, Sherlock returns it before immediately reaching for the bottle on the table to pour himself another one.--“Mum, this is Sherlock. He performed with me at the concert, remember?”“Good morning, Miss Melrose. Your daughter has told me a lot about you.”Sherlock asked Jocelyn, in the politest way possible, if it was okay for it to be his turn to meet her parents. Frankly, it seemed a bit impossible for him to meet both of her parents, seeing as her father was in another city with a new family.For now, they settled with her mother, Helena Melrose.Miss Melrose only mustered a small smile at the young boy before directing her gaze back towards the television. Sherlock pressed his lips together awkwardly. Jocelyn frowned, shooting an apologetic expression at him. He only shook his head at her as if to say that it was fine.“Alright, mum. I’ll make you some tea in the kitchen. Sherlock, come help me?”He followed her to the kitchen. “I don’t mean to impose, but has your mother always been that way?”“Not really. I still have memories of her walking when I was younger. She had a dancing accident when I was seven.”It was odd to think that Jocelyn’s mother was a dancer, and it was the very reason why she could no longer use her legs. He glanced at Jocelyn, frowning to himself as he thought of the things that this young girl has been through.“My father couldn’t handle it, and filed for divorce. He won me in a custody battle and took me away from my mum and aunt.”Sherlock frowned to himself and had no idea what to reply.“My father wanted everything to be perfect. I remember how he used to yell at waiters in various restaurants during some nights because of their wine or food. Emphasize on restaurants, since we can’t go a night without storming out of at least three. God, he made me hate restaurants.”“He was a moron, then.” He states as a fact, not just a conclusion he just made.“You’re right about that,” she grinned at him.Jocelyn then asked him to take the tea to her mother. He walked back into the living room and noticed how Miss Melrose watched television with a blank expression on her face.He set the tray down on the coffee table next to her wheelchair before pouring tea into one of the cups. The next thing he knew, a frail and boney hand was placed on top of his.Sherlock was astonished to see Jocelyn’s mother looking at him with tired eyes. She looked drained, and from her frown lines and wrinkles, Sherlock could tell that she was tired of being tired.He put down the teapot and slowly held the woman’s hands. Sherlock could see Jocelyn in her eyes, her nose, and her smile.And with a soft whisper, she told him, “Please, always be with my Jo.” She pleaded with her strained voice as if she had not spoken in years.He just looked down at their hands, contrasting the way of how Jocelyn’s hands may look that way someday.Sherlock gave the older woman a smile and nodded. “I vow to be there for her, I will not let you down.”--It is, indeed, a strange situation. Jocelyn is laughing at something Sherlock is saying. They have been casually throwing memories at each other, coaxing each memory treasure chests inside their minds to talk about.They both recall days that can never be forgotten, especially the funny ones. Jocelyn never holds back a laugh, and Sherlock only limits himself to half a smile. Although, it is more than enough for her.Little by little, the bottle of whiskey is drained to the bottom.Jocelyn hums after she finishes a good laugh. She falls silent afterwards, biting her bottom lip as she hesitates to ask a question. “Sherlock.”“Yes?”“This morning, did you really mean you wanted to talk about everything?”“Of course, to get it over with.”“To get what over with?”“My constant thinking of whatever made you so upset on New Year’s Eve. John has told me that I’ve… upset you that night.”“I don’t know what to tell you, Sherlock.”“Yes, you do.”“We’re actually having a great night right now. Let’s not ruin it.”“Tell me everything you wish to say.”She already feels in defeat. “You came closer to me, you held my arm. You told me that I didn’t bother you at all, but rather, I was… beneficial to your work.” Jocelyn refuses to meet his eye. “And you leaned down to press your forehead against mine.”The consulting detective stares ahead of himself while listening to her talk. “I don’t recall any of it. How odd.”“Would I lie to you?”“Yes.”“Well, okay then. Don’t believe me.” Jocelyn takes a peek at him. “Can I ask you something?”Sherlock does not make a verbal response, and only nods at her once.“If you weren’t intoxicated at the time, what do you think you wanted to do? You must’ve had a reason why you just decided to… do all that.”Sherlock stares ahead of him. What exactly did he have in mind when he curled his hand around her wrist, pressing his forehead against hers?He swallows, staring down at his lap. Sherlock knows the answer, but he is not saying them aloud right in front of her.“I don’t know.”“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. You’re Sherlock Holmes. You always know.”“What would you like me to say? That I wanted to kiss you?” Sherlock snaps.He appears to be confused; however, Jocelyn is more than shocked. Astonishment is written all over her face.Sherlock just admitted that the reason why he did all of that was because he wanted to kiss her. It feels odd to hear him say the word ‘kiss,’ it did not feel as though it is part of his vocabulary.“You… you wanted to kiss me?” She asks softly, remembering how his touches made her shiver and give into him, his body pressing against hers.“Yes,” he blurts out, surprising even himself. “I did want to. It has dawned over me that not only did I want to, but I needed to. Isn’t that odd? To want and need something at the same time. Most philosophers would separate the two. Others would say that it is possible.” Sherlock expands, voice low and deep, reaching the bottom of Jocelyn’s stomach to warm her.Jocelyn blinks and sinks into the soft cushion of the sofa, astonished by how honest Sherlock is choosing to be tonight.“Why didn’t you?”Sherlock pauses, craning his neck to lock eyes with her. Maybe she is just imagining the slightest affection in his eyes, directed towards her. “I’m surprised I didn’t. Naturally, I am assuming something interrupted and took my chance to do something foolishly mundane as… that.”Jocelyn lets out a shaky breath, recalling how she pushed him away that night. “Sherlock—”“I never should have chosen to come.” Sherlock calmly takes his coat, shoving his arms into the holes and fixing the cloth onto his shoulders.“Sherlock, come on, we should talk about this.” She pleads, making a bold move of reaching out and gently taking his hand. “Please, let me tell you what happened—”Sherlock visibly flinches this time, pulling his arm away. “No. You have nothing to explain.”“Clearly, I do. You just want to keep avoiding this.”“Well, I do what I can to move on. Because I have. You should have moved on the second you left.” Sherlock snaps at her.Jocelyn’s face softens. “Sherlock, please. I just want you to understand—”Sherlock cuts her off by swinging the door open and walking outside into the hallway. He never looks back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. She leans against the doorframe, her eyes fluttering closed.For the next few days, Jocelyn never sees Sherlock again. She chose not to check up on him anymore, giving up entirely. If Sherlock does not want to discuss what happened, then she will not let down her pride and beg him to listen. He does not want to listen to her, after all. Why should she force him to?Now, John is sitting in his chair reading the news when Sherlock comes home… looking a bit strange. He carries a harpoon with him; his face, arms and polo shirt are covered in blood.To say that Sherlock is okay is kind of an overstatement. John has been observing him for the past few days and he has no clue why he’s acting this way. John isn’t aware that Sherlock visited Jocelyn a few days ago.***“How was your holiday?” Jocelyn chuckles at Lestrade’s face when he came to work a few minutes ago.“What’s so funny?”“Nothing, I’m just, you know, wow. You’re really… tan.”“I know! Isn’t it great?”“Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed their New Year’s.”Greg just follows her to the lab. “Well, it wasn’t me who declined the offer of taking a holiday for a week.”“I’d rather be in the lab.”Lestrade chuckles. “Well, I deserved one for putting up with Sherlock for a year now. Thank God, he won’t be around this week.”“He won’t?”“Yeah. Apparently, John and Sherlock took a case in Dartmoor. I reckon it’s much more interesting, would you believe it?”“I would. What’s the case, then?”“Uh, I think it was the Hound thing.”She frowns and wonders about it before going through her phone to read about this Hound topic.A few hours later, Sherlock and John now rent their own vehicle to use in Devon the minute they got off the train. Sherlock is driving, since John left his license after years of not using it. Sherlock nagged him about it throughout the trip, until John calls him out for not owning a license in the first place.Sherlock argues that he never needed one, since London had cabs anyway. John thought it best not to question how Sherlock learned to drive or why he never does it if he knows how to do it.“If you don’t mind me asking—”“I do mind.”“No, hang on, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s gotten into you the past few days?”“What do you mean?”“What do I mean? Sherlock, you were insane this morning. I tell you what, you are very odd at times, but even you wouldn’t go this far. What’s wrong?”“Nothing is wrong.”“Bloody hell, Sherlock. It’s Jocelyn, isn’t it?”“Why do you assume that everything happening to me is somewhat related to Miss Grant? My whole life does not revolve around her.”“It’s definitely her. What did you do this time?”“What makes you think I did something? Can’t she be the one at fault?”“Ah, so it is her.” John concludes, making Sherlock grimace. “What happened, Sherlock? Tell me.”Sherlock makes a sound of disbelief. “Look at us, talking about women like two mundane males. Stop boring me, John.”“Out with it, Sherlock.”“I don’t have time discussing Jocelyn with you and, to be frank, discussing anything related to the sort is absolutely laughable and annoying.”“Is this about Jack? Oh, Sherlock,”“What? No! Don’t be absurd, John—”“It was one date, Sherlock. They never went out again. No need to be jealous.”“John.”“And, in all honesty, I don’t even think Jocelyn was interested—”“Oh, for God’s sake, John. That does not concern me. I left Baker Street to visit her. We talked and… drank whiskey.”John waits for Sherlock to continue talking, but the detective remains silent. “Then what?”“It went too far, John. I said something, she said something, and it all led to… something.”“And, I assume, it made you do something?” John sarcastically asks.“What do you want from me, John?”“Maybe I just want to know what’s going on with you. For once in my life.”“You don’t need to know what’s going on with me to be able to work alongside me. And to be clear, there is nothing going on between Jocelyn in I—oh, for God’s sakes, that is something I never thought would ever leave my mouth.”“Fine, have it your way.” John frowns and let his eyes wander outside the car window. After that, the whole car ride is silent.***“Hello?” Jocelyn absentmindedly answers her phone while mixing two chemicals together.
“There’s a car outside.”
“I’m working—”
“It’ll be quick. Won’t take half an hour.”
She takes the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen with a frown. Jocelyn takes off her lab coat, gloves and glasses before leaving the building in order to go to the front. She spots a black car and walks towards it. She assumes that it’ll drive her somewhere, but when she opens the car door, she knew that this will definitely be quick.She slides in the backseat, closing the door. “What’s going on?”Mycroft hands her an envelope. “My dear brother is doing something that I cannot understand.”Of course, it’s about Sherlock. “Are you surprised?” She remarks, opening the envelope and it contains photos. “Have you been stalking them?”“No, I haven’t. I’ve just taken up the hobby of tracing my brother’s movements to prevent him from going to prison because of his behavior,” even his voice is laced with sarcasm, which makes Jocelyn glare. “Has he told you anything?”“He and I are not exactly the best of friends.”“I need a favor, Miss Grant.“Let me guess,” Jocelyn crosses her arms with her brows raised. “You want me to go spy on your brother like some sort of police.”“If it won’t be of any trouble, yes.”“I’m not just going to drop everything to chase after him, Mycroft.”“Yes, this is why I’m asking Inspector Lestrade to come with you.”“And you somehow think everything is fine, now that you’ve invited my boss?”“He is not your boss, Miss Grant. Of course. Lestrade is trustworthy and quite… easy to persuade.” He tells her, making her raise her brows at him. He clears his throat and looks away from her. “Tomorrow will be free for you. I’ve made sure of it. Lestrade will be driving.”“He’d hate you for sending me and hate me even more for agreeing. Do you see how stupid this is?”“I’m afraid that Sherlock is in danger. And I did say that Lestrade is trustworthy, but there is only one person I fully trust.”“What kind of danger?” She asks him. Mycroft gives her a look, and she immediately knows what it means. “Oh.”
Moriarty.
“I would not invite you to such a dangerous task if I knew you would not be able to handle yourself. I just need someone to speak to Sherlock and talk him down the next time he considers taking another big case. He has to remain careful.”“And if I decline?”“I hope you will not. You are the only one who can get him to understand.”“Understand what?”“Himself.” Mycroft finishes, renders her quiet.Jocelyn hesitates before she opens the door and exit the car, watching it drive away to the opposite direction.***“Joining me?”Jocelyn squints due to the early morning sunlight, seeing Lestrade outside her apartment building as Mycroft promised. Her hand rises to shield her eyes from the sun as she watches the man keep the car door open.“Jesus, you’re actually doing this, aren’t you?”“Well, Mycroft did say it was an emergency.”“And you leapt into defense without hesitation?”“Mr. Holmes and I had an agreement, Grant. Stay out of each other’s way and only help when needed.”“Really?”“Are you coming or not? Might be a fun little road trip.”“And why is that?”“Wouldn’t want to miss out on my favorite scientist.”“Anderson might not like your sentiment.” She suppresses a smile on her face.“Eh, he’s always been a knob.”“I can’t believe you picked chasing after an annoying little detective and a doctor, than solve crimes at the Yard.”“I’d say the same about you.”“Why are you doing this?”He shrugs. “I could use another vacation.”She’s snorts. “I’m serious.”Greg thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll tell you on the way?”Jocelyn shifts her weight from one foot to another, biting her lip. Sherlock might not appreciate it when she shows up, but on a brighter side, it would be a relief to see him okay.Mycroft’s whole aura just told her that something was off. Sherlock is always in danger now, since Moriarty is still out there. Considering the fact that Sherlock and John are both outside of London, Mycroft can’t keep watch of them like he normally does. Of course, Jocelyn can only guess that Sherlock planned it that way.When Lestrade raises his brows, Jocelyn scoffs, rolling her eyes at him. He flashes her a grin when she holds up a finger as if to tell him to wait until she packs some clothes for their little trip.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“So, what changed your mind?”“Mycroft hardly ever comes to me for an emergency.”Greg grunts a bit. “He’s a complicated man, innit? Makes Sherlock even more complex.” Greg chuckles. “You should hear what the other officers are gossiping about, if you aren’t always in that lab of yours.”“I’m a scientist, where else should I be? Besides, I’d rather not hear how people talk about Sherlock.”He pauses between the silences. “John mentioned to me once that you and Sherlock had… history.”Jocelyn presses her lips together. “Really?”“It was back when Moriarty showed up, you remember, right?” Greg briefly glances at her, but doesn’t catch the way Jocelyn blinks and clenches her jaw at the mention of that man.Jocelyn frowns, realizing she has not discussed this with Lestrade as friends, not police to victim. “How could I forget?”He has no idea how to respond to that. Lestrade did take care of the restaurant’s cannibal owner of that place where Jocelyn was held captive. When he contacted Mycroft, the eldest Holmes made sure none of the events made it to the papers, or else, it would be disastrous for the general public.“I’m sorry, Jocelyn. I didn’t realize this was—”“No, it’s fine. Did John ever mention to you how they got me out?”He nods. “He said that they managed to have a breakthrough using some kind of tool that Sherlock had.”Jocelyn furrows her brows, feeling as though the colors around her are shifting to a lighter shade of blue. It feels like there was light right above her head and it instantly makes her chest tighten.“D’you like it?” She hears his voice, the apparition. It felt like he was breathing down her neck while she sat in the passenger’s seat. “Door’s bolted from both sides and it’s being controlled by a computer. Neat, don’t you think? Got a really smart engineer who designed it.”Jocelyn stares ahead of her, blinking rapidly once she felt her eyes getting teary. Sherlock and John couldn’t have unlocked that door by themselves.It feels so long ago, and it actually is, but somehow it feels like it happened yesterday. Hard to explain, but that’s how her unique trauma is behaving; far in the past and like yesterday.“Right, of course.”“Remembering that horrible time makes me wonder when Moriarty decides to show up again.” Oh, God, Lestrade. Wrong choice of words. “Really hope that once he shows up again, we’d catch him.”“Yeah.”“You alright?”She forces out a small laugh. “I just don’t like thinking about that man. It feels like he might show up if I constantly do.”Greg realizes that this may not be the best topic for her. “Right, er, yeah. You have a point. What do you reckon Sherlock and John have been up to now?”Jocelyn feels the thick atmosphere vanish the moment she sensed how Greg shifted the topic. She didn’t want him to think she’s weak, but the thought of Moriarty makes her want to empty the contents of her stomach.So, she moves on. “Not sure. By the looks of it, Mycroft told me that they broke into a military base. Which I probably shouldn’t tell you, since you’re police and everything.”“I confide in Mycroft Holmes, can’t really arrest his brother unless it’s something really extreme that will probably catch the government’s attention or the head of the Yard. If it reaches that point, it’ll be out of my hands.”“Confide in him?”“I trust him, in shorter words. He’s a good man, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m very… protective over Sherlock.”She smiles softly. Jocelyn is very aware of how Greg actually cares about Sherlock like a brother, much like how John does. All those years ago, Jocelyn listened to Sherlock reassure her that he’ll be alone in the future, that no one would like to share a flat with him, that he would have no friends.“You said earlier that you and Mycroft have an arrangement?”Greg’s relaxed expression turns into a grim one, she notices. “I’ve known Sherlock for almost six years now, ever since he first moved to London. He was quite keen on becoming a detective in the Yard, but due to certain lack of… empathetic abilities. He was labeled unqualified by our previous boss.”He still remembers how cold Sherlock’s expression was when he was informed that he would most likely never be a good detective. The way he appeared to be so calm yet so outraged and insulted, Lestrade may never forget.“He decided that he didn’t need Scotland Yard and started to investigate things as a separate party. You should have seen him five years ago, a complete jackass to everyone, including me. Although, I learned to let it slide. He’s just a bit misunderstood.”“What makes you say that?”“After that first case he solved for me, I jokingly told him that I might call him every time I needed a second pair of eyes in a scene. Back then, it was surprising that he didn’t take it as a joke.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. “I was always the one who called him up, but… there was this one time that Sherlock texted me for the first time. For three months, I’ve called him to solve cases and that was the first time he reached out to me. He texted me his address and that I should come by because he needed help.”Jocelyn can sense that this story is going somewhere she wishes that it wouldn’t.Lestrade pauses. “I went around his flat and found him shaking on the floor in his bedroom. He had a syringe stuck into his arm and he was bleeding down his elbow. It was probably one of the most horrific things I’ve ever encountered.”Receiving ‘Lestrade, come at once. Please. SH’ followed by ‘Please. It is urgent. SH’ and ‘I will take any case, just plaese com. SH’ out of nowhere really threw him off.Greg still kicks himself mentally for not even feeling how something was off when it was right in front of his face. Greg didn’t have time to be relieved about Sherlock missing the vein, since the younger man was surrounded by other empty packets that may have been filled with God knows what.Jocelyn has tears in her eyes, and she looks out of the window to prevent Lestrade from seeing them.“After what happened, I met his older brother at the hospital. He looked so terrified, far from the man he is today.” He simply tells her. “After that, I never ignore Sherlock’s texts now.”The detective remembers how Sherlock had wires attached to him, and an oxygen mask to help him regulate his breathing. Before that, Mycroft pushed the doors open with all his strength; the nurses had to pull him back from trying to enter the room.“Oh, brother mine, what are you doing in a hospital bed?” He remembers Mycroft whisper that to himself while Greg walked up to him in front of the glass. Greg remembers standing next to Mycroft, offering a comforting hand on his back.Once Greg admits to him that Sherlock contacted him, the hurt written all over Mycroft’s face was enough to tell Greg that the young detective didn’t even make an effort to even get his own brother involved.Greg never noticed Mycroft pull out a piece of paper from the pocket of an unconscious Sherlock, slipping it into his own pocket.“The arrangement is just basically Mycroft wanting me to watch over Sherlock. I’m always up for looking after Sherlock. He’s made me a better detective, as much as I don’t want to ever admit that to his face.”It takes a while for Jocelyn to realize that Lestrade knew Sherlock longer than she ever had. She has been around Sherlock for only five months, adding a year if the current events count, while Greg has been there for six years and going.“I’ve been keeping an eye on him lately and I don’t want to think about the signs he’s been showing.”“Signs?”“Of relapsing.”Jocelyn feels her eyes getting prickly. “He has a case, I doubt he’d try to use.”“He is a graduate chemist with full access to Dr. Hooper’s lab in St. Barts, what do you think he does there all the bloody time? And he has a whole network of homeless people all over London, God knows what they carry in those sleeves of theirs.”“John would immediately stop him if he ever tries.”“Oh, come on, Jocelyn. You know how good Sherlock is with his deductive skills. For all we know, he knows where John’s blind spot is. Which is why I’m glad you’re here, too.” He tells her, making the woman furrow her brows in suspicion.It takes a moment before her face relaxes in realization. “Oh, no, no, no—”“I brought your equipment.” Lestrade casually shrugs.“Absolutely not. I can’t believe you want me to do it!”“It’s just a little examining.”“Of Sherlock! Someone who’s been ignoring me for the past week. Examine him yourself! I’m not doing it.”“Oh, come on.”“How were you even going to bring it up? Hey, I want you to take urine and blood samples from Sherlock and test them to see if he’s clean or not.”He scoffs and this soon turns into a bicker. “From how John worded it to me, it sounded like Sherlock trusted you—”“Oh, no, I’m many things to Sherlock, but never someone he trusts. He barely even cares about me.”Greg gives her a confused look. “Do you seriously not remember when you got out of that freezer? I haven’t seen Sherlock be shaken that way for a long time.”Jocelyn silences for a moment, not wanting to believe him. “Took him days to finally give me time of day to discuss the owner of the restaurant you were found in. It was unusual of him to turn down opportunities of new cases. He wasn’t even there when we arrested the guy.”This whole time, she just assumed that Sherlock solved that case in order to get to Moriarty. Jocelyn does remember John mentioning this around the time she left Baker Street to her new apartment. John knew how sensitive the topic is to her, so they change the topic right away.“Sherlock was never like that to anyone, he just solves the case and moves on. Why are you being so stubborn? I thought you and Sherlock had history together.”“Greg, I knew him for five months before I left for New York eight years ago. It hardly counts as history.”“Five months?”“Yes.”“…But you two were close, right?”Jocelyn dryly laughs. “Is this your way of interrogating your suspect?”“This is my way of trying to understand the situation. Hang on, if this was eight years ago, Sherlock would be in university.”“Yeah, me too. We met on campus, he was quick to figure out who I was.” She chuckles at the memory, albeit being bittersweet. “It was funny back then, although, I barely remember some days since it’s been eight years. All I remember now were the good things.”“There were bad things, then?”“There are always bad things, Greg. Good things, bad things. They’re two sides of a coin.” A small smile creeps into her face. “Did you know it was his birthday a few weeks back?”“I didn’t. Come to think of it, I never knew when his birthday is.”“Neither did I back then. He doesn’t like it when people knew his birthday. He said it was too violating. Too personal.” She looks away to the outside of the window, sighing. “I’ll do it, the examination, but I won’t if Sherlock refuses my services.” She casually agrees and only makes Lestrade smile to himself.--Jocelyn was wearing a loose button up long sleeve polo, most likely belonging to Sherlock. It was maroon and ironed, it smelled like him as well. Although, most of their clothes smell the same now due to same laundry detergent.Sherlock was by the counter, cooking some eggs for breakfast. He glanced at the young woman by the window. “Is there something bothering you?”She snapped out of her deep thought. “Oh, nothing. I’m just watching the plants outside. They’re always beautiful at this time of the year.” She makes her way towards the kitchen.Jocelyn stood next to him, listening to the light sizzle of the eggs that Sherlock was cooking.Sherlock looked down at her and offered a kind smile. “You are nervous about graduation, am I right?” Sherlock places the eggs into plates.“I need to find a job after graduation, can’t have my aunt funding for me all the time since she’s already taking care of my mum.”They haven’t really talked about graduation either. As far as Sherlock knew, Jocelyn was going to New York for a few years to finish schooling. As much as Sherlock refuses to admit that he isn’t upset over that, he actually is. Though, the feeling of sadness was overshadowed by how proud he is of her.“Why not just—”“I’m not going to take money from you or your brother, Sherlock.”“But I’d like to help.”She gave him a full-content smile. “And you are, by not letting me take advantage of you.”“But you aren’t. It is only money.”“I can’t depend on you like that, I’ve told you before.”“What is the matter with depending on me? Do you not see me as trustworthy?”“I do trust you. Why else do you think I agreed to move in with you in such short notice?” She rhetorically asked, making Sherlock turn his back on her, walking out of the kitchen. Jocelyn follows him. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m taking money from you.”“But you’re not, I’m the one providing it willingly.”“That’s not what it would feel like. I can’t ask you for that, you have to understand.”“Is it because you are leaving for New York?” He snapped at her.Her jaw dropped at him. “This isn’t about New York!”“How is this not about New York? You’re refusing my help for the sole reason of not wanting to depend on me!”“Depend on you?! What, do you think I’m some sick puppy who wants to be helped?”“That is clearly not what I meant.” He explained in a calmer manner.“Clearly!”“And now you know you are leaving in a few months and you still chose to be here, to live in my home.”The confusion glinting in her wide eyes were evident. “Do you want me to leave?”He swallowed, unable to keep up with his own lies anymore. “No, I don’t. Which makes this situation much more complex than I ever anticipated it to be. I do recall telling you how proud I am of you, for achieving so much, and I am. But I fear that I’m growing too used to the thought of you inside my home, and the thought of you leaving is something I—”He directs his gaze to the ground, not wanting to see the look on her face. The space between them felt suffocating, and he can never explain the relief he felt to see her take a step forward.Jocelyn reached up to slide her palms over his arms and to his neck, pulling him close until he could inhale her scent. Jocelyn held him close and felt her neck get wet from the tears he emitted. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”Sherlock closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to think that he might lose this soon.“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I’ve decided to, um,” she took a pause. “I’m staying in here in London.”She felt him tense in her arms, and he pulled away from her with an astonished expression on his face. “Jocelyn, you can’t be serious.”“I know it’s a big decision, but I can’t leave my mother here. She can’t travel to New York, it’ll be too much for her.” She gave him a look. And I can’t possibly leave you.“What are you saying? You can’t reject those scholarships.”Jocelyn chewed the inside of her cheek. “I thought you’d be pleased. A minute ago, you didn’t want me to leave.”“I am aware of what I said, but I didn’t mean that you should remain in Europe because I told you to.”She tried to suppress a grin. “But you didn’t tell me to. I decided that on my own.”“You clearly know what I meant.”“I’m staying here, Sherlock. I was going to tell you the other day.” She reached over to brush her fingers on the side of his face. The gentle touch made his eyes flutter shut, leaning into her. “I’m not leaving. I just found you.”Sherlock opened his eyes to reveal his icy blue eyes, his larger hand covering the smaller one brushing against his face. His fingers caressed her hand affectionately and just kept his eyes on her. “Let me help you until you find a proper job. We are a team.”Jocelyn could see the determination in his eyes. “Okay. You have me, I’m here with you.”--“What the hell are you doing here?” Sherlock aggressively questions Lestrade.“Oh, nice to see you, too. I’m on holiday, would you believe?” Lestrade grins as if he never said all those lovely things in the car during their drive here.“No, I wouldn’t.”“Heard you were in the area, thought I’d pop by. You’re after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?”Sherlock is having none of it. “I’m waiting for an explanation, Inspector; why are you here?”“I’m on holiday—”“You’re brown as a nut! You clearly just got back from your holidays.”“Maybe I fancied another one.”“Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it? Agh, one word about Baskerville and he sends my handler to… to spy on me, incognito! Is that why you’re calling yourself ‘Greg?’”Just then, the most surprising turn of events is the sudden appearance of thee familiar young woman from the other room. “Hey, they have two spare rooms with singles…”Sherlock widens his eyes as well, and John only closes his, preparing himself for the worst. From their talk earlier, John knows that seeing Jocelyn is probably the last thing that Sherlock needs at the moment.“What—”“She’s with me.” Lestrade nods at Sherlock, glancing at Jocelyn.They agree with the two rooms and she walks off quietly, aware of the pair of eyes that are staring at her with intensity.Lestrade turns to Sherlock and John again. “I’m not your handler, and I don’t just do what your brother tells me to do.”“Under no circumstances are you obliged to do whatever Mycroft ordered you to do. I can’t believe you. He just had to have her be brought along, didn’t he? Just to get in my nerves.”“Hey, don’t blame her. She was very much against this until your brother told her it was some sort of emergency.” Lestrade frowns, but his words only make Sherlock furrow his brows at him. “She didn’t want to come here in the first place.”“Then why did she?”“Alright, Sherlock. You’ve made your point. It’s great to see you both, and honestly, you might just be the man we need.” John claims, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a slip of paper.***
“Have you arrived?”
“Hello to you, too.” She mumbles. “Yeah, we just got here. Why?” She glances behind her, only to see John sip from a cup through the windows. It is probably the sun in her eyes, but she could have sworn that Sherlock was looking at her through the glass.
“Nothing to worry about. How are you feeling?”
The corners of her lips are curling up. “Checking up on me, now? What a miracle.”Mycroft gives her a dry laugh. “Very funny, Miss Grant. How is our Scotland Yard representative?”“Being a Scotland Yard representative, apparently. He’s currently interrogating some eatery owners, by Sherlock and John’s request.”
“Oh? You found them both already?”
“Wasn’t that difficult. We just had to ask around for a tall male in a big black coat with a shorter man next to him.”There was a pause before Mycroft speaks again. “Is, er… is he—”“Sherlock’s fine, Mycroft. As far as I can tell.”Mycroft coughs, trying to mask his sigh of relief. “I see. Well, I hope you’ll at least enjoy having time-off from your job.”“Wait, hang on, did you just make me come here so I could have a vacation?”“Ah, you’ve caught me red-handed.” He monotonously tells her, eliciting a small chuckle from her. “Update me on things, will you?”“Does that make me part of the MI6? Or your super secret intelligence?” She fakes a gasp of surprise. “Am I a spy?”“Goodbye, Miss Grant. I will call you.” He simply tells her before hanging up in order for her not to get another word in.She is not able to see the small smile plastered on the government official’s face.Jocelyn huffs before slipping her phone back into her pocket. She looks around and sees a few people walk past her. Jocelyn glances back at the restaurant and sees that the three men have left the room they were previously in. She takes that as her cue to walk up to them.Lestrade was already walking away. “I’ll catch up with you lot later. I’m enjoying this,” he laughs a bit. “Nice to get London out of your lungs.”John glances at Jocelyn, smiling a bit. “How’ve you been? Haven’t heard from you in weeks. Last I saw you was when you went out with Jack.”Jocelyn has a sharp intake of breath. “Yeah, well. Wasn’t working out for the both of us.” She shakes her head at him. “What did Jack say to you, then?”“Nothing awful, if you’re anticipating that. He’s currently in Austria, doing whatever he does.” He smiles at her. “It’s alright, I think he’s seeing someone now.”“Really? That’s nice, good for him.”“Yes, yes, good for Dr. Palmer. Now, can we get back to the matter in hand?” Sherlock cuts in, making John close his eyes in annoyance. “That couple mentioned that they took care of a dog, and looks like it was a dog that those people saw.”“But that wasn’t what you saw, that wasn’t an ordinary dog.” Upon seeing the look on Jocelyn’s face, he clarifies. “Right, yes. Sherlock, here, thinks that he saw a giant dog.”“Those things exist?”“No, of course, not. Jocelyn, you are far too intelligent to believe that.” Sherlock scoffs.Jocelyn shakes her head at him in disbelief. “If you saw it, then it must exist.”He glares, but realizes that Jocelyn really believes in him to actually just take his word for it. “We have to be rational. Just because I saw something, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s exists.”“So, you saw a hound… but you don’t believe it exists?”“Yes.”“…What did it look like, then?”“It was immense.” Sherlock lowly claims, eyes never leaving hers. “It had burning red eyes, and it was glowing. Its whole body was glowing…” he simply tells her before finally turning to John. “I’ve got a theory, but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it.”“Uh, how? Can’t play the ID card again.”Sherlock reaches into his pocket before they begin walking. “Might not have to,” he dials a number and presses the phone into his ear.After two rings, he hears his voice. “Sherlock.”“Hello, brother dear,” he mockingly greets him, and he doesn’t notice the way Jocelyn widens her eyes from behind the two of them. “How are you?”
“I’m assuming that you’ve encountered Miss Grant and Inspector Lestrade already.”
“Yes, they’ve been quite a pair to coincidentally stumble upon.”
“What the hell were you thinking, breaking into a bloody Military base using my identification?”
“I’m on a case. I think you would have figured that out by now. Considering how you are the smart one.”
“I am the smart one.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are. For now, I’ll tolerate the little spies you’ve sent to watch over me, for a favor.”
“How can you possibly think that I’d do anything for you?”
“I need full access, and I mean unlimited access, to the Baskerville Military base. For twenty-four hours.”
“Why on Earth would I help you break into a Military base?”
“It won’t be breaking in if you’d let me have full access this time. Take it as…visiting.” Sherlock glances at his watch. “Give me your word and I will let Jocelyn do what she needs to do with no resistance.”Jocelyn looks up at him with shocked eyes, immediately looking towards John, who only narrows his eyes into slits in confusion.There was a pause. “Twenty-four hours, and no more. Perhaps, you’d like to inform me what it is you are hoping to acquire—”“No.” Sherlock cuts him off by hanging up the phone. “We’re going to Baskerville.”“Hang on, what were you talking about? You’re going to let Jocelyn do what she needs to do?”Sherlock looks at Jocelyn with a cold stare. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”She clenches her fists, eyes twitching. “I’m coming with you both,”“Of course, she is.” Sherlock mutters under his breath but makes no protest as he climbs into the driver’s seat. Jocelyn slides into the backseat and puts her seatbelt on, John mirroring her actions.“This’ll be dangerous, you know.” John looks over his shoulder to glance at Jocelyn, closing the car door while he speaks.Jocelyn shrugs. “What else is new?”Sherlock rolls his eyes and starts the engine before driving off. Jocelyn’s phone beeps inside her pocket and she goes to fish it out in order to read the text. She frowns while reading it with her eyes.
Please make sure he won’t do anything too reckless. M
When they reach the army base, Sherlock presents his ID to the gatekeeper before they proceed inside. “You’ll have to start the search for the hound.”“Right.”“Jocelyn is coming with me.” Sherlock mutters.“…I am?”“Yes.”When they all exited the car, Sherlock walks to the opposite direction from John. Jocelyn follows next to him as they make their way to Major Barrymore’s office.While walking down a corridor, Sherlock catches sight of a pile of lab coats put on a rack next to a door. “Put this on.”She takes the coat and inspects it in case of a nametag. “Okay?” Jocelyn trails off before shrugging the coat on. “Why am I wearing this?”“I need you to pose as a doctor.”“I am a doctor.”“Who specializes in forensic science. We’re not here for a homicide case. I need you to pose as a biochemist.” He glances at her before looking away as they walk side to side.“Fine. Biochemist. Any context?”“I need the cameras. I need eyes. Major Barrymore has never met you, and considering he’s lousy with his job, he does not know all the doctors in Baskerville.” He adds. “I need you to be present while I speak to Major Barrymore.”“So, he wouldn’t be suspicious of you.” Jocelyn nods. “Right. Mycroft’s all-access isn’t enough then?”“No. We need suspicion to slide off us. This way.” He take a sharp turn to the left, Jocelyn keeps up with his long legs. They reach an office and see a man in camouflage, reading a book. “Hello, Major Barrymore.”The man turns to them and glances up at Jocelyn. “He got lost so I brought him here.” She casually tells him. Sherlock almost rolls his eyes. He never gets lost. “Asking for a twenty-four hour access to the place, too. Should I show him around?”Oh, you actress. Sherlock thinks to himself, clearly impressed by the way she’s carrying herself. Even Major Barrymore just turns to look at Sherlock with a displeased expression.“Dr. Melrose here is offering a tour,” he tells him. Jocelyn almost freezes at the usage of her mother’s maiden name, but she keeps her posture. “It’s a simple enough request, Major.”The soldier huffs a comment and they both distance themselves far away from the office of Major Barrymore, enough for Jocelyn to finally chuckle to herself while shaking her head.Sherlock looks at her suspiciously. “What?”“I think he’s right, the big coat does spark some conspiracy vibes.” She says in between her short laughs.Sherlock huffs, but it is difficult to hold back an amused smirk as they look around the surveillance room. There was a man holding a cup of coffee while being in front of the screens.“Hello. Sorry, can we borrow the screens for a bit? You can go ahead and have some coffee. We’ll take it from here.” She sweetly tells him. Sherlock tries to play along and offer a tight smile at the man. “Mr. Holmes here is having an inspection, wouldn’t want to disappoint.” He only looks at Jocelyn and nods before returning her smile. “Sure thing, doc.”Luck of the Devil, he really fell for it as well. Sherlock glances at Jocelyn, wondering how she does it.Whatever it is, she can probably go anywhere she wants without anyone being suspicious of her. By the looks of it, this man is not new to his job but he was still convinced that Jocelyn works here.Sherlock raises his brows at Jocelyn, who stares at the screens for a moment before she realizes that he was looking.“What?”“How do you do that?” Sherlock gives her an incredulous look.“I’ve been a New Yorker for eight years. Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”Sherlock’s face twists with confusion. By her words, she learned to lie to people successfully through living in New York. What happened in New York? The question rings in his head but fades away when his phone begins ringing. Sherlock takes it out and sees John’s name flash on the screen.“Sherlock,” Jocelyn begins while watching a specific screen. “The lights went out in that room.”Perfect timing, Major Barrymore. He thinks to himself as he lets the phone ring out, taking the seat that the previous man was occupying.“Aren’t you going to answer that?”“No.” He presses the microphone and plays the phone into the mic, Jocelyn immediately recognizes it as a low snarl of a dog.She widens her eyes when she sees a figure running in the screen where the lights went out in.“Sherlock, is that—?” She gets cut off by her own phone vibrating in her pocket.“Don’t answer that.” Sherlock immediately says, snatching her phone from her hand.“What—Jesus, is John in there?”“Yes.”“Is this the bloody experiment to test your theory?”“Yes.”“Jesus Christ, Sherlock! You can’t do this!” She has a look of disbelief on her face.“Why not?”She snatches her phone from Sherlock’s other hand. “This is madness! You can’t put John through that, Sherlock!”He looks at Jocelyn, seeing the fire behind her eyes. The concern for her friend is obvious. He frowns, pulling his phone to dial John’s number.Jocelyn makes a move to grab at Sherlock’s shoulder, pulling him up before practically dragging both of them outside the surveillance room. Jocelyn begins walking, looking up to follow the signs. Sherlock is a bit surprised by her boldness, but keeps up with her anyway.John must be hallucinating now. Sherlock and Jocelyn goes to the large door and Sherlock swipes his card into it, opening it immediately before walking inside.Jocelyn looks for a switch, but finds a lever instead before she pushes it upwards so that the room will be engulfed by light. Sherlock finds John inside a cage with a phone pressed against his ear.John frantically pulls himself up with the help of the cage bars. “Jesus Christ, it was the hound. Sherlock, it was here, I swear it! You must have seen it!”Jocelyn approaches them and has a sympathetic look on her face. “John, look at me,. It’s okay, now.”“No, it’s not! It’s not okay! I saw it and I was wrong!”John began to explain what he saw, but Sherlock smirks, saying he made up the part where the hound glows, proving himself right.Jocelyn pats his back before giving Sherlock a look that went unnoticed by John. Sherlock only nods, turning around to begin walking. “Time to lay this ghost.”***Once Dr. Stapleton provided what Sherlock needed, he sets one microscope in front of Jocelyn.He gives her an expecting look, while she just raises her brows at him. “What?”“Nobody knows Chemistry like you do. I need to figure out what drug is being put into Henry Knight’s system that enables him to see this hound.”She looks at him for a moment. “Do you have a sample?”He softens, relaxing now that she is complying. He reaches into his pocket to take a ziplock full of the sugar he took from Henry’s kitchen. Sherlock divides the sample into two equal parts and gives the other half to her, which she takes calmly and goes straight to work.It takes them a while, and Jocelyn scribbles the components she finds down onto the whiteboard table, using a marker.Jocelyn looks up at Sherlock in the middle of it. “Sherlock.”“Hm?”“You’re going to tell John once this is all over. I mean it.”“Don’t dictate what I will and won’t do.”“Sherlock.”“Fine,” he quietly agrees. “You seem upset.”“Yeah, well, my friend was locked up in a lab and he thought he was going to get ripped apart by a hound.”“John will understand that this was for the case.”“Doesn’t change the fact that you played with his emotions.”Sherlock glances at her through his lashes before continuing to examine the sugar.***Jocelyn sighs, leaning back in her chair. “I got nothing. I went through it three times, there’s nothing here, Sherlock.”“Keep looking, there has to be something in there.”“Hey. I’m pretty good at my job here, I can tell you that the sugar is perfectly normal.”All the pent up frustration in Sherlock’s body was continuing to build up as he stands on his feet, grabbing the slide before throwing it against the wall. The sudden movement makes Jocelyn shield her head in surprise, even though Sherlock’s aim is very far from her.“It’s not there!” He yells. “Nothing there! It doesn’t make any sense!”Jocelyn shakes her head, glancing behind herself to look at the broken glass. “What were you expecting to find?”Sherlock proceeds to explain it to his audience and slowly, Jocelyn begins to understand the situation even better than before. John doesn’t take sugar in his coffee. Sherlock is being very insistent that it is a drug.“It has to be a drug, but how did it get into our systems? There has to be something… something buried deep.” His eyes snap back open, craning his neck to look at the others. “Get out.”“What?”“Get out, I need to go to my mind palace.” Ooh, how exciting, Sherl.Jocelyn raises her brows at him, sucking in her cheeks in wonder. John palms his face, already remembering how he would sometimes get kicked out of 221B for the same exact reason.Jocelyn presses her lips together before wrapping the lab coat tighter around herself as she follows behind the two.She stops walking until she’s facing Sherlock, crossing her arms. “Will you be alright here?”“Why wouldn’t I be?”“Just asking,” she shrugs. “We’ll be walking around, call if you need us.” She begins to walk off.“Jocelyn.”His voice pulls her back as she ceases walking, slowly turning back around. “Yeah?”“We are going to have to talk, after all of this.” His voice is low and completely rich, it was enough to weaken her by the knees.She fiddles with her fingers. “Do you really want that, or are you going to walk away again?”“We’re going to talk about my dear brother and your little detour to Dartmoor. Nothing more.”She nods once, looking to her left. “Fantastic.” Once Jocelyn left the room, Sherlock opens his eyes in a calm manner.***Once Sherlock contacted John to come back since he finally has some answers, they begin walking back to Dr. Stapleton’s lab.“What did Sherlock mean when he said that he’d let you do what you need to do?”She sighs, briefly fluttering her eyes closed. “He asked me here to test Sherlock if he’s clean or not.”John widens his eyes at her, completely stopping his movements. “Sorry, what?”“I had no idea that Lestrade wanted me to do it, I found out when I was already in the car with him on the way here.”John immediately looks at her, frowning. “If Lestrade and Mycroft both think that Sherlock isn’t clean… then that means I haven’t been doing a good job.”Jocelyn feels how John seems to be upset with himself. “Hey, it’s not your fault, John. And come on, we don’t know anything yet, yeah?” She reassures him.“He hasn’t been doing well, Jocelyn.” John informs her, making the woman tilt her head. “Yeah, he’s been a mess the past few weeks, wouldn’t even talk to me unless he’s pleading me to get him some drugs off his bloody homeless network,”“John,” she begins, but has no idea how to continue. “It’ll be fine. He’s Sherlock Holmes, what can he not do?”“Stay clean?” John darkly answers, giving her a humorless smile. “If he isn’t, that would mean I haven’t been paying attention.”“Don’t do that, come on. Sherlock wouldn’t blame you if he ever decided to use again, okay? Bloody moron would blame himself, if anything.”John just slowly nods, sighing to himself. “Yeah, okay. But if you test him and he’s not clean, I really do hope none of you would try to hold me back from screaming bloody murder at him.”Jocelyn only lets out a small laugh, but she feels like John wasn’t joking at all.***John and Sherlock sit in front of the car, with Sherlock driving. “We need to make a stop at the motel.”“Why?” John asks.Sherlock answers what John doesn’t expect. “Dropping off Jocelyn. It’s far too dangerous to bring her along.” He says, but his tone is out of spite as though the thought of her coming along is actually irks him instead of frightening.Jocelyn widens her eyes from the backseat. “What—I’m sitting right here!”“And you shouldn’t be. It’s far too dangerous. You’re staying in the diner.”“Sherlock, we don’t have time to make a bloody stop.” John reminds him.“Which is why I’m driving as fast as I can.” The consulting detective shoots back with a calmer tone, raising his brows at John.“You can’t just leave me at a fucking restaurant, Sherlock!”“Yes, I can.”“I’m not a child.”“Then why do you act like one?”Jocelyn widens her eyes and her jaw drops in annoyance.“Accept the fact that it’ll be dangerous for you.”“Henry Knight is out there with a gun and your first thought is to drop me off at the motel we’re staying in? What, do you want me to get fish and chips as well?”“She’s right, Sherlock. Come on, make a left here.”Sherlock grits his teeth, groaning a bit before he does as John says and drives straight to the woods where they can walk on foot to Dewer’s Hollow.They reach their destination and exit the car immediately, and the three began to sprint. Jocelyn just follows the two men into a pit, seeing a man holding what seems to be a gun.Sherlock yells for Henry to stop what he’s doing, but the man only points his gun at the three of them.Out of instinct, Sherlock walks in front of Jocelyn to somewhat shield her from Henry’s aim.“Easy, Henry. Just put the gun down.”However, it only drove the man on edge, yelling at the three of them before putting the barrel of the gun into his mouth, making all of them flinch and yell at him to stop. Sherlock explains to Henry what really happened here twenty years ago. Slowly, Jocelyn pieced things together as well.Once Henry is calm, Jocelyn makes a bold move of stepping forward and slowly removing the gun from the man’s clutch. She offers him a comforting smile before backing away.They hear Lestrade call our their names as he enters the scene. Suddenly, a familiar sound echoes through the woods, and all five of them look up into the edge of the land, seeing a figure striding across the surface.If Jocelyn’s eyes are as wide as she could possibly make them out to be. She gasps, covering her mouth in surprise. How—“Sherlock?” John mutters in shock.Henry begins to panic and Sherlock just watches the figure he saw just the night before. Jocelyn can’t believe her eyes. The mysterious doglike figure is snarling and growling at them in an aggressive manner, already making its way towards them.“Right, they’re not drugged, Sherlock. Especially Greg, he’s never been to the lab before.” John reminds him, and Sherlock pants anxiously. The consulting detective backs away and looks behind himself to make sure that everyone is behind him. “What is it?!”“Alright! It’s still here!” Sherlock concludes, trying to shut John up so he can think. “But it’s nothing more than an ordinary dog.”“Jesus Christ!” Jocelyn swears in reflex as the dog jumps down to their level. She flinches backwards and as a reflex, Sherlock steps forward in front of her.Jocelyn watches as the red eyes of the monster flicker for a moment, making her furrow her brows. She evens out her breathing, looking down at the ground in realization.“Fear and stimulus,” she mutters to herself.Jocelyn looks down at her hands, seeing how small traces of ice are slowly crawling on her skin. She pants and backs away, shaking as she slowly descends to the ground on her knee.Sherlock sees her and widens his eyes. “Jocelyn!”She somehow didn’t hear him, teeth chattering as she clutches at her arms as if to keep herself warm. Sherlock watches in horror, grabbing her arm to crouch down in front of her.“Jocelyn, snap out of it right now, do you hear me?” His voice is low, turning his head to see John talking to Henry to calm him down.Jocelyn shakes her head, feeling ice all over her body until her eyes fill with cold tears.Sherlock clenches his jaw. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. Remember, fear and stimulus. That’s how it works. Snap out of it, Jocelyn.”Jocelyn slowly regains her reality, and the image of the walk-in freezer fades away only a bit, but it’s still there, along with the shadow of a man in a Westwood suit. She pushes herself back onto her feet, clutching her chest.Once Sherlock is aware that Jocelyn is alright, he sharply turns around, seeing a man with a gas mask on. He runs toward the man and rips the gas mask off, only to reveal the face of someone he has not seen for a long time.“No, no,” he says under his breath. “Not you!” He reached for him by the collar and spins him around to push him onto the ground.Sherlock takes a moment to recollect himself and he suddenly recalls Jocelyn’s words from earlier. He looks around and observes how they are engulfed by the white cloud. “The fog, the drug is in the fog!”“What?”“Aerosol dispersant. Project HOUND, it’s the fog! A chemical minefield!” Sherlock concludes and everyone proceeds to block their airways.The hound nears them, and Dr. Frankland yells for someone to kill it. Jocelyn gasps. “No! Don’t!”***Sherlock sits by the fireplace, noticing how the restaurant is now empty since it is quite late.Jocelyn walks in just in time, holding a tray with two cups of tea, a teapot and two spoons. She sets the tray down on the coffee table, occupying the seat that John sat on.She looks up at him with concern. “You good?”“Hm.” He makes a vague sound, glancing at the tea before giving in and reaching over to take the cup. He sips from it and it tastes exactly as how he prefers it.“It’s not your fault, Sherlock.”“I know.”“No, you don’t.”He finally admits it. “How is it not my fault?”“You can’t just blame yourself for everything bad that happens. Hey, look at me,” she tells him, but he refuses to. “Sherlock, look at me.”Sherlock sighs as he cranes his neck towards the young woman.Jocelyn has a genuine look on her face. “We couldn’t have done anything. You’ve done your job, and you’ve done it well. Tomorrow will be the best day of Henry Knight’s life, thanks to you.”As much as he dislikes her, the words she said serve as an odd comfort for him. He feels the weight on his shoulders be lifted as he stares back at her. “Apologies for… immediately deciding not to let you join the meet-up in Dewer’s Hollow. It was a rash decision-making.”Jocelyn lets out a soft laugh. “It was. Thank you for pulling me out of that horrid state, and for talking me through it.”He hesitates. “Apologies as well for… calling you a child. You are clearly an adult who is capable of making decisions.”“I know. You were just trying to protect me.”“I wasn’t.”Jocelyn hums. “Sure.”Maybe everything he felt eight years ago, never left. Maybe they were just stored somewhere else and remained unacknowledged by him. Sherlock closes his eyes and focuses on his steady breathing.“Listen,” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “How did you know that I came here to test you?”“I could read it all over Lestrade’s face. He seemed overly concerned about something very little.”“Something very little? You call relapsing as something very little?”“Drugs are not a big deal, Jocelyn. As I’ve said before, I’m not an addict, I’m a user.”“That’s what an addict would say.”Sherlock sighs, plopping his palms onto the armrests before he rolls up his right sleeve to expose his skin. He stretches his arm across the space between them. He checks the time on the wall clock, but soon realizes that the young woman is just staring at him.“What? No resistance, I never break deals.”Jocelyn pushes his arm away. “I’m not going to test you, you moron.”“…You’re not?”“I’m not going to do what your brother tells me to do.”“You left lab work to squabble your way here with Lestrade by Mycroft’s order.”“Yeah, an order that I didn’t follow until Mycroft told me you were in danger? And for the record, I trust you even though you don’t trust me. So, I’m going to take your word for it.” She takes a deep breath. “Are you clean or not?”“I’m clean.” Sherlock answers, but he’s still suspicious of her.“And I’ll call your brother in the morning to inform him of such wonderful news.” She lets out an amused chuckle before she takes a sip of her tea.“You will just take my word for it?”“Would you lie to me?”“If necessary.”“Do you think it’s necessary now?”He shifts in his seat. “No—”“Do I have any reason not to trust you?”“Well, not—”“Then, problem solved.” Jocelyn dismisses and keeps drinking her tea until it’s empty. “I better sleep, you should get some rest, too. If you won’t, I’ll drive, then.” She smirks at him as she stands up and walks out of the room.He still can’t believe how much he learned from her today. Somehow, while the idea of Jocelyn being everything he has concluded her to be, the feeling he receives… is pleasant.The consulting detective inhales sharply before pushing himself onto his feet, carrying his weight towards the door of his and John’s room, opening it swiftly but quietly in order not to wake the doctor.He sits on his bed, stretches his feet across it as he lies down and openly stares at the ceiling. Annoyingly, as he closes his eyes, he imagines looking into green ones. The thought makes him feel human, and it is utterly repulsive.
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An hour before they left, Jocelyn called Mycroft and informed him that everything was fine. When Jocelyn spoke to Lestrade in secrecy, he seemed to be relieved enough to give Jocelyn a quick hug just before he left.Apparently, Sherlock already told John about the truth regarding the lab incident. Jocelyn is more than pleased to hear that John was angry at first, but let it slide since it was for the case; just as Sherlock predicted.When they got to the train station on the way home, the three of them just quietly sit together. John looks so out of it, sometimes he would even slowly close his eyes, only to open them shortly after. Sherlock seems to be amused by this as he raises both his brows at his friend, making the young woman snicker to herself.Once they reached the stop, a cab pulls up in front of them and Sherlock makes a move of following right behind Jocelyn as she lifted her small bag.John looks at him with confusion. “Where are you going? There’s a cab right here.”“I’ll be walking Jocelyn home.”She looks startled. “You are?”“That’s correct.” He gives John a tight smile.Jocelyn lets him walk past her while she just stares at John in astonishment. “Okay... he’s apparently walking me home.”He raises both his hands. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just go home to Baker Street by myself, with all the bags.”She huffs out a laugh, bidding John goodbye before he slides inside the cab, only to see Sherlock waiting for her. Jocelyn gives him a suspicious look, although, mixed with amusement.“This is a way of solving a new case that you’ve subtly taken while on that train, isn’t it?”“No case.”“Is it to get away from John?”“No,” Sherlock gestures to his left. “Please,”Jocelyn just feels odd as she walks. “I was actually counting on the three-day stay. We should really go back and put a dog there to roam the moors.”Sherlock huffs out a sound that resembles a laugh. “Yes, good idea. Let’s drive a man to insanity and enjoy the new year.”“Should I ask why?”“Why what?”“Why you’re here and not shooting up the walls in 221B Baker Street?”“I’d rather shoot up my veins, but I’m aware that none of you would like me to do so.”She stops walking, and makes him do the same. Jocelyn glares at him. “That’s not funny.”“I’m obviously being sarcastic.”“You’re supposed to use a sarcastic tone, now I just look stupid,” Jocelyn tries to lighten up the mood, which somehow works since she earns a ghost of a smile from the man.Sherlock is slowly realizing that he’s finding it easy to be around her. When she first arrived in Baker Street months ago, he couldn’t stand the sight of her and even her perfume lingering in his home.Now, though, everything feels different.They reach her apartment, and Jocelyn turns to Sherlock the minute they get to the front gate. “Well, this is my stop.”“Yes.”“You know, Mycroft said that I should advise you to lay low and not take big cases like this hound thing,”“Ah.”“Yeah, I wondered why he would ask me to do such thing since you never listen to me anyway,” she says with amusement.“Well, now I know what I have to do next.”“And what’s that?”“Find a case that will have my name all over the papers.”Jocelyn chuckles. “Do you have anywhere to be?”“I might have to take a cab to Baker Street now.” He says, but he stays in his place.Jocelyn wants to invite him in, but she keeps reminding herself that this is temporary. This is one of those moments where Sherlock is being kind to her than to anyone else and before she knows it, he’s back to being a complete arsehole.“You really did just get off that train to walk me here, didn’t you?”“Well… yes.”She frowns at him, sighing out before mustering a smile. Although this time, her smile had no humor to it. “Sherlock, what are you doing?”“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”“This, all of this,” she exasperatedly gestures all around them. “You’re acting so strange.”“Strange?”“You’ve been so nice to me, to your own extent of being nice. It’s not—” she tries to find the right word. “You don’t do nice with me, it’s not your style.” When he doesn’t answer, Jocelyn sighs. “Forget I said anything.”“Jocelyn,” he says under his breath. “You’ve been very considerate of my actions lately, I’ve felt the need to return the gesture.”“Oh.”“Was that not the answer you’re looking for?”“Were you just saying that because you thought it was what I wanted to hear?” She smiles.“Of course not. I’ve meant what I said.”She bites her lip and Sherlock couldn’t help but flicker his eyes to it for a split second before returning to the green in her eyes. “Can I ask you something?”“What?”“Why did you,” Jocelyn pauses, finding it difficult to ask. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing.”“Lestrade told you.”“What?”“He told you about what happened years ago. Am I wrong?”Well, there is no point in denying it now that he figured it out himself. “He mentioned it on the way to Devon.”“Of course he had. I believe your question would be why I resorted into drug use.”“It’s too personal, I can’t—”“I used because I’ve had an interest in the notion that my senses can be heightened, while emotions can easily be turned off.”Sherlock may be right, but… “In the process, your body was destroyed by it.”“Yes,” Sherlock has a thoughtful look on his face. “It did, rather. I found myself losing interest.”“So, you stopped.”Sherlock bitterly smiles. “I’ve had my fair share of destruction, no need to add more.”Jocelyn tries to smile back, knowing what he means.“When Lestrade found me on the floor of my bedroom, I went through rehabilitation for a few weeks, and succeeded in not trying to escape this time. I’ve been clean for a while.” He thinks for a moment, tilting his head. “Come to think of it, it has been five years since I’ve used.”She smiles a bit, biting her lip. “That’s good, I’m really glad to hear it.”“You… you are?”“Of course. Five years. That’s amazing.”Sherlock gives her a suspicious look, not quite able to grasp why her eyes are filling with the hint of tears. “It’s not a big deal, Jocelyn. It’s just drugs.”“It is a big deal. To me. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice is so genuine that it makes the hair on Sherlock’s whole body stand underneath his coat.“Right, that’s…” he clears his throat. “That’s pleasing to hear. Although, I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss.”The memories of New York keeps pushing themselves into her eyes, making her blink a few times. “I’m just proud of you.”“Thank you.”“You should get back to Baker Street, John might need some help with the shopping.”“It appears so. He always purchases the wrong brand of milk.” He adds to the joke with a straight face, making Jocelyn let out a final laugh.Jocelyn hesitates before stepping forward quickly, placing her hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and before he could react, she gives a soft kiss on his cheek.She pulls away as soon as possible, giving him another smile as she turns to make her way to the building.Sherlock stood there frozen, analyzing the way electricity suddenly struck through his body as though he short-circuited. He gathers his consciousness back and turns on his heel, walking down the street to hail a cab in order to go home.He blinks, before turning back around. “Jocelyn!”Jocelyn spins with a confused expression. “Yeah?”“This afternoon, come by Baker Street. I have a simple request from you.”“Oh? What is it?”“Just come by, I’ll explain.”“Okay…”He gives her a short nod before turning back around and resumes walking to find a cab. Jocelyn stands there, dumbfounded, before turning to reach her own flat.--“Apologies, Miss Grant, for the short notice.”“No worries, I always enjoy being picked up from campus by a limousine.”A nineteen-year-old Jocelyn Grant situated herself in front of Mycroft Holmes, looking up to smile at the waiter pouring their drinks.“I mean, I would have been okay with cafés.”“Would you like to leave, then?”“If this is where you prefer to be, then here is fine.”“I don’t frequent cafés, unlike you and my dear brother.”“And unlike you, Sherlock and I never go to fancy restaurants.”“Do you have anything against restaurants?”“I don’t have the fondest memories involving them.”“I see. Prideful father. Former ballerina of a mother, now crippled. You left your father’s house the minute you turned eighteen. Same father, who won custody over you years ago, is starting a new family in Glasgow. Textbook definition of a broken family.”“Did you make me come here to insult me, then?”“Not insulting, just stating factual information.” Mycroft casually says and it makes Jocelyn glare at him. “Miss Grant, I’ve asked you here to discuss my brother, and what kind of future you should expect.”“What are you talking about?”“You must have realized by now how my brother is much different than an average individual.”“I’ve noticed that the moment I met him, Mycroft.”“Yes, but I don’t think you realize the gravity of his situation.”“What are you saying?”“What I’m offering you is guidance through Sherlock’s behavior.”“So, all of this isn’t just to flatter me? I mean, this is a really romantic gesture and everything—”“Miss Grant, if you could for once in your life, remain serious.”“I have light blue hair, wearing jeans in a suit-and-tie themed restaurant. I really hope you’re not expecting me to be.”“My brother, Sherlock, possesses the mind of a renowned philosopher and if we are truly unlucky, it might improve in the near future. Do you understand what I’m saying?”“Yes… I think.”“Before you and my brother had the fortune of crossing paths together, Sherlock had plans of moving to central London and applying for a job at Scotland Yard.”“Is he taking a detective career?”Mycroft returned her smile, of course, proud of his younger brother. “More or less. I’ve also heard that you will be moving to New York for University opportunities.”“Oh, no. Not anymore, actually. I changed my mind, I’m staying here in London.” She casually said to him.Mycroft raised his brows. “Oh?”“I’m staying here, I won’t be leaving for New York when I graduate.”“But that was what you were planning to do even before you and Sherlock met.”“Things changed, I guess. I live with Sherlock now. We have other plans now.”“You… will stay with Sherlock?”The way he asked that was familiar to the way Sherlock kept wondering how he ever had Jocelyn in his life. As if he never could believe that a person like Jocelyn would ever choose him.“Yes, Mycroft. I do want to stay with him. We’re a package deal now.”Suddenly, an happy grin slowly made its way to his face. “You continue to astound me, Miss Grant.”“You say that a lot, I’m going to assume you never do to other people.”“Not many people astound me, I’m afraid.”“Just me?” She teased.“You’re not exactly boring, Miss Grant.”“When are you going to drop the Miss Grant?”“I don’t think I will. If anything, if it continues to bother you, the label will never leave my vocabulary.”She laughed. “Wonderful.”Their conversation continued to prosper, and the evening went great. Of course, with a few drinks in Mycroft’s body, he was much more tolerable and casual with his words around Jocelyn.“I never knew you how un-uptight you can be.”“That is not a word.”Jocelyn pressed her lips together. “On second thought…”“I would like to inform you how it pleases me that you are staying in England to continue your studies. Of course, I insist on paying for any college tuitions from any university you’d like.”“You don’t have to do that, Mycroft.”“Oh, I insist. It would be my honor to help you study.”While Mycroft was talking, Jocelyn was shaking her head. “Sherlock and I already discussed this. I’d like to do it on my own, you know?”Mycroft raised his brows at her once again. Usually, typical humans would just accept the money and shower him with gratitude. Although, Jocelyn insists on working on her success all on her own. He grinned, realizing how well they will get along.Laughter erupted between them as they clink their glasses together, drinking their wine during their fine evening. Once their dinner is done and paid for, Mycroft walked Jocelyn home.Whilst walking, Jocelyn glanced down his hand. “You always carry an umbrella with you, it’s not even raining.”“It’s England, Miss Grant. It’s always raining.”“You know what I mean.”Mycroft lifted the umbrella with a small grin. “A Christmas gift from Sherlock. I’ve had it for seven years now.”Jocelyn smiled at the thought. “That’s adorable.”“He still thinks it is a rubbish gift. You should see the coat I bought for him.”“You got him a coat?”“And a scarf, too. I had both of them tailored especially for him. He never wears it.”“Well, I need to see it if it’s that bad.”“You would never get the chance, Miss Grant.”Jocelyn grinned and threw her head back, laughing. Once they reach the front door of the flat, Jocelyn turned to him. “I have one more question, though.”“And what is that?”Jocelyn hesitated for a moment. “Sherlock mentioned to me that he thinks you two are drifting apart. I wanted to ask if you feel the same way.”Her confrontation surprised him. “Well, I certainly don’t think my brother is delusional.”“You think he’s right?”“My brother is rarely ever wrong. I have been studying at prestigious universities and I have been disciplining myself into becoming part of the government.”“And that’s what you want?”“Of course. My intellect is far too advance for any other job, Miss Grant.”“But what does that have to do with you and Sherlock growing apart?”“Well… for me to work for the government, I have to understand what I will be getting myself into. Sherlock does not need to be a part of all the things I’ll be dealing with that are unsuitable for him.”Her face relaxed in realization. “You’re… you’re doing it on purpose. You’re making the two of you drift apart on purpose.”“Caring is, unfortunately, not an advantage,” he sadly glanced at the umbrella in his hand. “It’s for the best, believe me.”She took a step back in disbelief. “You’re hurting him.”“So that no one else can hurt him. I must ensure that no person can use him against me.”“Why pick this job, then?”“One thing you must never doubt about me is how I will go through extreme lengths to protect Sherlock. No matter what.”“…From what?”Suddenly, the door swung open and a very delighted Sherlock revealed himself. He was wearing gloves and laboratory glasses.Sherlock glanced at his brother. “How was dinner?”It was as if nothing happened, Mycroft hummed. “A great success, brother mine. I must be going. Have a good evening, to both of you.”Before Mycroft left, he shot her a look as if he was telling her not to tell anyone whatever he revealed to her.“Is there something wrong?”Everything felt wrong. The youngest Holmes looked up to his older brother like no other.His mother told her how sensitive her son is, but at the same time, he could be clueless and become insensitive. He is never just happy, sad, or angry. When he is happy, he is joyful. When he feels sad, he is in despair. When he is angry, he feels rage.Therefore, when he is hurt, he is in great pain.“No, I just… I should get some rest.”“Jocelyn.”She turned to face him, mustering her winning smile. “Everything’s fine, I just need to rest and all.”Sherlock returns the calming smile and never asked anything else. That was the moment Jocelyn realized that he put all of his trust upon her.--“Sherlock?”“In the kitchen.”“You’re supposed to say that only if you’re actually in the kitchen.” She sarcastically says.“I’m in the bedroom.”She rolls her eyes. “Want to tell me about this request you talked about?”Sherlock exits his room, wearing a royal blue button-up and black dresspants, paired with his usual black shoes.He walks past her, making her gape. “Sherlock—”“We’re going somewhere.”“What? Where? Why?”“Too many questions, Jocelyn. Come along.” He walks out of the flat.She stands in the middle flat, scoffing before following after him. Jocelyn finds him in the pavement, appearing to be hailing a cab.“Where are we going?”Sherlock doesn’t say a word, successfully hailing a cab before leaning down to give tell something to the driver.He opens the door for her. She gives him a skeptical look, glaring at him while he stares at her.“This is my request. Come with me somewhere and not ask questions.”“How very kidnapper-y of you.”“Jocelyn.”“Fine,” she inches closer to the cab and slides in with Sherlock following right after.Sherlock fishes out his phone, and Jocelyn just tries to tune out the sound of his thumbs composing a message. After around an hour, Jocelyn glances out of the window and gives him an odd look.“Sherlock, we’re leaving the city.”“I’m aware, I gave him an address.”“We’re leaving central London. Where are you taking me?”Sherlock only sighs as they enter a neighborhood. If she keeps this up, the cab driver will begin to assume that he kidnapped her, and Sherlock would much rather not be accused of something… so, he tells the cabbie to pull over.Jocelyn glares at him, but exits the cab nonetheless. They stand together at the pavement as she looks around, observing the city they entered. The streets are not packed with people, with only a few just walking down pavements with their pets. Jocelyn catches sight of a small sign nearby.“What are we doing in Milton Keynes?”“Come along.”“But—” Jocelyn is not given a chance to speak when he began walking, so she just scoffs and follows after him. “If this is for a case, John is always available.”“No cases today.” Sherlock observes a small house for a moment. “What do you see?”“It’s small?”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “You’re a forensic scientist surrounded by various detectives. Surely they are a tiny bit more competent than what they seem to me.”“Fine. It’s a cozy home. I’m thinking three to four residents live here.”“You are correct; the house can be occupied by four people. However, right now there is only one.”“And? What does any of this mean?”He turns to her with pressed lips before knocking on the door. Sherlock steps aside and lets Jocelyn take his place in front of the door. She shakes her head at him, unsure what he’s up to.Moreover, when the door opens, it sparks a thousand of other questions in her mind.She widens her eyes at the woman in front of her, jaw hanging low without another word. The woman had white strands mixed with her natural red hair.She has a surprised look on her face as she stares back at the young woman. “Jo?”“I…” Jocelyn is at loss with words. “Aunt Catelyn, I, uh, I’m…”The two women just stare at each other in shock, but after a few moments, her aunt pulls her into a warm hug. Jocelyn is still in shock as she hugs her back. Catelyn holds her tight, inexplicably happy to see her.Once Jocelyn wrapped her mind around the situation, she begins to stumble with her words. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t—”Her aunt embraces her again. “It’s okay, everything is fine.”Sherlock stands behind them, taking a deep breath through his nose as he watches the scene. Catelyn notices him, and pulls away from Jocelyn.The older woman just tilted her head at him. “Sherlock.”“Mrs. Forbes.” He offers a hand for her to shake, but Catelyn laughs a bit before pulling him into a hug as well. It surprises him for a moment, but he returns it.Jocelyn watches the scene with a grin on her face.***“I saw you on the papers a few months back, Jo. Seems like you reached your goal,” her aunt smiles as she pours their tea.Jocelyn feels a bit of guilt. “I’m so sorry, I should have called and visited you the moment I got to England. I-I…”“No need to worry, you’re here now.”On the other hand, while the two women are in the living room having tea, Sherlock chooses to just explore, observing framed photographs on the mantelpiece and walls. There were photos of Jocelyn around age seven, and it brings him a comforting feeling.“Somehow, I’m not at all surprised that you two are still together.”Jocelyn stammers while Sherlock snaps his neck towards the woman. “Uh... we’re not actually.”“Oh. Right. Sorry.”Jocelyn tries to think of another topic. They talk for almost an hour, while Sherlock just keeps his distance. Jocelyn and her aunt talk about their family and the things they used to do together, both of them laugh from time to time.Her aunt looks at Sherlock, who was staring at a photograph on the wall. “You haven’t spoken a word, Sherlock. I’d love to know how you’ve been doing, too,”From being acknowledged, Sherlock makes his way towards them. “Hm. Nothing much to say, Mrs. Forbes. I’m a consulting detective, co-renting a flat down in Baker Street.”“Ah, you’ve achieved your goals as well, like Jo here. Do you two work together?”“Sometimes. She works for Scotland Yard and they consult me once they run out of ideas, which is always. Then again, police are rarely competent.”“Well, haven’t you changed, Sherlock?”“As someone would, after nine years.”“How’s your brother?”“Intolerable, as always.”His answer makes Jocelyn’s aunt chuckle. “Sounds rather interesting. The Holmes boys are men now,” she teases.“Well, we certainly did grow up.”Jocelyn furrows her brows at Sherlock. His behavior is so odd, he’s actually making her aunt laugh and not feel the need to kick him out.She just nods at her aunt and sips her tea. Sherlock is watching her the entire time before pulling himself on his feet. They all bid their goodbyes, and Jocelyn ended their visit with a tight embrace.“I never thought you’d welcome me back. Not after what I did.”Her aunt waves her off. “It’s all in the past, Jo. We all had plenty of time to move on.”Sherlock darts his eyes to the ground, thinking about her words.Jocelyn gives her one last smile and begins to walk with Sherlock to another corner. Catelyn watches them walk away for a moment, smiling to herself as she observes the man and the woman walk together before closing her door.“We still have two hours until it gets dark.”She still has an idiotic smile on her face, in disbelief. “You just… you just took me to see my aunt for the first time in almost nine years.”“And what of it?”“I can’t believe all of that just happened. She didn’t even seem angry.”Sherlock glances at her before leading his eyes back on the street. “Why would she be?”“Sherlock, I left her to take care of my mother.” She shakes her head. “Why would she not be angry at me?”“Nine years ago, you told her that it was your plan to study in New York. She knew what she signed up for.”“You’re saying that she was never angry at me?”“She never hated you, Jocelyn. You were just too terrified of facing her.”“So, you kidnapped and drove me to Milton Keynes to see her?”“It was hardly kidnapping. You agreed.”“How did you even find her? She said that she just moved here.”“Same way I found your mother’s ring. I have my ways.”Jocelyn couldn’t help but smile. “Why did you do this?”“I was bored.”From his words, Jocelyn laughs loudly while happiness bursts through her body. Somehow, the sight of her being happy was enough for Sherlock to calm his mind.They reach their destination and Jocelyn only stares at the gate with the sign saying, Wolverton Cemetery.Sherlock waits for her to finally take a deep breath, watching her with caution. He does not proceed through the gates until Jocelyn walks first. He follows her to where she remembers her grandparents were buried.They reach the headstones nearby a huge tree, and Jocelyn crosses her arms while she takes a deep breath. Sherlock reads the other headstones, with her grandparents’ names. It seems like they passed away before Jocelyn was even born. He looks at Jocelyn as she steps forward to caress the headstone as if she was touching her mother’s soft hair.It only hit her now that she will never do that ever again. Tears fill her eyes, and she chokes back a sob.Sherlock doesn’t make a move, letting her do this on her own. Still, he doesn’t leave.This is his first time visiting her mother as well, but he couldn’t help but think that he should not be the one to share this moment with her. Especially since this is her first time, too.He pulls out the two roses that he kept in his coat before giving one to Jocelyn.“How the hell did you manage to keep these hidden in there the whole time?” She tries to chuckle in the middle of crying.“One of my many talents,” he crouches down to put the flower on the grass. Jocelyn does the same.“She’s probably giving me the once-over for not visiting her over the years.”“Or maybe she’s yelling at you, finally.”Jocelyn laughs, a tear running down her cheek as she bites her finger. “I still remember her voice.”Sherlock remembers his one conversation with her mother. “I remember her voice, too.”“It’s nice to know that you remember her.” Jocelyn sighs out, reading her mother’s headstone.“She would be glad to see you here.”She gives him a small smile and nods. Sherlock stares at her before looking up at the sky. He tells her that the sun is setting and they should go back to London, so she nods. Before leaving, Jocelyn touches her mother’s gravestone once more and smiles to herself, imagining her mum looking down at her with a smile, too.She follows Sherlock through the gates and waits by the pavement for a cab. The sky is slowly getting darker, and the air is getting colder.“Why did you bring me here, really?”“You wouldn’t have came here on your own, both of us knew that.”“You didn’t have to do all of these, both of us knew that.”“You deserved to see your mother, without your own fear of holding you back.”“Sherlock, why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?”“Jocelyn—”“No, the truth is you’re confusing me. You give me glimpses of you and then it disappears the next second. I can’t… I can’t keep relying on moments.” She takes a step back, he just watches her with an indecipherable look. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”“I’m not exactly sure what you’d like me to say.”“I just want to know what you want from me.”Sherlock looks down at his feet, breath puffing out of his mouth to create a white fog from the cold. He stays silent for a second before looking back at her green eyes. He calmly lifts his arm, eyes looking past her. Jocelyn turns around and sees a cab pulling over in front of them.“You’re running again.”“No, we are going back to London.” He opens the cab door.“Quite brave of you to think I’m coming with you without getting an answer first.”Sherlock clenches his jaw, stepping aside and gesturing to the cab and waiting for her to hop in.Jocelyn faces him with an angry look. “Why do you keep avoiding this?”“Baker Street. Now.” His voice is slow and deep, eyes flaring.“I’m telling you that I’m not going.”Sherlock pinches the skin between his brows. “Jocelyn, stop being difficult and get in the cab,”“No.”“You’d rather do this right outside of the cemetery your mother is buried in?”That infuriates her. “Fine. Don’t answer any sane question that I ask you. Keep pushing me away, because that’s what you always do.” She lets out a shaky breath.“Jocelyn, get in the cab.”She shakes her head before walking to the backseat and sliding inside. Sherlock clenches his teeth as he follows right after, telling the driver to head for Baker Street, London.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Why didn’t you tell him?”One Sunday morning, a nineteen-year-old Jocelyn paced opposite of Mycroft inside of his office, watching as he pours her some tea. It had been a few days since they had dinner and discussed many things in relation to Sherlock.“There are many things that you still don’t understand about Sherlock, Miss Grant.”She glared at him. “Yeah, you keep saying that, but you never clarify things! You put me in a difficult situation the other day.”“You’re making a dire situation sound overly dramatic, sit down.”“You make me feel like I hardly know him at all.”“Sit down, Miss Grant.”“Can you just tell me what’s going on?”“It surprises me how Sherlock hasn’t done anything extreme around you yet. Usually, it never takes him long.”“Extreme? What are you talking about?”“The extremes I’ve been referring to you are his breakdowns. At that moment, his mind would be reading too much information for his body to even handle. Sherlock is young and fragile, as much as he would not like to admit it. He is unprepared for the future. Especially the future with you in it.”“This is bullshit, none of this is possible.”“This is for his own good.”“You make him sound inhuman.”“You’ve met him, how human do you think he is?”“How can you even say that? He’s your brother!”“Yes, he is. This is why I am taking precaution of his life. He has been through so much before you even met.”“Such as?”“Rehabilitation, Miss Grant. He was out of control regarding narcotics.”“That’s... not possible. Him? A junkie?”“I used to find him in drug dens exchanging pills for money he pick-pocketed from our parents.” Mycroft bluntly tells her, making her gape in surprise.“I-I don’t know what to say.”“We put him in a university, not to punish him, but to discipline him. He was stubborn and refused. Ideally, he negotiated with me.”“With what?”“He’ll only go to the university if he’ll be allowed to study Chemistry and be put into the orchestral group.”“He’s a junkie. Letting him study Chemistry is like giving him a handbook for controlled usage.”“He’s clean, I’m sure of it.” Mycroft sighed. “Our parents walk on eggshells around him. All of our relatives are so careful, and here you are, bringing the excitement to his life that put many of us on edge.”“What are you even trying to point out?”“You’ve seen yourself, Jocelyn. Everything about you can be new information for Sherlock to store in his disarrayed mind. While you are wonderfully interesting and a great companion, you are also impulsive, unpredictable and often indecisive.”She wavered, lips parting in shock.“All your actions are being analyzed and everything is brand new to him.” Mycroft took his seat again. “He is unprepared. His emotions aren’t contained, his thoughts aren’t organized, which makes him prone to terrible decisions.”“What... do you want me to do?”“That is precisely the question I’ve been asking myself. I have no answer to offer.”“Are you saying I should leave him?”Mycroft widened his eyes. “Absolutely not. That would wound him in a whole other level. I was hoping that you would talk to him about the subject. He never deems any information as unimportant, which is why he stores everything. It’s not healthy.”She just let out a breath, standing up. Mycroft made Sherlock sound like an actual robot and it is beginning to terrify her.“I don’t believe any of this. Sherlock is more than how you described him. He doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you’re treating him, and you know it.” She remarked before leaving his office. Mycroft sighed to himself, closing his eyes before palming his cheek.--Once they reach Baker Street, Sherlock silently walks up to the door and opens it, not even waiting for her to follow after him. Jocelyn can feel the anger radiating from him, it feels like he is about to explode on her.They both climb upstairs to the flat and Sherlock gets rid of his coat and scarf, pushing both to the sofa.John emerges from the kitchen. “Hey,” John switches his gaze between her and the consulting detective—who was silently making his way to the windows. “Where did you two go?”Before Jocelyn could even answer, Sherlock slams both his hands onto the table and makes her jump. Sherlock leans his head down, palms pressed against the surface of the table. His hands are shaking as he evens out his breathing.“Sherlock.” John mutters.He sharply pulls his head back up, walking past John to face Jocelyn. “You’d like the truth, don’t you? Well, here it is, Dr. Grant, because the truth will finally be outed.”The consulting detective appears as if all the emotions he felt at once has started to overflow and he can no longer contain them inside himself. Sherlock’s hands are shaking as he starts to pace in the room.“Sherlock...” Jocelyn begins with a slow tone.“No, you do not get to use that voice with me. I know what you are trying to do!” Sherlock aggressively points out, but she doesn’t flinch.John steps forward. “Christ’s sake, Sherlock, calm down.”“I am perfectly calm, John. When am I never not calm? I’m finally giving Miss Grant a chance to explain herself, isn’t that what she always wanted? Hm?” He glances at the brunette woman just behind John. “Isn’t it?”“Yes, I’ve wanted this ever since I got here, but not like this.”Sherlock could feel the anger boiling inside him. So, now that he is giving her a chance to speak, she refuses? Just because John is here to witness everything? “I’d like to discuss it now. I’m choosing the time.”John hesitates. “Maybe I should go—”“No.”“Sherlock, I think you will prefer it to be just between us. Trust me.”“I cannot put trust into you. I have reason to believe that you’re well aware of that.”“She’s right. This should be just between the two of you.” He agrees with her, glancing at the woman who only has a grateful expression on her face.Having John say it, the detective looks hesitant. It takes him half a minute to decide and just gives John a look. John nods at Jocelyn before stepping outside the flat to elsewhere.The tension rises when it is finally just the two of them inside 221B. Jocelyn could feel the cold seeping through the window and Sherlock could only watch her with a frown.“I’d like to know everything that happened from the very start.”Jocelyn presses her lips together. “That’s a bit vague, Sherlock.”“Why did you leave?” It’s as if the words were difficult to say, he could feel the awful bile rising in his throat.--When she arrived at their flat, she noticed how most lights were off. Except for the bedroom, she noticed the light seeping through the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door.“Sherlock?”When she received no response, she reached for the doorknob and twisted before gently swinging it open.Her blood ran cold upon witnessing the view of Sherlock shaking on the ground, cheek pressed onto the carpeted floor and palms against his temples. Jocelyn sprinted to him and kneeled next to his body as her heart dropped.“Sherlock, oh, God,” she turned him over so he was lying on his back.He was sweating and breathing erratically. “J-Jocelyn.”“It’s me,” she softly told him, scanning his body for any sign of injury, but nothing. “It’s me, I got you.”He held onto her smaller hand, almost afraid to let go. “I... I need help, I need—”“Okay, okay, I’m going to call Myc—”“No! No, not him. Just you, please. I just need you.”“I’m calling an ambulance.” She reaches for her back pocket, but he grabs her hands.“I don’t need an ambulance. Sit…”“Sherlock, don’t be an arse, I need to call an ambulance!”“Please, don’t. I’m fine.”“What would you like me to do?” She asked, not quite sure what is going on.Sherlock paused and looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, as if he’d been crying for hours upon hours. Jocelyn’s chest caved in at the thought of Sherlock so hurt to the point of crying.“Just… stay with me, do not leave my side.” Sherlock appeared distraught and Jocelyn feared that it may be the cause of drugs. “I think I’m going insane.”“Insane? Sherlock, don’t be ridiculous.”“I’m serious,” he looked away, as if ashamed to reveal something. “I’m slowly but surely losing control of my mind and I have no idea how to keep it under wraps.”That was when it hits Jocelyn, the full realization of everything Mycroft warned her about. Her lips part and she stared off into space for one second. This was what Mycroft was referring to. Sherlock’s inability to control his mind.“What do you mean by that?”“It means that I no longer have control over the one thing most important in my body.”And there it was, the final proof. Everything Mycroft informed her, they all started to make sense.She pulled a smile on her face to comfort him a bit, slowly scooting closer to him and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Does your head hurt?”Sherlock slowly found himself be distracted by the way her skin felt against his. “A bit.”“Are you sure? I can call—”“Yes. I am sure.”She was so beautiful, even at this angle. It made an odd but familiar feeling settle beneath his chest as he leaned closer to press their lips together. Sherlock lost himself to the feeling of her soft lips.She felt like home, and all he could do was draw her closer. It had been hours since he last got the taste of her lips.Sherlock has never felt so drawn to anything before. The thought of always being able to do so because he’s very much allowed, it gave him warmth.When they both pulled away, he observed her with such fascination. Sherlock never thought that the act of kissing would be this pleasant. To him, it always just looked like two people pressing two body parts against one another, it always appeared odd.But because of Jocelyn, Sherlock could understand why some historical events involved wars because of desire and sentiment for another person.--“I remember.”“You… still remember that?”“I’d like to think that by now, you understand that I have been unable to delete memories and details involving you.”“What?”“There has been a distinct problem involving you and my mind palace that I’m still not quite sure how to explain, but nonetheless, the results of said problem are my inability to remove memories and details revolving you.”“In other words… you still remember everything about me?”Sherlock stiffens. “In other words, yes.”Her breath hitches inside her throat. “Well, before that night, I’ve been noticing changes in you.”“Changes?”“Changes as in behavior. You’ve been acting strange. Something was wrong and I was terrified.”From her words, Sherlock feels an odd feeling in his stomach. She was terrified of him.She realizes how awful and harsh her words seemed. “I meant, I was terrified that something bad might happen to you and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”Sherlock’s expression softens and he blinks at her multiple times. “You were... concerned over my wellbeing.”
She must be lying, she never cared. That is why she left.
But the genuine look on her face deemed otherwise. “Of course, I was. We were,” she pauses. “We were friends… and I care about you, Sherlock. I still do.”“I’m quite aware because of John’s specific principle that if you care about someone, you’d always be there. Why leave?”“That’s not always the case, I can promise you that.”“You left because you care? That hardly makes sense.”“After I was aware of the slight changes, I was scared and had no clue what to do. I wanted to help you.”Sherlock’s face hardens. “And who made you aware of these ‘slight’ changes in me?” He harshly asks. “Tell me.”He knew who it is, but he has never felt the need to be wrong before. He needed to be incorrect this time, he might beg to be wrong for the first time in his life.Jocelyn has a pained look on her face. “Mycroft.”Sherlock lets out a huff and begins pacing around the room even before she finishes saying his brother’s name. He should have known. He should have known that Mycroft may have been involved, how could he not count that as a possibility?Was it because he never thought that Mycroft from nine years ago would do such a thing?“You shouldn’t blame Mycroft so suddenly.”“Oh? Isn’t your information enough? Mycroft asks you to leave Britain because he thought it would be good for me.” His nose flares up in anger. “And you were naïve enough to listen to him.” Sherlock continues. “Ah! But there’s more! Why would Mycroft think it would be to my advantage if you leave for New York? What could I have possibly gained from your sudden leave, if it was for my wellbeing? I surely cannot recall any advantages I received during the next few years.”“You can’t theorize without having all the information, you of all people should know that.” She makes him remember and he pauses. “Mycroft explained many things to me.”“Such as?”“Your mind. It’s a complex structure and it continues to improve every second.”“You did not require my brother’s help. I’ve once made the concept of it known to you.”“But I didn’t know everything, Sherlock.”“Why did you not ask me for help?”Jocelyn is at loss for words, her hands are shaking. “I didn’t know what to do. Please believe me with that.”“I can’t trust you, Jocelyn.”“I know you can’t. I just want you to know that I left because your mind can’t handle me. You thought everything about me was important, which is why you remembered everything. You didn’t know how to control your thoughts, and at that point, you had no idea how to delete things easily.”“I have never heard such bullshit in my entire life, Miss Grant.”“I’m not as clever as Mycroft who can actually educate you about things that you should know!”“So, you decided to pack and leave?”“I had no choice!”“Yes, you did. You just chose the easiest path for yourself,” he sneers at her.“I’m telling you that I did what I had to do to protect you. I thought that what I did was for your own good.”“My own good was for you not to listen to my brother when he tells you to leave England.”“He never told me to leave, Sherlock. I chose to go.”Sherlock humorlessly smiles at her. “Only because he rambled about my state of mind to you.”“You never would have told me any of this! Mycroft was being kind enough to inform me of this, or else I would have been causing you pain without even knowing!”“Oh, he is the perfect brother, then! Purposefully trying to drift apart from me, making me feel like he no longer cared of me, how sweet of a brother he is,” he snaps at her, seeing how her eyes widen.“He was doing it to protect you.”“What is it with people around me trying their hardest to give me protection? I can handle myself.”“You should be thankful that Mycroft has this job, or else you’d be in prison right now after the stunt you pulled at Baskerville.” Jocelyn tells him before she could even stop herself, and immediately regrets her words, boiling with anger.“You’d like me to be thankful for Mycroft being the helicopter parent that I never asked for?”“What do you want to hear from me?”Sherlock steps forward until their faces are mere inches apart. “I just want you to admit that you thought I was monstrous, sick and an awful human being—”Pain flashes in her eyes and Sherlock almost misses it for a split second. “No matter how hard you try, I will never think of you that way. I get how you may have thought that way when I left, but I can assure you that it’s far from that!” She pauses to choke back a sob. “I was scared of what might happen to you if I chose to stay.”“And you were not scared at all of what might happen if you leave?”“I thought I was doing good things for you. I thought you would forget about me, I thought I was helping.”“Yes, well, your help consists of years replaying memories of you just to keep myself from losing my mind because I kept asking myself idiotic questions such as, why would she ever leave me?”“Sherlock—”“You’re the reason why I am the way I am. The reason why I’m like this, don’t you see? I loathe how I am because of you. Do you see how much your actions affected me?” He finishes, eyes not looking away from her. “You made me like this.”Silence engulfs the room after those mind-numbing words.Sherlock finally looks away the moment he sees a single tear slide down her cheek. “Had you ever came back during those first five years, I may have pretended as though nothing happened to pick up where we left off. Now, I find it difficult to even look at you.”Jocelyn swallows, but she couldn't say anything.“The day you arrived, I kept seeing the same woman who left me. Every time I look at you, hear your name, your voice, I’m reminded of you leaving.” She sniffles, eyes trained on him as she listens to every word he says.“It felt like such a waste of time and energy, having anger for you. But I made you an exception. I successfully shut you out of my mind years ago. But before that, I imagined you. I heightened my thoughts just so I could keep seeing you, and it destroyed me,” Sherlock carefully worded out. “And after I finally came into terms with my mind, you come back as if you never left.”Once Sherlock is finished with everything he has to say, they stand in silence before it begins to rain outside.“Now that I’m here, I always think about how things would have been different, had I stayed.”Sherlock’s heartbeat is still racing. “Would it have been different?”“Of course, Sherlock.” She offers him a small smile, to which he doesn’t return. “If I never left England, I’d still have you, of course.”Sherlock frowns, not liking the way he hates to see her cry this way. “You’d… still have me?”Jocelyn looks up and locks her green eyes with his blue ones. “Mycroft told me something else.”“Delightful.” He only observes her for a short moment. “Well? What did he tell you?”--“How did you get here?” She stares at the eldest Holmes. Her blue hair and shirt were now damp from the rain.It was the night that came after graduation was held at morning. Sherlock would be at his family home, and unbeknownst to Jocelyn, he prepared a special dinner for her along with wine and flowers once he came back to the flat.And unbeknownst to Sherlock, Jocelyn packed her things while he was with his family for lunch and he thought she was with hers.Mycroft calmly steps forward and places the umbrella above both their heads. “It’s good to see you, too, Miss Grant.”“If you’re here, then that means Sherlock’s home already.”“He left early. He contacted me as soon as he saw the empty closets.”Her heart sank deeper into her chest. “What did he say?”“Is that really a question you’d like me to answer?”Jocelyn sniffled and looked down to her dirty shoes.“One last decision, Jocelyn. One decision can change the way you will live your life.”“I’m doing it, I’m going to New York. But… before I leave, I need you to promise me that you’ll look after him. You have to be there for him when he needs you, and help him even when he pushes you away. Please, Mycroft.”“I don’t need you to remind me of my duties as his brother.”Jocelyn took a deep breath. “I’m leaving because I am the reason why he’s like this. I can’t just stand by and watch while I make things worse for him. He’ll thank me in the future.”“Is that really what you believe?”“Have you come up with a better plan?”“Sherlock will never forget this, if you must know.”“He’s known me for five months.”“Yes, and within two months of that, he welcomed you into his home, introduced you to his family, let you live inside his flat. He even planned for the future.”“What does that mean?”“A week ago, Sherlock told our mother that he’d be going to town to buy equipment for his lab at home. He said he was doing another experiment.”“You’re talking about Sherlock’s experiments two minutes before I board a plane to leave him?”“I’m not talking about experiments, Jocelyn. I’m talking about what he was doing instead of those.” He sighed. “I followed him, he went to a jewelry shop instead.”She stared at him for a moment. “And you’re telling me this, why?” Her voice was much quieter now.“You’re intelligent, I’m sure you can work it out yourself.”A single tear slid down her cheek. “You never should have told me that…”“Motivation to stay, Miss Grant.”“You know I can’t do that.” she sniffled and gathered her suitcase.He watched her climb up the stairs. Mycroft clenched his jaw, already thinking of a careful plan on how to break the news to his brother. Mycroft was confident that she’d come home, which is why he never thought he needed to tell Sherlock she was gone. She only proved herself to be unpredictable as ever. Now, he feels like he failed his brother.--He narrows his eyes at her for a single moment, but it dawns over him. He stays quiet for a few seconds and just looks away from her this time. He understands now why Jocelyn wanted to talk about this without John in the room.“I take it that Mycroft followed me at some point.”“He told me just before I boarded the plane to New York.”“It does not matter now, Jocelyn. It’s in the past.”Jocelyn inhales to calm herself down. “You… were planning… to ask me to marry you.”Thinking about that fact always makes her stare into the space in front of her because of how she imagines her life differently if she never left.“It doesn’t matter now. I’m no longer the person who wanted a normal life with you.”Jocelyn sadly chuckles. “You weren’t made to have a normal life, Sherlock.”“Wonderful. Now, we can both agree on something.”Jocelyn goes quiet for a minute. “But I always imagined it, though. If I never left, I’d be in a little house somewhere by now. Happily married. No drug problem, no smoking problem, no Moriarty. Just the two of us.”“Happily married?” He repeats her own words, making the woman look up at him again. “You… you would have said yes?”The look on Jocelyn’s face can never be described as mere surprise. “Of course, Sherlock. Have you seen me nine years ago? I would have done anything to be by your side.”“Then why didn’t you?”“Do you seriously think that I never tried?” She lets out a pained sob. When he keeps his silence, Jocelyn tries to even out her breathing. “A lot of things happened in New York. I wanted to come back, Sherlock, but it was so difficult back then.” When she let out an uncontrollable sob, she immediately covers her mouth to stop herself. “I really tried, but it came to the point where I was too late. I didn’t know how to face you anymore and so I just decided that it was over.”Sherlock gulps, unable to contain himself from having his eyes glassy at the sight of Jocelyn sobbing painfully. The twenty-year-old Sherlock inside of him was slowly resurfacing.He lets out a breath. No, he cannot do this. “Leave.”“Sherlock, please—”“Leave, now. I’d much prefer not to see you. From now on, I just work with you. Nothing more.” He calmly orders her before walking to the kitchen, sliding the doors closed.Jocelyn isn’t given a chance to speak anymore, and so she lets tears fill her eyes. She wipes them away immediately before making her way downstairs. She spots John underneath the stairs with Mrs. Hudson, both of them were frowning. Then, she leaves.***The more Sherlock thinks about it, the more he isn’t sure if he would have liked it if Jocelyn came back or stayed all those years ago. Of course, his younger self would be delighted to see her again. If she did, Sherlock never would have moved to Baker Street.No, he would be in a cozy home, working properly for Scotland Yard. Maybe alongside his fiancée—something he never thought of in a long time. His brother would always be by his side, always willing to help him with no negotiation.People already know he’s brilliant, but Sherlock never would have had a reason to be rude to anyone. No one would resent him in the way they resent him now. His life would be all sorted, he’d never need to shut anyone out because he has someone he can rely upon. He would be happy.Although… he never would have met John Watson. Or Mrs. Hudson.Maybe he would have, but it feels unlikely. John was looking for a roommate when they first met, and if Jocelyn never left, Sherlock would never have needed another place—that leads him to not meeting Mrs. Hudson in the first place.He never would have met the two people whom have been there for him for as long as he can remember. So, now, he’s questioning if he’s glad that Jocelyn chose not to stay.For weeks, Sherlock and John went on with their cases as though nothing happened. Sherlock and Jocelyn meet occasionally at the Yard, but she felt like she was just another person he worked with from the way he treated her.Sherlock and John receives more media attention during a conference at the Yard. After a long discussion about the press and being famous, John decides to speak. After he left the shower, Sherlock’s phone dinged with a text, to which the detective ignored.“So, what happened?”“What?”“You haven’t said a word to Jocelyn.” He sits down in front of Sherlock and opens his newspaper.“I work with her almost every other day.”“Yeah, but it’s not the same, is it?”“I found out why Jocelyn left.” Sherlock answers immediately. “For now, I have to focus on my expe—”“Jesus, Sherlock,” John loses his patience. “Jocelyn left Baker Street literally bawling her eyes out and all you can think of is an experiment?”“John, I need you to understand that Jocelyn should no longer be our concern.”“Alright, explain this to me, then. What was the reason?”“What?”“The reason, Sherlock. Why did Jocelyn leave?”The consulting detective closes his eyes for a brief moment. “The reason why Jocelyn left is because she was trying to… protect me, in a way. She… cared for my wellbeing. Mycroft, however, unknowingly sabotaged my entire life as I always believed he does. Although, now I know that he begun earlier than I was aware of.”“Sabotage you?”“Did you know that Mycroft was there when Jocelyn left? He was there, John. He didn’t stop her. If anything, he might have said things that only encouraged her to leave.”“Jesus. Well, what now?”“As I’ve said, just because I know the truth, does not mean everything goes back to how it was when we were nineteen. Jocelyn knows that.”John sighs to himself, shaking his head as he turns to his newspaper without another word. A few minutes later, Sherlock receives another text and John gets it for him, reading the messages left in his phone. John’s lips part in realization, walking to the kitchen to give the phone to Sherlock.“Not now.”“He’s back.”From those words, Sherlock’s blood runs cold.
The curtain rises.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“What do you mean you arrested Moriarty?”“I mean just that. We have him in custody. He broke into three of the most secure places here, all at once, we’re still trying to figure out how and why.”“And he’s just, what, sitting in a prison cell somewhere?”“Yeah.”Jocelyn lets out a shaky breath, blinking at the floor. “What’s the plan, then?”“Standard procedure. He pleads not guilty, goes on trial, he’ll present evidence, and the jury will judge if he’s guilty or not.” Lestrade shrugs. “It’s only a matter of time. Five or six weeks from now, he will be on trial. Until then, he stays in custody.”“And then what? He wrote ‘Get Sherlock’ for a reason, right?”“It might be a threat upon his life. No one will know, but from how it looks, a lawyer against Moriarty will likely take Sherlock as their star witness, if Moriarty pleads not guilty.” Jocelyn glances at the screen again.She lets her eyes down to the ground. Of course, anything unrelated to any case, Sherlock would not acknowledge her.Jocelyn smiles a bit. “I can’t believe that we got him.”“I told you that once we get the chance, I’ll take it,” Lestrade put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about anything about Moriarty again.”Jocelyn gives him an uneasy smile, but his words barely reassured her. If anything, it only feels like the beginning.***“Not guilty. They found him not guilty. No defense and Moriarty’s walked free. Sherlock, are you listening? He’s out, you know he’ll be coming after you. Sher—” He turns his phone off and pushes himself off the sofa.Like any sane man, Sherlock goes to the kitchen and boils some water, setting up two teacups on a tray, and goes to play Bach on his violin for many minutes.Sherlock hears creaking and shortly stops playing before continuing. The door is pushed open, making him stop in the middle of the music. “Most people knock, but then again, you’re not most people, I suppose.” He lowers his violin. “Kettle’s just boiled.”Moriarty walks inside, spotting a set of apples in a basket. He takes one in his hand. “Johann Sebastian would be appalled. May I?”Sherlock politely points at John’s empty chair with his bow, but Moriarty proceeds to the chair opposite. Sherlock glares at him before walking towards the tea, pouring them both. Moriarty and Sherlock make small talk until Sherlock breaks out Moriarty’s plan; a keycode that can break into any system.The smirk fades from Sherlock’s face. “You can break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?”“I don’t, I just like to watch them all competing. Daddy loves me the best! Aren’t ordinary people adorable? Well, you know. You’ve got John,” he smirks. “I would even say that you have Jocelyn, too, but we both know that Dr. Josie is far from ordinary,” he clicks his tongue. “New York was such the buzz, wasn’t it?”Sherlock shifts in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Moriarty.The consulting criminal only widens his eyes and grin. “Oh, you don’t know!”“Know what?”“New York and Jocelyn,” his eyes light up. “The things I’ve read, it was very impressive.” Sherlock just watches him stare off into space as if thinking about the things he read, snickering.“Why are you doing all of this?”“I should get myself a live-in one, must be so funny,”Sherlock blankly looks at him. “You don’t want money or power, not really. What is it all for?”“I want to solve the final problem. Our problem.” He lowers his head. “It’s going to start very soon, Sherlock. The fall. Don’t be scared, though, falling is just flying but with a much more permanent destination.”Sherlock blinks before standing. “I never liked riddles.”“Learn to. I might even repeat something I’ve done before, but maybe mix it up a little. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I… owe… you.” He keeps his eyes on him before walking out of the flat.Sherlock listens to the door close, glancing at the apple Moriarty left behind before picking it up, seeing that he carved ‘IOU’ into it.A few weeks later, John celebrates his birthday with friends. It was much needed, considering everything that has happened. Everyone deserved a fun night. Jocelyn was naturally invited as well as Greg and a couple of other mates that John went to University with.It was one of the rare times that Jocelyn actually chooses to leave work early.“It’ll be fine, you know? If Sherlock comes, you don’t have to worry about anything.”“It’s not about him. I’m not going to miss your birthday,” she nudges his shoulder to make him grin.When John opened the invitation for Sherlock, he naturally scrunches his nose. “A dinner? With people?”“And food and alcohol.”“What type of alcohol?”“Er, scotch and whiskey?”Sherlock smiles. “Interesting.”“So, are you coming?”“No.”John rolls his eyes. “Why not?”“There will be people. Plus, you already have my gift.”“An essay about my friends hating me?”“Yes, it’s enlightening, I can assure you.” Sherlock defends his essay. “I used your style of writing, as you do on your blog. I believe I pulled it off quite well.”“Content over delivery, Sherlock.”“Who cares? Your boring friends aren’t the greatest, anyway.”“Jocelyn will be there.”Sherlock finally looks up from his microscope with unmistakable curiosity. “And?”“Well, I was hoping that would change your mind.”“Why would it?”John grins to himself but says nothing else.A few days later, at eight in the morning, she enters the lab while carrying a box filled with paperwork. She sets them down on her table. As she was about to put on her lab coat, she sees a piece of paper folded on the table. Jocelyn looks around before picking it up and unfolding it.Jocelyn’s jaw slacks, gasping before looking up, head turning from left to right for any clue as to how it got to the lab. She looks down at the note again to read.
Come and play. Your old flat from nine years ago. 5PM. Don’t be late. Don’t tell anyone. Come alone :) If not, bye bye, Auntie! Jim Moriarty x.
Meanwhile, John sits opposite of Mycroft in his Diogenes Club. After he thought he was kidnapped—which was actually a display of tradition—Mycroft explained to him how assassins now relocated near his flat with Sherlock. Mycroft tries to convince him that this was Moriarty, but John only sighs.“Why don’t you talk to Sherlock if you’re so concerned about him? Oh, God, don’t tell me.”“Too much history between us, John. Old scores, resentments.”“Oh, yeah, I know about Jocelyn now. About what you did.”Mycroft humorlessly smiles at him. “And what might that be?”“You pushed her to leave, didn’t you?”“If you’re suggesting that I planted the idea of leaving into her brain, you are more wrong than you may think, John. Jocelyn left on her own, I never pushed her to do anything.”“Sherlock said—”“In that case, you haven’t heard the full story, Dr. Watson.”Once John leaves, the eldest Holmes blinks rapidly, clenching his jaw as he balls his hands into fists.***Sherlock looks at the oiled wall. “Get Jocelyn.”Donovan raises her brows, rolling her eyes. “She’s a forensic scientist reserved for homicide cases.”“She’s a forensic scientist all the same. Reservations should be ignored.”“She’s busy right now, she’s got paperwork.”“And I’ve got missing children. Get her here. Now.” Sherlock pushes himself off the floor and walks past the two officers.“Sir, Dr. Grant can’t be reached. Anderson is available, though.”Lestrade just sighs, nodding before following outside to talk to other people. Anderson arrives just a few minutes later and Sherlock groans at the sight of him.“I said get the competent scientist, not the idiotic one.” He complains at Lestrade, but proceeds to the room to give instructions, not wanting to waste any time.It wasn’t until Molly tries to talk to Sherlock. She tells him that he looks sad when no one is looking. It made him frown, and her words ran in his mind the whole day.
You look sad, when you think no one can see you.
***Jocelyn shrugs off her lab coat before sweet-talking her way into the security cameras room. She seems to have a talent for doing that. Jocelyn logs in and goes through the tapes from yesterday. She only has three hours until she has to meet with Moriarty.Whoever left the note could have came in last night or this morning. She views the tape from yesterday and it revealed nothing. Except the fact that in between a second, the piece of paper appears out of thin air.Greg finds her and Jocelyn jumps in surprise. He asks what she was doing and she just smiles at him, and convinces him that it was nothing. Still, he looked a bit suspicious, but he decides not to push and just walks her back to the lab to discuss some paperwork.Half an hour later, Sherlock and John arrive at the Yard and everything is sent to chaos. The threat from the printed note from the fax machine was heavy, especially when it is a threat upon two children.Jocelyn sees the chaos through the semi-transparent walls of the lab, even catching a glimpse of John and Sherlock solving the case together.Almost everyone leaves as backup, and she takes this as an opportunity to leave work early. Jocelyn hails a cab and directs him outside of London while she just nervously taps her fingers on her lap. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest, unable to control it.She doesn’t want to face Moriarty, but her aunt’s life is at stake. Something tells her that it wasn’t wise to inform anyone where she’s going, but she can’t take the risk.She’ll be facing the person who put her into a freezer. Alone.Entering the familiar atmosphere of the community is something else entirely. Once she was dropped off in front of the building, she pays for the ride and clutches her purse even tighter.Jocelyn purses her lips, walking towards the entrance of the building and heading towards the elevator, pushing the button for the second floor. The doors slide open and Jocelyn steps out, slowly making her way towards the end of the hall, seeing the familiar walls and tiled floor of the building. She takes her time to look around, mouth parting in awe.Her breath catches in her throat once she stands in front of the door she used to open and close years ago. The same door walked through when she first moved in, and the same door she shut when she left to catch a plane.Jocelyn grips the door handle and screws her eyes shut for a brief moment, turning the knob and pushing it in a sudden movement.Her eyes take in the sight, and right at that moment, she was not ready for what she is witnessing.The ivory colored walls of the flat are still plastered on the sides of the room. The mantelpiece seems like it never aged a day from the moment Jocelyn left the country. Her eyes wandered towards the floor. Jocelyn widens her eyes and cautiously steps inside, eyes memorizing every detail they can reach.Her chest is suddenly tightening, as well as her throat in a knot.“Looking for a new flat?” A voice from behind her makes the woman whip her head around with a gasp.In front of her in just a few feet, stood Jim Moriarty with his hands in his sides. His hair is swept in a formal way, and the smile etched to his face sent a horrified shiver down her spine.“Moriarty. What an unwelcome surprise,” she says through her teeth.“And what an unsurprising welcome, Dr. Grant.” He steps forward and she can’t help but step backwards as a reflex. “I come in peace, Jocelyn. I’m not going to kill you. If I wanted to, you’d already be dead.”Her eyes go to the walls, seeing the same photos framed. “And I suppose I should be grateful?”“Probably. Considering the fact that dear auntie is still alive.”“You leave my aunt out of this, she never did anything to you.”“No one has to do anything to me for me to do anything, my dear Jocelyn. That’s the whole point.”“The point of what?”“I’m sure you’re wondering how I managed to get into the three most secured places in England.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah. I think about you all the time.”“Have you ever wondered how big, bad, Sherlock managed to get you out of that freezer?” The question rolls off his tongue, making her blood chill. “You were in that freezer, me and another person were watching you. Once Sherlock came, I left the after leaving instructions to make Sherlock spill the beans!”Jocelyn just stares, not sure what to make of it. Sherlock did mention to her that there was another person involved, yet, he never told her if he ever figured out who that man was.“Do you want a tour?”“I lived here.”“I insist.” Moriarty offers his hand, and makes Jocelyn flinch backwards.“Don’t touch me.”Moriarty holds his hands up. “Ugh, grouchy. I’m only offering a tour, you should see how pretty I made the place.”Jocelyn swallows and follows behind him, eyes still at awe over the fact that she feels like she never left.Moriarty turns to face her, reaching into the fruit basket that Sherlock always used to keep on the table. He hands her a green apple. “Heard you like apples. I do, too.”She reaches for it with a suspicious look. That is a very specific fact about her.Jocelyn’s breath was taken away when she sees the piano in the middle of the room. Before her eyes, fragments of memories played. Sherlock would be standing in front of the piano with his violin while she would sit by the keys to play. Sometimes, Sherlock would sit next to her while Jocelyn teaches him a few pieces.“Isn’t it lovely? I like his style, was it a gift?” Jim smooths his palm over the surface of the piano. When Jocelyn doesn’t answer, he whines in frustration. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”“One sided, it seems.”“Play something.”“I’m not going to do anything for you,”“Play something or dear auntie gets a present.”Jocelyn grits her teeth at him as she walks to the piano and takes a seat in front of it, setting the apple on the surface. Jocelyn presses the keys, and like riding a bicycle, she begins to play Bach for just a minute. Moriarty hums, reaching into the liquor shelf that Sherlock used to own.Honestly, she never thought she’d ever be in a situation where she’s playing a piano in front of the country’s most dangerous criminal mastermind.Moriarty pours some into two glasses and Jocelyn just watches him. She couldn’t help but feel irritated over what he was doing. She knew that these weren’t Sherlock’s actual things, but it already felt like Moriarty was violating their home.“I noticed that you played Johann Sebastian Bach. Fan?”“Considering that I studied his work for years, I’d say that I am.”“You don’t happen to know Partita No. 1, do you?”She narrows her eyes. “Of course, I do.”“It’s not one of his popular ones.”“I know it.”“By all means, then.”Jocelyn glares at him again, completely done with him before proceeding to play the piece he requested. Moriarty just smiles, enjoying the music. To annoy him, Jocelyn finishes off-key and makes him wince, clicking his tongue.“Ooh, you devil. Johann Sebastian Bach would be appalled. You and Sherlock really do fit together.”“Did you make me come here to be your personal musician?”“I brought you here to give you a tour. Come along,” he smirks before leaving the room again, a drink in his hand. “Ooh, the master bedroom.” Before Moriarty could even reach for the door handle, Jocelyn stops him.“No,” she forcefully says.Moriarty just raises his brows at her. “Am I overstepping my boundaries?”“What the hell am I doing here?”He moves past her to walk back to the living room. “I can open any door with a few lines of computer code. No such thing is private anymore, I have access to everything, I own everything in the country now.”“Should I be impressed?”The venomous, but calm look on his face is washed over by a wide grin, as if Jocelyn’s unimpressed reaction over something dangerous for the country amuses him. “Of course, Josie.” She winces at him using her childhood nickname. “It took me a while to get everything in this flat back in order.”“You shouldn’t have,” her voice is laced with sarcasm, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she is inside a duplicate of her old flat.Jim Moriarty playfully scoffs, waving his hand in a stop it manner. “It was the least I could do, Jocelyn. I hated ruining our lovely lunch last year. I was having such a lot of fun.”“I don’t see what’s so fun about drugging me and putting me in a vehicle.” She gives him a glare.“My, my, Jocelyn, I didn’t ever think you’d be as ferocious like this.” Moriarty eyes her hands. “Do you like it?”“What if I say that I don’t?”He huffs, almost mixing with a small laugh. “I’d be wounded, Jocelyn. I did all of this for you!”“Why?”“Why does anyone do anything?”“Is this part of a game?”“This isn’t a problem. This isn’t the final problem, Jocelyn.”“The final problem?”“Sherlock will tell you, since you two used to get it on.” He chuckles. “Tell me, how is the great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, in bed?”“I... I’m—”He laughs, clearly amused by her. “I have to give it to you. I’m impressed, Jocelyn. Truly, I am.”Jocelyn still doesn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”“I still want to know how you managed to have the great Sherlock Holmes wrapped around your finger in just under five months!”Jocelyn’s blood runs cold from how he reveals that he knows about them only knowing each other for a short amount of time. How would Moriarty even know something so specific about Jocelyn and Sherlock?Moriarty straightens his back, adjusting his jacket before slowly making his way towards her. The moment he put his foot in front of the other, Jocelyn could barely hear anything else. The more the distance between them decreases, the worse her anxiety skyrockets.“I told Sherlock that I own secrecy, I know everything about everyone I want to know.” he singsongs to her. He turns around to walk over towards the mantelpiece. Jocelyn watches him pull out a brown folder from the drawer on top of it. He hands her the folder before watching her intently.“What is this?”“The last remaining piece of evidence from New York, Josie. I’ve read what you’ve done, too. It’s truly juicy.”“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”“And here I thought you were the better half. I’m here to offer you a deal. You’ve seen what I can do, Josie. I can make all of it go away,” he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a lighter, dangling it in front of her.“What could you possibly even want from me?”“I want you to do something for me.”“What, you can’t have any one of your droogs to do it?” She stares blankly at him.Moriarty lets out a thoughtful laugh. “In this situation, you’re the only one who can actually succeed.”“Let me guess, it has something to do with Sherlock.”The smile on Moriarty’s face only confirmed her guess.“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here. Recreating our flat from years ago is, my guess, your way to prove that you dug around our past. I don’t know whoever told you anything, but no one knows shit about what happened nine years ago.”Her statement only makes him chuckles. “You’d be surprised.”“What makes you think that I would do anything for you?”“Don’t you want to open the folder and see if I’m lying?”“I’m not playing this game with you.” She shakes her, gathering up her strength to walk towards him to press the folder on his chest. Moriarty mockingly widens his eyes at her boldness. “I hope you’ll never get what you’re trying to achieve.”“Very well, Josie. Your choice. Although, I can’t promise you that the information I got from New York won’t stay in this folder.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes at him, not believing him. She destroyed every piece of evidence from nine years ago, there is no way that Moriarty could have found anything.“Do what you want, but I’m not going to let you manipulate me into hurting Sherlock. I won’t be a part of this.” She sneers at him, turning around to walk where she came.Before she leaves, Moriarty speaks. “Do give my best to the Iceman. I admire the way he takes matters into his own hands. Unlike you... he easily accepts deals.”Jocelyn pauses in her place, slowly turning her head to give him one last look. Jim only smirks at her, remaining in his place as Jocelyn walks out, her stomach twisting while she ponders over what he meant. The term Iceman doesn’t exactly ring any bell.***“Moriarty is playing with your mind, too. Can’t you see what’s going on!” Sherlock yells out, slamming his fist on the table.Suddenly, his phone dings and so he pulls it out from his pocket to read the message. He breathes out through his nose, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself off his chair to stand, reaching for his coat to put it on.“What is it?”Sherlock covers half his face with his palm, eyes wide. “It’s Jocelyn.”“What happened? Is she okay?”“Before he left on the day of the verdict, Moriarty said that he would repeat something he has done before, but mixing it up a little.” Sherlock looks at John with a worried and panicked expression.“What did he say?” Sherlock gives him his phone and hurriedly goes out. John reads the message on the phone with his eyes.
Come and get her! JM.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“They can’t just arrest you, right? I mean, they don’t have proof or anything.”“If it’s true that I’ve made everyone on the police force feel a certain way, they’d love to see me behind bars. They don’t need proof.”Once they arrive in front of the apartment complex, Sherlock leaves even before the cab pulls over. They reach the elevator with a few people in it. Sherlock pressed the third floor button multiple times, hands resting on the metal bars while his foot taps the ground.John can feel how worried he is, and it becomes more evident once the doors slide open and Sherlock pushes past the people, running down the hallway and slamming his palm against the surface of the door.“Jocelyn!” Sherlock raises his deep voice, slamming his fist against the door repeatedly. “Jocelyn, open the door!” When no one answers the door, Sherlock breathes out. “We have to kick the door down.”“What if she’s still at the Yard?”“No. When we arrived back at the precinct to interview the little girl, she wasn’t there.”“We… didn’t even go to the lab, how would you even know that?”“Because every five in the afternoon, she leaves the lab to get coffee. She never did that today. I must have noticed without… noticing.”“She never leaves early…”“Precisely. She left early for your birthday, not for anything else. Something is wrong.”If this was Moriarty’s idea to burn him, he might be doing much worse to Sherlock.John nods at him as well, looking at the door again. Sherlock raises his foot and braces himself. As if on cue, the elevator doors slide open and a clueless Jocelyn steps out, carrying her sling bag over her shoulder while she pushes her hair out of her line of sight. Once she looks up, her eyes widen.“What are you doing!?” Jocelyn shrieks.At the sound of her voice, both heads snap towards her. John sighs in relief, eyes relaxing as he glances at Sherlock lowering his foot. However, the consulting detective only has his eyes trained on her.Jocelyn jogs towards them with an annoyed expression, arms wide open. “Were you just going to kick—”She was cut off by the impact of Sherlock wrapping his arms around her in a frantic manner, eyes still wide as if he couldn’t believe that she’s fine.“You’re… fine. You’re alright.” Sherlock mumbles in a questioning tone mostly to himself, hands shaking as they brushed through her brown hair to hold her head to his chest.Jocelyn is surprised by his gesture. For the past few months, all he’s been was neutral to her, treating her like he treats everyone else. Now, he was holding her so tight as if she would just disappear all of a sudden.“I’m okay, Sherlock,” she mumbles into his chest, listening to how rapid his heart rate is.Sherlock sighs out and for a moment, he didn’t care that John was watching them.Although, that doesn’t mean he’s been comfortable with himself. Once he realizes what he did, he immediately pulls away and just watches Jocelyn as though he was a deer caught in headlights.He stammers for a second and she just looks a bit worried. “John.”“On it,” he immediately directs her to the elevator after taking her keys and giving them to Sherlock.The detective glances down at her purse, brows knotting. As John walks her, Jocelyn keeps looking back with worry. The detective unlocks the door and pushes it open to disappear inside.“What’s going on?”“We’ll explain at home.” John leads her outside the building.Later, Sherlock steps out, carrying a bag. A few people begin to leave the building with fear in their eyes, and the number increases by the minute.Jocelyn’s mouth opens, realizing it’s the emergency bag she keeps in case she needs to leave immediately. “How did you—”“What’s in your purse?”“…what do you mean?”“I mean, what do you have in your bag?”“Sherlock…”He steps forward and grabs the sling bag, pushing Jocelyn’s carry-on into John’s arms. He has his eyes on Jocelyn the entire time as he slides the zipper of her sling bag, pulling out the handgun she brought with her. She crosses her arms anxiously.“Jesus, bloody hell—” John stares at the gun.She gulps. “I can explain that.”“Please do, before you give John a heart attack.”Jocelyn bites down on her lip. “Moriarty forced me to meet him. I went to tell him to fuck off.”“Sorry, did you just say that you went face to face with that psychopath?” John asks with wide eyes.“Why would you not tell anyone? More importantly, why did you go alone? Do you realize how idiotic your actions were?”“He threatened my aunt, I had no choice!” She snaps at him. “Plus, you and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms.”Sherlock steps forward so their faces are mere inches apart. “Speaking terms or not, you contact me as soon as your life is in danger, do you understand?” His eyes twitch. “Where did he meet you?”Jocelyn stays silent, not wanting to answer him anymore as she gives him a stubborn expression. This only makes Sherlock reach into her bag to pull out the paper and unfold it.He looks at Jocelyn in alarm. “What was he doing in our old flat?”“He… recreated our flat. Everything looked the same as it did before. Everything.”Sherlock stares into space, thinking to himself.“He said that he knows about how we met… but I doubt anyone’s memory is sharp enough to randomly remember us.”“What else did he tell you?”“He offered me a deal, but that doesn’t matter because I didn’t take it. He wants something from me, but he didn’t say what it was. He said that only I could be the one who can do it. I don’t know what he meant.”“Why didn’t you ask? Considering you two are now acquaintances.” Sherlock glowers before walking past her.John clears his throat, giving her a disappointed look before following after Sherlock. She briefly closes her eyes, turning to walk up to them as they wave down a cab.After a tense cab ride, they arrive an hour later and Sherlock proceeds to the flat without another word, as well as John.They seem to be annoyed at Jocelyn for not telling them of Moriarty’s visit, but Jocelyn can’t exactly be sorry, no matter how wrong she felt her actions were.John answers a phone call from Lestrade, saying that they’re on their way to Baker Street. Both men appear to be troubled looking, she can tell by the tone of John’s voice.As Sherlock removes his coat and scarf, Mrs. Hudson enters the flat, holding an envelope that she was planning to give to them earlier. John opens the envelope and pulls out something dusty; an overly baked gingerbread man.Jocelyn’s attention is caught when she hears police sirens nearing the streets. The doorbell rings and Mrs. Hudson fetches it. The rapid knocking on the door fills their ears.“What the hell is going on?” Jocelyn asks in horror.“Are we supposed to give you an explanation after you refuse to give one?” Sherlock barks out.“I told you, you moron. I was protecting my aunt.”“By also putting yourself in danger. It’s Moriarty, he could have killed you and your aunt. Along with the whole building. You weren’t thinking!”“I had no choice!”“You always have another choice,” he snaps. “You could have died tonight. He could have murdered you in that flat. Or held you hostage! How foolish—”Donovan’s loud voice booms through the hallway outside. Mrs. Hudson scolds them. Everything is happening simultaneously and Jocelyn can barely keep up. It causes her uneven breathing.John follows after Mrs. Hudson, mentioning something about a warrant and the word makes Jocelyn freeze.Sherlock calmly puts on his coat and scarf again, preparing himself.Greg crosses his arms once he sees Jocelyn. “I was wondering where you went. Ready to tell me why you were looking through the security footage?”At the mention of security footage, Sherlock glimpsed at her with a slight glare, figuring out that she was looking for the person who put the note in her lab.“Sherlock Holmes, I’m arresting you on suspicion on abduction and kidnapping,”“Greg, what—” Jocelyn gapes.“He’s not resisting, you can’t just cuff him.”“It’s alright, John.” Sherlock mutters, not wanting the situation to worsen.“No! It’s not all right. This is ridiculous!”“Jocelyn, stay in this flat. Do not leave.” Sherlock calmly tells her.“But—”Greg orders his officers to take him and they aggressively push Sherlock outside.“Don’t hurt him!” Jocelyn steps in, but Greg gently grabs her arm to stop her. She glares at him. “Are you serious?! Abduct and kidnap?”“You don’t even have a warrant.” John reminds.“Don’t try to interfere, or I’ll arrest you two.” Greg points out, looking as dismayed as the both of them before he leaves.Donovan walks in with a smug look on her face, and John just shakes his head at her. “I said it, solving crimes won’t be enough. One day he’ll cross the line. Now, ask yourself. What sort of man would kidnap those children just so he can impress us all by finding them?”“Sherlock would never do that,” Jocelyn immediately says.“Of course, you’d say that. What, with being the only woman that Sherlock has ever dated.” Jocelyn freezes in her place. Donovan snorts. “It’s all over the papers, Grant. You and Sherlock shacking up back in the day.”Jocelyn’s jaw drops, looking at John. He just shakes his head, indicating that he had no idea.“What does that have to do with how you are all arresting the wrong man?”“Well, you weren’t there. And since you’re practically his ex, you’re letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment. He found those kids with just a footprint as evidence, no one can do that.”“That’s how he is. He’s intelligent. Too intelligent for your lot, which is why all of you consult him.” She persistently says, stepping forward to near her enraged face to Donovan’s. “You are repulsive.”Donovan has nothing else to say and it was the exact same time their boss walks in.He looks at Jocelyn. “Dr. Grant, what are you doing here in the middle of an arrest?”She walks to him. “You are making a big mistake. Sherlock Holmes is innocent, you have to let him go,”“Dr. Grant, don’t tell me you’ve also been consulting this man and letting him into the lab to view evidence.”She huffs. “He—”“Donovan, that our man?”“Yes, sir.”“Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types.” He comments, and it might have pushed John over the edge.Jocelyn gasps when John swings at the Chief Superintendent, successfully giving him a bloodied nose. “John! John, don’t,” she goes to his side and pulls him back as he tries to pull away from her hold to assault their boss even more.Officers came in and grab John, pulling him downstairs. John quietly apologizes to Jocelyn for his display of violence. Jocelyn can only watch, feeling powerless as her two friends are arrested.Jocelyn follows behind. “Greg, you have to believe me. Sherlock didn’t do anything, you know he wouldn’t!”Greg grabs her arm, pulling them away from the officers hearing range. “I know he wouldn’t, but I can’t do anything about it, alright? We have the Chief involved in this!” He sharply tells her. “I told you before that I confide in Mycroft Holmes, but now it’s out of my hands, there’s nothing we can do.”“It’s Moriarty, this was what he was planning, don’t you see?”“He walked free after the trial, which means that I can’t drag his name into this. The media made sure of that.” Lestrade reaches into the nearest police car he could find, pulling out the newspaper and giving it to Jocelyn. “They’re telling Sherlock’s life story, like an exposé. You were mentioned in the preview of it.”The article introduces her as Sherlock’s sole romance before she was introduced as a prestigious scientist. It even mentions how they knew each other during their sophomore years for five months, which is oddly specific.“There is no way that any random civilian just cared about mine and Sherlock’s lives enough to even remember any of this.” Before Lestrade could reply, groans from other officers can be heard. They look at one another before jogging back to where everything was happening. Jocelyn feels like her heart would stop at the sight of Sherlock pointing a gun at everyone.“Ladies and gentlemen, would you all please get on your knees?” Sherlock backs away with John cuffed to him. Everyone watches in shock.“Sherlock, what are you doing?!” Jocelyn yells.In response, Sherlock points the gun to the sky, firing it and letting it be known that he is armed.“Now would be good!”“Do what he says!” Greg orders, already lowering himself to his knees and everyone copies his actions. Jocelyn kneels down, still watching them with concern.Jocelyn’s hands are shaking, watching the two men back away and begin running. The moment they turned, everyone was on their feet looking exasperated. Jocelyn clenches her fists and hails a cab.***“No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. A man turns up with a Holy Grail in his pocket. What were his credentials?”Kitty doesn’t answer him, which leads him to set rage inside himself, but he tries not to let it show on his face.“You had no permission from her for you to publish your ridiculous articles. Dr. Grant has been in your place, scouring up every opportunity she could find in order to make a name for herself and here you are, slapping the label ex-lover into her entire identity. Now, people who read the papers will begin to view her solely because she was apparently involved with me and not because she gained three PhDs in her lifetime.” Sherlock bottles up his anger. John gapes at the anger on Sherlock’s face. The detective inhales calmly again. “I will ask again. Who is Rich Brook?”The door opens from behind them and Sherlock turns to see who it is, and to Sherlock’s horror, it was none other than Jim Moriarty.However, Moriarty is not acting his usual self as he watches the two men with fear, arms raised in defense while backing away.On the other hand, Jocelyn storms into Mycroft’s office, eyes filled with betrayal and disappointment.“We are in the middle of—”“I don’t care, get out.”Mycroft sighs. “Miss Grant—”“I said, get out.” Jocelyn looks towards the man and woman sitting opposite of Mycroft’s desk with a murderous glint in her eyes.He contemplates, but nods at them wordlessly. Jocelyn doesn’t take her eyes off Mycroft for one second while the two people leave the room, closing the door behind themselves.“What the hell did you do?”“Pardon?”Jocelyn messily throws the newspaper into his desk.“Miss Grant—”She snaps. “Don’t fucking Miss Grant me! What… did you do?”Mycroft is speechless, even avoiding to look her in the eyes. He couldn’t say anything to her about the plan, which leads to Jocelyn scoffing at him with total betrayal.“You told me that I should never doubt you when it comes to Sherlock’s safety and you do this? How could you? He’s your brother and you, what, went on story mode over coffee with Moriarty?”“Miss Grant, you have to understand that it was never my intention to hurt him, and it will never be my intention.”“He can use that to ruin him, do you see what you’ve done?” She couldn’t help but let a tear escape her eye in front of him, the Iceman.“Jocelyn, you don’t understand. I never intended for this to happen,” he lifts up the newspaper.“I don’t care if they smear my name. His whole life story will be revealed and I never thought for a single moment that it could be you who would do such a thing.”He just sighs. “I’m sorry.”She almost dryly laughs at him, but refrains. Jocelyn gives him one last look before leaving his office with a heavy chest.***“Well, here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock. And our problem, the final problem.”Sherlock is cautious enough to look at his surroundings as he walks towards him.“Did Jocelyn tell you about what I did to your little flat? It was so fun trying to identify objects in photos using a magnifying glass,” he chuckles, circling around him and seeing Sherlock mimicking the tapping. “Good, you got that, too.”“Beats like digits. A keycode that can break into any system.”“Told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock is a sissy.”“Yes, but now, I can use it to alter the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty.”“No, no, no, this is too easy, this is too easy, there is no code! Doofus!” The insanity flashes across his face as he screams into Sherlock’s smug face, wiping it off at the instant. “I’m disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock.”“But the rhythm...”“Partita No. 1! Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach. Your significant other managed to play it really well. I knew you’d fall for it, that’s your weakness. You always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it.”“Do what?” It dawns over him, turning to look at the edge of the rooftop. “Yes, of course… my suicide.”“Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales, and pretty grim ones, too.”He turns to Moriarty. “I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity.”“Oh, just kill yourself. It’s a lot less effort.”Sherlock breathes out, looking around the rooftop and the view.“Go on, for me. Pleaaaaase?”The detective grabs Moriarty by the collar and balances him over the edge, staring at him with a murderous glare.“You’re insane.”Moriarty appears amused. “Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don’t.”Sherlock’s face softens. “John?”“Not just John. Everyone.”“Mrs. Hudson?”
“Everyone.”
“Lestrade?”“Everyone, Sherly.”Once Sherlock quiets down, his eye twitches, thinking of everyone’s lives.Moriarty grins. “Forgetting a name?”“Jocelyn,” Sherlock says under his breath.“Three bullets, three gunmen, three victims. There’s no stopping them now.”Sherlock narrows his eyes. “Three?”“Oh, I’m not going to shoot Jocelyn. No, no. Bullets are reserved for the ordinary people.”Sherlock tightens his grip around him. The mere mention of Jocelyn’s name was enough for Sherlock to want to throw Moriarty of the building.“I have someone who’s going to take her and make her suffer. She will hate herself and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. She will hate her life until she begs them to kill her.” He taunts, and Sherlock’s heavy breathing begins to shake.“I’ll make her do things you can’t even imagine. So many possibilities with the good scientist. I can make her as my right hand, or I can make her feel all the different types of pain, or I can make her the biggest criminal master in the whole world,” he smirks, watching the confusion in Sherlock’s eyes.“You might think I’m reaching, but she really has the potential, believe me. If she doesn’t accept, they’ll throw her into terrorist cells.” He casually says, and Sherlock pulls him off the edge. “You can do whatever you want with me, but nothing’s going to stop them from pulling the trigger, and kidnapping little Josie from your bedroom. Your only four friends in the world will die, unless…”“Unless I kill myself. Complete your story.”Moriarty chuckles. “You’ve got to admit, that’s sexier.”“And… I die in disgrace.”“That’s the whole point? Off you pop, go on. I told you how this ends, your death is the only thing that’s going to call off the killers. I’m certainly not going to do it.And from that, Sherlock figures out that Moriarty can call it off, and now, the two are challenging each other again.“Nah, you talk big. You’re ordinary, you’re on the side of the angels.”“Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.”Moriarty just stares at him, slowly coming to realization. “No, you’re not.” He slowly smiles at him. “I see. You’re not ordinary, no. You’re me. You’re me! Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.” He offers his right hand for Sherlock to shake.He reluctantly reaches for it, shaking his hand.Moriarty grows emotional, nodding continuously at him as he thanks him. “As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends. You’ve got a way out.” He nods in understanding. “Well, good luck with that!” He chirps, widening his mouth into an ‘O’ before pulling out a gun from his coat.Before Sherlock could react, Moriarty puts the gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger, sending Sherlock to gasp out and take a step back, watching Moriarty’s body fall into the floor.Moriarty’s eyes were wide and lifeless as blood pools around his head, Sherlock’s heart was beating rapidly as he groans at the sight, feeling lightheaded as he tried to think of what to do.He looks over his shoulder, slowly making his way back to the edge. Sherlock starts panting, his hands are shaking. He steps on it and looks down, pulling out his phone to send a specific text to his brother.He had no other choice, he knows what’s coming.Sherlock scrolls through his contact list and searches for a name. He dials them and holds the phone to his ear.A yawn sounds from the phone. “What?” “Jocelyn.”At the sound of his voice, she sounds more awake. “Sherlock, oh, my God. Where are you? I’ve left you like a thousand messages! Are you okay? Where’s John? Are you hurt?”Her many questions laced with concern only makes one corner of Sherlock’s lips to twitch upwards into a smile.
“Hello? Sherlock?”
The sound of her voice snaps him out of his daze. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
“Can’t you just tell me where you are? I can come to you.”
“No, I can do this over the phone.”
“Alright, what is it?”
“I… want you to know that I understand why you did what you did.”She silences, and by the sound of it, she seems surprised.“You wanted to give me my best chance. You thought that you were hurting me by being around me. My past self would disagree, but I understand from your point of view.”
“Sherlock, what’s going on?”
He shakes his head, looking down at his shoes and observing the way the tips of his pair are hanging from the edge. “Jocelyn, I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you in the past, and in the coming future. I apologize for being so angry while not knowing the full story. On the bright side of things, if you hadn’t left, I never would have met John or Mrs. Hudson.”“Where are you right now?” Sherlock can hear her begin to walk.“No, no! Don’t leave the flat—do not leave.” He quickly tells her in a slightly aggressive tone that he cannot hold back.
“Sherlock...”
“Please. Stay where you are. I need to tell you more.”
“I swear to God—”
“Everything they’ve been saying in the papers, everything you’ve read, everything you will read. It’s all true.” He cuts her off with a calmer tone.“What? That you’re a fraud?” Jocelyn laughs, thinking it’s a joke. “Okay, I’m going to call John and—”“Jocelyn, please. I am not trying to be amusing at the moment.”
“Why are you saying this? Did Moriarty put you up to this?”
Sherlock can feel Moriarty’s lifeless body just bleeding out behind him. “No, of course not. This is all me.”
“You don’t seriously think I’d believe the papers, do you?”
“Oh, but you must. It’s all true, Jocelyn. I am a fake.”
“This has to be a joke—you and I met during University! You knew who I was the moment I opened the door.”
Sherlock swallows, peering over the edge and calculating how high it is. “All of your information was enlisted on the university papers.”
“You knew about my mother.”
“You kept a photo of her by your bedside table.”
“You found her diamond ring in under a few days!”
“My brother knew of a pawnshop owner who knew how to assemble jewelry. I was trying to impress you.”
“I-I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Sherlock briefly closes his eyes. “I lied to you.”A sniffle coming from the phone against his ear only sent a pang through his body, and now he cannot stop picturing Jocelyn with tears running down her face. “Why are you lying to me now?”“I’m not lying now, this is the truth. I’m a good researcher, but I was never a good detective. I created Moriarty’s identity,” he tells her, but she only scoffs in disbelief. “I needed him to stand as an arch nemesis.”“Oh, so you were the one who put me inside that freezer, then? Is that what you’re telling me? You were the cause of one of my worst traumas? None of this makes any sense!”“That is what happened.”“Do you even hear yourself right now? You would never hurt me.”“I took it too far that afternoon, Jocelyn. It was my mistake. You were not supposed to experience mild hypothermia.”“Shut up, stop lying to me.” She pleads him. “Come to Baker Street, Sherlock. I swear to God, if you’re not here in less than half an hour, I’ll hunt you down myself.”His heart feels as though it stopped beating. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was going to die. That would only make her come running to St. Barts and plead him to come down. He wouldn’t want her to see him that way.“Jocelyn, don’t—”She hangs up and slips the phone into her pocket, scoffing to herself as she walks downstairs with her wallet, seeing Mrs. Hudson. “What’s going on?”“You’re awake!” Mrs. Hudson smiles at her. “John came by.”“He was here?”“He seemed to be in a hurry.”“Did he say why he came here? Or where he was going?”“No, he was a bit shaken up, I think. He didn’t even stop by for five minutes.”“Did you see which road he was headed?”Meanwhile, once Jocelyn hung up, Sherlock glares at his phone, unable to prevent his eyes getting watery from dejection. Even near death, she still manages to piss him off.He tries to dial her again, but as soon as he sees a cab pulling over in front of the hospital, his face softens. At least he got to hold Jocelyn and talk to her even just for a moment, which was enough for now.Sherlock calls another number and watches as John sprints out of the cab and into the hospital while answering his own phone. He speaks to John and watches the panic in his friend the moment he sees him on the rooftop.Flashes of Jocelyn’s smiles, laughter and words were playing before his eyes. All the times that Jocelyn was most happy, it doesn’t surprise him that most of the images are not from the this year.But he does remember when he paid her a visit, they drank together, and shared memories. His words brought a smile to her face and laughter rumble from her chest that night, and the satisfaction of doing that was unfathomable.John shakes his head, not even believing him for one second. “Stop it, now,” he begins to walk to the entrance, but Sherlock lifts his arm to stop him.“Keep your eyes fixed on me, will you do this for me?”“Do what?”“This phone call, it’s my note,” he sniffles. “It’s what people do, don’t they? Leave a note?”John presses his lips together, not believing what’s happening before him. “Leave a note when?”Sherlock watches his best friend, not wanting to do this to him or to anyone, but he has no other choice. “Goodbye, John.”“No, don’t.”The consulting detective throws his phone to the ground, bracing himself at the edge. Sherlock takes a deep breath, looking at the ground and seeing everyone get to work.
“Sherlock!”
He stretches his arms to his side, relaxing his body before slowly unbalancing himself, leaning forward to let himself fall.John watches in horror and everything is a blur for him. Something hits him, sends him to the ground, he pushes himself up, pulling himself together as he makes his way to the growing crowd, a body, blood, the smell of blood, his hand reaches for the body’s wrist, no pulse, his vision darkens. John could barely hear the ear-piercing scream from behind him, the hurried steps and the shaky breath coming from one woman.Just a few moments earlier, the young scientist walks casually to the entrance of the hospital. She huffs out in annoyance, thinking back to how the detective was clearly lying to her. She kept thinking about how she’ll help her two friends get out of this mess; but it wasn’t until she catches a crowd from the corner of her eye. She furrows her brows, seeing between the gaps of the crowd that there is someone lying on the ground.Her heart pounds as she makes her way towards the crowd. Everything inside her overflowed the moment she recognizes the familiar coat and scarf… and she screams. She screams until her she can barely feel her throat. The screams were deep and painful, horrific and haunting. Sobs tore her chest open as she runs towards the body to push between the crowd.She wails the man’s name, hands getting covered in blood as she tries to reach out for him. Pairs of arms held her back, but she fights back, watching the paramedics lift the body into a stretcher. Her whole world falls apart, her entire body feels like it’s no longer attached to her as she slowly sinks into the floor, eyes droopy with her energy draining, and everything goes dark.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was a Tuesday morning. Jocelyn brushes her hair in front of the mirror. She has a blank look on her face, her hand gripping the brush. She looks down at her black dress, feeling the fabric of it. There’s something lonely to it, maybe it’s the color. Or maybe that’s just what he would say.The knocking on the door pulls her out of watching herself on the mirror. She walks towards it and opens the door, pushing herself to smile even just a little bit.“Hey,” John returns the smile, but it was just as forced as hers. “Ready?”She nods at him and the three of them go to the small funeral being held. They were silent all the way to the cemetery, too much in their thoughts that they’re too tired to voice out.Once they get the venue, only a few people attended. Jocelyn can see the casket, but couldn’t pull herself together enough to look at it. The last time she saw Sherlock was too much already, she can’t unsee it even if she wanted to.Harry was there, flew all the way from New York to see her brother and friend. John put on a stoic face as ever as he embraces his sister.Jocelyn doesn’t see any of Sherlock’s family. No familiar face from years ago. Not even Mycroft is here and it makes her heart crumble. Although, seeing him might only make her angry. After all, everything that happened roots back to him.For the past week, Jocelyn just stayed at Mrs. Hudson’s home, only because the older woman pleaded her after she visited and realized that the brunette has barely eaten anything from her kitchen. She never cried, she never acted out in any way.When Jocelyn’s aunt heard the news, she visited Jocelyn in Baker Street and held her for a whole day.Jocelyn felt suffocated by the stares she got when she arrived at Scotland Yard two days after the incident to work. Donovan and Anderson were there with guilt on their faces, and the moment she saw them, Jocelyn felt her stomach quake. She needed to run to the bathroom in order to empty the little contents of her stomach.She finally agreed not to go to work for a while because the mere sight of the people who had driven Sherlock into his demise was too much.Jocelyn just sits quietly next to John and her aunt, not even listening to the pastor for what he’s saying about Sherlock. None of them actually knew him, anyway, except Mrs. Hudson, John, Lestrade and Jocelyn.The whole time, Jocelyn just doesn’t feel anything. Everything was numb. When it was her turn to throw flowers in, she just takes a breath and tosses the flowers into the hole.The ceremony was over as quickly as it begun. Condolences were offered to Jocelyn and she felt tired trying to smile at random people she has never met before. They were all acting as if she was Sherlock’s significant other, which was already far from the truth.Her aunt says goodbye to her and asks Mrs. Hudson to watch over her, accepting the fact that her niece is much closer to them now. Harry offered to stay a little longer, but Jocelyn just shakes her head and embraces her.Lestrade offers her a hug, which she just accepts without another word. Jocelyn can feel that Lestrade thinks he failed Sherlock. She could see the tears in his eyes once he pulls away, nodding before leaving.The only people left were John, Mrs. Hudson and Jocelyn. Mrs. Hudson had each of her arm linked to the other two, holding them close like family.They stand before Sherlock’s grave, in silence until John speaks.John sighs heavily. “I’m angry.”Jocelyn glances at him and Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm. She tells him that it was fine to be angry, and begins to tearfully rant about the late detective.“Yeah, listen, I’m not actually that angry, okay?”“I am,” Jocelyn says for the first time this week, making both of them turn to look at her. “I am really angry.” Her voice is a shaky mess. She unlaces her arm around Mrs. Hudson and begins to walk away.Mrs. Hudson frowns, heart aching for her as she follows behind to go after her. John is left alone to pay his respects while the two woman walk away to give him his privacy.Once Mrs. Hudson reaches Jocelyn, she just pulls the young girl into a hug. “I know you’re terrified of showing your feelings, dear, but just for now, Sherlock would love to hear what you wanted to say to him.”“Is me being angry not enough for him to know how I feel about this?” She gestures to the direction where he is buried. “See, I’ll never be okay with this. He didn’t even try to tell me what he was going to do, how much he was hurting. He didn’t even care enough to say goodbye. Who does that?” She slightly raises her voice, but regrets it immediately. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”Mrs. Hudson gently grabs both her arms to give her a weak smile.“The two of you should go home, I’ll just stay for a bit.” Jocelyn nods, crossing her arms.John glances at her with worry. “You sure?”Jocelyn nods. John presses his lips together in sorrow, pulling her into a hug. Over the year of knowing each other, John treats her like his little sister. He holds her tight and pulls away, smiling at her for a bit and walks off with Mrs. Hudson.Her feet carry her to the grave, hands in the pockets of her coat as she sighs deeply as she squints her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say because until now, I don’t understand why you did that. I’d ask you myself, but it’s a bit too late.”The wind around her gives comfort, it feels like Sherlock is just at arm’s reach.Jocelyn slowly lowers down into the ground, crouching like she does whenever she was at her mother’s. “When we talked, I never got to ask you how you could still remember everything about me, even after you learned how to remove memories like a bloody computer,” she breathes out a small laugh. She sighs, eyes briefly closing. “I can’t believe I hung up on you during our last conversation. I probably prevented you from saying goodbye, and now I’ll never know what you were going to say to me. I could have stopped you,” her breath stops, making her screw her eyes shut.She stays silent for a moment, pretending like Sherlock is standing in front of her just listening to her stupid monologue. For Jocelyn, to hear from the telephone that her mother passed away during her sleep was different to seeing Sherlock with his head bashed in, covered in blood while being crowded upon.She pulls herself up and steps forward, caressing the gravestone with her fingers. “I don’t care what other people will think about me, but I’ll never be convinced that you lied about everything.”It was different to hold a telephone than to have her own hands be covered in blood. It was different to wail in her bedroom than scream in the middle of a pavement.It was different to go through nine years before visiting a grave than attending a funeral just a few days after.Moreover, it was different to realize that her mother died peacefully while Sherlock took his life due to the people around him.She lets out a shaky breath. “I’d believe in Heaven for you,” Jocelyn lifts her hand to her mouth, kissing her fingers and placing them on the stone. She wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath to fill her lungs with cool air as she goes back to Baker Street.***“How was it?”“Attending my own funeral? Boring. A lot of talking, and people I’ve never seen before.”“Funerals are a scene from a play that which no existing God would spare time to watch. I warned you not to attend.”Sherlock hums, rolling his eyes in a subtle way. His younger brother ignores his comment and focuses on himself. “I’m quite disappointed in John for inviting a priest. He knows I do not believe in something as laughable as God.” Sherlock covers the true nature of his emotions with dark humor, making his brother huff as a reply. “Saw Lestrade crying. You should have went. Given him comfort.”“Oh, please,” Mycroft scoffs at his comment. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jocelyn? It would be the first time she’s ever seen sunlight, I’m sure.”“Don’t start with me, Mycroft. This was your idea.”“None of us anticipated how far Moriarty was willing to go.”“Just like when you didn’t anticipate Moriarty coming after Jocelyn, and knowing how stubborn that woman can be, would actually do what he wants.”Of course, they are back to blaming one another.“That wouldn’t have happened should you have known better and left Jocelyn out of it. That was my sole request. How nice of you to drag her name into it.” Sherlock sneers at him.“Moriarty asked for her. She’s part of your life, is she not?”“And by telling him all about it, you’ve managed to end her career when the plan was to ruin mine. Wonderful.”“You were so willing to have me share bits of your life to a wanted criminal.”“Because he needed to think he had the upper hand, brother mine! You could have easily steered away from Jocelyn.”Mycroft glances at his brother. “You know why we have to do this, little brother?”“Yes, yes, my death has to feel real. Whatever it takes.”When no other words are exchanged, Sherlock plops his hands on each armrest. “Is it done?”“Yes.”“Well?”“Moriarty was very thorough, my people went over your previous flat multiple times and found nothing. Even in Jocelyn’s current flat, nothing was found.”Sherlock sighs, eyes closing. When he told his brother about the deal that Moriarty offered Jocelyn, it made the eldest Holmes think. However, not even Mycroft could figure out what Moriarty could want from her. Jocelyn said that she was the only one who can do it, according to Moriarty.He knew that Sherlock would be provoked once he speaks her name.“He wanted something from her, she said that he did not specify. Moriarty believed that only Jocelyn can do it. It’s likely to be related with what happened to her once she went to New York.” He looks at his brother with a careful look. “Do you know anything about it?”“If I did, I would have informed you right away.”Sherlock gives his brother a disbelieving look. “Moriarty mentioned that Jocelyn becoming a criminal master isn’t a stretched out truth.”“You believe that Miss Grant has the capacity of becoming a criminal?”“I looked into Jocelyn’s New York details and found nothing out of the ordinary.” He shakes his head. “So, what can Moriarty offer her and what can she offer him? That is the question.”“Our main goal as of now is to eliminate his network.”“It might be connected to Moriarty. We must find out now.”“How? You are deceased and if I approach her now, she’ll get suspicious.”“His body was never recovered on that rooftop, how is that even possible?”“It was never part of our plan that Moriarty would die, which I’m assured that you’re aware of. Once our team entered the rooftop, it was empty. He walks free.”Sherlock clenches his jaw. “Moriarty is dead. Someone just took his body—how many times do we need to go over this?”“Sherlock, I understand that this week has been difficult for you. I think it’s best—”“I’m perfectly fine.”“—if you take a moment to rest.”“This is exactly the time not to rest. Moriarty’s network is still out there and you’re suggesting that I take a nap? I should be in another country right now, doing my bidding!” He yells out, the veins on his neck appearing.Mycroft can see the guilt in his eyes. However sentimental he is, Sherlock is still his brother. His pain is also his to bear.“You are not in your best state. You haven’t slept since our little show at St. Bartholomew’s.” Mycroft calmly tells him, contrasting Sherlock’s wide eyes and disheveled curls.“Mycroft—”“Don’t make me order you, Sherlock. I swear.” “I’d like to see you try.”“We are on the same side, Sherlock.”“It certainly never felt that way for a decade now.”“Brother mine, you need to clear your mind or else the plan will not go as we want it to,”Sherlock stares back at him, face twitching as he turns around to rub the sides of his face in an irritated way.The eldest Holmes lets out a sigh. “Sherlock, it’ll all be over in three months. You’ll return to Baker Street and Moriarty’s network will be gone for good.”It still does not make things easier, though. It wasn’t him or Mycroft who is paying the price, it’s John, Greg, Mrs. Hudson and Jocelyn.Sherlock heard her reaction upon seeing his body. The screams haunt him, which is why he never wanted to sleep like his brother suggested.“Well, I certainly think this will be the longest three months of our lives.”“Let us make it count, then.”***A few weeks later, Jocelyn rings the doorbell to Molly’s house on a Sunday. Molly opens the door with a small smile on her face and lets her in. She invited Jocelyn over for tea, and Jocelyn thought that she should at least visit, despite how much she wants to just stay in bed. Now, they were having small talk, but all she can think about was how numb she feels.“Greg mentioned that you haven’t been to work?”“Oh. Yes, that. I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided to quit.”Molly widens her eyes. “Quit?” Jocelyn nods. The other woman frowns. “It’s your dream job.”“Last time I was there, everyone was hellbent in arresting... him. I... I can’t be part of a team that led him to where he is now.”“Well, I completely support you. The police did take matters way too far, and I believe in Sherlock Holmes.”At the mention of his name, Jocelyn feels another weight on her chest. “You and me both.”She hesitates. “I never knew you and him used to be together.”From her words, Jocelyn lets out a painful chuckle. “It was a really long time ago, Molly.”“If you ask me, I think he really loves you.”That surprises Jocelyn, eyes widening as she cranes her neck towards her.Molly catches on with her mistake of using a present tense, trying not to seem suspicious. She lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, that probably threw you off. Sorry.”“I can assure you, he didn't feel that way towards me. He never had.”“You don’t think he was capable of love?”There was something about the way how Sherlock’s breath trembles as he says Jocelyn’s name when he asked for Molly’s help.
“Under no circumstances does Jocelyn find out about me being alive, Molly. If she finds out, Moriarty’s people can come after her and,” he pauses, jaw clenching. “Contrary to popular belief, there are many things that I do not know, but hear this—I will not let anything happen to her.”
Jocelyn sighs. “I think he was capable of many things, especially that. I’ve seen it before, with his family, friends, but that doesn’t mean he felt that way with me. If anything, I always seemed to do something that’ll get me under his skin.”***Two months come by, and it was finally the time Jocelyn comes back to Scotland Yard. Everyone was surprised to see her. Greg even leaves his office to follow her.Lestrade watches as she packs her things. “So, you’re leaving.”“Uh, yeah, I’m quitting actually.” She glances down at her box.Lestrade frowns. “You’re one of our best, you know? In fact, the best.”“You still have Anderson.”Lestrade presses his lips into a thin line. “Anderson was relieved of his position by the Chief Super.”“What? Why?”Lestrade lifts his shoulder for a lazy shrug, a sad frown on his face. “He’s not exactly well. Not after everything happened.”“What did he do?”“Look, Grant, trust me when I say that you’d prefer not to know. On a better note, if Anderson was still here, I’d still say that you’re the best we have,” he snickers.Jocelyn gives him a tired smile. “If you’re trying to convince me to stay, save your breath, Greg. I can’t keep working here, not until Sherlock’s name is in the clear.”He only nods in understanding, stepping forward to embrace her. Jocelyn sighs and hugs him back.***
“The jet will be with you shortly, brother mine.”
“No, not yet. “We have a problem.”
“What?”
“It’s the network, it’s… it’s much vast than we anticipated.”Mycroft leans back on his seat, still holding the phone to his ear. “How many?”“Eighty other countries, Mycroft. Maybe even more, coded in some notebook. We’ve barely scratched the surface.” He says through his teeth.His brother lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose this means that we might have to cancel the jet.”“How… how are they?” his voice is quiet.“I can assure you that they are all alive and well.”Sherlock supposes that is enough for him. “I assume that you think this will take a while, correct?”“I estimate that you’ll finish this in under four and a half years.”“No. I can make it shorter and faster.”Mycroft humorlessly smiles, shaking his head. “Sherlock, you can’t possibly work yourself into the actual insides of dangerous areas. Stick to the plan and stay above, speak only to the higher-ups. You cannot directly enter dangerous places.”“Oh, yes, I can. Yes, I can. That is precisely what needs doing. I’ll email you the details.”
“Brother mine, you could die for this, I forbid it!”
“No time for your scolding, Mycroft. I have to go.”
“Sher—”
He hangs up on his brother and turns his phone off, eyes closing as he leans against the wall. Sherlock slips his phone into the pocket of his jacket. When he slips his hand into his pocket, he feels a small pen. He pulls it out and his eyes soften, staring at the small pen that he made more than a decade ago, thinking of only one person.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“How are you feeling?”“I don’t know actually. I don’t understand myself.”“And why is that?”“Because I want to feel something other than feeling okay.”“Isn’t that good, though? You’re moving on.”Jocelyn shakes her head. “Yeah, but, it’s… it’s too soon for me to feel like this. Too soon to feel okay.”“People grieve in different ways. Some would put on happy face, some would drink their sorrows and many other things. Your situation is just another type of those.” The therapist tells her.“But I don’t want to feel this way. I need the pain to tear me up inside, I have to feel it.”“Jocelyn, I think you need closure.”“I already said everything I want to say when he was buried.”“Closure doesn’t necessarily mean talking to someone’s grave. It can be all sorts of ways like cleaning out your apartment to free everything he owned, visiting his old home. Closure can be many things that only you can figure out.”Jocelyn frowns, pondering over her words and nodding. She gives her a small smile and shakes her hands once their session is done. Jocelyn leaves the house and takes in the fresh air before calling a cab in order to go to Cambridge.While on her way, she pulls out her phone and dials her friend. Jocelyn waits with hope in her eyes, only to be disappointed to be led straight to voicemail.She frowns and closes her eyes. “John, I know you’re going through a tough time, but please, let me know that you’re okay, yeah? I’d feel a lot better if you at least tell me that you’re alive.” She hangs up and leans her head back on the backseat of the cab.***“You’re a bit overqualified,” The man behind the desk skims over her curriculum vitae, holding his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose. “And you say that you’re twenty-eight?”“Twenty-nine, actually. As of last week.”“And you’ve achieved three PhDs?” his voice marks him impressed, raising his brows at the folder in his hands. “It can be garnered as near impossible to even achieve one in under ten years, let alone three.”“No such thing as impossible.” She just keeps her smile. “I liked to study.”“So, you studied here in Cambridge?”“Only until my sophomore year. I couldn’t afford another semester back then, so I took a scholarship in New York.”He doesn’t return her smile, closing and putting down the folder on his desk. “I didn’t think you’d actually top almost all of the professors here. Mark me impressed.” he flicks his head towards her folder. “You’re very overqualified to be an associate professor, though.”She shakes her head. “You’re too kind, Mr. Carter, but I can start with a low position, or whatever suits you. Whatever pays.” “Assisting someone who should be assisting you? You’re too humble, Dr. Grant. With your achievements, we are honored to even have you on board with us.”She visibly winces at the title, but remains smiling. “The pleasure is all mine, Professor.”“Please, call me Laurie.”She nods with a smile. “In that case, call me Jocelyn.”The two of them explore the campus. Jocelyn has been taking everything in, seeing how almost everything changed about the place over the course of ten years. They reach a certain building and Jocelyn can only gape at the inside. She lets out a scoff in surprise, eyes sparkling.Flashes of classical music echo in her ears, people lining up to fill the seats, students setting up onstage, the lights, the applause, the atmosphere; everything.Laurie walks next to her, following her gaze. “Not quite how you remember?”“This used to look much more alive back then.”“Somewhere in the school’s archive, there’s a tape of your performance from ten years ago.” He informs her, making the woman look at him in surprise. “Although, I barely recognized you without your light blue hair.”She hums a laugh. “It’s a life unlived if one never once regretted a hairstyle,”He seems to be amused by her words, and it shows from the curl of his lips. “You’re very skillful with the piano.”Jocelyn huffs out a short laugh. “Descendant of Chopin,” she jokes.“Mr. Holmes was great with the violin, too.”Jocelyn bites her lip before she walks out of the building with him. Laurie and Jocelyn explore the campus and for some reason, they landed on a familiar looking room. It was different from how Jocelyn remembers it.This room used to have musical instruments hanging over the walls, music sheets on tables and a small stage where anyone can perform.“This will be your classroom, at the back will be your office. My classroom and office is down the hall. I teach Mathematics.”She hums, running her fingers on the surface of the table. “This room is beautiful,”“Ideally, it used to be the classroom of musical practitioners. Such as you.”“I had one hell of a partner. He was a violinist and a composer. He used to compose music for me to play.”He nods. “I did know Mr. Holmes. Not personally, but he’s quite a popular name around here. Stories from his professors say that he was the boy who could tell your whole life story with a single glance. Topped all of his classes and graduated Summa Cum Laude. He refused to give a graduation speech, though, and was replaced last minute.”Jocelyn snorts out a small laugh. “That says about right.”“I’m sorry for your loss. I heard he was a great man.”“He was. Glad to hear that. People are barely saying good things about him.” She lightly chuckles, feeling oddly comfortable around him.***It was raining outside and made it difficult for Jocelyn to get a cab, but once she does, she goes straight home. She sighs the moment she sits on the backseat of the cab, eyes closing in frustration. She glances at her phone to see if John ever responded. He didn’t. It makes Jocelyn grip her phone harshly.The cab pulls over in front of her house and she pays for the ride. As she reaches for her key, she doesn’t notice the figure approaching her, holding an umbrella over her head. Jocelyn looks up once she almost bumps into someone.Her eyes widen. “Mycroft.”He pulls a fake smile, not out of cruelty, but from lack of energy. “Hello, Miss Grant.”She unlocks the door and letting Mycroft come in. They both shed themselves from their wet coats. Jocelyn reaches for a towel and dries off her hair while pouring bourbon into two glasses.“I’d offer you tea, but this is easier to give.”He takes the glass and doesn’t complain, not that he has the right to.“You know, if it wasn’t raining, I would have left you outside right now.”“You have every right to be angry with me, Miss Grant.”“I’m not saying that I lost more than you did, Mycroft.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m just confused why you never reached out for ten months and you just show up.”“I never meant to abandon you.”Her face softens, but she blinks it away and gestures to the sofa for him to sit. “So, what brings you here?”“I’ve wanted to visit for a while now.”“What, your spies’ reports aren’t good enough?”Mycroft looks surprised.“Oh, stop, I know you’ve been watching me.”“Keeping tabs, I can reassure you. Although, it seems that their reports are faulty at its best.”“Faulty?”“Well, most of them have been saying that you’ve been doing great.”“I have.”Mycroft glances at the empty alcohol bottles in the bin. “How are you so sure?”Jocelyn flushes. “Nightcaps.”“Oh, yes. Nightcaps, indeed.”“Why are you here, Mycroft?”Mycroft stares for a moment. “You’ve quit Scotland Yard and signed up to be a professor at your old University. I’m simply here to check on you.”“That would imply that quitting my job and signing up for another would be me going insane.”“I never said that. I only wished to see you.”“I’m fine.”“Yes, I’m aware. And I’ve been assured that it would be of interest to you if you find out where John has been.”At the mention of her friend’s name, she widens her eyes. “Where is he? Is he okay?”“He’s quite fine. He works at a clinic now. Getting his life together. It seems that Dr. Watson is finally moving on.”She sighs in relief, burying her face into her palms.“Jocelyn, I want you to be careful.”She stares at him for a moment. “Is this about Moriarty?”“You’re aware that he has been quiet after the incident.”“The incident?” She scoffs under her breath. “If Moriarty wants me dead, I would be by now. The only reason he hasn’t done any of those is because he wants something from me.”“And what, pray tell, do you think is stopping him from taking it from you by force? Whatever it means.”“Is that why you’re here? To find out what Moriarty wants—”“Jocelyn, I know what happened. I can assure you that I am as devastated as you are, if not, more. I do not have anyone else, Jocelyn. I’ve always had my brother, but right now, he is gone and I have no idea what to look forward to next.” He truthfully discloses. The moment she feels her eyes sting, she immediately looks away from him.“And I’m here because, well,” his hands helplessly gesturing towards her. “Belated happy birthday.”Her chest wrenches, a frown etched on her face. Jocelyn tries to remember the last time someone actually greeted her during her birthday. She pushes herself off the chair and makes her way towards the man, letting herself be wrapped into an embrace.Mycroft lets out a breath. “I apologize for not coming sooner. I’m well aware of my mistakes and how I’ve upset you. It made it difficult to lift the telephone.”Jocelyn nuzzles her face into his chest. She knows that deep inside her is the little girl who views him as the brother she never had. Jocelyn knows that he lost more than she could ever imagine. “I’m here for you, too.”Mycroft pulls away and looks at her, and for the first time, she can see the redness of his tired eyes. “Now, listen to me. I have done many things in life that are deemed immoral, but you have to believe me. I would never put my brother in harm’s way. Never.”Although, as pure as his intentions may be, he still gave away private details about Sherlock’s life to the most dangerous man in the world. That, she cannot understand.She slowly nods. “I just need some time, we all do.” Jocelyn sighs. “I miss him, too.”Mycroft presses his lips together, knowing that he misses his brother in a completely different way than she does. Still, she is not wrong. Mycroft has no idea where his brother may be, and for that, he can only fear for his safety.***The most relaxing yet oddest thing was that none of her students ever mentioned him. Not even a fraction of his name. They were much more interested with everything she has to say. On the first day, though, she was only here to introduce herself to her new classes. Everyone was so fascinated by her achievements, the way her age was near to some of the students in the room.But in all honesty, she does not feel happy at all.A knock on her office door makes her look up, and her smile fades a bit in surprise as she shifts in her seat to snap out of her thoughts.Professor Carter stands by her door, leaning his shoulder against it, an amused smile on his face. “You might be their favorite professor by the end of the semester,” he tells her and walks forward to place the apple on her desk.Jocelyn raises her brow at the apple. He gives her a wink before proceeding outside the office, closing the door behind him.For the next few weeks, she sticks to her schedule. Therapy, classes, grading papers, and so on. It served as the perfect distraction from the real problem taking root in her.She keeps pushing back her guilt, her grief, her anger, and keeps letting any other emotion in. Her therapist keeps encouraging her to open up to her, but it was too difficult.Her therapist, again, mentioned having closure. She keeps suggesting numerous of acts that can be closure. Jocelyn thinks about her suggestion about getting rid of Sherlock’s things from her home.This is exactly why she was sitting on her floor, staring at her moving box from almost two years ago. The box is labeled as ‘Sherlock’ in ink.She takes a deep breath and reaches her hand inside, gripping a soft piece of fabric. She pulls it out and she sighs in realization, seeing that it is the button-up he used to wear back in university. Jocelyn managed to accidentally bring it to New York.Jocelyn holds it up, smiling weakly before bringing it closer to her face in order to inhale the faded scent. This piece of clothing brings so many memories.The darkest nights in New York, where this shirt was the solution for many sleepless nights.She slowly places it on the ground, reaching back inside the box and pulling out a small leather journal. The notebook contained everything Jocelyn did during University. Although, the only thing that makes her smile about this was the fact that Sherlock used to put small sticky notes in between pages.From ‘Out for a bit, we’re out of milk’ to ‘Come to the café outside campus’ to ‘Mycroft says your hair can be distracting. For once, I agree’ and to ‘Composed something for you to play. On your desk.’It was an endearing action of his, and Jocelyn was certain that he was not aware of how touching it was.The small post-it notes make her chin wobble a bit. The last note in her journal says, ‘See you for dinner. Proud of you today.’Another object that catches her eye is the fewest photographs she had. There is one photo with her and the Holmes siblings, with Mycroft looking as displeased as Sherlock and the bright blue-haired young girl.Although, her favorite photo was with Sherlock with his rarest wide smile in midst of laughing. Jocelyn remembers that day. Sherlock kept talking about Mycroft and she makes a crude joke about him that earns her a laugh.She never saw that smile again.She buys a four picture frames to put in her room. A photo of her mum, of her and the Holmes siblings, the Holmes family with her, and lastly, her favorite photo of Sherlock. As her favorite, she deems it necessary to put it on her nightstand.***It has been a year and a half since everything happened, and now, Jocelyn can finally breathe. It isn’t easy, but it does get easier to get up every morning.She focuses in different things like her students and how they genuinely admire her. Although, some were still warming up to her, and some were skeptical because of what the media painted upon her. The staff wasn’t helpful either, some professors tend to gossip. They sometimes ask her questions that were inappropriate and made her uncomfortable.Although, not everyone. Jocelyn has met so many respectable professors, and even recognized some of her old ones from years ago.She got along with Professor Carter the most. He was kind to her, talks to her as often as he could and occasionally, brings a specific fruit to her office. It was quite sweet of him, she notices.Admittedly, she misses working in an actual lab, with actual detectives. Although it is fun to share her knowledge on forensics, she still misses the time when she did it for herself.As she was cleaning up her classroom, Professor Carter visits her. He watches her work for a moment before letting his presence known by knocking.It startles Jocelyn enough to flinch while holding a box of Petri dishes. She turns with an alarmed look, but relaxes once she sees the familiar face.“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he seems to be entertained by her reaction.“You didn’t, I’m just—never mind. Is there something I can help you with?”“Are you free this evening?”“I guess so, yeah,” she nods at him in agreement.“Then, would you have a drink with me?”She halts her movement. “A drink?”He nods once. “Yes.”The last time she went on a date, she ended up cutting it short due to the presence of a certain criminal’s apparition. She remembers how she couldn’t even drink a glass of wine.She just looks at him with utter confusion and worry. “You… didn’t lead me to this job to ask me out, right?”“No, of course not. Jocelyn.” He bites his lip. “I realize that you’re just... impossible to ignore.”Right now, her mind flies back to another man, someone she lost a year ago. Jocelyn’s chest caves in the moment his face enters her thoughts. Somehow, all she can see is him. Him with his long coat, his dark blue scarf and the curls above his head. His deep voice, his casual smirk the moment he figures something out, his witty remarks, his uncontrollable protectiveness, his touch, his warmth.“You’ve helped me plenty, Laurie, and I am so grateful.”The look on her face makes the professor’s eyebrows drop and grin fade. “But you’re not ready.”For some time, Jocelyn almost forgot that Laurie knew a fragment of her past. “Laurie.”“It’s okay, Jocelyn. I’m a patient man, I know how to wait.”She shakes her head in astonishment. “You don’t even know me.”“I know enough. I’d love to know more. I can wait.” He simply says, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jocelyn.”As he makes his way outside, Jocelyn hesitates. “Later, you mean?”He stops by the door and turns to look at her. Once he sees the small smile on her face, he grins. Jocelyn nods and he looks pleased by this before he leaves. She lets out a breath, closing her eyes and tries not to think of someone else.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I’m so glad you met up with me today.”“No problem, Greg. Although, it made me wonder why it took you so long to come talk to me.”It has been two years since she quit Scotland Yard. Just yesterday, Lestrade contacted her and asked if she was free to have breakfast with him at a diner near the Yard. Jocelyn has only ever been in contact with Mrs. Hudson and Molly Hooper for the past two years. She even found out about Molly’s engagement a few weeks ago.Lestrade just nods. “I think you’d want to hear about this from me.”Jocelyn raises her brows at him expectantly and he gives her a small smile before putting down a folder on the table.She stares at it for a moment, eyes peering up at the man in front of her. He gestures towards it before Jocelyn’s slender fingers open the folder. Her face softens, flipping through the papers it contained. As she reads, she can feel a weight lift from her chest.She steadies her breath. “You cleared his name.”He nods at her with a knowing smile. “He’s clear of all suspicion. All the accusations against Sherlock were revoked.”“This is what you’ve been doing for the past two years?”“Yeah, I just thought that you should know.” She smiles at his words. “How’s, er, Mycroft doing?”“Okay, I guess. He called me up a few weeks ago, I haven’t heard from him since.”“Let him know about this, if you could.” Lestrade gestures to the folder. “Work is great, kind of intolerable sometimes now. Anderson is still not allowed to come back.”“Has everything gone to shit since I left?” she grins.“If you’re referring to Anderson’s little fan club, then yes, everything has gone to shit,”“What fan club?”“You haven’t heard of it?”“Did Anderson get famous while I was gone?”“Popular, yeah. Not for something you’d expect, though.”“What does that mean?”“Do you remember when I told you that Anderson got fired two years ago?”“You didn’t tell me the reason…”“Well, something happened to him. He’s so convinced that Sherlock is alive and on the loose,”His words make her pause, eyes squinting in astonishment. “Alive? That’s absurd.”“Right? He’s so persistent, the Chief Super had to fire him. He was disturbing clients and co-workers. Anyway, he formed a little club with people who also believe that kind of nonsense.”“…I think it’s the guilt.”“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.” Greg sighs, shaking his head. “How about you? What have you been up to?”She can’t seem to shake off the thought that there is a group of people out there believing that Sherlock is alive. It makes her feel a bit better about herself, as twisted as it does. Not that she believes it, but the fact that there are other people who feel more guilt than she does.“Oh. Yeah, things are great for me right now. My new job is different, but it’s good.” She nods in contentment before hesitating with a small smile. “I even, uh… I met someone.”“Really?” She shrugs with a pleased expression. Greg smiles. “What are they like?”“He’s a professor at the same Uni. That’s where we met,” she nods at him. “He’s great, you’ll like him.”Greg feels pleased as well. “I’m happy for you, Jocelyn.”She nods, thanking him quietly as they eat their breakfast and talk back and forth about the littlest things. Jocelyn enjoys the quiet morning with her friend, realizing now how much she actually misses him.“If I haven’t said it enough, you’re always welcome to come back,” he urges with a teasing tone.She rolls her eyes playfully. “Thank you, but I’ll pass. I’m content in Cambridge, but I’m open to being a consultant. You know I’d do anything for you,” she laughs a bit, and he only smiles as he realizes that she is happy.The bell from the door catches her attention and she looks up to see the familiar face. A grin creeps to her lips as she stands to greet him.He smiles at her as he walks. “Hey.”“This is my friend, Greg Lestrade. He’s a detective inspector at the Yard. Greg, this is Lawrence Carter.”“Laurie, please. It’s good to meet you,” he shakes Lestrade’s hand.“Pleasure, mate,” Greg grins at Jocelyn. “Well, today’s been great, Jocelyn. Say hello to Mrs. Hudson for me, yeah?”“Of course,” she leans over to press a kiss on Greg’s cheek. “Thank you for what you did, Greg. He’d appreciate all the effort.”He nods and watches the two of them leave the café. Greg finds it in him to feel satisfied that his friend is doing well.“What was that about?” Laurie asks as they get in his car.“Oh, it was just something about Sherlock,” she has a smile on her face. “He cleared his name.”Meanwhile in a dark area located in Serbia, the two arms of a man were chained to opposite sides of the room. One man sat leisurely in his seat while the other threw swings across the chained man’s face.The chained man was beaten until he relies on his own chains to hold himself up. Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth in exhaustion.He sighs in relief once the soldier leaves, not wanting to feel any more pain than he has already endured for the past week. Or more, he is not too sure how long it has been. All he knows is that this is his last stop, this is the final location. This is his final day, and everything will be over.“So, my friend. Now, it’s just you and me, You have no idea of the trouble it took to find you,” the man speaks in Serbian language. “Now listen to me,” he now speaks in English, only this time, his voice is familiar. “There’s an underground terrorist network active in London, and a massive attack is imminent.”The chained man can barely speak through the pain he is currently going through, it clouds his judgment. Although, not enough to not recognize his dear brother.“Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear. Back to Baker Street? Sherlock Holmes.”Now that, is a name he hasn’t heard in a long while. Despite the pain he was under, the chained man’s lips twitch into a small grin.***Laurie parks his car and turns it off, turning to the woman next to him. Jocelyn gives him a pursed smile and sighs. “Go ahead, ask me.”His lips twitch in amusement. “Ask you what?”“If I’m going back to Scotland Yard to be a scientist again.”He hums, nodding to humor her. “Are you?”“No,” she pauses. “I don’t know.”Laurie observes her for a moment. “Hey. If you’re not ready to go back, then don’t. If you are, I’ll even help you pack your things.” She offers him a smile, and he returns it.They both walk up to the building and Jocelyn uses her key to unlock it. The two of them enter, ridding themselves of their coat and scarves before walking towards Mrs. Hudson’s door.As Jocelyn was about to knock, the door opens suddenly and makes her take a step back. Her wide grin is replaced by a shocked frown once her eyes fall down to the man sitting by the table.“John?”John pushes himself off his chair to walk towards her. “I am so sorry, Jocelyn.”She frowns at him. “What happened to you?”Of course, Jocelyn knows what happened to him. Mycroft is kind enough to give her updates every month or so, just to tell her that John is okay. Still, Jocelyn has no idea why John refuses to speak to any of them.“After everything, I just... I let things slide.”She steps forward to embrace him, eyes fluttering shut. “I missed you.”“I missed you, too.” John says, almost relieved that she’s not angry at him.“Well, I’m not sure about that. You look ancient,” she nods towards his moustache, and John dryly laughs at her. “Oh! John, I want you to meet Lawrence Carter. Laurie, this is my friend, Dr. John Watson.”Laurie and John shake hands with polite smiles. John glances between Jocelyn and him, slowly figuring things out but doesn’t say anything.“Mrs. Hudson,” Laurie steps forward with a grin to peck the old woman’s cheek, making her laugh in amusement.Somewhere in Britain, Sherlock is trying on a white button-up shirt while standing in front of a mirror.Every day for the past two years, that is all he could ever think of, and every single day he struggles to ignore the nagging sensation of his need to be in London again. Now, he finally gets the chance. He is so close; the thought of that door in the room being the only barrier between him and home… it is frustrating him.“Have you seen John?”“I’ve kept a weather eye on him, of course. I haven’t been in touch with him at all, to prepare him.”“He looks ancient.”“I believe you’re forgetting to ask about someone else,” from those words, Anthea was a step ahead by passing another folder to Mycroft.Sherlock eyes the folder calmly and appears to be unbothered, but for people with heightened hearing, his heartbeat would be the first thing they would notice about him. “I don’t believe I do.”His brother looks surprised, seeing how his brother calmly fixes his collar and cuffs. Mycroft blinks and looks at Anthea, who only nods and takes the folder back.In Baker Street, all four of them sit comfortably in Mrs. Hudson’s home. Laurie excuses himself to go use the comfort room, subtly putting his hand of Jocelyn’s shoulder.She looks at John. “What?”“You’ve got a boyfriend.”“I wouldn’t exactly call him that…”“He’s been looking at you the whole time.”Jocelyn sighs in content. “We met when I was job-hunting. He put a good word in and got me into Cambridge as a fellow professor,” she tells John, who only nods with a fond smile. “I’m still trying to see where it’s going.”“You have been trying to see where it’s going for almost six months now, dear.” Mrs. Hudson bluntly remarks, making Jocelyn gasp in humor.“Mrs. Hudson!” Jocelyn gasps before laughing.John glances between the two women, sensing how the two of them are actually quite happy. As happy as someone grieving could be. John thinks that maybe he is becoming that way as well, since he also met someone.Laurie comes back and sits next to Jocelyn, looking at the other two people in the room. “Did I miss something?”“Nope! John was just talking about why he showed up all of a sudden.”“I’m actually here to, um, visit the flat.”Jocelyn and Mrs. Hudson look at one another with worry. The old woman nods and motions for John to come with her, she knows that Jocelyn would rather stay downstairs.John notices how tense Jocelyn is. There is still a restriction and hesitance between the two of them, he can tell. John has an easy guess as to why. When they come back, Mrs. Hudson had a bright smile.“He told me that he met a woman!”Jocelyn’s eyes light up. “Really? What’s her name?”“Mary Morstan, I’m planning to ask her to marry me,” he says and Jocelyn only embraces him with a smile on her face.John hugs her back, tightening his grip around her. He really missed Jocelyn, he always saw her as the little sister he wished to have. John glances at the professor watching them with a soft look on his eyes and he can see how much he cares for Jocelyn. John gives him a short nod, and the professor does the same.Meanwhile, in Mycroft’s office, Sherlock sighs at his reflection, feeling pleased since he is beginning to look like his usual self.“I think I’ll surprise John. He’d be delighted.”“You think so?”“Hm. Pop by Baker Street. Who knows? Jump out of a cake.”“Baker Street? He isn’t there anymore,” his words make Sherlock snap his head towards him, slightly surprised. “Why would he be? It’s been two years, he’s got on with his life.”Sherlock almost swallows, going silent for a moment. By now, he’s thinking of many other things that can be different, and only one other name keeps popping up inside his mind.Anthea walks in, holding his beloved coat. A warm feeling filling his chest at the sight of it, and makes him smile.“Welcome back, Mr. Holmes.”“Thank you,” he turns to his brother, “—blood,” and walks through the door in order to call a cab discreetly.Mycroft glances at Anthea with a rare worried expression. She immediately knows what he means. “Dr. Grant is currently in Baker Street, with Dr. Watson, Mrs. Hudson and a fellow professor from Cambridge University, Lawrence Carter.”“Will you see to it that Miss Grant will not be anywhere near Marylebone Road once my brother comes dashing through?”Anthea nods and leaves him be. Once he’s alone, he palms his face with worry and thinks about what the future may bring now that his little brother is home.The sun sets, and a consulting detective enters the restaurant.He just finished exploring London in a discreet manner, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings. His final destination was a rooftop, looking over the city. Seeing it again calms him down, his heartbeat is now gentler than it ever has been for the past two years.He is finally home, and all he has to do now is greet his friends. Hence, entering the restaurant John Watson had a reservation for.Sherlock smiles to himself once he deduced a random man’s wife having contractions, expecting a little one on the way. The feeling is familiar, going back to the usual way his mind works. Feeling pleased with himself does not last as long as it did once he saw his friend from a distance.Feeling way too exhilarated to be home, he decides to make fun of John by taking the situation much lighter than he should. This is why he feels a bit more surprised when John looks up at him with wide eyes and a slower understanding.John’s amused smile is gone in an instant, and suddenly, his chest tightens and throat dries. Sherlock is pleased to see his best friend again, not even minding his surprised reaction.John glances at the woman in front of him, Mary, just to make sure that he isn’t seeing things. John struggles to push himself off his chair in order to stand in front of Sherlock. John tries to steady his breath as all of his grief and anger is suddenly thrown back into his face. Now, all he can feel is betrayal.Sherlock observes him for a moment. “Well, short version; not dead,” he pauses between words and watches as John’s face contorts in anger. It was not a good sign as Sherlock begins to stammer, realizing his mistake.He begins to stammer until John speaks and asks why he would let him go through all of that for two years. Sherlock, being the clueless and horribly mannered person, opted to ask a random question about John’s moustache.The surprise of his inappropriate question makes Mary scoff out a shocked laugh. John had enough as he draws a sharp intake of breath before grabbing Sherlock by the collar, aggressively pulling him backwards and eventually pushing him onto the ground.Sherlock widens his eyes at the sudden surge of pain, feeling John’s weight crush him against the tiled ground. His wounds reopening underneath his suit almost makes him cry out.The guards drag them outside and Sherlock struggles to keep the pain to a bare minimum, pulling himself away from the grip of the guard and calmly informing them that he’ll leave accordingly.Mary looks at Sherlock with concern, but wraps her arm around John’s. Sherlock follows behind them as he hides the wince every time he moves his body.***“Overreacting?! So, you fake your own death—”“Shh!”“—and you waltz in here, large as bloody life!”
“Shh!”
“But I’m not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because for Sherlock Holmes, it’s a perfectly okay thing to do!”“Shut up, John! I don’t want anyone knowing I’m still alive!”“So, it’s still a secret?”“Yes! It’s still a secret!” Sherlock yells, looking around the place and notices how people are looking so he lowers his voice. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”“Christ, Sherlock. Does Jocelyn know? God,” John hasn’t thought of Jocelyn since the whole ordeal, too overwhelmed by his own anger to even spare a thought about anyone else.Sherlock freezes in place at the mention of her name, lips parting in surprise. His eyes dart to the side before he shakes his head no.“Do you have any idea what she went through because of you?”“John…” Mary mutters.“Jocelyn went through hell and still doesn’t want to admit it. She even quit the job she loves because she couldn’t stand the thought of working with the people who made you kill yourself. Did you know that? You did that to her.”Sherlock couldn’t look away from him, feeling his own throat tighten and his tongue twist from the loss of words.“However she reacts, that’s on you.” John nods, eyes wide with determination.Sherlock doesn’t know how to explain that he never thought it would go this far. He clenches his jaw, looking down at the ground. “I am sorry.”John scoffs, shaking his head. He glares at him before leaving the eatery, pulling Mary with him. Mary shoots him an apologetic smile, and Sherlock returns it with a nod before following behind them.He sees Mary by the door and John at the pavement trying to hail a cab.“I don’t understand, I said I was sorry.”Mary turns to him with an astonished look. “Gosh, you don’t know anything about human nature, do you?”“Nature? No. Human? …No.”Mary smiles at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk him around.”“You will?”Her grin remains. “Oh, yeah.”The number of John’s past girlfriends who have seen Sherlock as something close to despicable is large. Mary does not seem to be the type of person who would judge so quickly. Sherlock glances down at her and knows her whole personality in just mere seconds before glancing back to her genuine eyes as if to thank her.***“Hello.”“You’re back.” Molly grins at him. “That’s good.”“Yes, I do feel the same as well. It’s good to be back.” Sherlock nods. “How have you been?”“I’ve been okay, difficult to keep a secret in,” she mutters. “…Have you told her yet?”He immediately knows whom she meant. “No, but maybe I could drop by her apartment complex later on.”“Sherlock, she doesn’t live there anymore.”“Oh. Right. Well, it was nice seeing you, Molly.” He offers a smile, to which she returns with a same one.Lestrade is next and Sherlock waits by his car. Once Greg steps out and takes a cigarette out of his pocket, Sherlock found the perfect chance.“Those things will kill you.”There is a pause.“Oh, you bastard.”“It’s time to get back to work. You’ve been letting things slide, Greg.”Lestrade just looks at him for a moment and it is as if his eyes are slowly filling with tears, flinging himself to Sherlock in order to give him a tight hug. Sherlock is taken aback by his reaction.“My God, you’re alive. I can’t believe Anderson is right!”“Of course, I’m alive. Did you really think I would die that way? Please.” Sherlock rolls his eyes, but feels lighter since Greg welcomed him.He pulls away with a frown. “Sherlock, why did you do it?”“It’s a long story.”“It better be good, you cost the team one of the best scientists in the country,” he sighs, shaking his head. Sherlock presses his lips together awkwardly. Sherlock and Lestrade grab a drink in the nearest pub together.“What happened there? Did you fight some soldiers during those two years?”“Not during those two years, no.”“Ah. Can’t say you didn’t deserve it. Your death really screwed with everyone’s head.” He tells him, and puts his cup down. “Did Mycroft know?”“Yes.”He nods once. Clearly, he should have expected it. “Did Jocelyn?”Of course, everyone would decide to bring her up. “No.”Greg sighs. “After you died, Jocelyn tried to keep working for us, but it was hard for her. Since, well, you know how we treated you before. She bought a house not far from the Uni she teaches at. She works there now, as a professor. I’m happy for her.”From Jocelyn’s personality and mutual adoration for science—also adding her astounding range of knowledge regarding it—Sherlock already knows that the subject she teaches is Chemistry.Being a professor suits her, as well. It’s not a difficult leap for Sherlock to know that the students may be enamored by her. He’d be appalled if they weren’t.“How are you planning to tell her?”“I’m… not sure. She is very unpredictable. There is no telling how she may react. This is why I haven’t visited anyone other than John, you and Molly.”“I’m going to ignore the fact that you called me predictable, but alright.”He ignores Greg, keeping a concentrated expression on his face. “I just need to put her last, maybe get some rest tonight.”Of course, when he gets on to visiting Mrs. Hudson, she decides to scream bloody murder.Sherlock’s eyes widen as her screams burn out into smaller sobs and all Sherlock can do is step forward and embrace her, reassuring that she is not seeing things.Mrs. Hudson holds onto him tightly, pulling away after a minute, only to cup his face.Sherlock, unaware of his own nervousness, only stares back at her. The old woman sputters a small cry, eyes filling with tears of happiness as she pulls him into another hug.After that, Sherlock is welcomed back to his flat. Everything was the same.He enters his room, noticing how it has been untouched for the past two years. He realizes that his landlady never dared to get rid of his things, which leads him to believe that she never wanted the place to be rented by anyone else. The thought makes a sudden ache in his chest.He goes to check one corner in his living room, lips widening into a grin once he sees the familiar little violin case placed on the floor. Sherlock walks toward it and unlocks the case, pulling up the cover to reveal a shiny and untouched violin.Sherlock carefully takes it out of the case and fetches his rag, cleaning the instrument like he always does.Once Mrs. Hudson leaves him, he takes off his blazer. Sherlock hisses through his teeth, looking at the dusty mirror within his living room and sees the dried blood staining the back of his white button-up. Sherlock frowns, touching his skin through the cloth, but flinching when it sent him a pang of pain.It’ll take weeks for them all to completely fade, and the wounds on his back will scar for years. Not that Sherlock cares about his physical appearance. He cares more for the fact that the scars will serve as a reminder of the traumatic months he endured.He sighs, pressing his lips in contemplation before carefully sliding on a shirt. Sherlock realizes how tired he is the moment he sinks his body on the mattress, moving himself so he can lie on his front instead of his back.This is where he belongs, not in any other country. All Sherlock needs to figure out is how to reveal the truth to her. Only then can he reveal the truth the rest of the world.He falls asleep to the thought of being home. This is the first time in a while he ever felt peaceful and safe as he slumbers.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Oh, bugger.”
“Oopsie. Can’t handle a broken heart, how very telling,” he smirks, obviously meaning a specific someone.“Don’t be smart.”“That takes me back; don’t be smart, Sherlock, I’m the smart one.”Mycroft glares at him through his lashes. “I am the smart one.”“I used to think I was an idiot.”“Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock, we had nothing to go on. Until we met other children.”“Oh, yes. That was a mistake.”“Ghastly, what were they thinking of?”“Probably something about making friends.”The eldest Holmes grins mockingly. “Oh, yes, friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.”“And you don’t? Ever?”“If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I’m living in a world of goldfish.”“Yes, but I’ve been away for two years.”“So?”“Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a… goldfish,” he smirks.“Change the subject, now.” He stands up to walk towards the fireplace, visibly uncomfortable.“Have you spoken to him?”“Have you spoken to her?” Mycroft shoots back, wiping the smirk off his face in an instant.All amusement vanishes in the room. Silence fills the air as Sherlock fiddles with his fingers, tightly pressing his lips into a thin line.“And you dare to mock me?” Mycroft mutters to himself.For the past two years, he has been waiting for this moment. To sit in this chair again, to speak to his brother again, to be inside this flat again, to hold his violin, to feel the London air fill his lungs. To hear her real voice again, listen to her speak.But the thought of rage being the first tone he hears the moment she speaks to him, it plants fear inside his head.“I don’t plan on revealing myself to her just yet.”“Do you hear what you’re saying, brother mine?”“I’m only asking to give me time.”“You are asking me to prolong Miss Grant’s agony!”“And you’re quite enthusiastic for her to find out. Are you aware of how she might react if she finds that I’m not quite six feet under? I won’t be the only one facing her indignation.”“And when she finds out that she was the last person to know? How may you deduce her reaction then?”The knot of Sherlock’s brows softens, realizing that his brother is right, again.“I will give you only today to tell her. People have seen you around enough,” Mycroft glares at him for being so careless; yelling with Dr. Watson in various locations. “You must see to it that she knows by the end of the day.”“You understand how unpredictable she is, brother mine. To some extent, I knew how John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson would react. She, however…”Mycroft can see how his brother is struggling. He is not exactly sure how Jocelyn stands in his brother’s life now, but he knows that the past two years alone gave Sherlock time to think.Mrs. Hudson walks in with the biggest grin ever, paired with his favorite breakfast in her hands. Sherlock smiles at her, the sides of his face denting with his dimples as he glances at her.As they proceed with their deductions, a knock on the front door makes Mrs. Hudson halt with her cleaning. She glances towards it, assuming that it’s John visiting Sherlock. When she opens the door, her smile fades just a little bit.Her blood runs cold as she keeps her smile on her face. “Darling!”Jocelyn gives her a smile, stepping forward to give her a hug. “I’m sorry. Should’ve called first or something, right? Laurie told me that he left his glasses here, do you mind if I look for it?”“Oh, dear, it’s fine, Jocelyn,” she punctuates her name as though it’ll help with the two Holmes siblings upstairs hear.And they do, mostly just Mycroft who was standing by the door. “Jocelyn is here.”Hidden away from prying eyes, the consulting detective feels the hair on his body rise. “I heard.”“Are we supposed to just stay on this floor and not greet her?”“She is not ready to see me.”“She has been ready for two years, brother mine. You’re the one who isn’t.”Sherlock lets out a frustrated huff. “She can’t know. Not yet.”On the other hand, Jocelyn steps inside and catches a glimpse of something familiar hanging on the coat hanger near the door. Her face softens as she walks up to it just before Mrs. Hudson continues to her flat, thinking that Jocelyn is following.“When… when did you get this?”“Oh… it’s one of his. It’s been there all this time, dear. Never really thought of taking it down,” she quietly says.Jocelyn keeps staring at the coat, feeling a bit lost in her own thoughts. Mrs. Hudson watches for a moment.“Coming, dear?”“Yeah, I just…” Jocelyn trails off as she reaches out to touch the soft fabric of the coat.It feels so familiar and warm that she had to retract her hand and rub her palms together before following after Mrs. Hudson. Jocelyn remembers the time when Mycroft told her about giving his brother a handmade coat and scarf as a gift. She isn’t at all surprised by the fact that he gave him multiple ones, seeing as the coat and scarf were well loved by the recipient.Sure, she is not aware that what she just touched was the original coat.“There isn’t much time to decide,” Mycroft tells Sherlock.“Now? You’d like me to do this now?”“What other chance could you possibly have? People might be talking about you already,”“No one believes in me, brother mine.”“If that is true, then how do you explain your name being cleared?”“What would you like me to say to her? ‘Hello, I’ve been alive all this time. Surprise!’” Sherlock paces through the room with his hushed voice.“You never had the problem of jumping out of a cake for Dr. Watson.”“That was a different situation!” He seethes through his teeth.“Oh, please, allow yourself to say how terrified you are of facing her.”“Why would I be? This was your idea.”“Because you were very insistent on inviting Moriarty onto a roof instead of following the correct preliminaries on protecting everyone else!” He brings up a long forgotten topic, still annoyed by it apparently.“Keep your voice down!”Meanwhile, downstairs. “Did you hear that?” Jocelyn asks Mrs. Hudson.Mrs. Hudson definitely heard Mycroft raising his voice. “Hear what, dear?”“If you won’t tell her, then I will.” Mycroft feels done as he reaches for the door handle, opening the door slightly just before Sherlock grabs the handle as well in order to push it close, the sound echoing down the stairs.“You haven’t had anyone rent the flat yet, have you?” Jocelyn glances up at the ceiling, holding the glasses belonging to her friend once she found it on the old woman’s sofa.Mrs. Hudson pales a bit. “Oh, maybe just leave it, dear.”She eyes Mrs. Hudson for a moment. “Leave what?”“I might need to clean up sooner or later.”“I can go check, if you’d like? It wouldn’t be strange for me, I swear.”“I can assure you, dear, it’s nothing.”As if on cue, a loud slam of the door made the two women jump in their place.“Stay here and call the police if I’m not back in five minutes,” Jocelyn is already through the door.Once Jocelyn reaches the door, it feels like there is a rock in her throat, just staring at the familiar door she hasn’t seen in a while. She reaches for the doorknob and pushes it open, seeing how it was never locked.What she was greeted by, she never expected in the first place.She only has a confused look on her face. “Mycroft?”“Hello, Miss Grant,” he greets her with a forced smile, gripping the handle of his umbrella. “How are you?”“When did you get here?”“Mrs. Hudson welcomed me so I can accomplish my visit.”She narrows her eyes. Mrs. Hudson did not exactly mention that he was here.“I was about to have Mrs. Hudson call the police,” she sighs, casually looking to her right. “What’s that?”Mycroft glances at the photos and map sketch pinned to the wall. “That would be for a case.”“Oh… right. Are you here to pack all of the things here?”Mycroft observes her with a frown, realizing how quickly she brushed off his words. “There is no need, Miss Grant. These items are spoken for.”Jocelyn stares at him with a blank face. “Um…”“Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson calls after him with a pointed tone. “Please be more gentle.”Jocelyn glances behind her with an odd wide-eyed look. “What’s… going on?”While she spoke, Mycroft shifted his weight between his two feet. For two years, he had thought of informing Jocelyn of the truth, but the idea of her pushing him away because of the lie, it was too much to bare.Jocelyn keeps glancing at the wall, seeing familiar mannered scribbles. She’s unsure why, but it gives a heavy feeling at the pit of her stomach.“I think you are slowly understanding, Miss Grant.”“No, I’m not.”“Jocelyn, I am here to assist with a case.”“Why here?”“An underground network is planning a terrorist attack in London soon. We are trying to—”“No, I don’t care about a case, Mycroft.” She cuts him off as she gestures to the wall. “And what do you mean we?”“I am assured by your intelligence that you know what I mean,” he stops, “Or who.”There is another pause, the man and the woman just stare at each other in silence. Jocelyn’s eyes soften in slight realization, but another crease forms above her brows right after.“No,” she shakes her head, not wanting to believe that what she wished for so long is actually true. Jocelyn takes a step back from him. No, no, no— “That’s impossible,” her breaths shifts into an incredulous and humorless chuckle. “You’re lying.”“He’s not.”And her whole world crumbles from two simple words formed by that voice. His voice.Jocelyn refuses to turn around, but once she heard the doors slide open wider, agonizingly slow. She waits a few seconds to truly wrapping her mind around the situation.Half of her wanted to believe that he is gone. That all her grieving, her guilt, her pure sadness would not have been for nothing. The other half, well… it would abandon everything sacred under the sun in the name of him being alive.She slowly turns around and meets those blue eyes she has missed so terribly. A quiet gasp leaves her mouth, taking a step backward as she takes in the sight in front of her.He holds a look on his face that is mixed with astonishment and cluelessness. His eyes are wide and his curls are neatly placed. He looks so… alive.She could not believe her eyes, thinking that she may be hallucinating the entire ordeal. Sherlock stands so incredibly still, but his whole insides melt. He blinks gently, mouth parting to say something, but nothing leaves his throat. Not even a single breath.This is the first time he’s seen her real face again. She looks a bit tired, but pleasing nonetheless. Although, now she looks absolutely broken and Sherlock knows that it is because of him.She falters at the sight of him as she shakes her head. “No, no, no, no, this can’t—I saw you. You were on the pavement, covered in blood, I-I... it was… it was you!” She aggressively gestures to him with her green eyes wide. “I-I held you, you were surrounded by your own blood… John took your pulse, you… you were dead.”Her head begins to pound until her pulse is the only thing she could hear. Oh, Christ, what is she supposed to do? What is the most logical step to do after someone unveils something like this?Her knees are buckling and it takes all of her strength to keep herself upright. Her stomach rumbles, almost signaling her that she’s so near to being sick.Everything that she pushed down inside her, every single emotion she ever ignored, everything she kept hidden from outside eyes; they are all collapsing on her all at once.It’s breaking her by the seams, slowly darkening her thoughts and soon enough, the side of her that is filled with happiness due to every single breath that enters Sherlock’s lungs… it becomes overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling of betrayal and bitterness.“Jocelyn,” he steps forward, but Jocelyn flinches back.“Don’t,” she raises a hand to stop him, and he freezes instantly. “Don’t you dare come near me. I-I can’t believe you did this to me, to John!” She almost screams before pausing. “Unless he knew…”“No, he didn’t, neither did Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade until last night.”She gapes at him, still in disbelief that it’s his voice. The voice she never thought she would hear again, other than in her own thoughts.She analyzes his words—or lack thereof. “Molly. She knew, didn’t she?”“Jocelyn…”“No… why would you do that to me? Why would any of you—” Jocelyn in cut off by her own painful sob.She feels so awful, so useless, so empty, and so foolish, so betrayed. Sherlock helplessly stares, a statue in his place.She covers her mouth and prevents herself from appearing weak as she flashes another burning gaze on Sherlock. “God, you made me feel like… you’re making me feel like I was a fucking idiot!” She speaks too quickly and slams her palm against her own chest. Sherlock has nothing to say. He can never take his eyes off her, taking in the deep anger that radiates from her body.“I… I never want to see you again,” her whispered tone makes it sound like even she couldn’t believe she’s uttering them.“If I may—”“No!” She snaps her head at Mycroft, making the man widen his eyes a bit. “You don’t get to speak either.” Her whole face is flushed red, her hands are shaking violently and she’s beginning to regret drinking coffee this morning.The pure anger on her face throws Mycroft off guard. “Is this not what you’ve wanted? For him to be alive?”Sherlock almost sighs at his words, but his eyes never left the woman in front of him.“There is a big difference between wishing for someone to be brought back to life… and someone pretending to be dead, making everyone grieve for two years, only to come back all of a sudden.”“But he is alive and well—”“I wished for Sherlock to be alive. Meaning, I wished that he continued living and never fell. I didn’t mean… I-I didn’t mean this!” She gestures behind her, not daring to look back. Sherlock finally looks down at the ground in shame.All of them fall silent. Sherlock diverts his gaze, unable to look at her, but still couldn’t stop himself from taking another peek. She is fuming, yet still trying to keep her grace.“I’m done. I just… I’m done. Both of you, never come near me again.” She turns back to Sherlock. “You’ve been dead to me for two years, and now I don’t see any problem with that to remain a fact.”Sherlock’s lips part with the loss of words as Jocelyn switches her gaze between the two men before storming out of the flat. Mrs. Hudson tries to speak to her, but the young woman walks past her, too angry to even open her mouth.The three of them stand frozen in the flat. Sherlock closes his eyes the moment he hears the front door slam shut.“Like I’ve repeatedly informed you, she was not ready to see me.”“Miss Grant remains unpredictable. I did not expect her outburst.”“This is your fault. You made this happen. Now she is furious over the both of us!” For a split second, Sherlock lost control over his emotions by raising his voice. He recovers immediately and looks away from his brother. “She will not forget about this.”“Brother mine, I’m certain that time will pass and Miss Grant will choose to forgive. Until then, be glad that she knows. Your faking of your death will be the top news worldwide in a few hours, I guarantee.”“Am I supposed to express my gratitude for you?”“Naturally not, that will tip the world unbalanced.” His brother makes his way towards the door. “Back to work, then.”***As soon as Jocelyn walked through the door of her home, she shut it close and leaned her forehead against it. Her heart is racing and her knees finally buckled, giving in to her weakening state by letting her slide down on her knees. She can feel herself get sick to her stomach, and she ran to the bathroom to vomit into the toilet.The people she trusted the most had ripped her heart out from her chest without hesitation. Molly, Mycroft, and Sherlock.Jocelyn keeps thinking back to the time she would spend with Molly. How both of them would laugh as they swap stories about the men in their lives. She felt sick, thinking about how this whole time, Molly knew that Sherlock was alive.She thought she saw how broken and vulnerable Mycroft was, but it was all a lie. They all treated her like she was some sort of halfwit who could not handle the truth.As for Sherlock… Jocelyn can’t even begin to comprehend the way she feels about him as of now. For two years, she grieved the death of the one man she truly let in. The only man who could ever know her and never got tired of knowing more. She mourned that man, the one she grew to care for.Now, all she can think about him is how he willingly let her go through all of that while, deep down, he must have known how she felt about him.She rests her chin on her knees, hugging her thighs to her chest. A shaky breath leaves her mouth as he flutters her eyes shut, leading a tear run down her cheek. She covers her mouth with her palm, holding back another sob.She feels so weak, and the insecure side of her imagines that maybe this is why they did not want to tell her. Maybe they think that she is too weak to take it. The thought makes her shudder, and some part of her is beginning to believe that maybe she really is too frail.***Sherlock’s current status of being alive reached social media by the next morning.He was everywhere. On the news, radio, television, and unfortunately, Jocelyn’s emails and text messages. Even her aunt called her an hour ago with shock in her voice.Now, she ignored her aggressively vibrating phone as she brushes her brown wavy locks in front of her mirror.Through her mirror, she sees her nightstand. The bright smile from his face makes anger seep through her body.She reaches her front door and swings it open, freezing once she sees Laurie already walking up towards the porch with his car parked outside. Her eyes widen in surprise, letting go of the door handle as she stands by the doorframe.“I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about meeting you at the movies yesterday.”Laurie seems worried as he walks up to her. “You weren’t answering the phone, and you think I’m more concerned over you missing our date?”She stays quiet, already figuring out that Laurie knows what happened. How couldn’t he? Every channel on the television is talking about it, every news show, even bloody reality ones. At this point, it’s getting in her nerves.Like, yes, she gets it. He’s alive. Joy.“I have your glasses with me. You left it on Mrs. Hudson’s sofa—”“Jocelyn,” Laurie cuts her off with a gentle tone. “Are you okay?”She nods, looking as normal as she possibly could. “I’m fine.”“You sure?”“Yeah.” She hums, shrugging like she usually does with a falsified grin on her face. “I just want to get back to work.”Laurie doesn’t seem convinced, but he knows that she doesn’t want to talk about it yet.Meanwhile, Greg leans over towards Sherlock and frowns. “So, uh, John?”“Not in the picture anymore.”Greg hesitates. “And Jocelyn?”Sherlock feels frustrated over the amount of people asking him about her. “Still breathing, I’m sure.” Lestrade is unsure what to make of that.
Admit it, you kind of miss me.
“Shut up.” Sherlock snaps his head to the right and sees the consciousness of his be brought to life by Jocelyn’s physical appearance. She is sitting on the edge of a table, staring with a small smile.She rolls her shoulders as if her back is aching. “When you were alone in that terrifying little terrorist cell—”“Stop.”“Why? Scared?”“I am scared of nothing.”She hisses when pressing her palm on her shoulder blades. “Serbia really did a number on you, huh? Our back feels like it was dipped in fucking lava—”“I am scared of nothing,” he repeats with a much more malicious tone.“So, you’re not scared by the possibility that the real me might never forgive you?”Sherlock’s jaw clenches.“Oh, you’re much more terrified of that than actual Serbian terrorists,” she muses with mirth, and Sherlock only glares at her. Although, he doesn’t say anything to argue with her. “Wow, I really did a number on you.”He rolls his eyes and turns his back, walking with ease and silence.“You should come see me.”“In what world do you think that is a brilliant idea?”“Maybe I need to be given a reason to forgive and forget.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I’d have more luck with draining the Pacific using a straw.”“What about John? You’re eager for him to forgive you.”“There’s no doubt he’ll forgive me. He’ll understand the necessity of dismantling Moriarty’s network, he’s a soldier after all,” he sighs out, staring into the space. “John is complex, yes, but he forgive easily. It’s his natural flaw. Having a drunkard sister does that.”“I would punch you if you ever say that to John out loud.” She rolls her eyes.“You are different, though. There’s no telling if you’ll forgive me in a week, in a year, tomorrow, next week, a few months. None. It won’t be measured by time, not at all. It’ll be difficult and near impossible to earn such trust again. You’ve always had trust issues, deeply rooted from the core of your family with your father being a self-indulgent fool,”“Charming.” She dryly says.“You’re not her. I’m allowed to say what I want. ”“What are you going to do now?”“I’ve read a blog somewhere that once a person… causes pain to someone else, they must give them space and time.”“But if you give them space and time, they’ll eventually forget about you,” she shrugs. He swallows. “Why won’t you just tell them the truth? Tell them that you had to make everyone believe you were dead so Moriarty’s minions would also believe it and not target them. You had to get rid of his connections first before you could make it home.”“They won’t see reason.”“About this? Please. John would be delighted if he finds out about what you’ve done for everyone. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you were punishing yourself.”“Stop.”“You were so desperate to finish everything off quicker that you entered lion dens to talk your way out of hell.”Sherlock looks at her with a frown and she offers a weak smile.“You want everything to be like you never left, but that’s not going to happen, Sherlock. Things changed now. John is getting married, he’ll have his own family. And I don’t exactly work for the police anymore.”He stares at her, eyes darting to the ground as he contemplates the words he’s creating inside his own head.“All you can do now is apologize and wait for them to forgive, but don’t expect that John will suddenly move back to Baker Street and for me to work as a forensic scientist again.”And from that, Sherlock opens his eyes.On the other hand, Jocelyn avoids the gazes of her students. She knows that everyone knows about the biggest news in the world, but she chooses to ignore it for the whole lecture.When she reaches her office after a long day, she just buries her face into her palms and steadies her breath. It’s so difficult to focus, especially if everyone is looking at her as if two years never passed.“I’d offer a rain check on that movie,” Laurie’s voice from the door makes her remove her hands from her face. “But you seem to be in agony already.”The teasing tone from his voice makes her smile even a little bit. “I’m not in agony.”Laurie walks into the office and stands in front of her desk. He pulls out a single apple from behind his back and makes her snort. “Another apple? Seriously?”“I thought you liked apples.” Laurie circles her desk to sit on its edge. “Be honest with me now. How are you feeling?”“I feel fine.”“I don’t think you are.”She sighs, puts the apple down on her table. “What am I supposed to say? Thank God?”“Anything would suffice.”“Like what?”“Thank God?”She huffs out a strained laugh. “I’m okay.”“Do you want to talk to him? Properly, I mean?”“Why are we talking about this?” Jocelyn snaps for the first time today. “Do you really want me to talk to Sherlock Holmes? You know what he is to me. Is that really what you want?”“If it makes you feel better, then yes. That’s what I would want.”Her gaze softens. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe this is happening to me,” she finally admits. Laurie is still silent, waiting for her to continue. “For the past two years, I was so guilty of being happy.” She glances at him for a second. “I… kept thinking about how he died. Taking his own life because he thought that no one would believe him, thinking he was all alone,” she confesses. “And yesterday, I found out that all of the things I’ve endured was for nothing. I find out that the people I’ve trusted the most lied to me and treated me like an idiot,”Her little sob story felt dramatic, she thinks to herself.So, she inhales sharply. “So, to answer your question, no. I don’t want to talk to him. Properly or not.”He gives her a nod, reaching over to place his hand on her shoulder to squeeze gently. Jocelyn sighs and closes her eyes.***“Sherlock?”“Hm?”“What was today about?”“Saying thank you.”“For what?”“Everything you did for me.”“It’s okay, it’s my pleasure.”“No, I mean it.” Sherlock insists, making Molly pause. “The consequences of the favor I asked from you, you’ll be facing them for an unmeasured amount of time.”“You… you mean Jocelyn?”“She is your friend, Molly. I asked you to keep a secret from her for two years.”“If it meant to save everyone, I’d keep another secret,” she nods at him. “For everyone’s safety.”Sherlock’s face softens, lips parting from her words. “You made it all possible,” he looks towards the ground and inhales. He steps forward and gives her another of his rare smiles, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.Sherlock exits the building, wrapping himself even tighter with his long coat as he walks down the street. He reaches the fish and chips shop he likes and feels lighter when he’s greeted by the owner with a happy face.Strangers seem to find his sudden comeback to be more pleasing than the ones he calls his friends.He reaches his flat and unwraps his food. Sherlock views the case board he created on the wall as he eats silently, furrowing his brows in concentration.Suddenly, his concentration breaks once he hears the name ‘John’ downstairs. He immediately recognizes the voice and listens to the footsteps up the stairs, making him step outside. “Mary? What’s wrong?”***Once they reach the car, Jocelyn turns to him and leans against the hood with her arms in front of her. “Thank you.”Laurie has a confused smile. “What for?”“You made this day a little less shitty, for one.”Amusement fills his face. “The pleasure is mine.”Jocelyn keeps looking at him and somehow, an odd feeling settles inside her once she sees his eyes dart down to her lips.She glances at him and he slowly leans in, the action almost making Jocelyn tilt her head to the side, if it weren’t for the sudden loud vibration of her phone.He backs away and turns to look to the left. Jocelyn can feel an odd relief surge through her before she pulls her phone out, to check who it is.She answers and presses the phone to her ear. “Mrs. Hudson, hi,” she furrows her brows as the old woman begins to ramble to the phone. “Wait, slow down, what’s wrong?”***Jocelyn was hurrying with her steps as she walks up to the front desk, asking for the room of John Watson. She tells her that she’s a friend and she was directed to the burn unit. Jocelyn is frantic, catching a glimpse of Mrs. Hudson with a worried look on her face.Jocelyn pulls her into a quick hug. “Is he okay?” She glances around and sees a woman in a pink coat.“He’s okay, they’re treating the burns that the fire reached,” the woman in pink answers her with a calm smile. Jocelyn notices the light ash smudging her face. “I’m Mary Morstan, you must be Jocelyn.”She sighs in relief and shakes the woman’s hand. “Yes, I am. John told me about you,” she tells her and the blonde woman’s gaze goes behind her. Jocelyn glances over her own shoulder for a moment. “This is Lawrence Carter.”He shakes Mary’s hand and gives her a smile. “Nice to meet you, Miss Morstan.”Mary returns the smile and nods.Jocelyn turns to her. “How did this happened?”Mary looks away from Laurie to meet Jocelyn’s gaze and only sighs. “I’m not entirely sure. We just pulled him out of a bonfire.”Before she could process how Mary said we, the door opens and Sherlock steps out of the room. The breath catches in Jocelyn’s throat and she widens her eyes for half a second.He catches sight of Jocelyn and immediately looks away to pay attention to Mary. “He’s all right. He was not burned seriously, he’ll be out by morning,”Mary leaves to go to her fiancé’s room. Jocelyn walks closer to the door and glances at John through the glass with relief washing over her.It hasn’t even been a week and John’s life was already put in danger. Deep inside Jocelyn, she realizes that this is somewhat related to him.She hesitates but turns to look at Sherlock, immediately noticing the slightly burned state of his coat.“Who did this to him?”Sherlock stares at her. “I don’t know.”“You’ve been back for a day and John was suddenly put into a fire?” Her words bring a pang to his chest, but he keeps his face calm and collected.“Jocelyn,” Mrs. Hudson gently places a hand on her back.She looks at her and sighs. She doesn’t notice how the detective’s eyes begin to wander and lands on the man behind her.
Suit and cologne are posh, professor at Cambridge, then. Mathematics professor, going by the strain of his hand from writing on the whiteboard. Attended military school. Intelligent, swift, has a brother, and has a wide range of knowledge for Shakespearean plays. Clearly attracted to the forensic scientist.
“Lawrence Carter,” the man stretches his arm across the space between them.He stares at his hand for a moment and reaches to shake it with a firm grip. “Sherlock Holmes.”Jocelyn crosses her arms and glances back at John with worry, but it decreases the moment she sees Mary hold his hand. The gesture makes Jocelyn smile even just a little bit.Jocelyn is unaware of the consulting detective watching her with soft eyes.Once she looks back at Sherlock, he doesn’t look away. She glances back at the burned area of his coat, figuring out that he might have had to pull John out of the fire, endangering himself in the process.“You should get some rest, Mrs. Hudson.”Laurie steps forward. “Yes, we can drive you to Baker Street.”Mrs. Hudson smiles at Jocelyn. “No need, dear. Sherlock and I will just take a cab.”She purses her lips, not wanting to insist since Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t leave without Sherlock anyway. Jocelyn merely nods and glances at Laurie before she stands up.Jocelyn enters John’s room and walks over to him. Mary lets her sit next to her fiancé. “How are you doing?”John coughs and huffs. “Not bad.”She smiles, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “You had me all worried there.”John just musters half a smile. “Did I really?” Jocelyn nudges him. “How’ve you been doing?”“I’m not the one in a hospital bed.”“It’s still a genuine question.”She hesitates before nodding. “I’m okay.”“Mrs. Hudson insisted I should talk to Sherlock.”“…He really went through fire to pull you out, didn’t he?”Mary answers for him with a nod. “He did. I saw.”“Sounds like something he’d do for you…”“I’m going to talk to him next morning. I figure I should give him a chance. He saved my life tonight.”“You shouldn’t feel obligated just because he saved your life.”“I don’t feel obligated, honestly. He’s my best friend, I do want to forgive him.” John lets out a sigh. “It’s going to take time for all of us. But I can see it in him, Jocelyn. He’s not okay.” He frowns. “It was harsh of him to keep this from us, yes, but there has to be a reason.”“Is that it, then? You two are friends again?” Jocelyn can’t help the bitterness laced in her voice, not intending to hurt John.He doesn’t seem fazed as he sighs. “Apparently, there’s going to be a terrorist attack in London. He just told me he needs my help. I don’t have to like it, but he’s my best friend. And he’s alive.”Of course, John will forgive him. How could he not, after he walked through fire for him earlier?From those words, she just gives him a tight smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”John just gives her a nod with a small smile. She leaves the room and sees Sherlock stand up immediately the moment she steps through the door. She walks towards Mrs. Hudson and kisses her cheek goodbye. She doesn’t even glance towards Sherlock’s direction as she walks down the hallway with Laurie.They disappear at one corner and Mrs. Hudson glances at Sherlock with a frown he doesn’t see, since he was too busy watching the pair leave.Once he gets home, Sherlock pulls out his phone to contact a number.
“I heard about Dr. Watson.”
“Yes, yes, skip that part. Someone went after John, and I do not plan making the same mistake twice,” he immediately tells him.“Ah, yes. We do not want a repeat of the freezer incident.” Mycroft usual mocking tone is evident. “I will ensure her safety, brother mine. Anything else?”“Yes. Include Professor Carter into the list of people I want protected. Nothing happens to him.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Do I need to repeat myself? Professor Carter is under our protection from now on.”
“Who? The… professor that Miss Grant keeps as company lately? Why the sudden interest?”
“Just get it done, Mycroft.” He hangs up and walks up the stairs to his home.On the way home, Laurie comforted Jocelyn. At the end of it, she tried to kiss him.Jocelyn suddenly feels so angry at herself because to make things even worse, she pictured another face when she felt his lips on hers. The thought of him is unbearable and she hates how her own mind and body chose to betray her.He doesn’t care about you, why else would he lie? He does not care, she keeps whispering to her mind.She hates him that it physically hurts. All she wants is to yell at him from the top of her lungs until he’s nothing but dust. However, deep down, she could not deny the worry she felt when she thought of him running into fire and putting his life at risk again.The young woman walks into her room, grabs the picture frame from her nightstand, and raises her hand to throw it to her wall, but she stops.Her arm tenses as she lets out a growl and defeated, she puts the frame down the table hard enough to crack the glass. She stares at the crack and lets the sob rip through her chest, sinking into the mattress. She hates him so much.
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“Everyone is so fucking happy, it makes me want to explode at any given moment. I’m barely keeping it together, but everyone loves him. They’re all so happy.”“And you’re not?”She is mortified. “Happy? No, why would I be happy about any of this?”“Well, from our past sessions, you’ve mentioned a few things. From what I gather, you care about Sherlock Holmes,” she words out, making Jocelyn’s soften her gaze. “You’re not happy that he’s alive and back?”Her silence makes the therapist continue.“I think you’re angrier at the people for celebrating in the streets after they contributed to Mr. Holmes’ supposed death.”That knocks the breath out of her. “But that doesn’t mean I’m any less angry at Sherlock.”“Have you asked him why he did it?”“It doesn’t matter why he did it. He still did it.”“You don’t see any pattern at all? Any similarities to another situation relating to you?”Jocelyn looks away from her, subtly directing her gaze down to the carpeted floor.“You’ve told me once that you and Mr. Holmes were together during your sophomore year. It ended when you decided to leave and go to New York.”Jocelyn frowns, not wanting to listen anymore but knows that she should. She does see the similarities. Hell, it’s the same fucking situation; Jocelyn just doesn’t want to admit it to herself.***“Those were your parents?”“Yes.”“Well,” he chuckles. “That is not what I…”“What?”“I mean they’re just so,” he looks at Sherlock narrows his eyes into slits as if bracing himself from what John is about to say. “Ordinary.”Sherlock relaxes. “It’s a cross I have to bear.”John chuckles, then slowly takes a few steps across the room, thinking to himself. He frowns and turns to Sherlock, asking if they knew. Sherlock nods regretfully and John glances at him with a look before sighing. Sherlock relaxes even more once seeing his friend take a seat on his old chair.There are healing cuts and gashes on the side of his head where it was scratched by the foliage when he was thrashing around under the bonfire. Sherlock can recall last night’s events and tries his hardest not to spare a single thought of a young woman.“Last night, who did that? And why did they target me?”“I don’t know.”“Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you talked about?”Sherlock’s mind is racing, while he appears to be calm to John. “I don’t know. I can’t see the pattern. It’s too nebulous.”Oddly enough, whoever went after John, did not go after Jocelyn as well. Not that Sherlock hoped for Jocelyn to be taken. It just seemed strange that she wasn’t. It would’ve been expected since the first time it happened, Moriarty held her hostage inside a freezer.“How did you tell Jocelyn?”“Is it required for me to answer that?”“If you want to be in my good graces, then yeah.”“She… came by Baker Street to visit Mrs. Hudson. Conveniently, Mycroft was in the flat with me. We argued, Jocelyn tried investigating a supposedly empty flat and, well…”“You and Mycroft argue with great timing,” John dryly says and Sherlock couldn’t help but agree. “The two of you deserved it, anyway. Be thankful that she’s classy enough to not swing at both of you,”Sherlock tries not to think about what might happen if his fake suicide was revealed to a nineteen-year-old Jocelyn instead.***John widens his eyes and points at him. “Mind palace! Use your mind palace!”Sherlock blinks. “How would that help?”“You sorted away every fact under the sun!”“Oh, and you think I would just have ‘how to diffuse a bomb’ tucked away in there somewhere!”“Yes! You have consciousnesses, too! Ask them how to diffuse a bomb!”“He means me,” Sherlock snaps his head to his left. “Or maybe not. I wouldn’t know how to diffuse a bomb. Maybe Mycroft would.” She giggles, earning a horrified glare from Sherlock.He turns back to John. “I don’t have a multiple personality disorder, John! All of them are just copies of me represented by real people!”“I don’t bloody care!”It was a good prank, and John knew it. Even though he wanted to strangle Sherlock right after it. It eventually turns into a back-and-forth of banter, and Sherlock is enjoying himself. Also John, since he is grinning at Sherlock.Once they were done being questioned by the police, John and Sherlock take the cab to Baker Street. They both seem to be pleased with each other. They clearly forgot how fun it was to solve crimes together.John sighs the moment they step into the flat and sinks into his chair, feeling a bit tired now. He glances at Sherlock who seems to be in deep thought.“You okay?”“Yes.”“Sherlock, by now, you should know that I can tell if you’re lying.”“No, you don’t.”He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I can tell if you’re lying about your emotions, then.”Sherlock stays silent and glances out the window.“You should talk to her,”“John...”“No, I’m serious. You should talk to her. I think she would want an explanation.”“I don’t have to explain anything to her.”“Bloody hell, Sherlock. We’re back to this again, are we? You keep acting like she doesn’t mean anything to you when clearly, she does!”Sherlock briefly closes his eyes and chooses not to answer.“Call her, come by at her place, visit her at Cambridge. I don’t bloody know, just do something.”“Cambridge…” Sherlock turns to John with a puzzled expression. “She teaches at Cambridge?”This is the first time Sherlock learned about that, and he immediately thinks that maybe he should have read Mycroft’s file before coming back; that detail caught him off guard.“That’s where you two met, isn’t it? That’s the school both of you went to.”Sherlock nods and proceeds to his own chair, sitting down in deep thought. Why would Jocelyn ever want to come back to that place?“You should try to come up with a plan. Talk to her. We both know that you want to.”“No, that’s… not a good idea, John.”“Why not?”“She… doesn’t want to see me.”“She cares about you, Sherlock. Why else would she be reacting like this? She feels like you betrayed her, didn’t trust her enough, and she felt stupid for feeling what she felt because a lot of people knew about you being alive.”“Is that how you feel?”“It was. I’m not sure about Jocelyn,” he gives him a look. “You have to try much harder than this ‘giving women space’ type of thing.”Sherlock leans forward, a bit more invested. “You’re the expert in women. Isn’t that what they want? To be given space and time?”“Jocelyn isn’t one of those women that those bloggers write about.”That statement makes him look away. “It doesn’t matter now, John.”“Yes, it does, Sherlock. You both will never find peace unless you talk. Don’t wait like you did before.”Sherlock keeps his words in mind, still unsure of himself.John leaves shortly after, and Sherlock is alone once more. He unbuttons his shirt and looks at his stitches through the mirror. They are healing quite slowly, and Sherlock assumes it is because of his lack of nutrients. He should definitely schedule his meals, or else, these wounds will hinder his cases.He doesn’t sleep that night.Meanwhile, Jocelyn she gets home, and she immediately goes to her bed and lies face down. Jocelyn groans to herself and shifts on her side. Her eyes land on a certain cracked framed photo on her nightstand, and her heart races. She reaches over and pushes the frame down, not wanting to see him.Her phone beeps inside her jacket and she reaches for it. She slowly sits up as she reads the message.
Cambridge. Tomorrow morning. Please. SH
Her heart pounds and her mouth parts in surprise. She barely processes it for a moment before her phone beeps again.
Please. It won’t take an hour. SH
She closes her eyes, no longer feeling the same intensity of the anger she felt for him. She’s still angry, but right now, she feels sadder. Jocelyn opens her eyes and feels like an absolute mess, unsure of what to do now. Jocelyn grips her phone and screws her eyes shut, frustrated with herself.How in the hell can she explain it? That even after being with Laurie, even after all of that, somehow, she still feels so much more from a single text sent to her by Sherlock.The next day, Jocelyn proceeds with her usual routine. Glancing at her watch, she sees that there’s still time until she can finish her work. This is why she picks up a newspaper from her desk and a bottle of water before making her way outside of her classroom for some fresh air. She sits down on a bench nearby a tree and reads the papers.Although, the more she reads, the more her eyes widen. ‘Famous hat detective and blogger sidekick prevent terrorist attack in London. A tube compartment was made into a bomb under the—’“I didn’t think I’d find you this quick.”Jocelyn snaps her head towards her left, startled. Her body tenses once she sees Sherlock, wearing his usual coat and scarf as he stands incredibly still, keeping his distance. She can barely process it as she gapes at him.Jocelyn snaps out of it. “What are you doing here?”“You never messaged back.”“Does that not count as a response?”“Perhaps,” he observes her for a moment. “I was hoping to talk to you.”“And what makes you think I want that?”He doesn’t answer that, only pressing his lips together in silence. Sherlock muses, a hint of amusement on his face as he looks at the branches. “This tree used to be much smaller.”Jocelyn doesn’t say anything and just turns her focus back to the newspaper.Sherlock looks at her again and the amusement fades. “This wasn’t here when we were still students,” he observes the bench and table. “We used to sit on the grass and you would read Akhmatova aloud.”“Why are you here, Sherlock?” Her whole body is tense just by hearing him recall such memories.Jocelyn still finds it surreal that Sherlock is alive. That he’s actually standing a few feet away from her, talking about the past.Sherlock gives her a softer look. “Come take a walk with me.”“I’m busy.”“Jocelyn.”Goosebumps suddenly cover her body from the mere sound of her name, coming from his voice. She hides it well by keeping her eyes on the newspaper.“I understand that you are angry with me.”“You understand nothing, Sherlock. You don’t get to just come to campus and demand to talk to me.”“I’m not demanding anything. I’m asking.”“Well, my answer is no. I don’t want to talk about this.” She reaches for her newspaper aggressively before standing.“I’m pleading, then. Please.”Jocelyn swallows and shakes her head. “No.”He widens his eyes, and she doesn’t see the sudden panic flash through his face. “Jocelyn,” he softly says, watching her calmly walk away, not looking back.Jocelyn rounds the corner and presses her back against the wall, catching her breath as she clutches her water bottle in her hand. She closes her eyes and swallows, fixing her jacket and walks to her office. She pushes the door, but doesn’t close it as she tosses the newspaper on the desk before drinking some water. After a few seconds, the door creaks as it is pushed open behind her.Jocelyn groans. “Seriously, Sherlock? I told you, I don’t want to talk,” she turns and faces a different person.His pleased expression washes down into a sour one. Laurie squares his shoulders and stands by the doorway.“I… thought you were someone else.”“He’s here?”“He was.”He has an unreadable expression on his face. “What did he say?”“He wanted to talk, I said no and left.”Laurie steps inside and walks towards her, taking her cold hand and presses a kiss on her knuckles. “Are you alright?”Jocelyn swallows and shakes her head, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry, I really am. I just can’t do this now, not with everything happening simultaneously. I just…” I can’t keep up, goes unsaid. Her mouth hangs open, eyes teary. “You shouldn’t suffer because of me.”He frowns, watching her with his own saddened eyes. Silence overcomes them, and Jocelyn tries her best not to show her labored breathing. After a few moments, he just nods at her, a hand slipping in his front pocket before he leaves the office with the door closing behind him.Jocelyn screws her eyes shut and lets her tears flow. A sob leaves her chest. Why can’t she just love Laurie, too? He can make her happy, and he already does. Why can’t she love him the way he does her?
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Thinking about what move to do next is quite difficult. On one hand, she could try to reach out to Laurie, but given what she did today, it’s probably best if she gives him a bit of time.At that thought, she pours herself even more bourbon.How is this her life now? A week ago, everything was fine! She was a professor with a stable relationship. A week ago, her friend came into contact again and brought the news that he’ll be engaged. A week ago, her aunt just got promoted as head chef. Everything was fine. Jocelyn was content. What the bloody hell happened?Ah, yes. Sherlock Holmes, coming back from the grave.Well, not actually. He never was in a grave. He was elsewhere, while everyone was grieving a fake corpse during a fake funeral after a fake death.She’ll probably need to pause every once in a while, and wrap her mind around the fact that Sherlock is alive. Painfully, it hasn’t sunk in just yet.This goes on for another week, she does not see Laurie. She saw him on campus, through the small window of the door to his classroom. Whenever Jocelyn tries to talk to him, he always seemed busy with talking to someone else or helping a student.If she didn’t know any better, it definitely seems like he’s avoiding her. Jocelyn can’t exactly blame him. She’d avoid herself, too.On a lighter note, John finally asked Sherlock to be his best man at the wedding. It was safe to say that he had an internal panic. This was the day Sherlock finally found out that he was, in fact, John’s best friend.As best man, Sherlock felt like it’s his duty to plan the wedding. Mary and John tried talking him out of it, but he insists and soon, the three of them begin to plan the wedding.He’s starting out slow, but he already constructed everything in his mind. All he needs to do is get it all down. Oddly enough, Sherlock has a variety of ideas for the wedding.“And that’s because of me,” her voice sounds from in front of him.Sherlock looks up, seeing how his consciousness is sat on the table, settling right behind his laptop. She looks the same way as she did the last time he saw her. When he blinks, he’s inside his mind palace.“This is beginning to become tiresome, now.”She ignores him. “Weddings are so cute, aren’t they? Normal people in a normal occasion doing a bunch of normal things with other normal people—”“Dear God, I wish I could have John’s revolver back inside this flat.”“Don’t you just love weddings?”Sherlock absentmindedly hums, looking the other way and conjures up a holographic version of the reception choices he saw on his laptop earlier.“You know, Jocelyn is going to be at the engagement party. There’ll be drinks, music and dancing.”“Dull. Boring. Predictable.”Sherlock barely notices, but he feels much calmer in her presence. The empty flat definitely would sometimes feel strange without the mundane noises coming from John. Sherlock can recall complaining about his noise, no matter the volume of it. Now, he finds himself craving them.“You know that I know what you’re thinking about, right?”“I should hope so. You’re me.”“Acting like Jocelyn.”“You are nothing like Jocelyn.”“Aren’t I, though? I mean, this is how you view Jocelyn. I mean, look at me.”And he does, a forlorn expression on his face.Her smile widens and her green eyes brighten. “I’m intelligent, beautiful, charming, very intellectual, whimsical, clever, stubborn, elegant, full of life, brilliant in many ways—did I mention intelligent?” she smirks at him.Sherlock furrows his brows and continues watching her.“What did the Woman say again? Oh, that’s right, brainy is the new sexy.”He briefly closes his eyes and sends her a glare before turning back to choosing the location for the engagement party.“Jocelyn’s going to be at the engagement party.”“So you’ve mentioned.”“And so would that professor,” she sounds amused.Sherlock gives her a genuinely blank look. “I don’t do teen drama, thank you.”“Oh, come on. Not a single bone in your body is jealous?” She laughs and makes him freeze. “You’ve seen him. Military man turned Mathematics professor. Biiiiig competition, Sherl.” “Like I said. I don’t do teen drama. Dull and predictable.” Sherlock turns to the mind palace version of Jocelyn, striding towards her until a few inches separate them. The man hesitates and reaches a hand towards her arm, curling it around her wrist. “Why do you keep appearing?”“You know why you made me, Sherlock. And why you, sometimes, lock me away.”“Too dangerous to remember,”“Too precious to forget.” She finishes with a forlorn smile.Sherlock has a frown etched onto his face, looking away and shaking his head.“You want to get rid of me for good, don’t you? What will it be this time? A seven percent solution of Morphine? Heroin?”“I wouldn’t.”“Why not?”“Because it will give everyone a reason to forgive me. I will not let pity get the best of them.”“Oh, yes. Pity. The enemy of forgiveness.” She hums, nodding. “If you go to rehab, our friends would assume that it’s because you’re lonely. Not because you’re trying to be even lonelier.”“They wouldn’t understand.”“But Jocelyn would. She’s the only one who can make you understand.”He furrows his eyebrows. “Understand what?”“Yourself.”He softens and turns the other way, unable to argue with it.“Two years of solitude, Sherlock. It changes people. You changed.”He can barely admit it to himself, but something definitely changed inside him during those two years. Sherlock realized everything he took for granted; the presence of his friends around him, his brother’s protective shield, and Jocelyn.“Let them know that they matter to you. Let her know.”Sherlock grimaces. “What good will that do?”“You won’t need this anymore,” she gestures to all around her, the Musgrave Hall flat. “You can build a new wing in your palace. You can cherish new memories, you can let go,” she grabs his hands and squeezes them. “You wouldn’t need to keep imagining me, because I’m not real.”He frowns, unsure how to respond to that.“I am you, and that’s because you know that Jocelyn is a part of you.” She gives him a weak smile. “But you have to remember that this mind palace thing is not enough for you,” she gestures to herself. “This shouldn’t be enough for you.”“What would you like me to do?”“It’s been eleven years, Sherlock.” She gives out a heavy sigh and makes Sherlock pull his own hands away from her. “For eleven years, it’s always been her. Eleven years.”Sherlock grits his teeth. “Do you think I want this? For everything to always come down to one person?”She has a pained expression on her face. “Well, you never really saw anyone else, have you? Even when you try to, you still fail!”“Your point being?”“Jocelyn isn’t the only person in the wide universe! There are so many other people in the world!”He clenches his jaw, icy blue eyes bore into her green ones. His gaze softens and his eyes linger on her for a moment.Her shoulders sag, a defeated look on her face. “And none of them are like her.” She shakes her head at him. “This isn’t fair, Sherlock.”“Obviously.”“She’s moved on. You’ve realized that, right?”Sherlock blinks, his expression is neutral and negates his innermost thoughts. “Perhaps.”“Is this a quiet acceptance?”“As long as she is happy, I will not interfere.”“You should be happy, too.”“I am happy. I’m back to my old life, solving crimes with John, planning his wedding. I’m home.”“Alone, with no one to come home to.”“A person does not necessarily need another in order to feel content.”“Maybe. But who’s to say that you’re one of those people?”Before Sherlock could voice out a reply, his phone beeps and pulls him back to reality. It takes him a second before he picks up the phone, only to see that John approved the venue.***Jocelyn rubs her hands together as she stands by the door, peeking inside to see Laurie speaking with one of his students. She gives him a small smile, and he just sighs in a calm manner before waving her inside as the student leaves.A rush of relief fills her before she walks inside. “I don’t like how we left things the last time we talked.”“I know.”“Laurie, you are an amazing person.”He sighs and crosses his arms. “This is where you say that anyone would be lucky to have me, but you can’t keep leading me on.”Jocelyn silences because she realizes that that’s exactly what she was about to say. “Laurie, I’m so sorry.”“I understand, Jocelyn. You still have feelings for that detective guy.”“What? I… I don’t have feelings for him. No, this has nothing to do with Sherlock,”“Isn’t it, though? This has only happened when he came back.”“I’ve told you before that I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”“When has anyone been ready? I don’t think I am, but look at me,” he frowns. “I love you.”She shuts her eyes. “Laurie, please.”“I can’t help it, Jocelyn.” His voice is sincere.She opens her eyes and frowns at Laurie. “I care about you so much, but I can’t love you in the way you want me to. I would be lying if I say that I feel the same, and doing that would bring you more pain.”Laurie watches her with dejection in his eyes. “Not even a little bit?”She hesitates. “I tried, Laurie. I pushed myself to feel the same, but I just couldn’t. I should’ve said something earlier.”“I should’ve realized that Sherlock Holmes being alive would really affect what we had going on here.”“It has nothing to do with him.” She frowns. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you want.” She keeps her eyes on him. “I need to sort things out before putting other things first. I want this to be final, Laurie; you can’t keep waiting for me.”He looks down, bobbing his head into a nod. “Okay.”“Okay?”“You’re saying no. I respect that. As long as you’re happy.”She relaxes, not expecting it to be that easy. “It’ll make both of us happy.”After a while, he steps forward and engulfs her into a warm hug. Jocelyn sighs and returns the embrace.Life goes on, and the engagement party arrives. When John broached the subject to Jocelyn, she was absolutely thrilled and immediately marked her calendar. She even went to the mall to buy a new dress for the occasion.She was running a bit late for the party. Work has been taking up a lot of her time lately and it does show on her face.Once she walks inside the venue, she almost gapes at how great everything looks. One of the staff offered to take her coat and she smiles gratefully. The wedding planner definitely outdid themselves, she thinks.Some of the guests were co-workers of the couple. Most of them are John’s family, as Jocelyn heard. Mary doesn’t have a family since she was orphaned at a young age apparently.“Jocelyn!”She turns around and her whole face lights up at the sight of Harry. Jocelyn opens her arms and hurriedly walks toward her, embracing her tightly.Harry links her arm around hers and pulls her somewhere. They approach John and Mary, who appears to be laughing during a conversation. The couple look up and were delighted to see Jocelyn.Before she could apologize for her tardiness, Mary stood up to embrace her. John kissed her cheek and offered her a drink, but Jocelyn refuses and only takes fruit punch. It’s a thing that she does when Harry is around, she knows that it gives her friend comfort.“How did you even find this place?”“It was actually Sherlock who found it.” Mary smiles.Jocelyn blinks and tilts her head, almost forgetting that he’d also be here. Liar, of course she knew that he’s here. “Really?”“He’s planning the wedding, didn’t you know?” Harry gives her a laugh. “God knows he can do almost everything, according to John’s silly blog.”John swats her arm, making Harry scoff at him playfully and swat him back.Mary sighs, mocking regret. “The man I’m marrying.”“Shut up.”“Johnny, don’t tell your fiancée to shut up!”Jocelyn fondly smiles, feeling her own body fill with warmth at the sight of her friends enjoying themselves.“Am I interrupting?”She glances to her left and sees Sherlock in his usual formal attire, hands clasped together in front of himself.Sherlock sees her and immediately averts his eyes. “John, don’t argue with your sister during your engagement party. It might be irksome to most of your guests.”Harry lets out a loud laugh and gives Sherlock a pat on his back, making the man let out a surprised noise from the impact. “Finally, someone who takes my side! Come on, Mr. Holmes, we should dance!”Sherlock widens his eyes briefly. He still sends John a panicked look as he was pulled to the dance floor where everyone danced. John stifles a laugh and Mary grins before pulling him to the floor as well. Jocelyn sighs in content and glances around to see if she’d recognize anyone. And she does, once her eyes land on a certain pathologist.She approaches the young woman having a drink and clears her throat. Molly glances at her with surprise in her eyes. “Jocelyn, hi,” she nervously greets.Jocelyn has a soft look on her face. They stand in silence for a moment before deciding to just embrace one another. Molly sniffles into her neck and tightens her hold. Jocelyn smiles and closes her eyes as they hug.The night has been great, everyone looked happy and it makes Jocelyn feel warm inside. Everything feels fine, and even Jocelyn finds herself seated at a table with Molly and Mrs. Hudson, just talking about the most mundane things.It wasn’t until Harry had to make a brief speech in front of everyone. Mary sweetly grins and holds her fiancé’s hand as she watches Harry Watson speak.“A toast to Dr. and the future Mrs. Watson!”Everyone cheers and raises their glasses as well before drinking as well, and Jocelyn just joins the applause with a smile on her face.Sherlock sits next to John with a grateful smile, clinking their glasses together and downing the wine. His drink isn’t strong enough to distract him from the woman in the navy blue dress just two tables away from him.The first time he saw her tonight, Sherlock felt the air abandon his lungs as though they never belonged there. The vibrant smile on her face once she surrounded herself with friends, it was a sight like no other.He can see her speaking to Molly, and even laughing at something she said. That could only mean that she has forgiven her. Of course, why wouldn’t she? Molly was practically given no choice but to help, it all comes down to Sherlock.It makes him fill his glass once more, gulping it down in one go.“Sherlock, slow down. You don’t want to be sick tomorrow.”“I can calculate my limit, John.”“I’m sure you can,” John doubts it, since the last time Sherlock drank, he sent a woman crying as she flees Baker Street during New Year’s Eve.Sherlock seems to be reminded of the incident as well and he hesitantly puts his drink down. “A genius graduate of Chemist who can’t seem to calculate his own liquor limit.”John lets out an amused sound. “Oh, the irony.”Sherlock subtly glances back at a certain table, and John follows his gaze. Sherlock feels as though he got caught and so he clears his throat and directs his gaze elsewhere.John tries to hide his smile. “You have to talk to her soon, right?”Sherlock sighs. “John, it’s the night of your engagement party. Please, do not make this about me.”“Fine,” he shrugs, hiding his own amusement. “Not saying another word.”Sherlock fights the urge to roll his eyes at his newly engaged friend.The party eventually ends and most guests left the venue after congratulating the engaged couple. Harry had a flight to catch early next morning, and so she gave her brother and his fiancée the biggest hugs and the promise to phone more often.Jocelyn finds herself among the closest group of friends in the party. Mary, John, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson all stand with her just outside the venue, most of them talking and joking around how Lestrade couldn’t attend due to a case.“Is Laurie coming to pick you up?” Mary asks a bit curiously.“Oh, uh… not really.” Jocelyn feels a bit uncomfortable, realizing that she practically implied to everyone that she was dating Laurie, only to end it just a few days ago. “He’s busy right now. I’m going to take a cab.”John raises his brows, but refrains from asking a question. Although, it doesn’t stop him from glancing at his best friend with a puzzled expression. Sherlock barely looks at him and pays discreet attention to the young woman.“Oh, Sherlock can walk you to your house! It’s a bit unsafe during this time of the night, dear,” Mrs. Hudson offers.Sherlock widens his eyes at his landlady, slowly turning his head towards Mrs. Hudson with an alarmed expression, looking away after a moment with his mouth parting in surprise and irritation.“Um, no. It’s fine. I’m sure you need him more.” She awkwardly clears her throat and avoids their eyes.Sherlock ushers John and Mary into their car. The couple leaves with grins on their faces and Mrs. Hudson takes a short phone call and excuses herself.Jocelyn and Sherlock stand next to each other, waiting for the next cab. The atmosphere is thick with tension and Jocelyn finds herself gulping and staring at her shoes. She tightens her coat around herself due to the November air and Sherlock notices at the corner of his eye.He frowns. “Are you cold?” His voice is rich, deep and soft as he gives her a quick look.It takes a moment for her to realize that he’s talking to her. “Yes, I mean, no. I’m… I’m fine,” she glances at him for half a second.Sherlock slowly nods and silence takes over.“You, uh,” she begins, making him tense up. “You did a good job planning this party.”He takes in his compliment, a bit confused. “…Thank you.”“Harry mentioned that you’re planning the wedding, too?”Sherlock awkwardly hums in agreement. “Being selected as best man was the least of my expectations. I figured I should return the favor by planning the wedding, since it would be the last thing John would expect from me.”That pulls a short huff of a chuckle from the young woman. “Right.”Her laughter, even just the briefest sound of it, was exquisite. Sherlock forgot how incredible the sound is in person, and not just in his head. When Sherlock dares to glance at her again, she continues tugging her coat around herself.Sherlock fights the urge of doing the cliché of wrapping his own coat around her. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson approaches them again with a tired smile, saving him from doing something incredibly ridiculous.A cab pulls over just in time and, Sherlock opens the door for Jocelyn, but she shakes her head. “You should take Mrs. Hudson home first.”“Jocelyn—”“Sherlock,” she gently wraps her arm around Mrs. Hudson to usher her into the backseat. “Take her home,” their eyes lock together.He realizes how his mind palace can never do her justice. Even by the way she says his name, his mind palace can never compare to the real Jocelyn.This is what his mind meant when it pointed out that the versions of people in his head, they are not enough. Sherlock was right, his mind will never be enough to keep him company. It was confirmed today, when he surrounded himself with friends. Seeing the smiles on their faces and realizing that he, too, is happy. After two years of being alone, he now realized just how much he needed them in his life.He nods at her before sliding inside the cab next to his landlady.Jocelyn waves at Mrs. Hudson with a small smile and watches the cab drive away. She sighs to herself and palms the side of her face, feeling it burn underneath her hand. As the November air wrap around her, she waits for the next cab to get home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The only thing she disliked about the last remaining months of the year is the quick change of temperature.It was cold, much colder than usual to fit the month. Jocelyn finds herself shivering from time to time, and she tries her best not to think about it. Her relationship with that type of temperature is quite odd.After three years, it still feels like he still has control over her. The consulting criminal. He dances on every type of cold she feels, and just like last year, she will not be able to stop thinking about it.This is probably why Jocelyn found herself in front of a certain establishment on a Saturday morning. Jocelyn walks to the sitting room and observes men reading their newspapers in silence. None of them bother to glance at her.
Total silence. Sign language is a must when speaking to staff.
Obviously, she hasn’t been prepared for that and as the man stares at her expectantly, she mentally curses at herself before raising her hands to poorly sign, “Mr. Holmes?” He nods at her before stepping out of his position and walking down the hallway. Jocelyn follows behind him silently as he leads her to a room. The receptionist opens the door for her and allows her to step inside.As the door closes behind her, she sees Mycroft at the corner of the room, towering over a table with a drink in his hand.He looks up and stares in mild confusion at the woman by the door. “Miss Grant?”She sighs in relief and relaxes her shoulders. “Oh, good. You can talk in here, that’s wonderful. I saw a sign on the way here, with rules. You can’t look at people or even say a word because apparently, it’s punishable by expulsion—whatever the hell that means.”As she rambles on, Mycroft’s face twists with puzzlement, almost finding it unbelievable that she’s here.Jocelyn exhales. “Good morning.”Mycroft hesitates for a split second as he sinks himself into his chair, crossing his legs and twisting his glass in his palm. “What can I do for you today, Miss Grant?”She takes her seat. “How’ve you been?”“I’ve been exceptionally fine these days, is that all?” Mycroft gives her one of his famous humorless smiles. “I don’t believe that you came all the way here to inquire my wellbeing, no disrespect. If anything, it appears that you came here looking for answers.”“And you’re going to provide them.”“Hm. What makes you think I’d do that?”“Because… I asked?”“I’ll have you know that only most of us know the full story. And this one, you wouldn’t want to hear from me.”She musters a small smile, frail and fake. “You’re saying I should talk to him.”“Some details are most preferred to be heard from the one who experienced it firsthand.”Jocelyn only shakes her head at him, almost in disappointment. “What can you do for me, then?”Mycroft just watches her with a hint of anguish behind his cold and blank eyes. “I can offer you my request for forgiveness, not only for myself, but for my brother as well. I apologize for the inconvenience we may have caused you.”She keeps his words in mind. “I can forgive you once I know everything. Unlike everyone else, I dislike being in the dark. I want to know, it can’t be for nothing.” Like John said, everything must have had a reason for it to happen.“If you’re questioning yourself, rest assured, you still have my full trust, and not many people have the great luxury of such a thing.”“Then why won’t you tell me?”“I have told you why. This is not for me to share. I trust that you understand the cost of being relied upon.”“And I hope you understand why I need this. I need to know that what I went through for two years was worth it.”Her words render him silent, thinking to himself for a few seconds. “Miss Grant, I may not know what you felt or what you’ve endured for the past few years, but I can tell you that you were never alone. I’d like for you to know that I was checking on you constantly.” Mycroft tells her with a somewhat sincere tone, making her features soften. She closes her eyes briefly before asking herself quietly, “Why am I here?”That makes the corner of his lips twitch into a smile. “Now that I’m sure I cannot answer.”She almost exhales deeply. “I’ll consider it.”“And for that, I express my gratitude. Good day, Miss Grant.”Meanwhile, Sherlock stands opposite to his wall of photos. Red strings attached the photos and lists together. He moves his head, following each string to make sure everything is in place.A knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts, making him glance at Mrs. Hudson with a tray of brunch. He sighs and walks over to her to help. “Mrs. Hudson, you don’t have to keep bringing me food.”“If I stopped, you’d begin to starve, young man.” She huffs and lets him take the tray to put on his messy table.“Don’t be so dramatic.”“Not being dramatic, dear, I just think you can’t handle getting three full meals in a day for the life in you.”Sherlock decides not to argue and looks back at the wall in silence.Mrs. Hudson briefly looks at him as she pours some coffee into a mug. She assumes he’s on a case, seeing how concentrated he appears to be. The door swings open to reveal John.Sherlock sends him a warm smile. “Ah! John, you’re here.”John is amused, but his brows knot together in confusion. “It’s nine, I’m always here at nine.”“Just as I expect you to be. And Mary?”“She’s meeting up with a friend. Told me she says hello.” John looks at the wall that Sherlock was previously staring at. “Is that… are these the wedding plans?”“Oh, yes. I’ve included the receptions and the guest requirements.”“Guest requirements? What the bloody hell does that mean?”“Requirements to be one of the guests at your wedding. Everything should go smoothly, as long as everyone meets the standards.”“Standards? They’re just going to show up in formal attire, sit and throw flower petals at us.” John observes the way the wall. “Why do my wedding plans look like a crime scene murder board?”“It helps to keep everything organized.”Mrs. Hudson shakes her head fondly at Sherlock before squeezing John’s arm. Once she leaves, John follows behind him, glancing at the separate crime board on the mirror. “Big case?”“Might be. It involves a certain billionaire in Edinburgh, brought to my attention by his eighteen-year-old niece who messaged me just a week ago.”“Something weird about him?”Sherlock hums, folding his arms and pressing his palms together.He sits on his own chair with a grunt. “Why’d you take it anyway? You can’t solve a case from four hundred miles away.”“I’m a consulting detective, pronounced deceased until a month ago. Call it boredom.”“Got any plans for Christmas?” John casually asks as he goes through their inbox.“I don’t normally have plans other than work nowadays.”“Might have another drink here in Baker Street, with the others. Just a small one. You up for that?”“No.”John sighs. “Why?”
Because, John, I dislike the feeling of unwavering contentment from being surrounded by our friends and their warmth, whilst being a few feet away from the person who would rather not be in the same room as I. The conflicting emotions can collide and create chaos inside my mind.
“I don’t like people. They annoy me.”John pulls a dry smile. “That’s absolute news to me.”***Jocelyn wraps herself even more with her long coat. The air around her is icy, surrounding her with every whip of the wind. She enters the shop and spots the familiar man at the end of the café. She grins and walks over.“Cozy in here?” She takes her seat in front of him and slips off her coat.Laurie offers a smile. “Well, we should always make the most of our holidays before students come back on January.”“How was the meeting earlier?”“It was fine, not much going on. Coffee?”“Thanks, it’s so cold outside.” Jocelyn shivers a bit and takes the warm cup in front of her, sighing at the heat. “That’s nice.”“You don’t like the cold?”Jocelyn blinks and looks at him. The shiver down her spine turns more obvious. Those words were so strange to hear, and she almost can see the dark blue light shining down on her.
“Have you ever felt your whole body freezing, Josie? If it happens to any of your limbs, you can literally break it off and you won’t feel a thing. You’ll watch as your limb breaks like glass. You won’t even die instantly because your body would adjust to the cold and try not to pump blood too fast, which means, lucky you. Not bleeding to death!”
Jocelyn can feel him breathing down her neck, barely touching her but still too near. The slightly pitched voice with the Irish accent is still engrained in her mind. The feeling of his hot breath into her ear as he whispers with frequent sharpness and softness.
“You won’t forget this room, Josie. The closed space, this little blue light. I’m going to meet our little detective soon. He’s been playing lots of my games, and I’m enjoying it. It’s fun. Burning Sherlock by freezing you.”
“Jocelyn?”She jolts and opens her eyes, meeting Laurie’s worried ones.“You’re paling.”Jocelyn flinches and looks away. “I’m okay.” She shakes her head and reaches for her coat, just wrapping it around herself. “It was nothing, I just... I don’t like the cold.”***“Isn’t this great? Us three, back together again!”“Yes, yes, Giles. It’s wonderful.”“It’s Greg.”“Absolutely.”“Hey, look at this,” John points next to the leg of the long table. “It’s a shattered champagne glass.”“Yes, I can see that, John.”The army doctor rolls his eyes, watching as the detective picks up a piece of the glass with his gloved hands. “The glass in his neck is part of this one.”“He was stabbed in the neck with glass,” Greg nods, crossing his arms. “Our team found nothing that leads to another guy in the room.”“That’s because your team is utterly incompetent. There is always something. He wouldn’t just stab himself with a broken glass without any reason.” Sherlock glares at Lestrade.“What if it was suicide?” John shrugs.“Possibly, we don’t have anything else to go on.” He hands the bag of broken glass to Lestrade. “Have these analyzed. Thumbprints can let us know if it was self-inflicted or not.”“You think it’s suicide?” John is almost surprised that he listened to him for once.“The angle is a bit different. But we cannot ignore the possibility.”They arrive in Scotland Yard to wait for the scientist in charge to have it all analyzed. The body was delivered to St. Barts for a post-mortem, and for Sherlock’s first homicide case in a while, the results took too long by his standards. If there were any.“I can’t ID any prints off the glass, they are too broken and it would take a miracle,” the scientist shrugs.Sherlock rolls his eyes in frustration. “We can’t determine if it was self-inflicted or not without anything to use.”“You sure you didn’t see anything else we couldn’t?” Greg asks, knowing as a fact that Sherlock is intelligent beyond anyone else.However, the detective shakes his head and exhales. After they leave the lab to proceed to Lestrade’s office. John walks to the window to observe the snow falling from the sky.They all remain silent before an idea pops in Lestrade’s head. “I know something we could do.”John turns to him. “What?”“We could always call Jocelyn.” He suggests, making Sherlock tense underneath his coat.The detective acts casually. “She’s a professor.”“And on holiday. Besides, she said I could always consult her.” Greg doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions behind Sherlock’s guarded face, but John did.“She could help,” John agrees. Jocelyn may not be Sherlock Holmes, but she is still intelligent when it comes to analyzing objects through science. “I mean, it’s her specialty.”Sherlock almost hesitates, but doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s affected by it. “I don’t see why not.”***Jocelyn is standing upright on a chair, decorating a Christmas tree near her wall. She’s been at this for the past hour, just trying to make her place look nice. Once she’s done, she steps back to admire her work with a smile on her face.The satisfaction going through her body feels great, and she absentmindedly answers her ringing phone. “Hello?”
“Jocelyn, how are you?”
She hums with a pleased smile. “Greg, what a nice surprise. I’m great, actually. You?”
“That’s good, er, I’m alright. Listen, I need you to come in.”
“Come in?” She repeats in mild confusion as she balances her phone between her shoulder, reaching to hang ornaments on the tree.
“We need you in the lab.”
The words make her pause her movements and straighten her back in surprise.***Jocelyn hasn’t been at Scotland Yard in so long. She has forgotten what most of it looks like. Also, considering the fact that the workplace has definitely made changes inside its walls. She walks past a few familiar faces, along with unfamiliar ones, and they watch her with complete surprise.She reaches Lestrade’s office and walks through the door. The three people inside the room immediately stand upon seeing her.“Hey,” John greets her with a warm smile.Lestrade just grins at her and leads them to the lab. Jocelyn follows behind and almost inhales sharply at the sight of the familiar room, feeling a sense of belongingness as soon as she steps inside.“So, uh, what am I doing here?”Suddenly, a folder of files and a bag of glass were placed on the table by Sherlock as he goes straight in. “A businessman was found in his home, dead with a piece of glass lodged inside his neck. We are still trying to determine whether or not the neck wound was self-inflicted or not.”“Self-inflicted? There was a glass in his neck, I doubt you need me to figure that out.”“There was no one else in the house, and the new forensics team was intolerable.”“And your solution to this is to contact me?”Sherlock clenches his jaw, narrowing his eyes at her as though he can see through her, the act of setting up a challenge.“It was Lestrade’s suggestion.”Jocelyn locks their eyes for a few seconds before reaching for the folder to open it. “Why do you need to figure out if it was self-inflicted?”“To know if he was forced to do it, or if he has suicidal tendencies, Jocelyn.”Her heart almost stops from the sound of her name escaping his lips. “It’s Dr. Grant for you.”Lestrade looks a bit uncomfortable, and John sighs. “Guys, come on.” John mutters under his breath.Jocelyn looks away. Sherlock appears unfazed, and directs his eyes to John instead who only shakes his head at him, as if to say he should ignore it.“We just need prints from the glass, and you can be on your way.” Sherlock couldn’t help but say without thinking.John hands her a lab coat. To lighten up the atmosphere, John just smiles at her. “Welcome back, doctor.”She scoffs in an amused way, shrugging on the lab coat. “Thank you, doctor.” She mutters to him, tying her hair into a ponytail as she did before.As soon as she lifts her hair up, the sudden cold air wraps around her exposed neck and makes her halt. She tries her best to fight off the thoughts in her head, not wanting to let him in again for the second time today. Not again, not again, not again, please.
“Jocelyn adores it when she’d talk, but not if I watch her like a hawk. She lost her voice and now I see, a freezer is definitely her cup of tea! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Sherlock notices the slight tremor of her hands, furrowing his brows at her. He does not hesitate, turning to the corner to increase the heater in the room. The temperature increases only a bit, but it was enough to pull her back out of her thoughts. Sherlock looks back at her, stepping forward but immediately stops, swallowing.There is a line, and he will not step over it. There is a line, and he will not step over it. There is a line, and he will not step over it.
There is a line, and I will not step over it.
Sherlock falters and he glances at John as if to ask for help. Without another word, John looks at Jocelyn. “You okay?”She flinches and lets her hair down. “I’m fine.”All three men watch one another, but only Sherlock knew what it was about, and he keeps his distance.Jocelyn quickly slips on some latex gloves and opens the bag of glass. “Where’s the—”Before she could finish, another bag is placed on the table by Sherlock. This time, the glass was covered in blood. She takes out the piece of glass, holding it up close to her eye. A swirl of thoughts appear in her mind, and a familiar rush surges through her.Jocelyn looks down at both samples. “There is no way you can ID a print from these glass shards.”Sherlock can practically see lightbulb over her head. “I believe you. What do you propose should be done?”Jocelyn leans down to observe the shards, looking for similar patterns. “I’m going to put it all back together.” She casually says.John widens his eyes, and Lestrade was shocked. “You’re going to put the champagne glass together?”“Well, not together together, but kind of together. I can apply adhesive on the edges and it’ll turn into a five-hour long puzzle.”Sherlock hasn’t said anything, almost disappointed at himself for not thinking of the idea. Obviously, the sole solution is to put it back together.Still, he’s mostly swelling with pride over how quickly Jocelyn figured out the remedy. Lestrade made the right call for asking Jocelyn to help.Lestrade comes back with the scientist that replaced Jocelyn two years ago, and Jocelyn greets him with a respectful smile. For some reason, Jocelyn can feel how he dislikes her presence, but she knows it’s because she definitely hurt his ego.“It is impossible to put together thousands of pieces!” he incredulously says as soon as he steps inside.Jocelyn almost frowns. “It would be dramatic to say that there are thousands of pieces. There are a hundred, at least. I can do it myself.” She sweetly smiles at him.Sherlock almost raises both his brows at her words, turning back to the man to expect his response to that.“Lestrade, why would you let this woman come back here? If the Chief Super finds out—”“If he does, he’d be thanking me.” Lestrade waves him off. “Just do your job. We’ll be outside.” He motions for Sherlock and John to follow him.Jocelyn doesn’t see the glare that Sherlock sends the current scientist in charge in the Yard, as if he was warning him. He has a variety of insults to spew at him, and all of them will definitely offend his misogynistic self. Sherlock wouldn’t be sorry if he says them, but he knew the woman in the room wouldn’t approve of it. After considering that, he leaves the room.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After three hours, Jocelyn finishes reassembling the glass. As she takes off her gloves, the door opens and reveals only Sherlock.“Where’s everyone else?”Sherlock has his hands in both coat pockets. “John is interviewing relatives while Lestrade is waiting for the results. Do you have it?”“Processing. You can wait, if you want.” She nods, looking away from him to sort the table for any mess.Sherlock strides across the lab, observing the perfectly assembled champagne glass. Jocelyn was still cleaning her area with her back towards Sherlock, who makes his way towards the glass.Curiously, he reaches over to hold it in his hands, but Jocelyn turns around at the same time and widens her eyes. “No, wait, don’t!”It was too late, the glass falls apart and pieces slide down the floor with a shattering noise, making both of them flinch. It takes a moment before Jocelyn gapes at the mess.She exhales tiredly, blinking at the shards before looking at Sherlock with worry, who has a surprised expression on his face.And her immediate question is, “Are you okay?”Sherlock does not respond, and only kneels to grab the pieces without thinking. “My apologies.”“Wait, Sherlock, no—” Jocelyn tries stopping him, kneeling and immediately grabs his hands. “What are you doing? Stop,” her voice turns into a breathy whisper.From her words, Sherlock freezes and observes the glass shards on the floor between them. His eyes rake over his own hands, some blood creating downward trails from cuts created by broken glass, not even noticing how his hands were placed on her palms.“I broke the champagne glass.”Jocelyn frowns. “It was already broken, Sherlock.”“But you… you reassembled the pieces—”“Hey, it was already broken. Please, stand up.” Jocelyn gets on her feet, trying to tug on Sherlock to do the same, but his eyes are still trained on the floor. “Look at me.”He tilts his head up, eyes in complete worry and panic. She softens, already trying to compare how stone cold he was earlier to how worried he is over a few broken glass.“It was already broken. Let me treat your hands.”Sherlock slowly rises from the floor and takes a seat. Jocelyn inhales in relief before turning to the shelves to take some bandages and cotton from the first aid kit. When she turns around, he is still watching the mess on the floor.Jocelyn sighs and puts her finger on his chin, directing him to face her instead. Sherlock widens his eyes in response, but Jocelyn just takes his hand, dabbing the cotton around to clean up the blood.“You shouldn’t have done that.”She can still feel his hands tensing up. “I apologize for breaking the glass. I thought I was being careful.”“Not break the glass, you moron. For trying to pick them up without wearing gloves.” She rolls her eyes, almost amused. “Will you relax? I’m not going to amputate you.”He flushes. “Apologies.” Sherlock relaxes his hands.“Should’ve warned you about how light the adhesives were. Could fall apart without calculated pressure.”“Would have been useful information.” He mutters.Finally, she lets out a snort. “What were you even doing?”“I was observing how you did it.”“Sherlock, it’s just a piece of something held together by polyvinyl acetate. It’s nothing big.”Sherlock furrows his with confusion. “You reassembled a champagne glass without missing another piece, using adhesive in under three hours.”“You could’ve done it.”“I never thought of doing it in the first place. This is precisely why we needed you.”Jocelyn stares at him for a second before focusing back on his palms and wraps a bandage around them. “All done.”Sherlock admires the clean work she did. “Thank you.”His gratitude receives no reply as Jocelyn slowly lowers herself to the floor, pulling on her latex gloves before scooping the broken glass to put inside a new bag. The other scientist arrives, handing Sherlock the folder instead of Jocelyn.She just crosses her arms and refrains the urge to roll her eyes at the man. Sherlock does not try to refrain, though, as he glares at the man and snatches the folder from his hands. The scientist leaves without another word.“What does it say?”“All prints belong to our victim, which means it was self-inflicted, but that can’t be right.”“Why not?”“From the autopsy, he died slowly from the blockage of his throat. The piece of glass acted like a cork in a bottle, blocking the access from air and preventing blood loss. You cannot get a wound like that from it being self-inflicted, not even on either hands.”“It could’ve been forced on him, while he held the glass. Someone grabbing his hand and forcing him to stab himself?”“Possibly, the scene showed struggle. He fought back, and if it was self-inflicted with someone forcing his hand, the wound did not look that way. The glass was just plunged directly through his flesh without anything holding it back.” Think.Jocelyn finds herself just staring at his thinking trance, standing a few feet away. She slowly realizes that deep inside her, she thought that she would never see anything like this ever again. She thought that she’ll never witness Sherlock try to deduce something out of a scene he’s solving.She barely even notices the single tear trying to escape her eye, immediately looking away from him to subtly wipe away her cheek. Although, when it comes to Sherlock, nothing is ever subtle.He assumes the worst, not daring to move an inch. “Have I done something wrong?”
Yes, you came back without warning. You lied. You kept things from me. You’re acting as if everything is fine. You get to go back to your old life while I cannot focus on the life I’ve found while you were ‘gone’.
Jocelyn shaking her head. “No.”Sherlock eyes her, unconvinced. Due to that, he feels much worse with himself. “You are free to leave, if you’re aware. You’ve done your part. We’re grateful for the help.”“I’m seeing this through.”“You’re staying?”“Yeah, I mean, I’m on holiday. I got nothing else to do.” And she missed doing things like these.“Then I’ll let you know if we need anything else,” he hesitates for a second. “Dr. Grant.” Sherlock nods at her once before turning around to make his way towards the door.A frown appears on her face. “Wait.”From her sudden call, he stops and looks over his shoulder patiently.She presses her lips together, looking towards his shoes to avoid his eyes. “Good luck.”Sherlock presses his lips into a thin line, nodding before leaving lab. Jocelyn sighs to herself, burying her face into her hands in frustration.An hour later, Sherlock and John come back to the lab in a frantic manner, making Jocelyn jolt in alarm on her feet. “What happened?”“Another victim, it was reported just a few minutes ago. Let’s go!” John gestures for her to come along. Jocelyn just grabs her equipment and follows behind them with a quick pace.***Jocelyn frowns and squats to view the pieces of glass on the floor, only to push through them to find a big piece underneath. At the end, she sighs and leans back.Sherlock notices and squats down in front of her. “To be reassembled?” He asks with his low voice.“Probably, it’ll take a few hours, though. They might do it again.”“Then we need to find him now.” Sherlock nods, looking around.Jocelyn leans down to gather the glass shards. Her hair keeps getting in the way, leaving her frustrated. She might regret it later, but she ties her hair into a bun at the back of her head and continues working. Jocelyn tries her best to ignore the cold weather wrapping around her exposed neck, and she immediately notices the open window.The room suddenly feels even colder than before until all she can think about is the temperature. Jocelyn gives in, and makes her way to the window to close it, when she notices the slight dampness of the windowpane.She swipes her gloved hands on the wooden surface, and all evidence points to melted snow.“Hey! Come see this!” Before she can even finish her sentence, Sherlock and John comes striding through the room again. She shrugs. “Might be nothing, but—”“It’s always something,” the consulting detective finishes for her. “This is brilliant.”Sherlock arrives by her side before lowering himself to be at eye-level with the windowpane. He touches the wood and his face relaxes. “No one else has been in the house except our victim. Even the security footage showed that. These tracks are fresh.”As Jocelyn is about to ride with the rest of the team, Sherlock catches up to her. “Not in Scotland Yard. Intolerable head of Forensics.”She tilts her head. “But… how do I—”“St. Barts.”Jocelyn pauses, pressing her lips together. Last time she went to St. Barts was to visit John, but everything was rushed because of her concern. It was dark, too. Jocelyn didn’t exactly see the pavement where she saw Sherlock be… she doesn’t even want to think about it.She hesitates but follows them to a cab. She barely notices Sherlock glancing at her with a sudden ache in his chest. He looks away and lets the tips of his fingers touch the bandages surrounding his palms.They arrive in St. Barts and Jocelyn catches a glimpse of the same pavement where she kneeled down, reaching for a seemingly lifeless body, wailing his name in pain and denial. She clenches her jaw and proceeds walking with them until they reach the lab.She proceeds working, and Sherlock speaks to John about the case, trying to figure out the criminal behind it. Sherlock would look at her from time to time.She finishes in under two hours, backing away from the newly reassembled champagne glass with a pleased smile. John uncrosses his arms and gives her an approving expression. “Nicely done.”Sherlock and Jocelyn look at each other and he nods. Jocelyn offers him a small smile, making him falter for a second before he hesitantly returns it.***A few hours later, Sherlock and John stand side by side in front of a house, surrounded by the police. Sherlock watches as the man is arrested, his brows furrowed in concentration. The almost-victim was sat nearby the ambulance with a blanket wrapped around them. It felt strange, as if something does not feel right. Or maybe Sherlock is just overly paranoid as usual/John glances at his friend, eyeing him as he zones out. “How’re your hands?”“Fine.” Sherlock absentmindedly touches the bandages. “How’s the shoulder?”“Bit sore. He hit me good.”“I knew it was a forced suicide pact.”“And they tried getting me to join in. Can you believe it?” John incredulously says with amusement, as if he wasn’t just almost stabbed. He looks at Sherlock’s hands again. “Jocelyn was a big help today.”“She always is.”John hums and nods along, amused. Sherlock not noticing something in a crime scene? It almost sounds too odd to be true. “Did you see the look on her face today? She misses being a scientist in a lab.”“But she still is. She’s a professor, John.”“Doing stuff in a crime scene isn’t the same as teaching it to people. Do you think she’ll get back to it?”“It’s up to her.”“I kind of missed working with her, too. What about you?”“What about me?”“Do you miss it?”Sherlock sighs, feeling a bit uncomfortable now. “She is a fresh set of eyes, and works quite efficiently. I wouldn’t say I dislike working with her, but it is her decision if she ever decides to come back.”“Either way, it would be nice to have a consulting scientist on call,” he cheekily grins at his best friend.Sherlock relaxes at the term, finding it himself to recognize how fitting the title is.***In a matter of time, they enter the doors of St. Barts and see Molly and Jocelyn laughing in between a conversation between each other. Sherlock observes how casual the two women are.John fills them in with the details while Sherlock watches them from his seat. From time to time, John says something to make her chuckle and everything feels right again for Sherlock.Sherlock tilts his head to his left, surprised to see Molly staring at him with sad eyes. He suddenly realizes that those eyes were in behalf of him.Molly gives him a weak smile, nodding at him as if he needed reassurance. Sherlock has no idea why Molly did that, but he presses his lips into a thin line before returning the nod of acknowledgment.“I was just chatting with Molly about my little get-together for Christmas. I was hoping that you two will come.” Jocelyn turns to Sherlock. “Both of you.”Sherlock lifts his gaze from Molly to turn to Jocelyn, a bit perplexed by her words.John glances at his best friend, delighted. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Won’t we, Sherlock?”That snaps him out of his daze. “As you wish.”She cracks a smile at him for a moment, looking down at her wristwatch. Jocelyn stands to give John a quick hug and goes to kiss Molly’s cheek. Jocelyn gives Sherlock a nod before going home.The three of them remain in the room, John and Molly share a meaningful glance while Sherlock stares at the door.Christmas comes their way a few days later. Molly and her fiancé stand in Jocelyn’s living room, watching her sort the star on top of the tree to make sure it doesn’t look crooked. They cheer happily once they were done.Her aunt is helping Mrs. Hudson pour drinks into glasses. John and Mary are sitting on one of the loveseats, chuckling as they argue who the designated driver will be. Then, Greg brings out Mrs. Hudson’s casserole of baked macaroni and cheese from the kitchen.Mary clears her throat. “Is Laurie going to be here?”“No, he’s in New Zealand right now with his brother.” She smiles at Mary.Mary pouts. “Aw, well, I’m sure he wanted to be here.”John sips his water, and once Jocelyn looks away, he glances at Molly—who only shakes her head with an awkward expression. From that look alone, he can figure out that whatever Jocelyn and Laurie had, it was over.Jocelyn goes to the kitchen and while she was gone, Molly leans over to John to lower her voice. “Sherlock is coming, right?”“Uh, yeah, I think so. He said he was.”“Did you remind him? He can’t miss dinner, Mrs. Hudson will throw a fit.” Mary points out.“That git might not even come here,” Greg adds in.“He’ll be here. He never backs out on his word.”John’s statement begins to lose its meaning the more time passes. They exchange presents and everyone had grins on their faces. Laughter fills the space between them, and many jokes were thrown around. Jocelyn makes it a tradition of giving John another set of sweaters, making him groan in frustration and others bellow in laughter. Jocelyn downs her third glass of bourbon, John frowns and glances at the time. It wasn’t until most of the people bid their goodbyes.John and Mary remain in her house for a little while longer since their home is the farthest from here, and had to wait out the rain. While Jocelyn was looking through her movie list, Mary raises her brows at her fiancé before tilting her head towards their friend.John clears his throat to catch Jocelyn’s attention. “Sorry about Sherlock, I honestly thought he’d show up.”“It’s alright. I… I wasn’t expecting much from him anyway.”“He’s probably busy.”Jocelyn almost scoffs at that. It’s Christmas, even Sherlock wouldn’t have any other plans. The people she invited to her home tonight are practically her family, and it should have meant something when she invited Sherlock as well. Sherlock isn’t even trying to be on her good graces, does she truly not matter to him?“It doesn’t matter. If anything, he could be—”The doorbell rings. It makes Jocelyn freeze. She pulls herself on her feet, walking to the door to answer it. Even though a part of her knew, it still surprises her to see him on her doorstep.The rain from behind him is almost muffled the moment she sees him. Sherlock closes his umbrella and appears to be carrying a small narrow box wrapped in plain green paper. They stare at each other for a few seconds before she steps aside motioning for him to come inside, and he wordlessly complies.John is quick to make a comment. “Took you about four hours to get here.”Sherlock looks around awkwardly. “Got held up by… something.” He directs his eyes to Jocelyn. “Apologies for being late.”Jocelyn stares at him, a bit in disbelief that he actually showed up. “It’s okay, but everyone left already.”Sherlock nods as he glances around the neatly decorated house.Mary glances at the small box in his hand. “What do you have there?”He looks down at the box in his hand before tensing up. He reaches out the gift towards Jocelyn. “Merry Christmas.”Jocelyn’s jaw almost goes slack, and her first thought was that she didn’t get him anything. “O-Oh, um…” she glances at the couple on the sofa, who were both holding back their grins.Jocelyn looks away from them and nods at Sherlock, reaching for the box and taking it from his cold hands, catching a glimpse of the healing cuts on his palms.“I’m sorry, I didn’t get you any—”“I wasn’t expecting anything.”Jocelyn bites her lip, almost excited to open her present. She couldn’t help herself, and she smiles a wide grin before ripping off the wrapping paper, only to reveal three VHS tapes stacked together.She tilts her head, looking for a label for each one, but doesn’t find any. She looks up at Sherlock, and just smiles. “Thank you, these are great.”“Can we watch them?” John voices, making Mary swat his chest gently. “What?”Sherlock is still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he made her smile that way, and he barely hears John’s request to watch it. “I… I don’t see why not.”As she sets it up, Sherlock removes his coat and scarf, taking a seat next to Mary. Mary offers him a glass of scotch, but he politely declines.Lights in the house begin to dim, from Jocelyn decreasing their amount until the whole house is a bit dark, so they’ll be able to watch the tapes in comfort.The tape plays and Jocelyn sits on the floor with curiosity in her eyes. She was expecting a film, some of the things that they used to watch, but no. It was more than that.On her television plays a somewhat blurry and aged video of a stage, and the curtain rises as the music begins to swell. Onstage, is a woman wearing a ballerina outfit. She danced like her life depended on it. She was graceful, precise and wickedly talented as she dances to the orchestral music as other dancers join her from behind.Jocelyn feels like she’s in a trance, and her green eyes shone with tears while her chest tightens.The video ends with the leading woman taking a bow with applause erupting around and her leaning down as she faces the left side of the stage. A blur of a little girl starts running through the stage into her arms, and the ballerina lifts her off the ground to spin them around in happiness just before the curtain drops again.John and Mary smile at one another, but they’re somehow confused. “That was nice, she was very talented. Who was that?”Jocelyn cranes her neck to face them on the sofa, a small smile formed by her lips. “That was my mum.”It occurs to her that it had been years since she was able to watch videos of her mum dancing. Come to think of it, all those videos seem to be lost now, since it was such a long time ago. And, God, did she miss her.Sherlock is still unsure if Jocelyn was pleased by his gift since she is both shedding tears and smiling.“I never knew your mum was a ballerina.” John hums and leans into his fiancée.“She was an amazing one, everyone loved her.” Jocelyn moves to pop in the next one, a bit more excited to find out since the first one was already promising.The next video begins playing, and it reveals a nineteen-year-old Jocelyn with her famous blue hair.Jocelyn groans out and bury her face into her hands, the couple burst out laughing. In the video, she seems to be filming herself within the Holmes family home during the one Christmas she spent at theirs.John is quite amused. It’s evident from the video of how wild and carefree Jocelyn was, compared to the much classier and graceful woman in front of him.Jocelyn’s heart begins to warm at the sight of a younger-looking Mycroft wearing a posh outfit. He glared at her the moment she points the camera at him, covering his face in annoyance.Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were both dancing to sweet music, and they begin to chuckle upon seeing how they were being filmed by the young girl, her laugh fills the background.What made Mary let out a long ‘aw’ was how they see a younger Sherlock drinking hot cocoa. He was wearing, embarrassingly enough, one of the Christmas sweaters given by his mother. In the video, he sees her enter the room and a wide smile spreads on his face.John almost doesn’t recognize him. The relaxed expression and pure happiness on this Sherlock’s face, it was unbelievable. He felt like a completely different person.The younger Jocelyn jumped on the sofa, turning the camera to film both of them. She burst out singing the song, ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’ obnoxiously loud. Sherlock in the video just covers his face in both humiliation and amusement.Jocelyn, sitting on the floor, only watches the homemade video with bright eyes. She fondly watches how the pair of them seems so free and content with having each other around. They were so young, it was odd to think that all of this happened almost eleven years ago.She barely notices how Sherlock is not even watching the television. Instead, his eyes were on her.At the end of the video, the camera was shoved into Sherlock’s face. The younger Jocelyn practically begs him to finish the lyric and he monotonously recited the chorus, in contrast to her yelling them with passion.The video ends, and memories wash over her once again as she tries her best to remember the things that happened once the camera was turned off.“Jesus, when Sherlock said that your hair was blue, I didn’t think it was that blue.” John fills the silence and makes the two women laugh, and the other man smile to himself.“Sorry if I exceeded your expectations, Dr. Watson.” Jocelyn smirks.“Don’t listen to John, your hair was like cotton-candy!” Sherlock finally adds into the conversation. “Mycroft used to call her as the cotton-candy haired lady.”“Don’t fuck with me, Mycroft has never said the words ‘cotton-candy’ in his whole bloody life.” John exclaims and makes Jocelyn chuckle, covering her mouth in amusement.Jocelyn moves to play the last one and Sherlock subconsciously retreats into the sofa, teeth clenching.The video shows a different stage and it is much clearer than the previous stage they watched. Jocelyn gasps to herself as she sees the two figures onstage, both standing side by side. The other figure was taller than the other one, and he was holding a violin and a bow.For some reason, Jocelyn can remember her black and white outfit that day, and how her hair barely stands out in the dim and dramatic lighting. After they bow down, both of them go to their respective positions. They played one of Sherlock’s compositions that day, and it was a beautiful combination of piano and violin.It was going smoothly before the younger Jocelyn froze and stopped playing, and murmurs can be heard among the crowd. Suddenly, in the midst of silence, the tuned note of the violin plays an on-the-spot melancholic melody, saving their performance.And after a while, they both begin to play together again. The performance ends and, unmistakably, the younger Jocelyn only eyed Sherlock as the applause fills the room.The video ends and Mary wipes a tear from her eyes, and Jocelyn can’t exactly blame her. As strange their current situation can be, Jocelyn can’t deny that Sherlock is a beautiful composer.“That was beautiful.”“I think I probably heard that before. One of yours?” John asks Sherlock and he nods quietly. “It was good.”“Don’t be shy, John. Just say it was magnificent, exquisite. Totally mind-blowing.”“Alright, you’ve had enough.” John takes the glass of wine from his fiancée’s hand and puts it on the table. All four of them stand up and make their way to the entrance of the door. John, Mary and Sherlock slip their coats on and walk through the door.John offers Sherlock a ride home, but Sherlock says he’ll take a cab instead. The couple both got into their car after saying goodbye and drove home.Jocelyn and Sherlock awkwardly stand on her porch as the night sky loomed above them. The light from the porch’s ceiling gives her a chance to glance at him. Sherlock steps down the stairs, but suddenly, the rain powers down on them. He steps back to shelter himself under the roof of the porch.England and its rainy weather, always inseparable.Jocelyn bites her lip and looks up at him. “Come back inside, it’s warmer.”He seems to be hesitant, but follows behind her as she walks back to her house. Sherlock swallows and almost panics, unsure if he wants to be alone with her.Jocelyn shuts the door behind them and tenses up, but turns to face him. “How did you even find that film of my mum? Not even my aunt has it.”“I’ve always had it. It was meant to be a gift a decade ago. It’s been in Mycroft’s possession for years now.”“Is that why you’re late? You went to your brother?”“No.”“Why then?” He stays silent, and seems like he did not want to answer her question. “Doesn’t matter. I like your gift.” She musters a small smile, and he softens upon the sight of it.If it’s not too late, Jocelyn can almost take back what she thought of him. Sherlock is trying, she can see that. It pleases her that he is, and he genuinely seems to care enough to actually approach Mycroft and ask if he could look for the tapes.They stand in comfortable silence for a moment, and Jocelyn can hear the rain get even stronger. There was no storm at all, but the heavy rain is quite persistent to have Sherlock stay where he is.“You can stay.”“I shouldn’t.” Sherlock immediately says, without missing a beat.Jocelyn purses her lips. “It’s raining really hard and cabs would be down the street, if there are any. Baker Street is like four hours away, you can’t just go out there.”Sherlock grips the handle of his umbrella and presses his lips into a thin line.“Stay, at least until the rain is over.” She offers, gesturing towards the sofa they settled on.Just a few weeks ago, Sherlock was sure that Jocelyn couldn’t even stand the sight of him. The look on her face now is giving him second thoughts. She can be unpredictable at times.He only gives a small nod again, and takes off his coat and scarf, hanging them back. Sherlock’s strides are slow and cautious, but still calm and gentle. He takes his previous seat, and Jocelyn settles at the other end of the sofa with her legs folding underneath her.She pours some bourbon into her glass before handing him the glass. “Rain’s going to be here for a while.”Sherlock looks at her, almost narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He isn’t quite used to her hospitality, considering how tense everything has been between them ever since he came back. It makes him wonder if she has forgiven him, or if she’s only trying to mend things for the sake of their mutual friends.He takes the glass and brings the rim to his lips to take a sip, recognizing the brand instantly. It’s the only type of bourbon he tolerates, and it’s her favorite drink. They can barely see each other, since the only light comes from the fireplace nearby and the yellow hue from the lamps, but it was enough for her to see his face.“You know, you could have solved that case all by yourself. You didn’t have to contact me.” Jocelyn softly says.“No. We needed you.” Sherlock gives her a seriously sincere look. “I needed you.”She stays silent, unsure how to respond to that.“On a different note, it seemed like you needed to work as well. Holidays and all.”Jocelyn softly smiles, looking down at her lap. It would be a lie if she says that she hasn’t considered going back as a forensic scientist she always had been.Her eyes settle on the way he grips his drink. “You took off the bandages.”Sherlock looks down at his hand. “They healed after a day, thank you.”“Why were you late?”Sherlock slowly shrugs. “Too many people.”“So, you waited until they left?”He nods.“But they’re our friends, not strangers.”“I only came here to bring you a gift.”Jocelyn bites her lip and leans her head on the top of the back of the sofa, facing towards him. “Let me guess, you didn’t plan to be here once I played them all.” And the rain had other plans.“John and Mary were quite persistent. They become even more so, the longer they are engaged.”His words make her chuckle, leaning her cheek on the back of her free hand. Her laugh makes his own lips briefly curl up.The longer she watches him, the more she realizes how contented she is that he is alive. That he never died.For a brief second, she forgets about the lies and secrets kept from her. For a brief moment, all she knows is both of them are alive.Jocelyn lifts her head from her hand and reaches her arm out, touching his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. Sherlock appears alarmed, but he recovers almost immediately as he looks at her with those blue eyes she always missed.She sighs out in relief. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”Those simple words, strangely enough, makes him soften and blink slowly. Her voice made his body freeze. Sherlock has not figured out how she does it, but whenever it comes to her, he almost doesn’t know how to act.He can feel her fingers tracing lines over his button-up shirt, and for some reason, he didn’t want her to pull away. That sudden want, made him reach up to his shoulder to place his larger hand on top of hers. He feels her hand tense for half a second, but softens afterward. He finds himself caressing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.Their eyes lock together, and Jocelyn can practically feel her own throat dry. Suddenly, the space between them felt suffocating, as if it wasn’t right that there were miles between them. The warmth of his palm on her hand almost sends a shudder down her shoulders.For a normally unemotional person, Sherlock can feel something coursing through his body. His eyes flicker down her face, and he couldn’t help himself to do so.She didn’t catch it, the small movement of his body as he almost shifts to near her, almost decreasing their distance.The rain stops roaring outside her home, making both of them calmly turn their heads towards the windows. The weather calms down, and to Jocelyn, she somehow takes it as a sign that she might be overstepping her boundaries.Jocelyn pulls her hand away from underneath his, and Sherlock pauses before pulling himself to his feet. She watches him shrug his coat back on before wrapping his scarf around his neck. She watches him, slowly finding it easier to accept that he’s alive.It may have been quite evident from how she places her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for your gift. I really appreciate the effort.”Sherlock pulls a brief smile. Although, he cannot take his mind off the fact that she’s touching him once again. “You’re very welcome, Dr. Grant.”She sucks in a breath, lowering her arm. “Please, don’t… call me that. It’s Jocelyn. I’m sorry for telling you to address me like that. It was rude.”“No. Don’t apologize. I understand.”As much as she knows that it was rude of her, she feels as though he genuinely means that. For some reason, she wanted him to not be okay with it. She wanted Sherlock to not understand, for the first time. Because she doesn’t get it, how the hell can he understand her actions more than her?Sherlock is trying to prove himself to her, and it was enough right now.“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”“And a Happy New Year, Jocelyn.”They share one last glance before Sherlock opens his umbrella and begins to descend down the few stairs of her porch, walking down the street to hail a cab. Jocelyn watches him for a moment as she backs away into her home again.For the rest of the evening, she replayed all three tapes until she falls asleep to the melodic sound of sweet violin and piano.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Inside Baker Street, Sherlock lifts his eyes from the laptop screen once there was a knock on the door. He stands and walks towards the door to open it. Somehow, he did not expect his visitor. Sherlock assumed it would be the child’s mother, returning to collect him. However, that’s not the case.In front of him stood Jocelyn, wrapped in her long brown coat and a golden scarf. Her wavy brown hair framing her face as she looks up at him with those green doe eyes that stood out from the rest of her.His expression molds into surprise, before proceeding to silently stare.Jocelyn awkwardly waves. “Hey.”He stays quiet, the expression on his face twisting from surprise to utter bewilderment.As he stays silent and Jocelyn musters an awkward hum. “Are you busy?”“No,” he immediately answers before stepping aside to let her in. “Not busy.”Jocelyn steps inside. “So, I’ve been—” Jocelyn was about to begin speaking, but the shy little boy sitting by the computer startles her. It makes Jocelyn smile in confusion and amusement. “Who’s this?”Sherlock immediately remembers the seven-year-old in his flat. “This is Archie, the ring bearer for the wedding. Archie, this is Dr. Grant.”“Hi, Archie. I’m Jocelyn.”He hesitates. “You’re a doctor, like Dr. Watson?”“No, Dr. Watson is an army doctor. I’m, er… a scientist for the police.”“Like a science detective?”His words make her laugh, the sound bouncing against the walls. “You are quite smart. Yes, exactly like a science detective.”“Does that mean you’re better than Mr. Holmes?”She gapes at him and laughs again. She glances at the man behind her, having a glimpse of a softer look on his face. Jocelyn hums playfully at Sherlock. “Yes, definitely.”“Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes! She’s a science detective!”“Yes, great, wonderful, Archie.”Jocelyn glances at Sherlock with a pleased smile. “I can come back another day, if you’re busy with planning the wedding.”Sherlock turns to Jocelyn as well, but not quite looking her in the eye. “Please, sit. His mother will be here in precisely eleven minutes.” He lowly says, and she hesitates but nods.Archie and Jocelyn discuss her work, and she tries to explain in a sugarcoat-y way. It would be odd to out rightly tell a child what she does.While they talk, Sherlock finds the corner of his own lips curl upward into a smile as he watches the child be awed by such a mundane thing. Although, admittedly, Sherlock feels the same fascination when it comes to science. And certain scientists.“You take photos of the bodies?” The young child asks in disbelief.Jocelyn tilts her head. “Uh…”“Dr. Grant does, indeed, take photos of corpses, young Archie.” Sherlock’s palms are pressed together, fingertips under his chin.“Cool! Can I see?”“I’m not sure if—”“But Mr. Holmes showed some to me already!” The child complains, making Sherlock tense in his seat, glancing at Jocelyn in the corner of his eye.She widens her own. “He did what?”“He showed me the photos on his laptop there!” He smiles enthusiastically.“Did he?” She hums in mild amusement.“Yes! Oh, please show more, Mr. Holmes?”Sherlock’s eyes are wide and so he finally gathers the courage to look up and glance at Jocelyn. She has a mildly impressed expression, raising one challenging brow at him.“I’ll show you a few, as a treat. If you follow through your requirements as ring bearer.”“What kind?”“Beheadings.”“Cool!”Jocelyn lets out a surprised laugh, unable to help herself. Sherlock glances at her with gentle eyes, but she doesn’t notice. She was much too distracted by the child incessantly talking to her about everything he’s required to do for the wedding. The child made every normal little thing sound incredibly interesting.When his parents came to pick him up, Archie waves goodbye to them enthusiastically.“Bye, Archie! I’ll see you at the wedding!”“Bye, Mr. Holmes!”“Yes, goodbye, young Archie.”The family leaves the building and Jocelyn closes the door behind herself. She takes a moment before turning around, seeing Sherlock standing by the table, fidgeting slightly.“Sorry about that—”“You were busy—”They paused, as if to let the other speak.“I didn’t mind—”“It’s fine—”Another pause, before Sherlock gestures towards her to let her speak. He has a curious and mildly anxious look on his face, as well.Jocelyn takes a deep breath. “I’m not really one to hold grudges, Sherlock. It’s why I’m here, I don’t want to stay angry at you forever.”“You want answers.”“I want to know everything.”“I… I’m not sure where to start.”Jocelyn sighs almost in disappointment, and it almost sends Sherlock into panic. He immediately thought that she’d regret coming here and decide to leave.But no, she stands her ground. “You can start by telling me why you lied to me during our last phone call.”He almost sucks in a breath. “Right, yes.”“You said that you lied to me about everything.”“I had to make it look convincing.”“Convincing? You jumped off a building. What’s more to believe than that?”“Jocelyn,” he sighs and takes a step forward, unsure what to say next.“Why would you put me through all of that?”He lets out a breath, pausing his movements. “Sit, I’ll make us tea. We are not in a hurry.”Jocelyn lets him walk past her to the kitchen, closing her eyes to calm herself down before sitting on a chair. She listens to the soft noises in the kitchen, the light footsteps on the wooden floor. She relaxes with the white noise and leans back in her seat.Sherlock emerges with a tray of cups in saucers. He pours their tea and stirs for both of them. Jocelyn takes hers and thanks him quietly.“To start, I’d like to say first that everything that happened was premeditated. From Moriarty’s trial, to the roof. Everything.”She blinks. “That can’t… but the newspapers. You mean, you planned for your whole life to be put into the papers?”“While we were in Baskerville, Moriarty was taken by Mycroft. The only way to get him to talk is if Mycroft would share information about me.”“And you agreed to that?”“I agreed with the information about myself. Mycroft thought he would gain Moriarty’s trust if he decides to share things about, well… you know.” He awkwardly clears his throat.Jocelyn bites her lip, feeling something close to guilt. She distinctly remembers storming into Mycroft’s office and immediately accusing him of something that Sherlock, apparently, agreed for him to do. In fact, something Sherlock told him to do.“What a great barter system, then.” She dryly remarks.Her comment slightly amuses him, but it doesn’t show on his face. “Admittedly, my brother shouldn’t have involved your name into it.”“Your brother has intelligence agencies backing him up.”“Mycroft’s agencies would be nothing against Moriarty’s global network. We were up against something entirely bigger than ourselves.”So, Moriarty’s network stretches out globally? “What did you do, then?”“We set up a plan. Once I’ve invited Moriarty into that roof, one thing was for sure. Only one of us will leave that hospital alive.” He presses his palms together in a praying stance. “When I’ve confirmed that I had no other choice, I selected one out of the thirteen plans.”“And you faked your death.”“Yes.”Jocelyn stays silent for a moment.“As I’ve said, everything was planned. The only things we did not anticipate were Moriarty asking you to join him in our previous flat, the misleading key code, and his death wish at the end.”It was as if all the air was knocked out from her lungs as she gapes at him. “Death wish? You mean…”Sherlock nods. “He’s dead.”
“What?”
Sherlock understands her reaction, and it occurs to him that he should have mentioned it earlier than now. “Jim Moriarty shot himself in front of me.”Jocelyn’s breath hitches, eyes almost bulging out of its sockets as she grips the armrest of the chair with one hand.A great big relief washes over her, strangely enough. It’s not like her to wish for someone’s death, but hearing about that just gives her a sense of safety. “Why would he do that?”“As I’ve said, he had a death wish.”“I get that, but I’m still… processing.” She furrows her brows. “If… he killed himself on that roof, why did you have to fake your death?”“That’s… a bit more difficult to explain.” He clears his throat. “He wanted me to jump, to finish his story. Fraudulent detective leaps to his death at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.” Sherlock looks away from her and lowers his voice. “He threatened everyone I… everyone I knew. John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson,” he directs his gaze towards her. “You.”“What did he say?”“He threatened to shoot all of you. Unless I jumped.” He avoids her gaze and speaks quicker than before.She notices a sudden change of tension in his body. “Why would he kill himself, then?”“I found a loophole. He can call off the shooters, if I make him. If he died, there was nothing that could stop those people from taking your lives. So, logically, he put a bullet through his brain.”“Logically? He killed himself to beat you.”“And failed.”She thinks about it and shrugs. “Yes, well, there’s that.”He couldn’t help but let his lips curve into a brief smile towards her.“Why did you tell me all those lies?”Sherlock stills. “I told you, I had to make it look convincing.”“And I told you. You jumped off a building and cracked your head on the pavement. Sounds pretty convincing.”“If you believed in what I said… it would make things much easier for you.”“Seriously? You told me that you were the one who put me in that freezer after saying that you created Moriarty’s identity. What made you think I’d ever believe that? The Sherlock I know would never even dare to hurt people he cared about.”His features soften at her words. “It was my attempt in getting you to despise me.”“A poor attempt in getting me to despise you.” She corrects. “You want me to despise you? Take me to restaurants, undermine my success or skills, bring me bruised apples, say I’m overreacting. Lie to me.”Their gazes burn through one another as they remain silent.“In a way, I succeeded, haven’t I?” He mutters under his breath.“I don’t despise you, Sherlock.”“I lied to you.”She bites her lip, giving him a look. “That did hurt, yes. Doesn’t mean I despise you.”Sherlock did hurt Jocelyn when he claimed to be the one that planned her freezer incident. The fact that she might have died that way, and how traumatized she was afterwards, she couldn’t bring herself to even believe for a second that he was the one that brought her that much pain. And she stood corrected, he never did any of that.“What did you do while you were away?”“I dismantled Moriarty’s global network.”“And you’re sure it’s gone?”“A hundred percent.”“How would you know?”“I was given a book containing puzzles, notes and codes. Leading to different countries and the leaders of certain groups that Moriarty kept in touch with.”She lets out a breath. “Wow. And you did this with Mycroft?”“No. I traveled alone.”“You… dismantled the network all by yourself?”“Naturally, I work much better alone.”“But… it’s Moriarty. Who knows what would be waiting for you on the other side? You realize how dangerous it was, right?”Sherlock is quite aware of how dangerous it was, and his whole torso became proof of that.“I’m sure you’ve thought of that as well, when you came to Moriarty while carrying a gun in your purse.”His mocking statement pulls a sudden scoff of a laugh from her. “In my defense, someone I love was being threatened.”Her words make him blink a few times. “Of course, I prepared myself for anything that comes my way. As neurotic Moriarty can be, there are various ways in which he can be predictable.”“Ooh, don’t let him hear you say that.”“He’s dead.”“And in death, he shall stay.” Jocelyn tips her cup towards Sherlock.Sherlock tips his cup as well, and gracefully drinks from it. He puts his tea down and glances at the young woman. As he leans back on his seat, he is reminded of what he should say once he feels the sudden ache coursing through his body.She can see the hesitation in his demeanor. “Sherlock?”“Yes?”“How did you do it? Dismantle his network?”“I spoke to people. Of course, the more people I met, the easier it got to use Moriarty’s name against them.”“You blackmailed them, threatening to expose their names to the public if they don’t comply. That’s… actually a smart move.”His words, shamefully enough, makes her feel an overwhelming sense of clarity. Moriarty is gone, and he can never hurt any of her friends and family anymore. The thought makes her gulp down a sudden lump in her throat, looking down at her tea as she wished for something stronger.“Alright, can we stop with the posh tea? You can show me a bottle you’ve collected during those two years.” Jocelyn pushes her thoughts away. Sherlock looks at her with surprise. “Don’t look so shocked. Now, where is it?”“It’s… in the kitchen cabinet. Middle section.” He eyes her, noticing how much more comfortable she is now.Sherlock watches her every move with gentle eyes. He observes the way she concentrates with pouring their drinks, and plopping one ice cube into her glass.Jocelyn hands him his glass. “So, where did you go?”“Reached all the populated six continents, if you’re curious. Bulgaria, China, Italy, Japan, Korea, New Zealand, Philippines and other countries. Specific cities and states were also included. Berlin, Copenhagen, Lagos, Louisiana, Manila, Melbourne, Moscow,” he pauses. “New York.”Jocelyn holds his gaze, but says nothing else as she sips her drink. However, she can feel her own pulse race. “How did you even… you did all of that in under two years?”From her question, Jocelyn notices the slight twitch of his hand as he holds his glass. Sherlock’s face remains constant.“The precision of planning and negotiation, Jocelyn. With my brother’s help, Moriarty’s network fell like a dynasty made of bricks.”Mycroft, oh, God. Jocelyn blamed him for so long, and mostly to try and shift the blame to someone else other than herself. “I spoke to your brother a few weeks ago. He told me to talk to you, instead.” She quietly tells him. “John said the same thing, too.”Sherlock’s expression softens. Evident by her presence in his flat, his brother did not reveal anything to her. Somehow, he is thankful for that; his brother’s actions redirected Jocelyn here. It was easy to stay neutral with his facial expressions, but the thought of his brother and best friend urging her to speak to him is quite something else.“And are you satisfied with the truth?”“I’m trying.”He nods at her, and he knows that it was enough.She remains standing and looks around the flat again, glancing at the other table with all of Sherlock’s wedding plans. “You’re putting the bridesmaids in lilac?”“Mary’s choice.”“But it says here that it’s a suggestion. Your suggestion.”He feels a sudden flush on his skin. “Lilac looks… tolerable.”She chuckles and keeps reading his long to-do list. “Speak to ring bearer, Archibald—his name is Archibald?”“He prefers Archie. It is an odd name, I agree.”“Yes, odd names are very unfortunate, indeed. And for an aspiring detective such as Archie, it would make for a bad rep,” she amusedly tells him.Sherlock almost sighs at how content he feels. For years, all he has ever wanted was to be home. This feels like home now.He lets out a deep and low chuckle. “I’m inclined to disagree.”“He’s a lovely kid,” her voice turns into a serious tone, laced with fondness, eyeing the name.He looks at her with curiosity as she stares at the paper. If Sherlock is being honest, Archie reminds him of his younger self. Always so curious, always asking questions, and always full of life.“How’s your speech going?” Jocelyn picks up a book with a funny title.“Terribly.”“Well, you should definitely make cue cards.”Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Cue cards?” “What? We used to do it all the time!”“You are referring to yourself.”“Fine. It’s so I wouldn’t forget anything.”“I have a mind palace.”“Nothing beats cue cards, though.”“I do not need cue cards.”“It’s a difficult speech,” she jokes. “So, where am I seated?”Sherlock shakes his head at her in mild amusement, gulping his drink before putting his glass down and standing as well. He walks over towards the table and approaches Jocelyn.It seems like her breath got caught in her throat at the sudden action. Their bodies are a feet apart and he has an intense stare. She looks up at him, locking their gazes.Without removing his eyes on her, he takes a small piece of paper from the table. “You’re seated right next to Lestrade.”“Lovely. I’ll try to refrain from getting him drunk.”“Hm, try getting a hyperactive seven-year-old child to cooperate with bearing the rings.”“Enlighten me why you thought it was a good idea to expose a child to crime scene photos?”“He was interested.”She mockingly nods along. “And that suddenly gives someone a free pass to share crime scene photos?”“Of course. Interests must be satisfied.”“I’m interested. Show me the photos.”His eyebrows raise. “They’re crime scene photos. You’ve seen loads of them.”“I’m interested, anyway.”Sherlock watches her for a moment before prying his laptop open. They remain in their position, with Sherlock twisting the device to face them.Jocelyn looks down to view the photos. “Now, why would you let—” She stills, and squints her eyes down into the photos. With brows knotted together, she glances back at Sherlock. “These are the photos I’ve taken for previous cases in the Yard.”“Yes, Lestrade procured the softcopies to me. Most of these cases were solved by me, naturally.”“Oh, right,” she mockingly widens her eyes and chuckles. She halts her laughter once Sherlock looks at her again. They silently watch each other before Jocelyn decides to speak. “I’m sorry for what I said when you came back.”Sherlock only frowns, puzzled. “You shouldn’t apologize for being angry.”“That’s the thing, Sherlock. I didn’t exactly have the right to be mad at you.” She flails her arms around.“Why would you say that?”“Because I did the same thing to you, and for even longer. Eight years versus two. Not a debate.”“You never pretended to be deceased.” Sherlock steps forward. “You cannot blame yourself for your anger.”“Like you didn’t blame yourself?”“That was a different situation.”“How is it a different situation? You left because you thought it was for our own good.”“You never did end up on the sidewalk.”“I was gone for eight years.”“I was deceased for two.”“I can’t believe I’m competing with you about who did worse.”“It’s not a competition.”She silences and looks down at the ground, unconvinced by his words.Sherlock can sense the sudden shift of the atmosphere. One second, they were light-heartedly making small talk, and now, the walls suddenly feel like they were closing in on them. What she does next is what astonishes him.With her free hand, she slowly reaches up and presses her palm against his. This throws him off and he stills his body, not daring to move an inch. The warmth of his skin under her hand is so… real. He is real, he feels so real. So alive.She almost chokes back a sob. “You’re alive.”He has an unreadable expression on his face, so focused on her as though she was the center of everything existing. “I am now.”She looks so impossibly pleasing up close, the small details of her face could inevitably bring him onto his knees. A word from her lips can immediately dictate him as she wished.Her eyes rake down his face, almost hungry and desperate to memorize all the details of his skin. He is so alive in front of her, she couldn’t get enough of it.“Jocelyn,” and that single word is the only thing he can think of whispering. None should blame him; it was the only word running through his mind palace.She was about to trace her thumb over the outline of his lips, until the door opens so suddenly, startling both of them. They glance to the door and see John’s perplexed expression.Jocelyn takes a step back to put more space between her and the consulting detective.John awkwardly smiles. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”“Yeah, uh… I just came for a chat.”“Oh! Right, then,” he smiles and looks between the two of them. “Sherlock and I were supposed to try on some suits, but that can definitely wait until tomorrow.”“Definitely.” Sherlock immediately agrees with a nod.“Oh, no, no. You two can go right ahead.” She smiles and goes in for a hug with John.Once John wraps his arms around her, he glances at Sherlock with amusement in his eyes. Sherlock only rolls his own.Jocelyn leaves just before she smiles at Sherlock as a goodbye.Sherlock grimaces when John grins at him. “What?”“Did she forgive you?”As the words leave the doctor’s mouth, the great detective’s face melts into a genuine smile for the first time in a while. Sherlock looks at his best friend and shakes his head once, eyeing the door where she came.“Not yet.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“How could you not tell her!” Mycroft raises his voice.“She didn’t need to know.”“Oh, yes. She must see you as a heroic figure who managed to destroy a global criminal network, instead of the times you were beaten into a pulp, as you viciously worded.”Sherlock clenches his jaw and glare at him.“Miss Grant’s need for the truth is unwavering, brother mine. When she finds out about your… physical wounds, it would not take long for her to question your emotional wounds.”“Don’t be ridiculous, Mycroft. There are no emotional wounds. How laughable it is for you to insinuate that.”Mycroft is unfazed by his insult. “On another note, If you’d let me, I advise you to…” he hesitates, “Seek a professional.”“Are you quite well, brother mine?”“It’s for your own good, Sherlock.”“I’m aware that you are reaching middle age, but I think you have lost your mind much earlier than expected.”Mycroft snaps. “I’ve fulfilled your requests! I kept up our ruse after aiding you with plans. I kept our parents in the dark. I’ve kept an eye on each person in your list. I followed you to bloody Serbia! I’ve done—” he pauses to take a breath. “I’ve done a great deal of things. The only thing I ask of you is for you to look after yourself.”Sherlock uncomfortably shifts his weight from one foot to another. “But I am.”“No. You are not. You never even let yourself be taken to a hospital to have your wounds checked up! And now you’re off solving cases as though nothing happened!”“I am quite capable of tending to useless small wounds, Mycroft.” Sherlock furrows his brows, unsure where this is coming from. His brother sounds overwhelmingly angry, yet concerned over him.“I’d like for you to seek a professional.”“No. What good will that do? I can evaluate myself. I do not need a therapist,” the word rolls off his tongue like hot lava.His older brother just clenches his jaw. “What do you want from me, brother mine? What would you have me do next? Because, as much as I’d like not to involve our parents into this, they deserve to know what you went throu—”“You will not tell our mother and father.”“It would be the only way to get your act straight, brother mine.”“You’re blackmailing me.”Mycroft rolls his eyes at his brother’s dramatics. “Sherlock, don’t be ridiculous. I am not blackmailing you. I only want you to sort yourself out before you take big cases. Please, do this for yourself. Talk to someone. I hear that it helps with sorting out psychological traumas.”“Psychological traumas.” He repeats monotonously.“Yes. Psychological traumas that you’d rather go unmentioned to me, thus, preventing me to help you. I do want to help you.”“I can tell,” Sherlock deadpans and goes to leave.“Sherlock.”“What?” he turns back around to look at his brother with an annoyed expression.This time, Mycroft has a genuine look on his face. “Do take care of yourself, brother mine. If you need help, I am where you can find me.”His words only make Sherlock huff and wordlessly leave his office.***John just glances at Sherlock with a questionable look as their last potential client left the room abruptly. “What’s going on?”“It’s been nagging me, John.” Sherlock says through his teeth, sitting himself down on his chair and crossing his legs.“What is?”“New York.”“You mean… the deal between Jocelyn and Moriarty from two years ago? Moriarty is dead. Whatever that deal was, it clearly doesn’t matter now, does it?”“When Jocelyn spoke to me yesterday, I told her that I went to New York, a part of Moriarty’s network. There was this… this look in her eyes. Fear.” He gives him a look. “I’ve told her that Moriarty was dead, and yet… the fear was still there.”“What do you make of it?”And with a low voice, he says, “Jocelyn is hiding something.”Silence engulfs the space between them as they both let their minds run.John just shifts in his seat. “Could we just ask her?”“Not both of us at once. She will feel as though she’s being interrogated. No. It should be you.”“Me? Why me?”“She has only begun to forgive me. I doubt she would favor being questioned by me, out of all people.”“You understand her better than I do.”“She would be much more at ease with you.”“If it’s bothering you so much, you should be the one.”Sherlock looks at his friend with confusion. “Why are you hesitating?”“Why are you?”Sherlock relaxes. “You’re afraid of what you might find out.”“If it involves Moriarty, then yeah, I guess.”The detective only concentrates on his words. “During the last two years, I’ve learned that Moriarty built his network from the ground up, but only begun in America six or seven years earlier. She was a college student for most of those years.”“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you just ask her?” John sarcastically remarks.“Do you remember when Jocelyn went to see Moriarty?”“It’s been two years, Sherlock. Do you really think I’d remember any of that?”He ignores his remark again. “She brought a gun.”“Of course, she’d bring a gun. It’s Moriarty, for crying out loud. Why wouldn’t she bring a gun?”Sherlock shrugs at John. “Where did she get a gun? She has never been licensed to have one.” He opens the idea to John, and renders the army doctor silent.“America has loose gun control. She lived there for eight years.”“But?”The doctor blinks as it clicks in his mind. “Only licensed guns are allowed in Britain.”“Which means?”Once it sinks into him, John lets out a deep breath. “That gun couldn’t have gone past Britain’s security system.”“And that is the hole that has been nagging me for a while now. How did she get that gun?” Sherlock reasons out and sighs.“Have her explain everything?”“We have no right to force it out of her. She has to do it willingly.”“How else will she do it willingly if we don’t bring it up?” John does have a point. Jocelyn wouldn’t just give the full story if she was never motivated to do so. “Do you think she’s in danger?”“We’ll never know until she reveals it.” Sherlock simply replies and knots his brows together with focus.“She’s at Cambridge right now. You can talk to her after working hours,” suggests John.Sherlock presses his lips together, unsure if he should take up the suggestion since the two of them just spoke properly yesterday. She did mention that they can continue it on another day, maybe he should use the opportunity.That is why he finds himself walking to Cambridge in the afternoon. John went with Mary to appointments for their wedding. So, he was alone to visit the forensic scientist.Or so he thought. Near the entrance of Jocelyn’s classroom, Laurie seems to be on his way inside with a green apple in his hand. Sherlock calmly walks to the classroom, but he could not go inside since the other man was unintentionally blocking the way.“Mr. Holmes.”“Professor.”“Can I ask what you’re doing here?”Sherlock furrows his brows. “To see an old friend.”“I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”The detective keeps his face expressionless. “I mean no disrespect, Professor, but I’m sure she can speak for herself.”“You can leave the way you came.”The detective almost rolls his eyes at his words having the slight edge of a jealous lover.He’s seen jealousy before during cases, it’s quite boring and tedious. Somehow, Sherlock does not feel an ounce of jealousy in his own body. He doesn’t exactly see the point of being jealous. The detective believes that he is not capable of envy.Before he could respond, the young woman in question appears in the corner of his eye. Jocelyn glances between them. “Uh, what’s going on here?”“Mr. Holmes was just leaving.” Laurie informs her without removing his gaze from Sherlock.Jocelyn just sighs. “It’s alright, Laurie.” She casually tells him, making the professor look at her with confusion. “Sherlock, come in.”Without another word, Sherlock walks inside the room and proceeds to her office while briefly glancing around the familiar area.Jocelyn and Laurie remain by the doorframe and the man only gives her a questioning look. “A lot has happened while you were gone.”“Clearly.”“He explained a lot of things to me, Laurie. Not everything was like how I thought it was.”“So, just after two years of everything, you forgive him just like that?” He asks in disbelief.“Laurie,” she sighs, but he only scoffs and retreats back to his own office. Jocelyn watches him leave before walking inside her office.She sees Sherlock exploring the place with his back towards her. Jocelyn frowns and crosses her arms.“I take it that the professor wasn’t entirely pleased to see me.”“Sorry about that. He’s quite protective.” She fiddles with her thumbs. “He was there when I went through it, you know?”“I understand. “I can leave, if my presence creates a quarrel between the two of you.” Sherlock carefully words, uncertain of how couples usually function.“Oh, it’s fine. He’ll understand, just not right now.” She nods and takes her seat before gesturing to the vacant chair for him to occupy, and he complies. “What can I do for you, Sherlock?”“I find it pleasing that your classroom was previously the room we used to practice in.”“From music room to laboratory. Eleven years apart. We used to sneak in here to play.”“Practicing without instruments.”“Practicing without instruments!” She repeats in a much more enthusiastic tone in between chuckles. “Those were the days. Wait until you see the auditorium. It’s barely used for solely orchestral performances. Just theatrical plays.”“The campus seems to be erasing the concept of orchestral music.”“Oh, not really. Plays still need that kind of music.” She smiles.“Our year was at its peak.”“I agree,” she chuckles. “I’m kind of thinking that you didn’t come here to discuss our past Uni life, did you?”Sherlock nods. “For a long while now, there has been something that has been bothering my mind. I do hope that you can enlighten me about the subject.”Jocelyn’s face contorts with uncertainty, her smile fading slightly. “What do you mean?”“New York.”Two words, and her blood runs cold. Jocelyn visibly tenses underneath her perfectly ironed blouse. She slowly straightens her back and leans against her chair.Sherlock notices every single reaction she does, from the moment her breath hitches, to how her fingers twitch. “What happened in New York, Jocelyn?”She just stares at him, eyes wide and at loss for words.“I’m aware that the question may have caught you off guard, and considering how we’ve only begun to talk properly and casually only yesterday, my timing could not have been more wrong, but I have to know if you are in danger or not.”Jocelyn clutches the edge of her desk with one hand and stays quiet, eyes on him as she steadies her breath.“Something happened in New York. Moriarty confirmed it to me when he came to visit after his trial. Jocelyn, if you could just tell me what happened, I will do everything in my power to help you. If you need it.” His blue eyes are genuine and… worried.However, Jocelyn couldn’t think straight. Once she heard the question, it all came rushing back at her.Did he think he was allowed to suddenly ask her that? What did he know? Who told him? Was Moriarty telling the truth about that folder? What gave her away, for Sherlock to even think something happened? Why was he asking her this right after she built up the courage to visit him only yesterday?She slowly shakes her head. “You arsehole.”Sherlock’s face softens, watching as her lips begin to tremble. “Jocelyn.”“Get out.”He shuts his eyes at her words. “Joce—”“I said go, Sherlock.”He falters, immediately regretting coming here today. Sherlock may have ruined the slightest chances he’ll ever get from being forgiven by her.He pulls himself on his feet again and walks to the door. With one last glance at her, a deep frown appears on his face and he leaves. At the sound of the door closing, Jocelyn closes her eyes and a set of tears trickled down both her cheeks.A soft sob leaves her throat. Jocelyn sucks in a deep breath as she turns back around to sit in her chair, opening her laptop. She stares at the screen for a moment and feels her own lip wobble, unable to contain it. If Sherlock is questioning it, then it would not take him long to figure it out.Weeks pass, and it was February now, and she almost forgot that her birthday is today.At the end of the day, she remains in her office, surrounded by small letters of appreciation. She had a smile on as she reads each and every single one of them, taking each word to heart.Jocelyn lifts her head once a knock from her door is heard. Laurie stands by the frame with a small bouquet of daisies with a casual smile.“Happy birthday,” he hands her the flowers, and she takes them with a smile. “Do you have plans tonight, birthday girl?”She hums in contemplation. “Depends, if you count watching Roman Holiday while grading papers.” Jocelyn gives him a smile.He slowly nods, watching her intently. The moment he begins to lean in, Jocelyn flinches backwards as instinct. He halts and realizes his mistake. Laurie lowers his gaze and chews the inside of his cheek, Jocelyn observes him with an astonished look on her face, green eyes widening at the sudden realization that Laurie still felt something for her.“What happened to us, Jocelyn?” he mutters, tone laced with disappointment.“Laurie…”“You can’t tell me that it’s a coincidence how we ended things the moment Sherlock came back.”“Listen, I was happy with you, that I can admit.” She thinks for a moment. “Look, we don’t have to talk about this now.”“We do.”“Please, Laurie, don’t make me do this.” Jocelyn winces, not wanting to talk about this anymore.“You can’t tell me that you never felt anything for me while we were together.”“What do you want me to say?”“You can admit to me that Sherlock Holmes rising from the dead changed things between us.”She groans out in frustration. “Yes, him being alive was a shock to me. Yes, I’m still angry at him and there are still some stuff I don’t understand. But Sherlock being alive didn’t change anything, Laurie. Something has always been wrong between you and I even before Sherlock came back!” Her voice raises, trying to get her point across.Laurie’s expression barely cracks, but there is something behind his eyes. Something near to disappointment and hurt… but with a tinge of anger.“I’m not having this right now. Thanks for the apple and flowers.” She scoffs, taking her bag from the table and walking out of the office.She takes a cab home, and buries her face into her palms. Once she gets home, Jocelyn jumps in surprise when the lights suddenly turn on, and there was a loud pop with confetti everywhere.She clutches her chest in shock for a few seconds, taking in how John was holding a used party popper. John, Mary, Molly, her aunt and Mrs. Hudson were inside her flat, yelling ‘Surprise!’ to her.Jocelyn lets out a breath of relief and lets herself be embraced by her closest friends and only family. Some of them couldn’t stay for long, and only John and Mary are left behind.While they sit on the sofa having a drink, Jocelyn looks curiously at John while biting her lip. “So, where’s Sherlock?”He gives her confused look. “You haven’t seen him?”“Um, not for a while, no.”John and Mary glance at one another in confusion. “Mrs. Hudson said that he visited you in Cambridge.”“That was a month ago.”“She said that to me this morning.” John knots his brows together.“I haven’t seen him since, John…”HIt goes quiet between them as John processes her words before pulling his phone out of his pocket and pushing himself off the sofa.“John, what is it?”He glances at her as he presses the phone against his ear. “That was the only time we’ve heard from him in a month, too. And through Mrs. Hudson’s text.” He grits his teeth and looks at his phone. “He’s not answering.” John lets out a sigh, shaking his head before dialing someone else, and the call is answered immediately.Jocelyn watches the slight panic forming in John’s eyes, and it makes her feel the same.“Hey, I haven’t… yeah, a few weeks maybe… no, she didn’t see him this morning in. Mrs. Hudson texted me… yeah, it was probably him.” John pauses every time the other person speaks. “Yeah, try Edinburgh? He might have gone there for a case… no, I don’t think it’s going to be like Baskerville…” he defensively states the last part.“John,” the young forensic scientist widens her eyes.“You can’t find him? Then, where the bloody hell is he? Why wouldn’t he tell anyone where he’s going?” Mary had to step in to wrap her arm around his to calm her fiancé down. “Hey, I can’t just sit here… what can I—” he cuts himself off, huffing before handing the phone to Jocelyn.She hesitantly pulls the phone close to her ear. “Miss Grant. Apologies for disturbing you on your birthday, but it seems like my brother has disappeared. It is possible that you are one of the last people to see him. Would you have any idea where he may be?” “I-I don’t…”
“Sherlock came to Cambridge a month ago. Would you explain why he was there?”
“He came to talk to me.”
“Obviously, Miss Grant. Regarding what subject?”
“How does this relate to him being missing right now?”
“I am measuring whether or not certain events have led my brother into… acting out. He has, the tendency to do reckless things once he is bothered by a specific event.”
Jocelyn couldn’t explain it, but she can hear the slight quake in Mycroft’s voice, almost as if he is afraid of something.
“What happened when he came to see you, Miss Grant?”
“I… told him to get out.”
“After you came to see him in order to remedy things?”
“He was asking me questions that I didn’t want to answer, alright? I told him to leave. I didn’t think he’d disappear for weeks.”
“I have an idea of where he might be. Inform John that Sherlock will be back in Baker Street tomorrow morning, and he should not worry. I will take care of everything, you have my word.”
“But, what—” The line goes dead and makes her blink, looking back at John and Mary. “Mycroft found him, apparently. He told me to tell you to go home.”“What? How did he find him? He just said that Sherlock was out of his radar.”“He just said that Sherlock will be home tomorrow…”John hesitantly nods, and needed the comfort of his fiancée by his side to truly feel more relaxed. The two couple leave the house and she was alone once again.If Mycroft says that he’ll be home tomorrow, she believes him. Mycroft rarely disappoints, and never breaks his word.Once she finishes cleaning, Jocelyn tiredly walks to her room where the lights are still off. It doesn’t bother her to walk in the dark as she closes the door behind herself. Suddenly, she hears the soft clicking of the lamp switch from the corner of her room, and half the room illuminates from behind her.She freezes.“Hello, love.”Jocelyn widens her eyes at the familiar voice, feeling her blood drop in temperature. She slowly turns around and meets the eyes of her visitor. She couldn’t blink, unsure if she’s seeing things at the moment from being tired lately.“I was beginning to wonder when they were going to leave.” They were speaking quite slowly. “You are a very difficult person to reach, did you know that?”Jocelyn barely moves, but her eyes travel to the person’s hand, which held a deadly gun pointed towards her.“Isn’t it time for us to have a proper chat? We met quite briefly, don’t you agree?” The sultriness of their voice is familiar. As they continue to stare at one another, the intruder smiles. “I really do hope you still remember me.”Jocelyn finally blinks, trying to stay calm. “I do, and I don’t think I gifted you a key, Miss Adler.”Irene Adler’s perfectly red lips curl into a wider smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes from Jocelyn’s choice of words. “What gave you the impression that I needed one?”The only thing Jocelyn can think of now is how her birthday must definitely be cursed in every single way possible.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Are you here to kill me?”Irene’s curious smile makes her cheekbones more prominent. “On your birthday? I’d have to wait at least midnight if I did plan to kill you.”“Why are you here? Do you have anything to do with Sherlock going missing?”From her words, Irene’s smile fades. “Sherlock is missing?”The way she asked only told Jocelyn that she has nothing to do with the man’s disappearance.The other woman lowers her gun and slowly puts it on the ground, kicking it away with her stiletto. She looks back at Jocelyn with a much more serious look on her face. “Well, that explains why he hasn’t responded to me in almost a month.”Jocelyn raises her brows, eyeing the gun on the floor for a second.“I’m not here to kill you, Dr. Grant. I’m just here to talk. We’re safe to talk here.”“Safe? You literally barged in here with a gun.”“I didn’t know who I’d run into, once I’ve come here. Better safe than sorry.”Of course Sherlock would remain in contact with Irene Adler. Jocelyn wouldn’t be surprised to find out if she knew about Sherlock faking his death.“Oh, don’t get the wrong idea, doctor. He never informed me about the ruse. Although, he didn’t have to. I know a staged death when I see one.” Irene smirks.“You know, I can easily call the police.”To her surprise, Irene lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, doctor, there are so many things that you don’t know.”“I don’t care. Leave or I will call the police.”“You are a feisty one, aren’t you? It’s no wonder that Jim Moriarty liked you.”From the mention of that name, cold air wraps around Jocelyn’s neck as though to choke and hold her down. Jocelyn visibly gulps and looks away from her, and Irene notices it immediately, a sly smirk appearing on her lips.“He bothers you, doesn’t he? Do you want to know what he calls you? The Regal.” Irene tells her with interest, only making Jocelyn even more confused. “He told me that you are unlike any person he’d met. Not only are you different, you also don’t believe you are. You still think you’re ordinary and that is exactly why he was so fascinated by you.”“Why would I ever care about how he saw me?” Jocelyn strikes back with a low voice. “Leave my house.”“I don’t think so, not yet.”“Then, you have five minutes to explain to me why the hell I’m involved in whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into.” Jocelyn sits on the edge of her bed. “I don’t have time for this.”“I think you do.”“We’ll see. Talk.”Irene looks amused and mildly impressed. When they met, Jocelyn appeared to be quite guarded and small.“I know what happened in New York, which is why I’m sure that you won’t call the police.”Jocelyn’s features soften upon the revelation. “Not unless you provoke me.”Irene chuckles, enjoying her short quips. She understands why Moriarty took an interest in her, and she especially understand whatever caught the consulting detective’s attention. “I don’t intend to, because I need your help.”“There are plenty of other scientists in the whole world to choose from.”“I don’t need a scientist. I need a professor. A specific one.”“Does Sherlock know you’re back?”“No. As far as I know, he still thinks I’m somewhere in Asia.” Irene states with an amused tone. “I’d prefer it to be kept between us that I’m here in London. I wouldn’t want Sherlock’s pretty cheekbones to worry.”“Don’t assume that I’d believe this is a coincidence. You, appearing an hour after we’ve figured out that Sherlock has been gone for a month. Why are you here?”“Something is about to happen soon, and you can help me to prevent it from happening.”“What is it, then?”“Not allowed to tell you, not until I’m sure you’re all in.”“Why the hell would I agree to something that I don’t know anything about?”Irene’s smile seems to turn more mischievous by the second. “Who said that you don’t know anything about it?”“Has anyone told you how vague you are about everything you say?”She chuckles, nodding along. “Now and then, yes.”Jocelyn just wants to sleep tonight. She certainly does not want to spend the remaining hours of her birthday speaking to the same woman who drugged Sherlock and almost had both her friends get shot.“Why do you want to stop this… thing, anyway?”“Many people are going to die.”“And, what, you just became a superhero all of a sudden, now that you’re not a dominatrix anymore?”“Oh, I am still a dominatrix, love.” Irene does not hesitate to clarify with a smirk. “Would you like a demonstration?”Jocelyn’s face flushes and she looks away. “Let me guess, you’re planning to blackmail me with the whole New York thing to make me help you.”“Moriarty wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that you were smart.”“What’s my role in all of this? I don’t think I’m important enough for you to come all this way.”“You think too little of yourself, doctor. If you’ve seen the bigger picture, I can assure you, you are far more important than you think you are.” The Woman stands and gracefully bends over to pick up the gun, making Jocelyn stiffen for a moment. “I’m not a threat to you, doctor. Think of this as a bargain.”“I don’t think I’d benefit from this.”“Believe me, you will.”Jocelyn clenches her teeth, sending her a glare. Now, Jocelyn feels like she’s just another piece of ‘protection’ in Irene Adler’s camera phone. Irene will be able to control her as much as she needed.She shakes her head, realizing how Irene had backed her up into a corner. “What do I need to do?”Her simple question makes Irene stride towards Jocelyn and hand her a small card. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. Happy birthday, doctor. You’ll be hearing from me.”Those were her last words to her as she leaves the house through the front door. Jocelyn lets out a breath, closing her eyes and plopping back to her bed. This whole day turned out differently than anyone could ever expect.Jocelyn lets out a deep sigh and looks at the card given to her. It only states a phone number and a simple cursive message saying, ‘The Woman to The Regal.’ ***“I’ve come to take you home.”“What for?”“Dr. Watson is worried. He has not heard from you in a month, unless you count the obviously compromised text message sent to him through your landlady’s mobile.”“He’ll live.” Sherlock brushes off, picking up his glass of whiskey and downing it.“Jocelyn was worried as well.”“Unsurprisingly so, brother mine. I would not be surprised to find out that her worried state motivated you to find me.” He tries to harshly say, but it only comes out as weak and tired.“It certainly did not push me to do the opposite. Knew I would find you here. Reliving memories, brother mine?”Wordlessly, Sherlock stands and walks past his brother to exit the familiar building. Annoyed yet pleased, Mycroft sighs and follows behind him.They arrive in baker Street, only to be greeted by a concerned John Watson. He gets ignored by Sherlock, who proceeds only to his room as though he did not just disappear for almost a month. Mycroft gives John a look as if to say, ‘Be careful with him.’***“He’s back, then?” Jocelyn bites her lip, clutching the phone to her ear while she stands nearby her classroom.
“Yeah. Not sure where Mycroft found him, but he’s back, thank God.”
Jocelyn lets herself sigh in relief. “What was he doing?”
“Something about a case, apparently. He said I shouldn’t worry.”
“But he’s okay?”
“From what he says, yeah.”
“That’s good.” She bites her lip and hesitates. “You think I can stop by later? Would he be alright with that?”“Of course he would be. It’s you.” John reassures her and she’s thankful that he can’t see her, or else he’d be amused by the sudden flush rushing to her cheeks.Jocelyn just hums a small chuckle and shakes her head. She says goodbye to John and goes back to her empty classroom. Jocelyn has learned from her past mistakes, as far as she believes. She made a final decision; she can’t do any of this alone.***A knock on the door makes both of them lift their gazes towards it. John glances at Sherlock, and the detective pushes himself off the chair to open the door. He freezes upon seeing the young woman, standing in front of him with a hesitant expression.John takes that as his cue to stand and gather his coat. With a light pat on Sherlock’s back and a quick hug for Jocelyn, the army doctor says goodbye to them and leaves.Jocelyn looks up to Sherlock and frowns. She was so terrified when John told her he went missing. The sudden fright made her realize that she doesn’t want him to disappear like that ever again.She steps forward, and tilts her head up to stare at his eyes as she continues to walk towards him, until only a few inches separated them. Jocelyn raises her hand, pressing it on his cheek.Sherlock does not move, almost afraid that if he does, she’d pull her hand away. He almost catches the way her chin slightly shakes, trying her best in holding back any emotion.“I’m sorry. Please, don’t do that again.” She quietly says, voice cracking at the end.He falters, eyes softening. Sherlock realizes what he’d done and he lightly sighs through his nose. He made her relive the time when he was gone.Sherlock leans down to press their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes at the contact, just basking in each other’s warmth. They stay that way for a few seconds before Jocelyn leans up to embrace him, slipping her arms around his back to hold him close.Sherlock tenses, but he relaxes a moment later. Hesitating, he wraps his arms around her as well, pulling her close to his chest until she can listen to his heartbeat. He feels her hands tracing his back through the buttoned shirt, almost caressing it.A minute later, she pulls away and stares up at Sherlock with confusion. He analyzes her face, but then realizes something, and he stiffens.“Your back… what was… oh, my God,” she widens her eyes, and her hand goes to his shoulder to gently push him in order to have a clear view to his back.Sherlock takes her wrist gently, stopping her. “Jocelyn, it’s fine.”“I felt your stitches through the shirt. Did that… did that happen while you were gone for the last few weeks?”“No.”“What happened?” Her voice was edged with something else.Sherlock is alarmed, clearly not expecting her to find out this soon. “I’m alright.”She hesitates. “That happened while you were traveling around the world, didn’t it?”“I was… captured by terrorists and beaten for their enjoyment.”“Jesus, Sherlock,” she steps back in shock, eyes stinging. “How did that happen?”“The original plan was to stay on the surface and work myself from the top. However, that was disregarded the moment I received more information. Soon enough, Mycroft deduces that the duration of the dismantling would turn into four years.” He tells her, and Jocelyn runs her fingers through her hair, wrapping her mind around what he was telling her.“But you got back in two years…”“Because I relocated into dangerous areas to work to the top, instead of from it. Doing so, would reduce the years. Originally, I was supposed to come back three months after I was pronounced deceased.”“W-Why wouldn’t you tell me any of this?”“It was unnecessary.”“Un-Unnecessary? Sherlock, you were tortured! Did you even have a proper checkup when you came back?”Sherlock looks away from her, not wanting her to dwell on this subject for too long. “I am able to evaluate myself.”She lets out a deep sigh, feeling overwhelmed as she imagines what Sherlock went through for the past two years while she was trying her best to enjoy the life she has found.Adding more to that, Jocelyn yelled and scolded him when he came back, instead of just hugging him and asking him if he was all right.He recognizes the look of guilt in her eyes. “I feared that your natural empathy would force you to forgive me, not because you think I deserve it.”“You were supposed to be back after three months?” Her voice comes out as a whisper. He nods. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”“I told you why.”“No, I meant, why didn’t you just tell me you were alive? I could have helped or done something—I could’ve went with you, for God’s sake!” She chokes out the last word.Sherlock lets out a breath, shaking his head once. “I couldn’t let you.”“Why not?”“Because your reaction had to be real. You had to believe it and if you ever gave even the slightest indication that you knew I was alive, you could have been—” he stops himself.Jocelyn lowers her head, but her eyes remain on his. “I could have been what?”“I told you that Moriarty planned to shoot you all. That was a lie. He had different plans for you.” He lowers his voice and she slowly uncrosses her arms in surprise. “Moriarty planned to take you and do inhuman things to make you suffer. The thought of that, it… Jocelyn, you have to understand that I can never let that happen to you. I’d rather you dislike me and be alive than… be anything else.” Sherlock frowns, finding it difficult to explain it all.Jocelyn releases a deep breath from what he told her, pressing her lips together. She slowly takes a few steps forward, but keeps her distance. “I can check on your stitches, if you’d let me.”He is puzzled, unsure why she didn’t push the conversation, especially after what he just told her. Sherlock feels the word no at the tip of his tongue, but he gives her a reluctant nod.Jocelyn backs away into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit that Sherlock keeps. He hesitates before unbuttoning his shirt and uncomfortably taking a seat by the table. Jocelyn emerges back with the kit and places it on the table. Sherlock watches her for a moment over his shoulder.Jocelyn gulps, eyeing his back that was covered with the faded bruises. No words can explain the way her throat tightens at the sight of many stitched-up wounds, most likely from harsh whips. The bruises screamed blunt objects. She has seen finer corpses.She blinks away her silent tears and blows out a breath before she begins to clean around the stitches, the skin tensing under her hands. “Stitches for these types of wounds should’ve been removed just a month after the… infliction. It’s been months now, Sherlock.”“I know.”“You’ve barely healed. Please tell me you’ve been eating correctly.”Sherlock chooses not to say anything.“Does John know about this?”“Only you and Mycroft.”She sighs and thought that Mycroft was his obvious confidant. Jocelyn presses particularly too hard on one are of his back, making him hiss. She flinches in alarm. “I’m so sorry. Did that hurt?”“As given by my initial response—”“Oh, don’t be a smartarse,” she chuckles.Unseen by her eyes, he has a contented smile on his face.It takes her ten minutes to finally make sure his stitches are proper. Jocelyn helps him slide his shirt back on, and he thanks her. She takes a step back and crosses her arms, watching him sort himself.She hesitates. “Can I ask you something?”“Of course.”“Would you still accept me after you find out the worst parts of my life?” Her voice comes out quietly.“Yes. Without a second of doubt.”“That was too easy.” She mutters and wraps her arms around herself. “Would you still see me the same way, even after I’ve done the most terrible thing you could possibly think I could?”“Yes.” He repeats with that factual tone he always had. “Without a second of doubt.”Jocelyn watches him, chest warming with contentment. “Let’s have dinner.”He nods and gathers his coat without another moment of hesitation. They wrap themselves up for the weather and leave Baker Street.The two of them walk side by side, ordering some chips for dinner before they enter a small park that was a bit empty. Jocelyn spots a spare bench and they both make their way towards it, sitting down next to each other and unwrapping their food.Sherlock is comfortable with the silence between them, but it was later broken by her voice.“Irene Adler came to see me last night.”He snaps his head towards her in surprise, mouth parting.“I know it was my birthday, but she took the surprise to a whole new level.” Jocelyn takes in the look of astonishment in his eyes. “She’s alive. I’m pretty sure you had something to do with that.”He slowly nods. “I prevented her brutal beheading in Pakistan years ago. We parted ways after that, I have not seen her since.”“Well, she held me at gunpoint, but said that she came in peace and put down her gun.” She reaches into her pocket to retrieve a small card before passing it to him. “She gave me this, said she’ll be in touch.”Sherlock reads the label. “The Regal?”She shrugs. “According to her, it’s what Moriarty referred to me as.”Sherlock thinks to himself, and shuts his eyes for a second once he remembers something. “In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king.”“What?”“It’s something Moriarty told me once.”They share a thoughtful look and the longer he watches her, the more he recalls the things that the consulting criminal shared to him.“What else did the Woman say?”“She knows about what happened to me in New York.”There it is, she finally confirmed that something did happen in that city. “The Woman blackmailed you.”“She needs my help, or something, I don’t know. Super secret criminals really hate telling me the full story.” Jocelyn mocks, rolling her eyes.Sherlock hums a slightly amused noise. “What else did she reveal?”“She said that a lot of people are going to die, unless I help her stop something. But you know her.”“Ulterior motives.”“Exactly. She once blackmailed the entire Royal family, for Christ’s sake.”“Whatever she’s asking you into, it benefits her in a much more personal way.”“Moriarty probably showed her the folder that he gave to me, when I went to see him in our old flat. I didn’t open it, I thought he was lying.” She humorlessly chuckles. “Stupid.”He frowns, not wanting her to think of herself that way. “That was what he offered you, in exchange of something he never mentioned. The folder contained evidence.”“Yeah.”“Evidence of what?”She takes a deep breath, glancing at him for a brief second. “When I left England, I didn’t have a path. Every morning when I wake up, I was numb.” She chuckles sadly, looking down at the ground. “Every weekend, I went to parties, got drunk, messed around with people. It was horrible.”He does not know what to say, and quite honestly, he never thought that she may have been in agony the same as he was when she left. For years, Sherlock truly believed that he was the only one who went through it all.“And in those parties, people would just offer me pills and I took them. I knew what they were. I thought I was just making things better, but I was making it worse. It was a horrible time of my life.” She shakily says. “Then, I get a phone call from my aunt, and she tells me my mum died.”At her words, Sherlock looks towards her and they share a gaze.“It’s no excuse, but I just shut down when it happened. All of a sudden, it became part of me. I couldn’t go a day without taking anything. It’s not really a good way to mourn a mother.”“If this is difficult for you—”“No, I want you to know.”He slowly nods and waits for her to continue.“It got worse, and since I already had the Chemistry books, I used them to measure everything to keep myself from… OD'ing. I used my knowledge for all the wrong reasons. It was so stupid, I… I got into a bad crowd, just to look for something stronger. I found a dealer and they had serious prices. My scholarship only gave me money for things related to college, and they would need receipts, so I obviously couldn’t get the money from that.” Jocelyn palms her forehead. “So, I found a side job. I babysat my neighbor’s kid.”Sherlock immediately remembers something she said before. “Shane.”Jocelyn gives him a look, surprised that he remembers. She slowly smiles. “Shane was seven when I met him. He was a great kid, wanted to be a nurse like his mother. The only time I was clean was when I’m babysitting him.” Her smile slowly fades. “It wasn’t until I miscalculated a dose, and I took too much.”Sherlock falters, clenching his jaw as he tries his best to not picture her inside her home, unmoving, with lifeless eyes. He went through a similar situation inside his bedroom, and Lestrade was the one who found him and brought him to the hospital. He begins to wonder how she felt when Lestrade told her that story.“I would’ve died in my living room, if Shane didn’t find me. I woke up inside his mother’s apartment. It was apparently too late to call an ambulance, so she took me back there and did her best. I fucked up so badly, Sherlock. He was seven, he didn’t deserve to see me like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “I wanted to fix my life, so after I graduated, I submitted myself to a rehab center.”He listens to her attentively, recalling how proud she was when she found out that Sherlock had been clean for years. The tears in her eyes held too much emotion that day, and he realizes why.“I told you earlier that I got into a bad crowd. Well, they came back when I got out. The dealer I was in contact with came by my apartment, and told me that my intake was going to be investigated by some private eyes. They might trace it back to them.” She lets out a long sigh. “He said that I should get rid of everything that might help with tracing the drugs back to them, or else they’d kill me.”He tenses and looks at her with alarm.“I… I went back to the hospital. I posed as a nurse and got inside easily. I took everything related to me. I was so disgusted by myself.” Jocelyn’s eyes begin to sting. “I told the guy, but he wasn’t satisfied.”This is what Moriarty meant when he thought that Jocelyn had the capacity of becoming a criminal. Her natural ability to persuade people. Sherlock notices the way her voice begins to shake, and he wanted her to stop telling him the rest of the story if it became difficult for her, but she holds up one finger to prevent him from saying anything.“A box was sent to my apartment with no address, and it had a gun with two bullets and a piece of paper.” Jocelyn bit her lips. “The paper just said, Get rid of everyone who knows.”His face relaxes, lips parting in realization.Jocelyn looks at him. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t, but I kept the gun to protect myself. I told Shane’s mother to warn her, and she immediately decided to move and keep her boy safe. She… didn’t think it was my fault and instead, she thanked me warning her. I never heard from the cartel after that.”He shifts in his seat to face her properly, about to speak, but she continues.“Since my record was clean, I was immediately appointed to NYPD. Shane and his mother moved to Florida. I met Harry, and she became my best friend. She doesn’t know what happened, but she made me feel normal again and eventually, I just… stopped looking over my shoulder.”“Then what happened?”“I was invited to a conference in London three weeks away. I almost refused because I didn’t want to come back here.” Jocelyn sniffles and wipes the tear away from her cheek. “Then, I watched the news on the television, and… I find out that the nurses and doctors who took care of me during rehab, they were shot dead in their homes.”Sherlock listens to the way her voice trembles slightly.“In the same week, I find out that Shane and his mother, they were… they were killed violently in their house.” Jocelyn tries her best to speak calmly, but can barely do so. “I pieced it together, and I know that it was because of me.”Sherlock shifts closer until Jocelyn can lean her head on his chest, holding her close.“They saved my life… and they died because of me.”It did not take him long to figure out that the reason why Jocelyn came two weeks early, and did not just change her flight to match Harry’s, was because she felt the need to flee the country as soon as possible. Being in England with the ocean between her and the cartel would have been a smart move, which is exactly why Jocelyn relocated in Scotland Yard.Sherlock realizes that Jocelyn used the conference as an escape from the city. Adding to that, she did not take a hotel because she would feel safer if she was surrounded by people that her best friend knows. Harry Watson would definitely have mentioned that her brother was a skilled army doctor who would be able to protect himself and therefore, would not be harmed if Jocelyn suddenly lives with him.It occurs to Sherlock just how much Jocelyn thought everything through. She was incredibly clever and he was amazed. A surge of pride washes over him and he finds himself holding her with careful arms.“It was not your fault.”“He was ten.” Jocelyn’s voice breaks, eyes wide and filled with guilt.She remembers when she was still babysitting him and how they used to goof around in her small apartment. Jocelyn can recall the young child giggling as he watched her dye her hair back to its natural color. He was seven at that time, and he was ten when he was killed.Jocelyn keeps thinking about how he would have been thirteen right now, and his mother would still be a nurse. All those doctors and nurses who only saw her as a patient, and not as someone who would put their lives at risk; they could still be alive and continue to save lives the same way they saved hers—if she wasn’t so stupid enough to let herself spiral down.Sherlock brushes his thumb on her cheek, wiping away the stray tears. “Everyone has felt lost, but you tried to make it right. I am very proud of you.”Jocelyn’s lip shakes, but she manages to smile at him a bit. “I want you to know that you’re family to me, Sherlock.” She admits, making his eyes soften their gaze.From those two sentences, he suddenly feels like everything he has done and everything he’s been through; it was all worth it. Just to hear her say that he was family to her.He has a ghost of a smile on his face. “You are family to me as well, Jocelyn.”She smiles while sniffling and reaches over to put her hand on his, squeezing it gently. “I told you that Irene came to see me because I can’t do this alone. It would be really stupid of me not to tell anyone that I talked to another criminal.”Her mocking tone amuses him. “We’ll see what we can do. Together.”Jocelyn gives him a grateful look, and she barely notices how he was still holding her hand. Finally, Sherlock can breathe in relief now that lies no longer separated them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Jesus bloody Christ,” John says under his breath.“I expected a much more articulate reaction, but thank you, John.”“Irene is alive?” John exasperatedly asks, giving him a look of disbelief. “And you helped her?”“I have imparted Jocelyn’s New York ordeal to you and that is your first question?”“I’m just glad that it has nothing to do with Moriarty, and that you’re doing your best to convince her it wasn’t her fault.” John easily accepts it without a problem, and it only makes Sherlock smile.He finds it pleasing to realize that John is okay with it, just like Sherlock. Jocelyn’s whole New York situation was not the worst thing Sherlock has ever encountered, given from his history of solving cases and the many horrific things he witnessed during his time around the world.The only thing he finds difficult to stomach is how Jocelyn believes that it was her fault, and still feels guilty about it—which Sherlock understands. Something like that can cause emotional trauma to someone.“Why did you save Irene Adler, then?”“All life is precious, John.”“Yeah, but… it’s Irene Adler, the Woman.” He shrugs as if it was obvious. “She literally drugged you, beat you with a riding crop, almost got us shot and Mrs. Hudson was held hostage! You even told me that she was in contact with Moriarty and blackmailed your brother.”Sherlock frowns as he listens to John.“I understand that some people don’t deserve to die, but some people shouldn’t be the ones to save the person who literally made their life a living hell.”“I… must have thought that once she begins a new life. Use her intelligence for good.” He furrows his brows in disappointment. “After what she has done to Jocelyn, I’m… beginning to wonder if it was a mistake.”John sees the regret on his face. “You did the best you could.” He reassures him, knowing that while Sherlock can be a bit cold at times, he would not leave a human to die. “Although, Mycroft will probably be annoyed to find out that you helped Irene Adler.”“Mycroft does little else.”His remark makes John chuckle, shaking his head. A pause ensues between them and John looks at his friend. “So, Jocelyn is safe, right?”“From the New York cartel? I’ll have to look into it. From Irene Adler? Whatever she’s planning, we’ll be prepared. The file that contains the evidence against Jocelyn, if the Woman has it, would be safe. The file will be her protection, just like the camera phone from before.”John grins and keeps looking at him.“What?”“I didn’t say anything.”“I know that look. What is it?”“It’s just great, you know? To see you both team up. You and Jocelyn.” John smiles and takes a bite of his sandwich.The consulting detective thinks about how Jocelyn told him that she thinks of him as part of her family. The thought makes him smile to himself.On the other hand, Mycroft walks inside his office, surprised to see Jocelyn already waiting for him by the chairs. She stands up and has a soft look in her eyes.“Miss Grant, to what do I owe—oomph,” Mycroft is cut off by her engulfing him in an embrace from her smaller frame.Jocelyn smiles, closing her eyes. “Thank you.”Mycroft relaxes and returns the gesture. It did not take him a second to realize that she finally told Sherlock the truth, and vice versa.He pulls away, looking at her with a pleased expression. “Now, I believe we have a lot to discuss.”***Almost two months have gone by since the last time Jocelyn saw Irene Adler. Mary waves a hand in front of her face to pull her out of her thoughts, and Jocelyn blinks. Mary laughs a bit and gives her a confused glance. “You alright there, sweetie?”“Oh, sorry. I, uh, spaced out.” Jocelyn nervously smiles.“You looked pretty far away,” one of Mary’s bridesmaids, Janine, quips in with a smile. “Boy trouble?”Jocelyn lets out a surprised laugh. “No. Nothing like that.”“Oh, we all know that look. It’s definitely a guy.” Janine wiggles her eyebrows.It was currently Mary’s hen party in a nightclub and Jocelyn was introduced to some of Mary’s friends, which includes Janine and four other women. All the girls invited for the hen party by the bar giggle at Janine’s presumption, clearly anticipating a story.Jocelyn shakes her head, laughing nervously. “It’s not a guy.”“It is a guy,” Mary confirms, and they all cooed.Janine playfully nudges her arm. “Tell us about him, then!”Mary smirks. “Yeah, tell us about your mysterious guy, Jocelyn,”“Look, this is your night, I’m not about to make it about me—”“Oh, bollocks, we need some drama, too. Mary’s getting married and everything is all sunshine and rainbows.” Janine sips her drink.Mary teasingly hushes the others. “Oh, calm down, girls. It’s a touchy subject, I feel.” She winks at Jocelyn palms her face in embarrassment.“There’s no guy!”“Whatever you say, hun!” Janine tips her drink towards her, making Jocelyn scoff and hold back a smile.***“Haven’t drunk that much in a row since a year ago.” Jocelyn sighs before freezing, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is it too early to joke about my life when Sherlock was still dead?”“Alright, I’m actually having fun with drunken Jocelyn.” Mary sits down in front of her and pops an aspirin into her glass of water.The two of them were now sitting at a table in a nearby eatery, and the other girls have gone home.Jocelyn stares at the glass of water. “How is it so easy for you?” She watches her with utter amazement. “To be marrying the person you love?”Mary raises her brows, unsure if the sober version of her friend would want her to listen to this. “Well, love, it would be easy if you’re actually with that person, before you two get married.”“Yeah, but how do you know the right time? How is any of this easy for some people?”“Is this about a specific someone?”“…No.”Mary just grins. “It is, isn’t it?”“Just answer my questions!”“Fine! When John and I met, I’d just broken up with a guy who I was with for two years. I didn’t think I’d ever like John that way, until he took me out. He was amazing. That night that he took me to dinner, I knew I was going to marry him.” She grins proudly. “And now I am.”Jocelyn smiles at the story. “That sounds nice.”“Now that you asked me about my love life, what is up with you and Sherlock?”“W-What does that mean?”“I mean, what happened between the two of you that got you asking all these stuff?” Mary takes in the look of puzzlement in her eyes. “Oh, come on. I’m going to marry John in a few weeks. Of course he’d tell me everything.”“John views everything in his own way.”“But I have eyes, too. Spill it.”If Jocelyn was sober, she would not have spoken. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t even know if I want anything to be going on.”“But you do like him, right?”“I don’t know. It’s confusing.” She groans out. “The second I admit something, would be catastrophic. And if I do think that there’s something going on, I’ll just be disappointed at the end because I know I’m just seeing things.”“God, John wasn’t kidding when he mentioned that you two are idiots.”Jocelyn barely notices the comment. “What am I supposed to do? I’m thirty and alone, it’s horrible.”Mary shakes her head in amusement. “You are so pissed, drink your water.”Jocelyn lets out a breath and takes the glass of water. Halfway through, she puts it down again with a sudden gasp and makes Mary groan. “Maybe I should dye my hair. Only this time, it’s bright green.”“How in the world did you manage to be one of the top scientists in the country?”“Or I should both do a bright green and red.” Jocelyn mutters.“Alright, cotton-candy haired lady, take it easy.”Jocelyn exhales and puts down her glass of water.Mary can tell that something has been bothering her. “What’s wrong, dove?”She frowns, thinking about how the Holmes siblings and John know her past. Jocelyn somehow couldn’t accept how easily they all took it. All three of them are willing to help her figure things out, yet for some reason, Jocelyn feels her stomach twist.Deep inside her, there’s a part where she just doesn’t want the three of them to just accept her with no hesitation. People have died because of her. Jocelyn wants them to be angry at her, to turn her away in disgust—because that is how she feels every day.“Have you ever felt like people shouldn’t be around you? After some horrible stuff you’ve done before?”As Jocelyn is still too dazed to notice, Mary is taken aback by her question. “What do you mean?”“I mean like,” she vaguely gestures around them. “Your past was pretty shitty and you just feel… weird that the people around you would still accept you for that—while you can’t even accept it yourself!” She exclaims. “Have you ever felt like that?”Mary shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Are we talking about someone specific?”Jocelyn pouts. “Me.”Relief washes over Mary’s face and she breaks out into a smile again. “Oh, darling. I’m sure that our friends just love you and would accept you for who you are.”“But do they really know me? Do they genuinely understand me?”She reaches over to take a hold of Jocelyn’s hand. “Of course, we will.”Jocelyn groans. “God, this is probably the worst way to celebrate your last remaining weeks as an unmarried woman.” Both of them laugh at that.***When Mary decides to take her home, the rain begins to pour and she decides to take her elsewhere. Jocelyn just whines throughout the car ride. It was almost annoying and endearing at the same time. Mary will never see Jocelyn act this way while sober, it was hilarious.Mary knocks on the door and it is immediately opened by a confused Sherlock. John is half-asleep on the desk, clearly trying his best to stay awake in order to keep up with Sherlock.From the door opening, John jolts awake. “What? I’m up.”“Oh, don’t you look adorable.” Mary teasingly coos at him and nods towards Jocelyn, who was slurring incoherent noises. “Little help?”“What happened?” Sherlock questions before stepping forward and carefully taking an intoxicated Jocelyn from Mary’s arms, slinging his own arm around her waist.“What does it look like? This place was the nearest I could take her.” Mary sighs, watching as Sherlock brings Jocelyn to the sofa, letting her lie down. “She wouldn’t drink the aspirin. I think it would be inappropriate to force it down her throat while in public.”Sherlock looks at John, who appears to be amused. Sherlock stands back up and walks wordlessly to his room, retrieving a blanket to keep her warm.Jocelyn accepts the blanket with no hesitation. “Have you ever thought of dyeing your hair any color, Sherlock?”John snorts and begins to laugh. Mary slaps his chest playfully.“No, I have not. Go to sleep.”“Oh, come on. Red would look quite nice on you! I can do it myself.”“…I am fine with its current pigment.”“Red would look nice. So would green. Bright green. Although, it does look great that way already. You should definitely keep it curly.”The army doctor behind them is still silently laughing and Sherlock shoots him a glare, feeling the heat from his neck creep up into his face.Soon after, John and Mary leave. Jocelyn had to stay since her house was too far. It was still raining quite hard, as expected from England. Jocelyn is soundly asleep on Sherlock’s sofa as he analyzes his Edinburgh case in front of the fireplace.From a particularly soft hum behind him, Sherlock looks over his shoulder to glance at her. Jocelyn cocoons herself with the clean sheets and looks quite peaceful.He softens at the sight and gives himself a few more seconds before turning back to the photos plastered on the mirror. Still, he finds himself looking in her direction through the mirror.***Jocelyn wakes up with a pained moan. She slowly sits up, and clutches her head before hissing. She freezes the moment she takes in her surroundings. Jocelyn looks around the familiar room and recognizes the wallpaper immediately, jerking in alert.She shifts in the bed with wide eyes, realizing that she is no longer wearing her blouse and tight pants. Instead, she’s wearing a clean baggy shirt, with only her underwear underneath.Her face heats up and she panics. Jocelyn looks to her left, seeing a glass of water and a single white pill on a plate. Jocelyn knows it’s ibuprofen so she swallows it and gulps down the water.Jocelyn slowly walks out of the room. As soon as she opens the door, she can hear faint voices from the living room. Jocelyn approaches the entrance to the sitting area and sees Mary, John and Sherlock.“The wedding’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down.”“Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.” Sherlock defends himself and his features relaxing once he sees the young woman.His sudden quietness makes the engaged couple follow his gaze, only to see Jocelyn looking distorted.“Okay, I have a question. What happened to me, how did I get here, and why am I wearing this shirt?”John chuckles. “You don’t remember?”“You’re one to talk, after your stag night.” Mary teases.“It wasn’t my fault that Sherlock tried measuring everything!”“Couldn’t even make it past seven! Was it also his fault that you two got arrested after trying to solve a case while pissed?”“Obviously!”“Can you both lower your voices?” Jocelyn winces, and the couple apologizes in between laughter. “What happened last night?”“It was raining really badly, so I had to make a detour. Sherlock’s was the nearest place.”Stupid rain, Jocelyn thinks to herself.“Alright. How did you manage to take my pants off?”“Oh, I didn’t take your pants off. You did.” Mary shakes her head. “Around after John and I left, wasn’t it?” she asks John as if Jocelyn’s eyes didn’t just bulge out of its sockets.“I did what?!”“Yeah, you started to undress when Sherlock carried you to his bed so you could sleep.” John snickers, Mary only gasps at his words. “According to Sherlock, it was mortifying.”“Oh, my God.” Jocelyn covers her hot face.“I believe John is beginning to misconstrue my words once again to completely shift away from reality, as he often does in his blogs.” Sherlock steps into the conversation casually. “You kept complaining about how your clothing were too uncomfortable to sleep in. You politely ask for new clothes and I provided.”“—and then you started to undress.” John adds.“Sometimes… I do that.”“Oh, she really does.” Sherlock agrees and nods towards the other two, making Jocelyn scoff and hold back a grin.“Only when I reach more than ten drinks, excuse you!”“You only had seven.”“The glasses were filled! Mary, help me out here.”“Oh, I don’t have anything to say. This is far more entertaining.” Mary looks at John, who looked so amazed by the interaction between them that he’s witnessing.“Whatever,” Jocelyn amusedly scoffs, disappearing into the kitchen to make some coffee.Sherlock’s gaze follows after her, a hint of a smile on his face. His eyes linger on the door for a few more seconds before he turns back to the couple, who are staring at him with raised eyebrows.He narrows his eyes at them. “What?”“Nothing. Let’s get back to the reception, come on.” Mary flicks her head towards the table filled with sheets of paper and he complies.Mary looks at John with a knowing look, and they grin at each other.Jocelyn sits in the chair opposite John and just drinks her coffee in silence, making a remark whenever they needed an opinion every once in a while. It was comfortable and Jocelyn feels content.However, the longer they planned the wedding, the more Sherlock feels unsettled. Jocelyn furrows her brows at Sherlock, watching him closely. It wasn’t until someone calls Mary and she had to go to the kitchen to answer, John following behind.Jocelyn stands to sit on the sofa. Sherlock sits on the floor with his legs crossed, creating serviettes calmly yet rapidly. He looks up the moment Jocelyn approached him.“I personally like the swans.”“I don’t think I’m able to pick between two very useless things for traditional wedding receptions. Yet, somehow… I also prefer the swans.”Jocelyn watches him fold napkins. “You alright?”“Why do you ask?”“You just sound like you’re freaking out over something.”“Why would you insinuate that?”“Looking through YouTube for serviette tutorials? You’re freaking out.”He gives her a look. “Everything is fine.”She still has a smile on, but her eyes narrow down into slits. Jocelyn says nothing else before John abruptly appears back into the living room.Sherlock awkwardly looks at John and shrugs at the amount of serviettes he just made. John gives Jocelyn a look and she just nods, proceeding to the kitchen.Mary walks back into the living room and Jocelyn is concerned that Sherlock is worried about not having John around for cases anymore. She knows that John will try his best to reassure Sherlock that that won’t happen, however, Sherlock is quite a stubborn man who wouldn’t be convinced easily.“Would you like to come here this evening?”Jocelyn snaps her head towards the door, seeing Sherlock slip on his coat. “Uh, tonight?”“Yes.”“…sure. For what?”“Company.” He simply says.“Company?”“We should discuss something.”“Right.” She nods, amused.“Have I said something?”“Nope.”“Good. Have a good day.” He nods and leaves the flat.Jocelyn crosses her arms and smiles to herself. Mary enters the kitchen with a knowing grin while wriggling her eyebrows, making Jocelyn’s smile fade and roll her eyes at her.***Later that night, Jocelyn enters the building and hears the soft tune of violin. She slows down her steps and approaches the unlocked door. She pushes it open and sees Sherlock nearby the window, playing a familiar piece with his instrument.As the door opens, Sherlock stops playing and lowers his violin.“Erik Satie. Gymnopédie, number one.”Without turning, he speaks. “You still know your Parisian Avant-gardes.”“How could I forget? You were the one who taught me.”Sherlock turns to look at her with these deep blue eyes for a moment, she almost held her breath. He breaks the gaze and goes to the table, taking a few sheets of papers and handing them to her.She takes them and flips through the sheets. They were new, and as she reaches the end, incomplete. Jocelyn hums the notes under her breath by heart and he watches her the entire time. At the top of the last page, she reads a few short words.She glances at him with glassy eyes. A smile forms on her face and she nods. “Okay.”He lets out an exhale through his nose before nodding, walking towards the kitchen to unravel the long and wrapped object laid out on top of the table. Jocelyn’s grin widens before her hands travel to her chest as if to clutch her heart. The black and white keys only gave her back so many memories.Jocelyn looks at him with such gratefulness over something very small in Sherlock’s perspective. They both nod at each other.She looks back at the instrument with excitement, tracing her fingers over the papers, specifically the words that say, ‘Waltz, for Mary & John. A duet by Sherlock Holmes and Jocelyn Grant’***The day comes and Jocelyn is inside her home, smoothing out her formal peach dress over her body as she views her reflection on the mirror. Her hair is tied into a neat up-do and once she approves her own look, she walks to the front door to leave.As soon as she opens the door, she immediately stops upon seeing another person there. Laurie stands on her doorstep with a hesitant look on his face.She keeps her distance and face neutral. “Um, hey.”“Hey,” he nods and views her outfit, piecing together what day it is. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Jocelyn.”“Laurie, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”“No, but I do.” He insists. “We haven’t talked in months, and I just,”“Laurie, I just don’t know if I can be friends with you if you still believe that we have a chance together.”“It’s different now, Jocelyn. I can promise you that.”She hesitates, but couldn’t deny that she misses her friend as well. “We can talk some other time, alright? I’ll be late for the wedding.”“I can drive you there?” He gestures to his car.Jocelyn considers it. She exhales and gives him a small smile before nodding and following him to the car. The ride was quiet, and still a bit awkward. This is the first conversation they’ve had since their argument that night.He drops her off as promised and she thanks him before saying goodbye. Jocelyn sighs and turns back around to enter the church, seeing some guests already fill their seats.As she got through the big set of doors, Sherlock was standing by the entrance and was already looking at her with focused eyes. He has a frown on his face.“Hey, nervous?” Jocelyn nudges him with a teasing smile.It takes a few moments for him to respond. “People with anxiety regularly have a genetic predisposition towards them, and physical factors such as an imbalance of hormones and chemical messengers in areas of the brain. I believe that I am going through neither of those.”“…or you could just say you aren’t.” Sherlock doesn’t smile and she takes it as a sign of anxiousness.“It will be over in under an hour.”“The wedding or your nervousness?” She teases.He only shoots her a glare, earning another chuckle from her.“Relax. You’re more nervous than the bride and groom.”“I am perfectly calm.”“And I agree that you are.” She smiles and reaches over to squeeze his arm as she walks past him to find Harry.Sherlock blinks a few times, processing how casual her gesture was; she probably did not notice she did it.The wedding starts as soon as the organ music begins to fill their ears. Sherlock stood close to John, who was the happiest he’d ever been. Sherlock feels a surge of pride for his best friend.Although, Sherlock did not miss the slight emotion in Jocelyn’s eyes when he saw Archie wave excitedly at her while he walks down the aisle with a small pillow and two rings. Jocelyn waves back at him with the same enthusiasm.Mary walks down the long aisle and has the widest smile on her face and everything was perfect. Jocelyn listens to their vows and the number of times the crowd chuckles at a joke or two. Then, the husband and wife share a loving kiss and everyone cheers them on.The ceremony ends and they all walk outside to take photos. Jocelyn can’t even count how many times she laughed today. As they were taking photos, Jocelyn speaks to Archie and listens to him explain the craziest things with glee in his voice.Sherlock watches the two of them from a distance with concerned eyes.The bridesmaid beside him turns to look at him with a smile. Janine seems nice; she is very welcoming towards him and appreciates the way he works. At the back of his head, he wonders about what he saw just before Jocelyn walked into the church.He looks back at Janine and sighs. She’ll have to do.***“Yes, what? Sherlock?” Mycroft breathes heavily into the phone and makes Sherlock hold back a grimace.“Why are you out of breath?”
“Filing.”
“Either I’ve caught you being quite an adulterer, to our dear Lestrade’s dismay, or you’ve been working out again. I favor the latter.”He can almost hear his brother rolling his eyes. “What do you want?”“I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency.”
“Today. It’s today, isn’t it? No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the ‘night do’ as you so poetically put it.”
“What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely d—”
“—delighted not to have me hanging around.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There should always be a specter at the feast.”
“How is the lovely Jocelyn?”
There is still some underlying resentment that he feels for Mycroft for completely abandoning Jocelyn for eight years. None of it would have happened if Mycroft decided to put his invasive and annoying helicopter parenting to good use. He could have saved Jocelyn’s life.But hell, maybe that’s just the part of Sherlock that just wants to blame someone, and Mycroft was the obvious target.“She’s eating Pavlova and drinking fruit punch with your goldfish.” Sherlock glances over his shoulder to briefly view her. Jocelyn is laughing at Lestrade tossing a berry in the air and catching it with his mouth.
“Should I ask how Gregory is?”
“You can observe him yourself if you’d be so inclined to arrive for the night do.”“I will not. So, this is it, then? The big day. I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you from now on.”“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s the end of an era, isn’t it? John and Mary, domestic bliss.”
“No. I prefer to think it as a beginning of a new chapter.”Silence.“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I know that silence. What?”
“Well, I better let you get back to it, brother mine. You have a big speech, don’t you?”
“What?”“This is what people do, Sherlock. They get married.” Mycroft sounds befallen at the end of the line, Sherlock isn’t sure why. As far as he hears from Greg, the two of them are all right. “If you do, perhaps, feel lonely now that Dr. Watson is married, brother dear, you’d know where to find me.”“How kind.”
“I mean it, Sherlock. John is not the only friend you have.”
“Did you hit your head on the treadmill before you accepted my call, brother mine?”
“No. Have a lovely day and do give the happy couple my best. Give Gregory my regards, as well. Good luck with your speech. It might come in handy.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes and pulls the phone away from his ear to end the call.***“Pray silence for the best man!”Applause erupts in the room. John whistles and Mary grins widely while clapping. Harry lets out a loud whoop from her seat, leaving Sherlock half flustered and surprised. Jocelyn chuckles and puts her hand on Harry’s arm, hushing her to calm down. Even a sober Harry Watson is still energetic.The room goes silent. Jocelyn’s smile fades away and sees the slight panic in Sherlock’s eyes, concerning her a bit.Harry looks at Jocelyn and lowers her voice. “Is he alright?”Jocelyn stares at Sherlock, unsure. “I hope he is.”Sherlock proceeds to read the telegrams, until a few words made him grimace. Along the lines of big squishy cuddles too, making the front table chuckle a bit. John and Mary laugh at his reaction to reading the word poppet.Reading another telegram, Mary seems to look upset, so John comforts her by holding her hand.Then, Sherlock begins to skip most of the telegrams, tossing them onto the table and giving up. It only makes the whole room laugh.Jocelyn smiles as Sherlock talks about how John asked him to be best man, knowing Sherlock, he’d definitely be so shocked by it. John laughs and some of the guests join in. Sherlock is confused by the number of people laughing at that fact. It was factual information, how was it hilarious?Sherlock reaches into his jacket to take the cue cards he’d written, around the same time Jocelyn picks up her glass of water to drink. The moment she looks at him pulling out the cards, she sputters as she drinks. Jocelyn tries her best to suppress her laughter, just watching Sherlock look for something else to say.It wasn’t until Sherlock begins talking, and his words appalled everyone. Jocelyn sits in her seat with wide eyes, begging him with her eyes to keep it light. Sherlock sees the look on her face and falters, but a small amused smile appears on his face. Then, unexpectedly, the next words he says were heartwarming.It surprises everyone, and soon, everyone whimpers and wipes their eyes and noses, clearly moved. While they were crying, Jocelyn gives him this look. A look of pride and appreciation, and something else entirely.Sherlock clears his throat, excited to talk about their cases. “Now, onto some funny stories about John.”He looks at the crowd, who were all crying and emotional. Sherlock takes that as a sign that he may have done something to upset them. He suddenly panics, almost thinking that he ruined his best friend’s wedding for him. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that?”Mrs. Hudson sniffles tearfully. “Oh, Sherlock,”He looks at John with wide eyes. “Did I do it wrong?”John stands up. “No, you didn’t. Come here.” He pulls him into a tight hug and the guests applaud them.The applause dies down and John takes his seat. Sherlock holds one of his cue cards. “So, onto some funny stories about John... if you could all cheer up a bit, that would be better.”Jocelyn lips press together, suppressing an even wider smile to come to light. She is so proud of him. Sherlock begins to talk about the blog and Jocelyn listens, however, her phone begins to vibrate inside her purse.She bites her lip and ignores it until the vibration stops. She could barely pay attention to how Sherlock is actually making his speech more interactive. Jocelyn furrows her brows in curiosity, knowing that any number of people could call her.Maybe some staff from Cambridge, maybe a student inquiring something about a homework assignment, it could be her aunt—who couldn’t attend a wedding because she had to work.Although, she knows in the back of her brain that it was who she thinks she is. Jocelyn was smart enough to guess that a woman like Adler would definitely try calling her in the middle of an occasion—which Jocelyn knows that Irene is aware of.Sherlock looks around the room, but his eyes lands on Jocelyn, who suddenly looked conflicted and lost in her thoughts. It worries him quite a bit, and he isn’t sure how to process that.His gaze lingers on her for a moment before he continues with his speech. “The best and bravest man I know, and on top of that, he actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and serviettes. He’s rubbish at those.”The guests erupt in laughter again, and underneath the pleasant sound, Jocelyn’s phone begins to vibrate again.Harry finally glances at her. “Who is that?” She whispers to her.“It’s fine. No one.” Jocelyn brushes it off and takes her phone out, her assumption is proven correct when she sees the familiar number—she stared at the card for a long time, enough to actually memorize it. She bites her lip and sends her to voicemail, sighing to herself.***“Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be up standing.”Everyone gets on their feet and Jocelyn raises her glass filled with fruit punch, smiling at Harry right next to her.“Today begins the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is…”Jocelyn flinches when the glass hits the floor, as did the other guests. She looks at Sherlock with worry, seeing how conflicted he is. She swallows, but remains by the table to watch him. Sherlock is offered another glass and they all awkwardly stare at each other.Greg glances at Jocelyn with confusion. “What’s he up to?”Sherlock makes the whole room sit down again, and Jocelyn just shakes her head in puzzlement. “I don’t know.” She sits just like everyone else.Her phone begins to vibrate again and she just sighs, taking it out in order to view the screen. Jocelyn puts the phone back into her purse, ignoring it completely even though she can feel something at the pit of her stomach.Jocelyn barely recovers from her whole Irene Adler situation when Sherlock suddenly jumps over the table and begins to walk around, acting quite strange.“What’s going on?” Harry asks Jocelyn, a bit uncomfortable now.Jocelyn observes the way he was acting. “I think something is wrong.”“Should we do something?” Greg whispers to everyone in his table and Molly just looks at the others with worry.“He has control over the room. He knows what he’s doing,” Jocelyn says under her breath, watching Sherlock with a concern.Jocelyn looks around the room and her worry increases, as Sherlock appears to be in pain from listening to his mind. She has seen this before; Sherlock being overwhelmed by his own thoughts. She couldn’t think of a way she could help.She flinches again once Sherlock slaps himself to snap out of his own mind, yelling out. As instinct, she almost stands up, but Harry stops her with concern.“Are you crazy? He’s out of his mind!” Harry widens her eyes at her.Jocelyn only sighs and watches as Sherlock approaches John, saying something to him before turning around. He talks in a theatrical high-pitched voice; movements were exaggerated before his eyes turned darker, leaning down.“As a mental exercise, I’ve planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now, John, I’d poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. I’ve given him chemicals and compounds, that way, he’s never even noticed.” Everyone gapes at Sherlock. “He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn’t have a clue.”John’s eyes were wide and Mary looks so nervous, clearly living in a nightmare.“Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house. I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him.” He makes a vague gesture of choking someone, and realizes that he went too far. Sherlock glances around and his eyes falls on Jocelyn, who shrinks a bit. “And you…”Jocelyn tilts her head curiously and Sherlock pauses to watch her. “Dr. Grant is actually quite difficult to kill, I wouldn’t dare to try.”She almost stammers, however, Sherlock continues to speak, deducing the target by narrowing down the characteristics. Pretty soon, he figures it out and writes down a note, passing it to Major Sholto.Archie, as enthusiastic as ever, manages to solve the case—to everyone’s surprise, including Sherlock’s. His sudden realization sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins.Sherlock dashes to the front again, raising a glass and proudly announces, “To the bride and groom!”Everyone was confused, but raises their glasses anyway. Jocelyn stands up and makes her way to the front. “What’s going on?”Sherlock turns to her, putting his hand on her arm. “I need you to stay here and tell everyone to keep calm, as best as you can.”“I—yeah, sure.” Jocelyn finds herself just agreeing before he nods and begins to run through the people with John and Mary following.Jocelyn tells everyone to sit down and that everything is fine. Somehow, they all believed her and just remained a bit calm throughout the ordeal. Next thing she knew, everything was okay again. Sherlock comes back with relief on his face, and she mirrors it with a smile. John’s old commanding officer has been taken care of, and everything was okay.***As Jocelyn walks around the reception to look for Harry, she catches a glimpse of lavender cloth in a vacant room. Jocelyn’s curiosity gets the best of her and she takes a peak. For some reason, something tugged at her chest upon seeing Sherlock dance with Janine.Jocelyn frowns to herself and looks away to continue looking for her friend.She finds her by the dessert table and Harry immediately widens her eyes while halfway through eating a cupcake. “Oh, finally, I found you!”“Technically, I was the one looking for you. Unless you count looking for me in the dessert table. I’m clearly not dessert,” Jocelyn glances at the table filled with sweets. Harry shoots her a cheeky look and Jocelyn sighs. “Please, don’t make a sex joke about what I just said.”“Fair enough. We should go dancing! Just like old times!”“You’re the one who liked dancing to any waltz.”“Come on, you loved that waltz.”“I hated it!” Jocelyn laughs and links their arms together. “Fine, just one dance. Only because you’ll be flying back to America tomorrow.” She agrees and makes Harry squeal excitedly.John and Mary will finally have their first dance together as husband and wife, and of course, the people who will be playing the music they’ll dance to will be none other than their two closest friends.When she began practicing and composing with Sherlock, it was like riding a bicycle. It brought so many great memories.Right now, nothing would be a better time to start playing the piano again for the sole purpose of making their friends happy. Jocelyn takes the lead with the piano, but the violin brings more emotional depth to it. It’s the perfect combination of music.It was a big moment for everyone. Almost none of the guests who knew Jocelyn were aware that she could play—let alone, that well. Sherlock glances at her from time to time, seeing the happiness fill her eyes and be shown through her fingers gliding on the keys with ease.Everyone watched as Mary and John dance, looking into each other’s eyes as if they were the only ones in the room. It was beautiful, especially when John dips Mary and kisses her at the end.Once their duet is done, the pianist and violinist stand next to each with proud looks on their faces. Sherlock’s pride can be seen without the wide smile like Jocelyn’s, bowing as the others clapped. Janine was the loudest, and Sherlock gives her a grateful look, tossing his corsage towards her and watching as she catches it with a smile.Mary really loved wedding traditions and she particularly was in love with the idea of a group waltz. Mary and John were paired with others, Sherlock was paired with Janine since they were the Best Man and Bridesmaid, and others just partnered up for the time being.Jocelyn wasn’t familiar with the idea, and just thought that she’d be dancing with Harry the whole time. So, she happily let Harry twirl her around with grins on their faces as other people in the dance floor.What didn’t prepare her was how Harry spins her around and she collides with another partner with a surprised noise from her chest.She peeks up at him and flashes him a small smile, her one hand is placed on his shoulder. “Hi.”Sherlock tilts his head down to meet her eyes. “Hello.” His voice is rich and deep, his hand grasping hers while the other settles on the small of her back.Jocelyn holds their gaze for a moment and looks around to see that all the others have switched partners. Harry was now happily dancing with Mary, John was dancing with Molly, and Janine was with a guy with glasses.She turns back at Sherlock, who was still observing her with those blue eyes. “Told you that cue cards would be helpful.”Unexpectedly, Sherlock begins to chuckle with the low rumbles from his chest to his throat, shoulders shaking a bit. It makes her grin, and she feels him pull her even closer, the warmth of his body radiating to hers.“They were.” His chuckling stops, but he has a pleased look on his face as a glint appears in his eyes.Jocelyn avoids direct eye contact. “You did good today. Speech was amazing. You even saved a man’s life.”“John did that. I only did the guessing game.”“You never guess.”“No, I do not.”They both smile to themselves, still moving with preciseness to the music. Sherlock notices that her skills have improved, she clearly has been dancing a lot.Sherlock twirls her and stretches her outwards before pulling her in. He manages to catch her with no hardship, and she was magnetic. A sight for everyone to see, yet somehow, Sherlock’s eyes were all that matters.Sherlock leans closer to her ear. “I thought you never liked dancing.”His breath brushes against the shell of her ear and she almost fears that maybe he felt the slight shudder down her spine. “I don’t.”His voice is deep and raspy. “Then why have I found you on the dance floor?”Sherlock’s thumb caresses her hand gently, pulling away to stretch his arm outward and before she spins into his arms, she smiles at him. “All it takes is a good partner, Sherlock Holmes.”Sherlock pulls her in and his chest presses against her back, his breath gently hitting the side of her neck. Sherlock spins her again, just so he could see her face. He suddenly felt the need to do so, and so he did. Jocelyn smiles at him and she lets herself be spun around into Harry’s arms again, who only looks at her with a cheeky grin. Jocelyn’s smile drops and she shoots her a glare.The dance ends and Sherlock makes his way onstage. “Ladies and gentlemen, just one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier, a crisis arose and was dealt with. More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows.” He glances at Jocelyn. “I’ve made only one vow in my life, and after tonight I will never again.”At his words, Jocelyn falters and blinks.Sherlock looks away and focuses on John and Mary. “So, here in front of you all, my second and last vow. Mary and John, whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you.” He freezes and begins to stutter. “Er, I’m sorry, I mean the two of you. Both of you, in fact. I’ve just miscounted.”Sherlock begins to ask for everyone to start dancing to lively music, and just as Jocelyn is about to walk towards John and Mary, her phone begins to ring in her purse again. She sighs and takes her phone out. Jocelyn glances between the other three discussing among themselves and her phone, biting her lip before turning to exit the venue.Jocelyn accepts the call as soon as she steps outside. “What?”“There she is.” Irene Adler’s smirk can almost be heard through the phone.“What do you want? Kind of in the middle of something.” Jocelyn wraps her arms around herself, since she left her coat inside.
“I have been calling you all day. You even sent me to voicemail, I’m hurt.”
“I think you know why.”
“You’re right. Congratulations to the Watsons, it’s about time that man gets attached to someone other than Sherlock Holmes.”
“Can you just tell me what this is about?”“Magnussen.” The unfamiliar name is uttered by her with the tone of disdain. “He has your file, Moriarty showed it to him before he died.”Jocelyn pauses with her blood running cold, standing nearby the fountain now.
“He’ll use the contents of that file against you, unless we stop him.”
“Why us?”
“I can’t explain this over the phone, doctor. People might hear.”
Jocelyn looks around, still hearing the faint and muffled dance music from inside the reception. “If I agree with this, what’s in it for you?”
“Dr. Grant, this is bigger than both of us. I can assure you that I only want Magnussen to go down.”
“Why do you sound like you want to help me?”A sigh echoes at the other end. “I told you. I am not a threat to you. All I want is for that man to get what he deserves.”Jocelyn feels odd. She doesn’t trust easily, but Irene sounds actually genuine. “I told Sherlock.”“Honestly, I expected nothing less.”“How about we talk properly and in person again? This time, you explain everything, and we’ll see if we can help you.”“I might consider it. Right now, trust no one. Sherlock Holmes is not an exception.” And the line goes dead.Jocelyn pulls the phone away from her ear and huffs. What is she saying? Don’t trust Sherlock?She slips the phone into her purse and just palms her face, feeling the cold tips of her fingers.Earlier, Sherlock Holmes exits the venue to go home. Everyone seems to be having a great time inside and none of them will notice if he slips out. As he walks, his attention is caught by the young woman standing quietly by the fountain.Sherlock’s brows knot together, lips parting in contemplation. He hesitates, uncertain if he should approach her and ask what’s wrong or just go home. He decides the latter and before he changes his mind, he walks away.Jocelyn hears gravel scrunching under shoes, making her turn, and confusion washes over her body. “Sherlock!”He halts and glances at her over his shoulder. She waves him over and he sighs but makes his way over.“The party isn’t over, why aren’t you inside?”“Why aren’t you?”“Irene called.”He straightens his posture in alarm. “What did she say?”“Something about a Magnussen?” Jocelyn shakes her head. Sherlock’s face reels in surprise. “Do you know him?”“He is the one I’ve been investigating that month I was gone.”“Who is he?”“Charles Magnussen. Someone who can wreak havoc upon a person’s life by simply publishing an article. He is vile and preys on people’s weak spots. The Napoleon of Blackmail.” Sherlock observes her, seeing how anxious she became all of a sudden. “What did the Woman tell you about him?”Jocelyn hesitates. “He has my file. She said that Moriarty showed it to him.”Sherlock exhales and briefly closes his eyes. Even in death, Moriarty still manages to be quite a pain to the backside.“We will figure this out.”“For someone who has their file in the hands of an extremely dangerous human being, and with a fugitive sex worker as a confidant, you are strangely calm.” Sherlock gives her a puzzled look.“Oddly enough, I don’t think Irene is a harm to us all.” Jocelyn says, and makes Sherlock’s face contort. “I know how it sounds, but I don’t think she’s trying to blackmail me at all. I… think she genuinely needs our help.”He narrows his eyes at her. “Did she say why?”“She just said that all she wants is for this Magnussen guy to get what he deserves.”Sherlock’s features soften. If that is the case, then she also wants Magnussen to go down. Still, having the same enemy does not equate being on the same side.“And if Magnussen does have my file and knows who I am, I don’t think he’d wait this long to keep it hidden. Which means he’d want something first.” That puts things into perspective, yet he is still not relaxed.Sherlock observes her for a moment, glancing down her shivering body yet again before he begins to pull his arms out of the sleeves of his coat. Jocelyn begins to refuse, but Sherlock wraps the coat around her. Jocelyn decides not to fight him and just holds back a smile.“I have a coat inside, you know?”“You are outside.”“Mhm. And why are you?”Sherlock silences and it makes the smile on Jocelyn’s face fade away. He looks back at her, but did not know what else to say, aware that she knows just what upset him.“Sherlock…”“Goodnight, Jocelyn. You… you look beautiful.” He mutters as he looks at her.Before Jocelyn could even comprehend what he said and respond, he turns and walks away. She watches him disappear in the dark as she inhales the faint cologne laced on the collar of the coat before walking back inside the venue.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Marriage changes people, as Mrs. Hudson said to Sherlock. He keeps thinking about how John will no longer work with him, now that he’ll be raising a family of his own. John would hardly need him and pretty soon, he would want a safer occupation to keep his future child safe.Not that there is anything wrong with that, Sherlock understands; he just doesn’t know if he is ready to accept that just yet.He is alone in his flat, reading Deanna Loréi’s continuous emails regarding her uncle. Sherlock reads through her emails and finally responds to accept it.Meanwhile, Jocelyn is currently teaching her class and observing each of their experiments.“Alright, so if you are going to use urine, blood and vitreous isopropyl as biochemical markers…” Jocelyn trails off when suddenly, her students look towards the door with confusion and curiosity.She slowly cranes her neck towards the door and through the small glass window, she sees Sherlock standing outside. His posture is as straight as ever and has a neutral expression on his face.Jocelyn looks back at her class and holds up a finger. “Please, everyone, you have ten more minutes to complete the practicum!” She authoritatively announces leaves the room, closing the door behind herself. She gives Sherlock a look of puzzlement. “What are you doing here?”“I’m going to Edinburgh.”“You… came all this way to tell me you’re going to Edinburgh?”“It’s for a case. I need you to come with me.”Her smile slowly fades as her eyebrows rose. “Oh. Um, Sherlock, it’s a weekday.”“Yes, it’s Monday. I am aware.”“So… you know that I have classes.”“Yes.”“I need to teach.”“Yes.”“I’m a profe—do you see where I’m going here?” Jocelyn lets out a small chuckle.“Take a leave.”She shakes her head, not to disagree, but in disbelief and amusement. “Sherlock, I can’t just leave now.”“Yes, you can. I only ask for a week.”
“A week?!”
“Yes.”“I can’t just be absent for a week!”“Yes, you can.”“Going off to solve a case isn’t exactly a valid excuse, Sherlock.”“Tell your higher ups that someone’s life depends on it.” He tells her with a serious tone.“…can I think about it?”Sherlock looks at his watch. “You have precisely three hours and seventeen minutes to dwell upon it.”Jocelyn tries her best not to roll her eyes. Spontaneity is no longer her strong suit; she leaves that to her past. She is a bit timid now when it comes to new things. Apparently, Sherlock is now the spontaneous one. Who would have thought they would switch roles?“We will travel by car to ensure that we won’t be seen by others and possibly be followed. I’m sure Mycroft has a spare car that we are allowed to borrow.” He is already speaking as though she already said yes.“Edinburgh is seven hours away and you want to travel by car?”“Yes. I literally just said that.”She looks back at her class before sighing. “I’ll think about it.”“Excellent. Once you’re done thinking, I’ll be outside your house with a car at precisely three hours and sixteen minutes. Have a suitcase of clothes worth for a week. Good day.” Sherlock flashes a humorless smile at her before turning around and walking away.Jocelyn scoffs a small chuckle before walking back to her class to continue.***Two hours later, Jocelyn emerges from her house with a small luggage, a box and a coat slung over her arm, seeing Sherlock with the car parked outside. She takes a quick glance, realizing that they don’t have a driver.“This is the politest kidnapping I’ve ever seen, and I’m friends with your brother.”Sherlock rolls his eyes and takes her luggage. “Do you realize that my brother is anything but polite?”“Oh, I’m sure you think that way, considering that you borrowed his car.” She teases, and he huffs at her remark.Once he comes to his side of the car, he sees Jocelyn holding up the coat he let her borrow a day ago, grinning at him.“I know you have multiple coats that look exactly the same, but I think this is your favorite.” Her teasing remark earns her a slight glare. “Lighten up, Sherlock. I’m supposed to be the annoyed one.”“Fair enough. Get in the car.”“I take back what I said about this being a polite kidnapping.”***Once they finally reach a much quieter road, Sherlock hums. “You have questions.”“Naturally. What’s the case about?”“Deanna Loréi, the eighteen-year-old niece of a known billionaire in Edinburgh, reached out to me to have her uncle investigated.”“Why?”“The uncle, Oscar Sinclair, has been doing strange things, according to his niece.” He briefly glances at her.“Sinclair… as in, the drink?”“Sinclair Holdings, the liquor company in Scotland. Yes.”“Right. What strange things?”“Donating to charity.”“…Isn’t that supposed to be good?”“The niece said that it is strange for a man like Sinclair. He is, from how she explained, acquisitive. Money hungry, like most white European males.” Sherlock casually points out. “Based on my research, Oscar Sinclair is indeed an arrogant rich man, which makes him believe he has the right to show off his wealth.”Jocelyn is enjoying how he explains things, which is why she has a small smile on her face while listening. “Alright. Niece thinks that her uncle changed all of a sudden, and she wants him investigated to ease her paranoid mind. Sounds like a case you’d definitely take.”“Oscar Sinclair is planning to retire and give his company to someone by the end of the week. He will be hosting a formal party on Friday to announce the new CEO who will inherit everything he owns. It is expected to be Oscar’s eldest son, Joseph.”“He’s passing down his company?”“As said by Miss Loréi. It caught my attention because for a man like Sinclair, he wouldn’t just give it away, so long as he is alive and provides for them.”“Take me through the Sinclair family, then.” She tilts her head, just watching him drive and explain things at the same time.“Alright. Oscar Sinclair lives in his mansion with his younger sister, Deborah. She is the mother of our client, Deanna. Deborah is a widow who was married to a local French painter, Simon. Oscar is divorced, and has three children. Joseph, Eleanor and then Christopher.”“Nice. What else?”“Joseph works under his father as the COO. Eleanor is a fashion designer. Christopher is a bookshop owner. Eleanor has a six-year-old child, Maya. Christopher is the only Sinclair who does not live in the mansion. We will meet them all once we get to Scotland. Hopefully, no one will recognize us.”“Yeah, no one will definitely recognize the man who was on international news after his staged death.” Jocelyn flashes him a teasing smirk, earning an amused scoff from him. “So, what’s my role in all of this?”“You are on standby, for when a murder takes place.”She blinks at him, almost unfazed by his bluntness.“When one takes place, I can’t exactly call you and demand your presence seven hours away, can I? Money and wealth are involved, a murder would statistically be most likely take place. You and I are here to solve it.” He says too enthusiastically.“You mean prevent it, right?”“Yes, that is what I meant.”She chuckles and looks out of the window again.Sherlock’s phone beeps from the small compartment between them. Jocelyn glances at it briefly, and Sherlock ignores it.“God, I hope I won’t regret leaving work for this.”“We will pose solely as guests. I’d like to add the fact that Miss Loréi is quite a fan.”Jocelyn snorts. “John’s blog reaches Edinburgh? That’s pretty impressive.”Amusement washes over his face. “Not of mine. Of yours.”Jocelyn looks at him with shock.Sherlock almost smiles at the surprise on her face. “Miss Loréi is an aspiring detective, leaning more into scientific work. She is planning to study in Cambridge next school year, inspired by you.” He informs her, making her flustered. “I informed her that she will be meeting you and she is quite excited.”“You moron,” her words make him amused, smiling as he drives. “So, the Sinclairs will just view me as a guest, invited by Deanna. You’d my plus one.”“Clever, don’t you think?”“I’d say so.” Jocelyn smiles at him.“It also helps that you can efficiently evaluate a homicide crime scene, which benefits everyone.” “What if I didn’t come with you today?”“But you did.”“What if I didn’t? Your cover would’ve been blown.”Sherlock tilts his head to look at her and simply repeats, “But you did,” before looking back at the road. Jocelyn just smiles, watching the view through the window.Two hours later, they stop at a small eatery in Leicester to have lunch. Sherlock sits calmly with his posture straight. His phone is placed on the table, and it beeps again. This time, he does not ignore it and immediately unlocks his phone.She looks at him as he reads a text message before typing his own. After sending it, he puts down the phone again and goes back to his previous position.Jocelyn just eats her lunch. “Why aren’t you eating any of the wedges?”“I have water.”“That’s not nearly enough for five hours, Sherlock.”“Digestion interferes with my thinking.”“We haven’t even met the family, for God’s sake.” Jocelyn pushes the plate of wedges towards him.He watches her for a moment, then the wedges and begins to eat as well, actually pleased to know that they taste fine.“Good, right?” Jocelyn smiles.“Not entirely repulsing.”She chuckles. “My aunt talked about this place when she was traveling. She loves the potato wedges. She even made some for me once.”“Your aunt has always been a splendid chef.” Sherlock comfortably eats now as the conversation takes place.“Isn’t she? It’s probably why she and Mrs. Hudson get along so well.”“Hm, and you would eat anything so long as it contains cheese.”She scrunches her nose. “Not nearly anything.”It feels so natural. Sherlock thinks back to the time where he resented her. It would be around the time she arrived back in London after eight years. The thought of speaking to her was abhorrent to him back then.Now, he could not get enough of listening to her speak about the most mundane things. She could be talking about something as boring as shoes and he would still find himself listening.Sherlock pauses once the thought crosses his mind, blinking at himself in disbelief. Did he actually think about not minding her discussing about shoes?“Food has only one important characteristic and that is sustenance. Taste is merely a chemical reaction in the brain rendered by our senses.”“Alright, Sherlock, just eat the wedges. Jesus.”They eat in silence, but listening to the white noise around them. Jocelyn’s eyes direct back to his phone when it beeps again. He opens the message before typing and sending out his own.The white noise around them is calming in a way. People entering the eatery, the bell ringing, the incoherent chattering of other people from different tables and so many more. It’s insane to think that Jocelyn used to find it difficult to leave her home without a swarm of reporters trying to shove their microphone and cameras into her face, flashing lights almost blinding her.She frowns at the memory and he immediately notices. “Is there something wrong?”“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… so many things changed.”“Such as?”“Just a lot of stuff, you know?”Sherlock ponders over her words, wondering how John and Mary will become parents. “Yes, I agree.”She offers him a grateful smile. “So, anyway. Why did you really ask me to come?”“I need a way inside without being suspected, and your skill set will be very beneficial.”Amusement fills her eyes. “You didn’t ask me to come here for my company? I’m hurt.”He widens his eyes. “No, I mean, yes. No—”She breaks out into a short laugh. “I’m kidding, Sherlock. I just hope I won’t regret leaving my classes for this.”“I’m sure your students can self-study your subject. You are a… well-ordered professor.”She snorts at his unsure compliment. “You should be glad that their finals ended a month ago.”Sherlock huffs out an amused noise, knowing that Jocelyn would put her classes first, in that case. He will never doubt her need to fulfill her responsibilities as a professor.“You miss John, don’t you?”“Absolutely not.” He gives her an alarmed look.“You do! I knew it!”He watches her in mild horror. “I don’t understand.”“You’re worried about John not solving cases with you anymore, aren’t you? Oh, Sherlock.” She coos at him.“No, I am not. What gave you that appalling idea?” He defensively announces, but his face flushes.“Well, for one, you left the wedding early.” From her words, Sherlock scoffs. “Two, you asked me here to replace him.”“You are not a replacement. You are being yourself.”“But John has always been your partner, Sherlock. You have nothing to worry about. John loves solving cases just as much as you do. You two are a team.”His features soften at her words. Sherlock recalls the time when he was sure that that he will be alone. Jocelyn disagreed, and at the end, she was right.Sherlock met John and now, he cannot imagine his life without him.They don’t talk for almost an hour during the drive, mostly lost in their own thoughts. Jocelyn just listens to the soft piano music coming from the speakers. Sherlock’s phone beeps for the nth time today, but he ignores it as he drives.She views a map on her phone. “We’re two hundred and seventy-nine miles away. We’ll get there in four hours.”“Was there ever a moment in your life that you regretted meeting me?” Sherlock suddenly asks.She processes his question for a second. “What?”“I strongly believe that you heard me quite clearly.”Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him, still uncertain why he would ask her that. She purses her lips. “Alright, if this will take your mind off the irrational thoughts about John not working with you anymore,” Sherlock was ready to interject and disagree, but she shakes her head. “No.”Sherlock’s gaze shifts a few inches down from his direct sight towards the road.“I don’t regret meeting you.”Sherlock eyes her before he turns to view the road again, only this time, with a contented expression on his face.“Have you?”“No.”They share a look for a second before glancing away and chuckling.Jocelyn is pleased to hear that. She feels a sudden warmth fill her body as she thinks about the time they met. The memory makes her smile. “To think that we were so young when we met, it’s crazy. And now look at us. We haven’t changed.”The contented face on Sherlock begins to fade. “I have changed since then.”Jocelyn quickly looks at him with raised eyebrows, silent for a moment. “No.”“Pardon?”Jocelyn just watches him with a soft look in her eyes. “When I look at you, I still see the boy I met in that awful music room. One of my greatest friends.” she presses her lips together, taking in the surprise on his face. “Yes, we both changed, but only the parts of us that needed improvement.”Sherlock looks at her with an unreadable expression on his face. None of them said another word after that.***Sherlock pulls over in the parking lot, and the slight jolt of the car wakes Jocelyn. She shifts in her seat and opens her eyes, yawning a bit.“We have to meet Miss Loréi in twenty minutes at the restaurant she and her uncle will be tonight.” Sherlock explains. “She will ask her uncle to give you an invite for the party.”Jocelyn blinks, still trying to wake up. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”“I would not have come here if I did not plan things.” Sherlock unfastens his seatbelt. “Once we leave, we can have time to discuss Father Knickerbocker along with the Woman and the Shark.”Jocelyn sputters out a laugh. “Father Knickerbocker?”“It’s a codename.”“For what?”“The Big Apple.”“You have a nickname for a nickname?” Jocelyn snorts. “Who the hell is the Shark supposed to be?”Sherlock looks at her like he’s in disbelief. “The person that the Woman warned you about.”“Sherlock, no one is around. You can say their names. New York. Irene Adler. Char—”“Jocelyn.”“Fine.” She sighs and enters the motel.Sherlock turns and hands her a key. “This is yours. Mine will be next door. We’re meeting Miss Loréi tonight.” He reminds before leaving her room to proceed to his own.***“Would the family know who we are?”“Most likely. We’ve both been on the news at some point of our lives.” Sherlock tells her as they walk. “They’d care more about you, considering that Miss Loréi looks up to you.”“I still can’t believe your client is a fan of mine, if there are such things.” She scrunches her nose. “It would be much more expected if she was a fan of yours. I’m not even famous.”“Jocelyn, you were a guest speaker to the biggest yearly Forensics conference in the world. Many people have approached and interviewed you regarding your work. What do you think they do with your answers?” He looks at her in disbelief.She cringes. “Still. Who’d be a fan of me?”Sherlock gives her a look as they walk side by side.***They reach the restaurant and he opens the door for her. Sherlock leads them to a table and they sit opposite each other. He takes his phone out again and begins typing to compose a message and sending it.The curiosity gets the best of her. “Are you texting Deanna?”“No. She’s already here.”“Then who—”
“Oh, my God.”
Jocelyn looks up and sees a girl wearing a semi-formal dress. She has an excited grin on her face. Jocelyn offers her a smile and stands, Sherlock mirrors her movements to be polite.“Miss Loréi, I presume?” Sherlock asks, offering her his hand. “Sherlock Holmes.”Deanna grasps his hand and shakes it, still smiling in disbelief. “Deanna, please. It’s an honor.”“And I’m Jocelyn Grant, it’s very nice to meet you.” She shakes her hand as well.“Hi, I’m Deanna, holy smokes, I can’t believe both of you are here.”Before Sherlock rolls his eyes, Jocelyn immediately talks just so Deanna won’t see him. “We’re glad to be here.” Jocelyn widens her eyes at Sherlock, as if to tell him to behave.“Wonderful. Now, we discuss the plan.” Sherlock dryly says, but Deanna can’t stop smiling at Jocelyn.“Dr. Grant, I am so honored to meet you. I watched all your speeches about all of the homicide cases, particularly the one with the vase water and mannequin; they were genius!” She squeals, making Jocelyn a bit flustered.“Uh, thank you, Deanna. I’m glad to hear that.”“I almost couldn’t believe it when Mr. Holmes said that he’s going to bring you along!”Jocelyn watches her, reminding her of her own teenage self. “I almost couldn’t believe it when Mr. Holmes said he’ll bring me, too.”The two women chuckle in front of Sherlock and he blinks multiple times, feeling incredibly uncomfortable yet relieved to see Jocelyn appear relaxed.Sherlock clears his throat. “So, the plan.”“Right, yes. Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Deanna rambles and turns to Sherlock, who only blinks impatiently at her. “I’ll pretend that I just saw you and I’ll ask my uncle if we could approach you both.”“And you have to ask him to invite both of us to the announcement party.” Sherlock adds.“And suggest to him that we should have you over for breakfast tomorrow, to talk about things.” Deanna smiles.“How do I get him to invite us over tomorrow?”“You can just say that it’s your first time here in Scotland, my uncle really likes to show off,” she sheepishly says.“Right.” Jocelyn and Sherlock share an unsure look before she speaks again. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? Having your uncle investigated?”Deanna sighs and shrugs. “He won’t just explain things to me, so I know that I can’t just ask him stuff like this. I just want all my family to be safe, including him.” She tells them and Jocelyn empathizes her entirely.“So, what exactly are we going to investigate here? It’s not exactly a crime to give away money to charity.”“I know, but my uncle is going to pass down the liquor company on Friday. It was unexpected, everyone in town is shocked. He gives away most of his fortune and now he wants to retire? There’s just something wrong about it.” She insists with a worried frown.“All things suggest a possible terminal illness,” Sherlock tells them both, making the two women widen their eyes at him. “Worthy inclusion. A man suddenly having an epiphany about the importance of life. It all suggests that he might possibly be dying—”Jocelyn nervously laughs, looking at a horrified Deanna. “He’s obviously kidding,”“I am making a conclusion.”“Okay, you know what? Maybe you should sit at your table now, love, and wait for your uncle, okay?” Jocelyn gently guides a shocked Deanna to the table. She goes back to Sherlock. “Why did you do that?”“I was giving her an idea.”“You frightened the poor girl!”“I did not!”“She contacted you to make sure that her uncle isn't not being forced into doing any of this. You can’t just say that he’s going to die!”“I didn’t say he was going to. I said that it was possible that he could be.”“And that’s supposed to make it better?”“…Yes.”She sighs, suppressing a smile at him. “Let’s just stick to the plan, yeah? I’m starving.” Jocelyn waves down a waiter and orders for both of them.A few minutes later, Sherlock stops glancing around the room and turns back to her. “He’s inside.”“Alright, pretend you’re talking to me.”Sherlock furrows his brows in confusion. “I am.”“No, I mean. Talk to me.”“Or we could just sit quietly and wait for our client to approach us.”“But we’re undercover. Come on, let’s do undercover things! Laugh at something I said.”“What? No.” Sherlock immediately refuses.
“Pleeeeease?”
“We are going to act normal.” Sherlock says before Jocelyn lets out a fake laugh and it earns her a shake of his head, and a ghost of a smile on his face.The plan works smoothly and now the older man was very welcoming towards them. Sherlock frowns, clearly not expecting this sort of attitude.“You should come to the party on Friday night.” Deanna suggests to her uncle. “They can attend, right?”Oscar doesn’t hesitate, not when it comes to his niece. “It would be great if you’d attend.”“We’d be happy to! It’s my first time here in Scotland, and it’d be lovely to end the week with a party.”“Your first time? Well, that’s great! You two should come have breakfast with us tomorrow!” Deanna suggests again and makes her uncle chuckle.“I’m sure Dr. Grant and Mr. Holmes have other plans than having breakfast with us, sweetheart.”“Well, it wouldn’t be a trouble.” Jocelyn waves off with a smile.They exchange emails and left them alone, with Deanna giving her a thumbs up before they go back to their table.Sherlock sighs and leans back on his chair. “That was painful to watch.”Jocelyn lets out a scoff mixed with a laugh, thinking back to how Sherlock explained to an eighteen-year-old that her uncle might be terminally ill. “You’re one to talk.”“What is that supposed to mean?”***The two of them come back to the motel, going to Jocelyn’s room first. Sherlock takes off his coat and scarf while Jocelyn unbuttons her jacket and shrugs it off.“He’s not ill. No sign of any terminal illness. He is perfectly at ease.” He tells her with a tone of uncertainty.“Seriously?”“It doesn’t make any sense.” Sherlock huffs, leaning over to reach into one of the bags and taking out his laptop. “Oscar Sinclair may be one of the most arrogant billionaires in the world, and he willingly let his niece convince him to approach a person like you.”“A person like me—what the hell is that supposed to mean?”Sherlock flips the laptop screen towards her, showing a video of Oscar Sinclair giving a speech. Jocelyn watches it with a frown, confusion in her eyes as Oscar Sinclair talks obnoxiously about his company and ignores anyone else who might be less rich than him.“But he was nice earlier.”“Exactly. This is why it does not make any sense. How can a person like Sinclair change so drastically overnight?” Sherlock shuts his laptop with frustration.She watches him with narrowed eyes. “So, what’s the plan tomorrow?”“Breakfast. I will observe how Oscar interacts with his family.” Sherlock speaks in quite a fast pace. “However, we have to pay close attention. He would likely be playing into roles, especially for strangers like the both of us, only for the need to impress.”“Did you notice, though? For a person you describe as power-hungry, Deanna speaks highly of him.”“It does not seem to be strange. Her father passed away due to cancer four years ago. It’s not entirely strange for Miss Loréi to develop an attachment to the only father figure she has left. Sentiment.”Jocelyn bites her lip, noticing how quickly he is speaking. “Probably, yes.”“We’ve gathered enough data for today. Now, we can focus on Miss Adler and Magnussen.”“Can we do this tomorrow? Surely, you must be tired.”She can practically feel the stress radiating from his body. Jocelyn realizes just how much he has resting upon his shoulders. John getting married, Irene being back, Magnussen possessing her file and the Sinclair case. It’s a miracle he hasn’t succumbed to the urge of sleeping.“I am not tired.”“You drove for like seven hours. Even I can barely keep my eyes open and I just sat there. At least get some sleep.”“We still need to discuss Father Kni—”“Nope. Not until you sleep.”Sherlock lets out a sigh and briefly closes his eyes. It takes a second before Sherlock stands on his feet and walks to the door, pulling it open. “I will see you in the morning.”“Goodnight,” she grins at him and watches as he nods and closes the door behind him.Jocelyn lets out a breath before letting herself fall back into the bed. She thinks about their conversation in the car and how Sherlock was comfortable enough to discuss their past like that. There is something about it that makes her so happy. Jocelyn smiles at the thought and a warm feeling fills her chest.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Holy shit. This place is huge!”“I fail to see why many humans would want to live in a much bigger box. A medium sized one would suffice.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes and grins. “But you have to admit, this is such a nice house.”“It looks boring. Look at the staff, they seem fed up. I would be, as well, if I had to work in such an obnoxious looking residency.” Sherlock turns to look at her. “Now, remember the plan.”Jocelyn nods, grinning in excitement. “My first undercover mission, I’m so excited.”“Wasn’t Baskerville your first?”“That doesn’t count because you didn’t want me to be there.” She rolls her eyes, and he grimaces as if to say that was not true. “This is my actual first.”Sherlock watches her, slightly amused. “Don’t get too excited, Jocelyn. We have only just begun.”Jocelyn finds herself glancing around the place, viewing the glittering chandeliers and fancy candlesticks all over the flat surfaces. She eyes the portraits on walls as well as the various glass liquor bottles placed everywhere.Considering the fact that she grew up with her rich father, Sherlock is amused by how amazed she appears to be over something like this. For the first eighteen years of her life, she did live in such luxury.Then again, Sherlock is aware that Jocelyn never let herself be spoiled since her father was a self-indulgent man who only cared for himself.“Oh, my God!” Deanna comes to greet them, wearing a bright floral dress that almost blinds Sherlock.He finds himself holding back a grimace once he looks at her, while Jocelyn beams and steps forward to give her a small hug.“I’m so glad you’re here. We’re just about to have breakfast.” Deanna begins to walk, with Jocelyn and Sherlock following behind her.“This place looks amazing, Deanna.”“Thank you. It’s all my uncle’s stuff. Although, I really think the alcohol is way too much in this area,” she glances at them over her shoulder.Sherlock clears his throat. “So, who will be present?”“The usual. My mum, my uncle, me and my two cousins. Maya, too.”“What about your other cousin? Christopher?” Sherlock questions as he glances at the few portraits they pass.“He visits from time to time, but he prefers being in his shop.”Sherlock nods, keeping that in mind. He already knows that the youngest Sinclair owns a shop.They go to the garden and see the whole family having breakfast. Jocelyn almost gapes at the table filled with food that is probably excessive for only a few people. The amount of food for one meal, it was like a feast.Oscar jumps in his seat in a pleasant surprise, stretching out his hand. “Dr. Grant and Mr. Holmes! It’s good to have you both with us today!”Jocelyn shakes his hand with a smile. “The pleasure is ours, Mr. Sinclair.”“Please, call me Oscar. And Mr. Holmes, I had a difficulty with trying to remember where I’ve seen you before.” He clasps his hand into Sherlock’s palm, and the detective pulls a strained smile to be polite. “Didn’t think you’d be the same person who staged his suicide!”“Oscar!” The dark-skinned woman sitting near the table scolds her brother with a playful tone. Sherlock glances at her and she only gives him a warm smile.“Right, yes. Meet my sister, Deborah, Deanna’s mother. Ove there is my daughter and son, Eleanor and Joseph.” He gestures towards the people he mentions.Joseph was holding a book while having coffee, only waving at them without a word. Eleanor beams, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Hey, it’s great to meet you both. This is Maya, my daughter.”Maya waves at them with a shy little smile, and Jocelyn waves at her back.Oscar motions for them to have a seat, and they both comply by sitting next to each other. “I was just talking about you and your work to my children here.”“As if we didn’t get that enough from Deanna,” Eleanor laughs and makes Deanna cheeks flamed. Sherlock narrows his eyes at the tone she used. “She talks about you every opportunity she gets!”It was Jocelyn's turn to be flustered. “Well, she is a bright young kid, and I’m sure she’ll get far.”“Deanna really wants to get into Cambridge. Do you have any advice for her?” Deborah smiles at her, her honey eyes staring back at Jocelyn’s forest ones.“She’s already so smart, I wouldn’t stress about getting in.”Deborah chuckles, glancing at her daughter whose cheeks are blushing. “I always say that, but she never seems to agree with me!”“Mum!” Deanna practically hides her face.Jocelyn watches the two women, a tiny bit of happiness and ache in her heart. The mother and daughter seem to be very close to one another and Jocelyn finds that heartwarming. She wishes that she had the same with her own mother.“Being smart is nothing to be embarrassed of. In fact, it should be celebrated.” Jocelyn smiles at the young girl, who only grins. Sherlock's eyes soften while watching Jocelyn.“So, what brings you lovebirds to Scotland? Looking for any vacation spots for a honeymoon, maybe?” Oscar smiles politely at the two.From his words, Jocelyn almost chokes on the milk she was currently gulping. However, Sherlock remains casual by passing her a small handkerchief. She looks at him for a moment and takes the cloth to wipe the corners of her mouth.As she does that, Sherlock speaks calmly. “Not exactly. We are actually here for research purposes. I prefer the practical work than surfing the internet.”“Oh? For what topic?”“Scottish culture and arts.”“Hm. Are you with that doctor bloke you were in the papers with?” Joseph comments.“Oh, not right now. He is currently on his sex holiday.”The whole table chokes on their food. Jocelyn widens her eyes at Sherlock for a moment, who looks clueless as their reactions.“Er, uh… what he meant was that Dr. Watson is on his honeymoon. He just got married yesterday.” Jocelyn nervously chuckles.Eleanor clears her throat. “Well, you two have great timing because dad is going to have a party on Friday. It will be the most extravagant one yet, since I’m going to plan it,” Eleanor proudly tells them. “You two should come!”“They’ve already been invited, love. By Deanna,” Oscar tells her.“Oh. Really? Well, in that case, I do hope that you have your attires.”Jocelyn blinks. “Attires?”“Yes! It’s a party, darling. Outfits are a must! Gowns are most preferable, maybe lose the blazer and pants,” she points at Jocelyn’s outfit.Suddenly, she feels self-conscious but tries to laugh it off. She remembers that Sherlock mentioned to her how Eleanor Sinclair is a fashion designer and owns her own clothing line. Of course, she would make a comment about her clothes; Jocelyn should not have expected any less.Jocelyn tugs on her blazer to tighten it around herself. “Right, yes. I wasn’t exactly informed that it’s that kind of a party.” She slowly glances at Sherlock with wide eyes, as if to say, ‘why the hell didn’t you tell me?’However, once she glances to look at him, he has a hardened look on his face. Sherlock narrows his eyes at Eleanor. “I am sure that Dr. Grant and I can figure it out.”“That’s good because we can’t have anything below fancy,” she chuckles and glances around the table, only to see the rest of her female family members with frowns on their faces. “What?”Deborah looks at Jocelyn. “I think we can go shopping. What do you think, Jocelyn?”Her words only eases Jocelyn. “I would like that.”“Anyway, if the two of you are really here for research purposes, Deanna can take you to my son, Christopher’s bookshop. He has the biggest one in the city,” he proudly tells them.“That is very kind of you, Oscar. Thank you.” Jocelyn nods.Sherlock continues to stay silent, so Jocelyn presses her lips together and nudges him by the shoulder. He blinks and shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. “Oh, yes. Thank you very much.”--As she combed through her long blue hair, Jocelyn stared back at her reflection in the mirror. She remembered dyeing it the moment she was free from living with her dad. It was one of the many things she was forced to keep neat in order to maintain appearances whenever she accompanies him to social parties.Her blue hair was the beginning of her life as she lived it, and not under her father’s control.A twenty-year-old Sherlock stood behind her, wearing his maroon button-up shirt tucked into black dresspants and paired with black shoes.“What is it?”Jocelyn snapped out of her thoughts and realized that she was inside their flat and not inside her father’s mansion anymore. “Oh, um, it’s nothing.”“Is everything alright?” He asked with concern.“Yeah, I’m just used to living alone.”“But you lived with your father for most of your life.”“A person can feel lonely even when they’re not alone.” She gives him a smile.Her words immediately wrote itself into his mind, to be used in the future. “Do you feel that way with me?”“I would never.”He relaxed. “Tell me about your father, then.”“He married my mum when they were eighteen. She was pregnant with me, but they were young and in love. Not much to say, really.” She smiled to make fun of the situation. “Things got complicated. Dad took me away from my mum and aunt, forbade me to see them for the next eight years. And now, he never tried calling me again once I left him.”“I’m sorry,” Sherlock frowned.“It was a long time ago.”“It was a year ago.”“It feels like a long time ago,” the words were whispered and held so much pain enough for him to feel as well. “You know, I used to squeeze through posh people like you whenever he throws his fancy parties,” she smirks at him.Sherlock watched her with soft eyes, still seeing through the façade she is playing as a coping mechanism. He begins to think of how fortunate he is to have a good childhood. Having two parents who cared deeply about one another is a blessing enough, but to go through it all with a brother is more than a gift. Jocelyn suffered alone through it all, since she never had siblings.“You are used to social parties, then?”“No, not at all. During one of his, I would just sit in the balcony. It wasn’t worth my time.” She sighed with amusement. “The sky, though… it will always be beautiful no matter what weather it is. I figured that I’ll just stay out of my father’s way while also enjoying my own view. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been up in that balcony wearing an uncomfortable gown.”The corner of Sherlock’s lips curl into a small smile. “I’m sure you looked lovely,” he said without thinking about it, and his smile fades from his face. “I-I… I simply meant—”“It was an awful gown. I doubt I looked decent.” Jocelyn laughed. “Plus, I still had my natural hair color. You wouldn’t be able to stand me with brown hair. I’d look too serious and uptight. I don’t think you’d even notice me at first glance once I’d blend into a crowd of people.”“It would be strictly impossible not to notice you, Jocelyn.” He gave her a confused look. “Your presence would be radiant, and demand to be noticed without you even noticing.”Jocelyn believed that Sherlock would unintentionally say the sweetest things without even meaning them to be a compliment, which made everything he said much more genuine and she adored that about him.Upon seeing the look on her face, Sherlock awkwardly cleared his throat. “Where’s your father now?”“Um… probably in Sussex somewhere, maybe even in Glasgow. Or Cheshire, I’m not even sure anymore,” she let out a sigh. “Why’d you ask?”“To measure the distance between you both and possibly maintain a great one.”His words brought a smile on her face before she lets out a laugh. She reached over to put her hand over his. “I’m sure he’s far, far away.”--“I can’t believe you never mentioned to me that the party was a fancy one,” Jocelyn hisses at him as they walk out of the mansion. “I could have pulled out an old dress from my house,”“We can afford to buy clothes, Jocelyn.”“I know that, but it doesn’t mean that we have to spend money when I could have reused a dress,” she gives him a playful glare.“I did not bring a suit either.”“Oh, you practically wear one every day. It doesn’t count.” She huffs out a laugh.The plan now is that Jocelyn will come with the Loréis as they shop for dresses, and she will ask some questions to learn more about how Deborah sees her brother. Meanwhile, Sherlock will accompany the Sinclairs inside the mansion, posing with genuine curiosity about the liquor company.Sherlock glances at her and watches the way she crosses her arms and stares at the high balcony above them.“Is there something wrong?” He wonders if what Eleanor Sinclair said to her begun to take effect.“No, it’s just that… this almost looks like the same one my father had at his house, the one I grew up in.”The Victorian mansion, the outlandish lifestyle, and her need to always tone things down for the sake of feeling as if she is overstaying her welcome, as if she does not belong. It brings a wave of forlornness, and Jocelyn swallows it all down.An immediate regret overcomes his face. “My apologies. It never occurred to me how this case may affect you personally.”“It’s not. Don’t worry about me,” she smirks, nudging his shoulder with hers and makes him roll his eyes.“I was not worrying. I strongly believe that you can handle yourself quite well.”“Damn right, I can.” Jocelyn grins and looks back at the house. “Can’t believe I grew up in one of these.”“Out of your natural habitat.”Jocelyn lets out a laugh. “Definitely. What did you see earlier?”“Apart from Eleanor Sinclair being a spoiled daughter of a billionaire, whom loaned her money in order for her to start her fashion line as well as financially support her daughter?” he pauses and shrugs. “Not much.”“Show off,” Jocelyn playfully rolls her eyes.“For now, we can tolerate the two Loréis. They are easily the only ones in the house I fully respect as of now. Apart from little Maya,” he quickly adds.She is fully amused now. “I thought you never eliminate any person when you investigate.”“I think ruling out a six-year-old is acceptable.”She laughs. Jocelyn is actually having a lot of fun, if she is being honest. Sherlock is good company, especially when he is in a positive mood. Right now, he seems so relaxed and healthy, it makes her so happy.***“So, which mall are we visiting?”“Oh, we’re not going to a dreadful mall.” Deborah brushes off while having her hands on the wheel.“I thought we’re going to shop for dresses.” Jocelyn asks in confusion.“To buy a dress we’ll only wear once? Nope.” Deborah lets out a laugh. “We’re going to Christopher’s library.”She raises her brows in surprise. “Sherlock would have wanted to come along if we’re on our way to the bookshop.”“Not the bookshop. We’re going to his library, at his house.” Deanna flashes a grin.Jocelyn is a bit surprised. “Are we doing a bit of reading?”Deborah lets out a chuckle. “You’re very welcome to look through the books. We’re mostly going there to ask for some dresses.”“I thought he was a bookshop owner?”“Oh, he is. He just likes collecting vintage gowns and lets me borrow sometimes.” Deanna gushes. “They are so pretty, you’ll see! Although, they are really heavy, but totally worth it.”“And he’ll lend me one? He doesn’t even know me.”“He loves books, of course he’ll know you.”***“You and Dr. Grant will be staying here in Scotland for a week, you said?”“Yes. Research purposes.”“Of course. Research purposes.” Oscar repeats as they walk, smiling a bit to himself. “My niece talks about that woman quite often.”“I cannot blame her. There are many things to talk about.”“I agree. Jocelyn is one radiant young soul.”Sherlock softens. “I find myself agreeing as well.”“Deanna is very fond of Jocelyn, even before they met.”“She is fond of your niece as well.” Sherlock views the large portrait of the Sinclair family mounted on the wall.It was only of the Sinclair family, no Loréis present. Eleanor, Joseph and Christopher behind Oscar and their mother, who were seated on extravagant wooden chairs. From their clothes, Sherlock can already see the discomfort between the couple, as well as the feeling of being out of place in Christopher’s part.“Your son, Christopher. Why does he not live in this mansion along with the rest of you?”Oscar admires the portrait as well and sighs. “My youngest chose a path that he thinks is best suitable for himself. He wanted a bookshop, and strived hard to achieve it by himself without a single penny from me.”“What was your opinion about that?”“Oh, I was completely shocked when he said he wanted to move out the moment he went to college.” Oscar roars a laugh. “Still, I let him do what he wants. I know he’d be capable of it.”Sherlock narrows his eyes. “You’re giving away your company to your eldest, correct? I heard from your niece.”Oscar seems to take too long to respond to that. “Well, successors should be worthy of what they should inherit.”That technically did not answer Sherlock’s question at all, and it made him all the more suspicious. Sherlock focuses himself on the various bottles of whiskey laid out on the table. A particular brand catches his eye and he smirks to himself, humming.“Ah, I should have known that you were the friend that Dr. Grant referred to.”Sherlock gently picks up the bottle. “Macallan. These are very rare to find.”“Not if you’re Scottish.” Oscar points out and somehow makes Sherlock huff in amusement. “You are a collector, aren’t you?”“I am.”“Well, take it, then.” Oscar offers a smile before patting his shoulder and walking past him to approach the window.Sherlock had to blink. “Pardon?”“Take the bottle. It’s untouched. Most people in this house don’t even drink. You might put it into better use than anyone in this mansion.”“Mr. Sinclair, I am not a materialistic man, but I am still aware that these bottles cost over thousands of pounds.”“It’s a gift. I haven’t seen my niece smile that way in a while.” He casually says, gesturing towards the bottle again. “Please.”Sherlock observes him for a moment and takes the expensive bottle of whiskey. Oscar gives him a respectable nod, which he returns. The consulting detective is beginning to be unsure of his own perspective towards the older man.***Meanwhile, Deborah pulls over in front of a small building, and the three women walk to the front door. Deanna pushes the door open and reveals the shelves filled with books. The walls are red and brown, curtains were drawn and the sunlight seeped through the windows. Jocelyn looks around with wide eyes, seeing how simple everything looked compared to the mansion she just been to.Christopher was very welcoming, and Jocelyn can see how close he is to Deanna.Deanna turns to Jocelyn and grins widely. “This is Dr. Jocelyn Grant, she just came here yesterday.”Christopher looks surprised. “Wow. I was not expecting you today, doctor.”“Oh, please call me Jocelyn,” she goes to shake his hand.“How did you all meet?”“Your father and Deanna happened upon them last night, and he invited them for breakfast.” Deborah informs him with a smirk.He furrows his brows in surprise. “He did? Wow,” Jocelyn watches him carefully and notices how he is mildly shocked by what she said, almost as if he thought that his father was incapable of inviting strangers into his home, but he looks happy about it. “Did you say them? Sherlock Holmes is also here?”Jocelyn blinks and raises both her brows at the way he talks about them as if she and Sherlock come as a package.“Yes! He’s at the house right now, ugh, it’s so cool!” The teenager groans out dramatically.Christopher chuckles at his cousin’s excitement. “What can I do for you ladies today?”“We came for the dresses you promised us,” Deborah pats his back. “And we were hoping that you’ll have something that Jocelyn can wear, too.”“But you don’t have to, I can really go to—”“I think I have just the thing for you!” Christopher claps once before he begins to walk back into the closet.Jocelyn watches him for a moment. “I thought Eleanor was the fashion designer.”Deborah lets out a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, Christopher is not a fashion designer. He collects vintage clothes that he thinks are of royal caliber,” Deanna emphasizes with air-quotes, and Deborah chuckles.Jocelyn nods and takes note of that. After a few moments, Christopher emerges with a gown in his hands, and Jocelyn almost stops breathing with her jaw slacking. He holds it up and she widens her eyes. The long skirt is in a dark shade of green, and it had short sleeves that she can tell are off-shoulder. The top was white, delicately laced with peach colored flowers.“Oh! It looks so pretty!” Deanna gasps.“It’s in your size, too. Would bring out the green in your eyes.” Christopher teases.“I-It’s beautiful. Am I really allowed to borrow this?” Jocelyn reaches out to touch it through the plastic. “I mean, it’s really beautiful.”As far as any of them know, she just came here for research and not to investigate Oscar Sinclair. She wonders how they will feel once they find out.“Of course, you are! Now, be careful. No one has used this one before.”Before she could react over his statement, she lets out a surprised noise when the dress was placed in her arms. “You’re right, it’s actually really heavy. Is it made of metal?” She jokes.“Depends on which part you’re asking,” he goes along with her joke and turns to retrieve some boxes in the closet.***Deborah glances at Jocelyn through the rearview mirror. “You seemed choked up when Oscar asked if you and Mr. Holmes were here on your honeymoon.”Jocelyn widens her eyes in surprise. “Oh, uh, we’re not together.”That was what Deanna gasps at with wide eyes. “What?” Jocelyn gives her an uncertain look. Does everyone just assume that? “Sherlock and I are friends. We came here for research.”“Thought I read somewhere in the paper that you two are together,” Deborah chuckles, graceful crinkles forming by her eyes.“That only proves how unreliable those are.”“Huh, all this time, I thought you and Mr. Holmes were dating.” Deanna tilts her head in wonder.She almost grimaces at the term, unable to even imagine Sherlock say the word ‘dating’ in any context.“We’re not, I can assure you.” Jocelyn smiles in amusement, but there is an ache in her chest that she would like to go away.“Well, sweetheart, either way, that Sherlock Holmes is one fine gentleman,” she dreamily sighs.“Mum!” Deanna groans out and buries her face into her palms.Jocelyn presses her lips together as if to prevent a smile as the older woman lets out a laugh inside the car.Once they arrive back in the mansion, Jocelyn immediately spots Sherlock in the garden with Oscar Sinclair. What surprises her the most is how they seem to be chuckling about something. Jocelyn carries the box containing her dress.Sherlock sees her and has a contented smile on his face. He walks over to take the box from her arms and without another word, he walks to the car in order to store it inside.“What have you been doing?” Deborah asks her brother.“Just swapping war stories, Debbie.”“What war have you ever been to? Come on, you old man,” Deborah flashes a wink at Jocelyn before she leads her brother back into the mansion.Jocelyn smiles at her with a grateful look before turning to Deanna. “Hey, kid. Do you think you can show me the receipts you found?”Deanna only nods and smiles at her before walking back to the mansion with a spring to her step.Sherlock approaches her, and Jocelyn grins brightly. “What were you two laughing at?”“War stories.”“Oh. Which one?” She teases.Her words amuse him. “How was the shopping?”“Actually, we didn’t go to any mall. We went to Christopher’s library, at his house.”“Not the bookshop?”“Apparently they’re two separate things.”“The library must be his own private books. Why there?”“He collects vintage dresses, and let me borrow one. Deanna and Deborah have been borrowing from him for a long while now, it’s actually quite nice. He was nice.”“Did Miss Deborah say anything about Oscar?”“Nothing that would make him even more suspicious,” she shrugs, thinking about how Deborah said that Sherlock is a gentleman. The random thought leaves her cheeks heat up, and Sherlock narrows his eyes at her. “But Christopher did do something that would interest you.”“Such as?”“When Deborah said that his father invited us over, he seemed a bit shocked. It was like he couldn’t believe that his dad would do something like that.”“Christopher believes that his father did something unexpected. Hm. Nice work.”Jocelyn smirks. “Thanks. Still trying to get used to this John Watson persona.”“You are not being John.”She shrugs at him. “What did you get from Oscar, then?”Sherlock frowns and shakes his head. “He seems like a different person, and not only because most people have a reputation to uphold. No, I believe this is more than that.”“You think he really changed?”“I have seen it.” He tells her with an uncertain look. “He’s completely sound and healthy. I don’t see anything wrong.”“Case closed, then?” She asks with a smile.“Maybe.”“Does that mean we’re free for the next three days? Oh, I want to go to tourist attractions and take photos.” She comically gasps.He is not much for tourist attractions, but she does deserve a break even just for a few days. Sherlock watches her excited eyes with his gentle expression. “Of course.”“We did drive seven hours for this case. What changed your mind?”He takes in a deep breath and turns to look at her. “I will explain later.”“Why? Do you have other plans when we get back?” She smiles. Sherlock looks at her directly in the eyes without a word, and their intense gazes lock. Jocelyn’s smile fades slightly, but she cannot seem to look away from him.She keeps thinking about how Deanna seemed so surprise to know that she and Sherlock weren’t involved in that way, and it makes her wonder just how many other people assume such a thing. Do people in Cambridge assume that? Do her students? Jocelyn has no idea, and maybe because she has not been observant.What could possibly have given them the idea? Is it the way she looks at him? Has she been too obvious lately?She almost burns under his gaze, and she cannot seem to break it. Although, she realizes that she held her breath the moment Deanna comes back and approaches them, causing their eyes to break contact.Deanna clicks something on her laptop and shows it to Sherlock. He looks over them and slowly, confusion seeps through him. Sherlock clenches his jaw for a moment and musters a polite smile at Deanna before taking out his phone. “Would you mind if I take photos of these?”“Not at all! Is everything okay?”“Yes, of course,” Sherlock says after snapping a few photos of the laptop screen. “We’ll be in touch. For now, Dr. Grant and I have somewhere to be.”“We’ll see you soon,” she reassures the young girl and waves goodbye at her. Jocelyn looks towards Sherlock with a curious look. “Where are we going?”“Glasgow, to prove a point. Come on.” Sherlock immediately goes to the car before Jocelyn could even ask a question. So, she just follows behind him and slides into the passenger’s seat just before he begins to drive.“What’s going on?”“We’ve been observing through a different angle. The incorrect one.” Sherlock flails his hands around. “Look through my phone for the photos.”She complies and turns his phone on. “Your password?”“One, two.” He says and Jocelyn types. “Three, four.”The phone unlocks itself and Jocelyn blinks. “You are the world’s best detective ever, and your password is 1234?”“Only stupid people will believe it would be a complicated password. View the photographs.”She sighs and goes to the recent photos and views the receipts. “Banking details. What’s wrong with it?”“Look at the last one.”She squints at the text to read it. “Funding for a Childcare Home in Glasgow, organized by Social Workers?”“Exactly! From that large amount of money, the construction for the building would have begun months ago. That would confirm everything.”“Can you make sense?” Jocelyn sarcastically says and makes him roll his eyes. Now, Jocelyn truly feels like John.“If the construction of the building was done months ago, the building would stand now. The only way we can be sure that there is no foul play in this, is if the building actually exists.”“What kind of foul play?”“The bank transactions were not signed off by him. Someone has been stealing directly from Mr. Sinclair.”Surprise washes over her. “That would mean…”“People who have access to his bank account would be a suspect. None of the family members seemed like they were thieves. I did not read any of that from any of them.” Sherlock shakes his head in frustration.Jocelyn frowns. “Hey, it’s okay. We still have a few days.”“That is exactly it, Jocelyn. We only have a few days to reanalyze the whole family since we have focused solely on Oscar Sinclair. Any one of them could be the culprit.”“We haven’t confirmed it yet, we still need to go to Glasgow,” she reassures him, reaching over to slide her hand over his shoulder, making him tense. “It’s okay, we’ll be fine.”“This involves the whole family, Jocelyn. We need to be more careful, they all painted a perfect façade.” Sherlock sighs out. “Apologies for cancelling your tourist attraction sightings.”Jocelyn waves him off, removing her hand from his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? A thief among the family and a grand party on Friday? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”***They arrive in Glasgow an hour later, and as suspected, the building at the address cited as the new childcare home was a vacant lot with nothing occupying it.Sherlock frowns at the sight and glances at her, who only presses her lips together.Jocelyn sighs. “Who do you think it is?”“Everyone is capable.”“But who’s the most capable?”“Eleanor Sinclair. She fits the profile.”“Why not just ask him for it?” Jocelyn asks as they both walk to the car again.“Because her brother will be receiving all the wealth and even the company. Once the company is handed over to her brother, she will either rely on him or do hard work by herself instead.”“And you think she doesn’t want to rely on her brother like that?”“What kind of person would willingly to rely on their older brother for everything?” Sherlock gets back inside the car, and Jocelyn furrows her brows at his words.“So, she steals from her dad before he gives everything away,” Jocelyn concludes and he nods at her. “Do we tell Deanna?”“I think that would be best. Once Deanna knows, she can help with looking for evidence against Miss Sinclair. That depends on her reaction, but I strongly believe that she will do what’s best for her uncle.”***During the drive, Sherlock’s phone vibrates in between them and Jocelyn glances at it. “Should I answer it?”“Leave it.”“But someone’s calling you. It might be serious.”“Just ignore it.”Jocelyn bites her lip and looks away from the phone, waiting for it to stop vibrating. They park nearby a restaurant and Sherlock asks for a moment to call someone. Jocelyn only watches him from afar as she stands by the car, basking under the sun for a second.She was about to walk in the restaurant when her eyes land on someone quite familiar. Her blood runs cold and she has to blink twice to make sure she’s not seeing things.Jocelyn falters and she felt the need to back away behind the car to keep watching, feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions as she watches the person sit with a woman and two children.Finishing his call, Sherlock approaches her after a minute, looking confused at the way she looks stricken. “What is it?”“It’s…” she tries to comprehend it first. “It’s my dad.”Sherlock is in full alert, following her gaze. As she claimed, her father is seated with a woman and two children, on one of the outdoor tables. One girl was not older than six and the other appeared to be at most ten. He frowns, seeing how they all appeared to look happy.She watches her father laugh at something the woman, who seems to be his wife, told him. Jocelyn remembers the way her parents would yell at each other while she sits by the stairs.She remembers crying when she was taken from her mother and put inside an empty mansion.Now, this woman looks so happy with her father and the image of Jocelyn’s weeping mother flashes before her eyes.Jocelyn swallows, looking away. “We should go to another restaurant.”Sherlock nods and they both got into the car before he starts driving.Silence overcomes the car and it begins to worry Sherlock, as much as he did not like admitting it. For the first time in about a decade, she saw her father, and not in a way she expected it to be.They get to a different restaurant, and she noticed how Sherlock drove really far from the first one they went. They find a booth and ordered some food. Jocelyn is being awfully quiet, lost in her thoughts as she wraps her mind around what she saw earlier.He watches her stressed expression. “Are you alright?”“Yeah. It’s just that my dad is hanging out with his wife and their two kids. I’m peachy,” she calmly says even though her voice is shaky. “He never even bothered to call me for a decade, and all this time, he was enjoying his life while his daughter was out in New York, overdosing herself—”“Jocelyn,” he reaches over to take her hand, but she flinches back and drags herself to the restroom.Sherlock sits still, blinking twice before leaning back into his seat with a sigh. Once Jocelyn enters the restroom, she steadies her breath. She covers her mouth and holds back a sob, gripping the sink with her free hand.Is it unfair of her to blame her father like this? She has no idea what to feel, but the pure rage and heartbreak was easily surfacing.***“Yes, we’re fine, what is it?”
“Would it hurt you to try not to sound too annoyed?”
“I dislike pretending.”
“I haven’t heard from you since you’ve taken my car without any advanced notice.”
“Oh, sorry. I’d like to borrow your car. Is that better?”Mycroft audibly scoffs, and Sherlock can practically picture him rolling his eyes. “You should have let me know that you and Miss Grant will be travelling to Scotland. I could have sent a guard to watch over you,”“We’re better off.”
“Oh? So, you deny that Miss Adler is still out there and could be a danger to Jocelyn most of all?”
Sherlock remembers how he did not exactly inform his brother about the Woman telling Jocelyn about Charles Magnussen. “I am not denying anything.”“Then, you must have realized the danger you are putting her in!” Mycroft scolds him, and Sherlock closes his eyes as if to prepare himself. “This isn’t some silly case you bother yourself with everyday, this is her life! We swore to her that we will protect her and you decided to interrupt her classes and whisk her away to a place she has never been!”“She saw her father today,” Sherlock sighs out, and it was his older brother’s turn to be silent.Mycroft waits for a few moments. “Her father?”“With his wife and kids. They were having lunch together.”
“Did she approach them?”
“Of course, she didn’t approach them, Mycroft.” Sherlock rolls his eyes.
“Is she alright?”
“She has purchased a basket of green apples, what can you deduce from that?”
“This is the first time I’ve spoken to you ever since you left. Are you even capable of making a non sarcastic comment for at least the duration of this phone call?”
“When I need to.”
“I believe it’s time for you and Miss Grant to come back to London.”
“I’m very close to closing this case. I can’t go home yet.”
“For goodness’ sake, will you forget about your mediocre cases? Our focus should be her protection.”
Sherlock feels insulted that his brother would even assume that he is not prioritizing her safety. “Is that really where our focus is? Or is this your guilt, brother mine?”“I believe you should ask yourself that. Come back to London, don’t make me order you.” He finishes before hanging up the phone.Sherlock huffs at his phone and pushes it inside his jacket. He contemplates for a moment before taking the bottle and walking his way to the room next door. Before he could change his mind, he knocks on the door and straightens his posture. There was shuffling from the other side of the door and it swings open, revealing Jocelyn holding a bitten apple.“Hey.”“Hello.”Jocelyn lets him in and closes the door. “What do you got there?”He holds up the bottle. “Whiskey. We will drink it.”She chuckles, but as she looks at his face, her smile fades. “Oh, you’re serious?”“Why would I not be?”“Sherlock, it’s five in the afternoon.”“And you’ve just seen your father after ten years, who you’ve realized lived a life while you were alone in New York. You’re allowed a drink.”She crosses her arms and watches as Sherlock grabs two glasses and pops the bottle open. He pours both of them a glass and hands one to Jocelyn. She hesitates, but still takes the glass and downs it in one go. “Oh, that is good. What is this?”“Macallan.”“Sounds fancy. How much is the bottle?” She takes another sip.“Two hundred thousand pounds.”Jocelyn almost chokes as she drinks, widening her eyes at him in shock.Sherlock has an amused smile and begins to softly chuckle, drinking his own glass.“You moron—you made me drink a two hundred thousand pound whiskey?”“Yes, I did. It was a gift from Oscar Sinclair. He wanted to express his gratitude for pleasing his niece.” He pours some into her empty glass.“I wonder how he will feel once he finds out that his niece had him investigated.”“And his daughter stole from him.”“We’re dealing with a dysfunctional family.”“Aren’t we all?” He remarks and slips one hand into his pocket, head held high with his dark curls framing his face.“Aren’t we all.” Jocelyn watches him drink.Jocelyn cannot lie and say he does not look good, because he does. He looks so good, it makes her breath hitch in her throat. Sherlock wasn’t wearing his coat, and only wears a jacket with a black button-up underneath. His whole posh attire makes his demeanor seem powerful.She had to look away before he catches her ogling at him that way. God, what is wrong with me?Sherlock glances over at her. “You never talk about your father.”“I told you about him before, didn’t I?”“Yes. However, you never really discuss him.” Sherlock remains standing while Jocelyn takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “You never even mention his name.”“Clarkson Grant is kind of posh, don’t you think?” She mocks with a laugh. “They were at a restaurant. We always used to storm out to go to another because my father always made a scene. And now, he’s like laughing with his wife and kids. It makes me so… angry. I’m thirty and this is probably the most childish thing.”“It has nothing to do with age, Jocelyn.”“I know that my parents had issues, but I wish they loved me more than they hated each other.” Jocelyn avoids his gaze before standing to take the bottle and pouring herself another glass.He watches her drink and feels a wave of emotion. “I’m sorry you had to grow up that way.”She palms her face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be blowing this up on you. We could just focus on the case.”“We don’t have to do anything for tonight.”Jocelyn looks up at him in hesitation. “Why are you doing this?”“You are my friend, Jocelyn.”She smiles. “That, I am.” She walks past him to go get her phone from the table once it rings.“Who is it?”She furrows her brows at the screen. “It’s Mycroft.”Sherlock sharply inhales and walks over to retrieve the phone. “Don’t answer that.”“What? Why? Hey—” She exclaims as Sherlock declines the call. She stares at him with bewilderment. “It could’ve been important.”“It wasn’t.” Sherlock looks at the phone again when it begins to ring. Jocelyn goes to reach for it, but Sherlock calmly holds it high above him until she couldn’t.“Are you serious? Give it back!”“I am telling you that what he will say is not important.”She steps closer to glare into his eyes. “And I’m telling you to hand over my phone.”Sherlock narrows his eyes into slits, still holding the ringing phone. She definitely is stubborn enough not to back down. He clenches his jaw and hands back the phone and she smirks before answering, pressing the phone against her ear.“Yes, dear?” She teasingly coos.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t ask. What’s up?”
“You and my dear brother should be on your way back to London, Miss Grant.”
“But… there’s a case right now,” she suspiciously glances at Sherlock.
“As my brother so kindly informed me earlier, however, both of you need to come back.”
“Why? Has something happened?”
“Not yet, Miss Grant.”
“We’ll be home by Saturday.”
“It’s currently Tuesday, Jocelyn.”
“Not even for just a few days?” She smiles. “Should I say please?” He lets out a deep sigh. “Fine, but I will not allow extensions. I don’t think it is safe for both of you in one place.”“Irene isn’t a threat. At least, I don’t think she is.”“You are allowed to have your opinions, Miss Grant. However, I have reserved my own perceptions for The Woman. And tell Sherlock to not ignore future calls from me. I’ve only called once and he is already acting out.”So, that means that Mycroft wasn’t the one calling Sherlock today.“Fine by me. Thank you,” she smiles a bit and Mycroft hangs up without adding any more words. She looks at Sherlock. “Let me guess. You didn’t tell Mycroft we’re going out of town.”“I suspected it would not be a problem.”“Mycroft freaks out if I’m a minute late from sending his secretary a daily text to reassure him I’m fine. You think he’s not going to freak over us going to Scotland?” Jocelyn tries to be serious, but laughs anyway.A small smile grows on Sherlock’s face. “I figure I should give him a heart attack. Haven’t given him one in ages.”“Now, imagine if you didn’t make me answer his call.”“I should have expected that he will listen to you.”“That’s because I’m not mean to him when I ask for something,” she gives him a playful look. “Your brother is the best.”“Do not let him hear you utter those words.”“Why not? He’s pretty cool. Carrying an umbrella everywhere, wearing those suits, working for the government. It’s really cool.”“I can think of any other word to describe my brother and I don’t believe that… cool is one of those.”“Oh, come on, even you have to admit your brother is cool.” Sherlock hums, but says nothing and she takes that as a yes. “You sure you don’t want to talk about our plan tomorrow?”“That can wait, Jocelyn. Tonight, we take a brief pause.”“And do what?”“Drink, talk. Anything you prefer.”“Are you just doing this because I saw my dad today?”He hesitates. “Mostly. However, I… do enjoy your company.”Jocelyn snorts. “I can say the same to you.”Sherlock stares for a moment before giving her a swift nod before sipping his drink.She watches him closely and bites her lip. “Those kids won’t grow up like I did and I have no idea why that makes me half angry and half relieved.”“You are angry because you never experienced that, however, you are relieved because those children will live a better life.”She snorts. “Can’t believe you understand me more than I do.”“That’s not true. I’ve known you for almost eleven years, yet you are still a mystery, Jocelyn.”“You’ve known me for three years and five months.”“We met eleven years ago.”He lets out a hum, amused. However, his mind takes note of what she said. “So, does that mean that I don’t truly know who you are?”“No, it means that you still have a lot to learn.” Jocelyn gives him a smile, and he retunrs it.“I don’t even want to think about my dad.” She sadly states. “If he did change, that means that he has always been capable of it. I was just… not worth changing for to him.”When it comes to her father, it was no question that Jocelyn disliked him and would like not want to reconcile with him. Sherlock knew that Jocelyn adored her mother no matter what. However, her mother did not love her enough to put her first before herself and Jocelyn is still struggling to accept that.After all, it is difficult for a person to hate someone they loved for so long.“You’ve managed this far without him, and look at you, a successful renowned scientist with three rightfully earned degrees, teaching in one of the most prestigious schools you once could not afford because you were left to fend for yourself.” He reminds her, and she feels an overwhelming emotion wash over her body. “He does not deserve the privilege of having you as a daughter.”Jocelyn’s eyes fill with tears as she tries holding back a cry, touched by his words. Before she could think, she pushes herself off the bed and walks over to him to wrap her arms around his torso. Jocelyn closes her eyes, letting a single tear slide down her cheek.Sherlock tenses, but after a few seconds he returns the embrace and rests his palm on the back of her head.“Thank you.” She breathily whispers enough for him to hear.“There’s… no need to thank me. I was stating factual information,” he slows down talking as Jocelyn pulls away and tilts her chin up towards him.Their faces are inches from one another and Sherlock feels an unknown, yet familiar emotion while having her so close this way. His hand is still placed at the back of her head, fingers caressing her hair as they stare into each other’s eyes.Jocelyn’s eyes unmistakably darts down to his mouth, and Sherlock could feel the alcohol in ignite in his system.Her one arm is around Sherlock’s torso and the other is pressed against his chest. “We always end up like this.”“Like what?” He lowly asks.“You know what,” she insists, almost sighing the words. “The question is, what are you going to do now?”The heat of Sherlock’s gaze is intensely burning through hers, and her stubborn self would not look away. Her hand on his chest only disproves the blank look on his face, since the beating of his heart is increasing. She couldn’t help but notice the way his pupils begin to dilate.However, always with the ill timing, the ringing of Sherlock’s phone in his jacket breaks the tension between them. Despite that, Sherlock remains in his position.Jocelyn holds his gaze for a second until she could not ignore his phone any longer. She moves away. “You should answer it. Could be important.”A part of her wanted him to ignore it and pull her back to his chest, and do whatever he wanted to do with her. The thought leaves her flustered, palming her face as if to subtly hide it from him.Unsurprisingly so, Sherlock’s voice remains the same as it did earlier, as though nothing happened. “Yes. Excuse me.” He pulls out the ringing phone from his jacket, leaving and closing the door.The moment the door closed, Jocelyn closes her eyes in frustration, muttering curse words at herself for letting herself drinking too much. She has no idea how to face him after that encounter, feeling so humiliated by herself.Oh, God, what have I done? She asks herself before plopping herself down on the bed with a quiet groan.Contrary to her belief, as soon as Sherlock stepped out of the room, he took a breath deeper than he anticipated. His two fingers press against the racing pulse point of his wrist and frowns before clenching his fists.How could he let himself get distracted and take advantage of a situation wherein she was clearly intoxicated? He feels the familiar shame seep through him and constructs an acceptable apology in his mind palace, something he can sincerely tell Jocelyn in order to dismiss his inappropriate behavior.He clenches his jaw and looks back at her door, walking back towards it. As soon as he reaches for the doorknob, he stills and begins to hesitate. This leads him to pry his hand back from the door and walk back to his own room to leave her be.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Eleanor?” Deanna repeats with a much more surprised tone.Currently, Jocelyn and Sherlock are sat down with Deanna at a small and secluded café having breakfast. It was early in the morning and Jocelyn still feels half-asleep while the man next to her is already wide awake.“I’m very sure of it, and I’m rarely wrong. All I need now is evidence, just so we can report it.”“I-I thought that my uncle was being forced to give money away for something. I didn’t think my family would be involved in this way.”“Hey, kid, don’t think this is your fault. Don’t worry too much about this,” Jocelyn tries to reassure her.Deanna hesitates, but lets out a sigh. “I’m… not comfortable about this anymore. If Eleanor is stealing from my uncle, then he should know about it.”“You would also be revealing yourself.” Sherlock furrows his brows.“If Eleanor goes to jail, Maya loses her mother,” she glances at both of them with wide eyes.Sherlock glances briefly at Jocelyn before turning to Deanna. “Eleanor’s child will be taken care of, by your family.”“No, you don’t understand. Eleanor can be the bitchiest person I’ve ever met, but she loves Maya adores her,” she stays silent for a moment and looks at Sherlock. “You put your client’s word before anything else, right?”“Of course.”“Then, I want all of this to be kept between us. Eleanor can’t go to prison. I want the investigation to stop,” she informs them both, opening her purse. “Maya can’t lose her mum, too.”Sherlock calmly watches her count the payment, taking it once she hands it over. Jocelyn watches the exchange, wanting to interject with this decision but the look on Sherlock’s face is telling her not to.Deanna attempts to smile. “You two are still welcome to come to the party. Please, don’t let this stop you.”Sherlock gives her a brief polite smile that never reached his eyes, before the young girl stands on her feet to leave the café.Once the girl is gone, Jocelyn gives him an incredulous look.“She is hurting, Jocelyn. We cannot force her.”This morning, she could not even look at him due to last night’s events, but he just acted as though nothing happened. The minute she left her room, Sherlock was already waiting for her and immediately started to discuss the case.Quite honestly, it was a relief for her because he spares her the humiliation.“But Eleanor stole thousands of money right from under their noses.”“Losing a mother after being abandoned by your father is not a fate Miss Loréi wishes upon Eleanor’s child.” Sherlock picks up his cup of tea, taking a sip. “A client’s word comes first.”“How are you so comfortable with this? We literally found a criminal who stole so much money from her own dad,” Jocelyn blurts out, curious.Jocelyn has been through more than a hundred cases with Sherlock, but never outside of Scotland Yard. Not unless Baskerville is counted. She has never worked on a case like this with him before, so it makes her curious how differently he works with Scotland Yard to clients in his emails.“Work ethics. Does that surprise you?”“Kind of. You’re the bring-people-to-justice detective.”“I’m a consulting detective. People consult me. Whether it’s Scotland Yard or through John’s emails. Once it’s solved, I leave it to them to do what they will with the information I provided. I’ll respect their decision as long as it is not an idiotic one.”“But it doesn’t bother you that people get away with it?”Sherlock sighs. “I’d like you to think of it this way. I would not want that child to grow without her mother.”His phone beeps from the table and he goes to pick it up before typing out a message. Jocelyn is not sure if it’s annoying her or making her curious. Although, it would be mean of her to be annoyed by something so small. She does not even want to know if she’s jealous that his attention is divided.“You did not answer my question earlier.” Sherlock says as he looks through his phone.“What?”“Where would you like to go? We have two days.”She grins widely, and the excitement overcomes her face. The sight of her brings an inexplicable warmth in Sherlock’s chest, and leads him to return the smile.For the whole day, they drove and walked around the city together. Jocelyn would excitedly point and laugh loudly in her seat. She even made Sherlock roll down the windows for every time they drove.Sherlock would walk quietly behind her as she giddily walks around the streets of Edinburgh. They reached parks, cafés, open art galleries and she immediately grabs his arm to pull him into every place she could see.The excitement in her eyes was a familiar sight, he would always see the same light in her eyes a decade ago. It used to come naturally, she was always so happy about something despite how she lived.It was one of the few and rare moments where Sherlock envied her, she always seemed to find the good in everything while he does the opposite.He can say that the light in her eyes have dimmed over the course of the years.“What is one place that you’ve always wanted to visit?” Jocelyn asks as they walk together around the museum.“I have already been to hundreds of countries.”“Yeah, but it wasn’t for a vacation,” she chuckles. “There has to be a place you have in mind.”Sherlock hums, thinking about it. “I have none.”“That can’t be true. Everyone has that one place they’d like to go to.”“What’s yours, then?”Jocelyn smiles. “I keep thinking about how amazing Bourbon Street would be.”“New Orleans?” Sherlock glances at her with surprise.She sighs dreamily. “Think about all the amazing festivals and parties, the jazz music. Sounds so alive, unlike London.”“Festivals, parties, nightly street dances. Not my scene.”“Not mine either. It would be nice to be in a completely different environment.”Sherlock makes a mental note of that before he lets himself be guided outside. After going to a nearby cemetery, they reach a particular statue in the middle of a park, and Jocelyn tugs on the sleeve of his coat to pull him towards it.Before he could begin talking about the history behind the statue, Jocelyn curses aloud. “I left my phone in the car, for Christ’s sake,” she groans out. “Can you use your phone to take a picture of me? Please?” She pleads with her eyes.He agrees and pulls out his phone, waiting for her to pose in front of the statue before snapping the photos.After that, Sherlock grimaces when Jocelyn practically bullies him into taking more photos of her in various destinations. She tries her hardest to embarrass him in public as she makes silly faces and poses for the camera. Her smile never left her face and the sound of her laughter would fill the open space around them.Sherlock has no idea how to explain Jocelyn’s natural vibrant personality. There is something contagious about it.Eventually, Jocelyn spots a bookshop down the street named Hildegard’s Bookshack, and she pulls Sherlock to it.“Jocelyn!”They snap their heads to their right to see Christopher carrying a few books.She grins. “Hey!”Christopher puts down the books, holding out his hand towards Sherlock. “Mr. Holmes, it’s a pleasure,”Sherlock gives him a firm handshake. “Mr. Sinclair.”“Come on, it’s Christopher,” he offers them a warm smile.“Then, it is Sherlock.”Jocelyn gives him a smile. “We were just walking around town and saw this place. It looks amazing.”“That means a lot. I worked pretty hard for this,” he chuckles and looks around the bookshop.“The name, though. Hildegard?” Sherlock decides to add.Christopher cheekily smiles. “Hildegard von Bingen? Come on.”“The saint?” Jocelyn amusedly asks. “Exactly! Good to know that you know your music. Medieval times have always been one of the greatest eras for music and armor. Did you know that women back then would have dresses as body armor?” Christopher laughs.Sherlock feels a bit comfortable with him. “They would have pleated skirts right in the middle of a war.”Christopher nods at that and appreciates how Sherlock Holmes knows that. “You mentioned that both of you are here for research, right? I have a whole shelf of research.”Sherlock finds himself genuinely interested, but he has no idea how vocalize it. Jocelyn is glad that he’s enjoying this day, it makes her happy to see the interest in his eyes.Jocelyn smiles at the bookshop owner. “Can we see it?”***They did the same thing the next day, just walking around the city together. They even reach the castle and Jocelyn enjoys the cold weather for the first time in a while. For once, she is not alone to experience it.At the end of the day, they go through the bookshop’s shelf of copies of research papers.Sherlock is actually liking this. It may be boring for some people, but he enjoys reading about other people’s research. It wasn’t until Sherlock comes across a book under Jocelyn’s name. Amused, he flips through the thick set of papers.As Jocelyn comes back and gasps. “Oh, God. Don’t read that.”“Designer chemical substance with a designer cure. Explain?”“I’m not going to explain that,” Jocelyn laughs, a bit embarrassed.“What does it mean?”“It doesn’t really mean anything. Chemical substances like that are still theoretical.”Sherlock looks back at the words. “It can be possible for a harmful chemical substance to be created inside a laboratory, with only one antidote specifically designed to cure it.”“Don’t read it out loud,” Jocelyn whines in embarrassment.“Why are you embarrassed? You were rewarded by this.”“I wrote page thirty-eight while high on heroin,” Jocelyn bluntly says, and it makes Sherlock blink multiple times. “Can you imagine the shock I felt when I got a PhD for this?”Her dark humor amuses him. “Fair enough.” He moves on from the paper, but somewhere in his mind, he memorized every word she wrote.Jocelyn smiles at him before she walks away and goes to Christopher. “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for being so welcoming to us. Especially for the dress, it was so beautiful. We really appreciate it.”“Hey, don’t mention it. Deanna loves you both, it’s the least I can do for her.” Christopher shakes his head and pats her back. “I consider us friends, despite knowing you for just a few days.”Jocelyn finds that heartwarming. “Good, I feel the same.”“Well, I’m glad you and your boyfriend over there are enjoying Edinburgh.”Jocelyn’s eyes widen. “Oh, no, Sherlock and I aren’t like that.”“Really? Oh, sorry.”“Don’t worry. Apparently, everyone thinks that.”“Sorry, I could’ve sworn you both were dating.”She just lets out a long sigh. “Well, you probably shouldn’t read the papers.”“I don’t really read the gossipy newspapers, honestly. I just thought you both were together, from the way you both were acting.” He shrugs and makes Jocelyn’s lips part in surprise.Jocelyn spends her time thinking about Christopher’s words for hours upon hours.***“What do you mean you’ve been in Scotland ever since we left?” John exclaims through the phone. Sherlock had to pull the phone away from his ear from his voice’s volume.“Calm down, John. We’re on a case.”
“The Edinburgh one?”
“Yes.”
“You mean to tell me that you and Jocelyn are in another country, alone?”
“It’s for a case.”
“She dropped her classes to go solve a case.”
“Yes.”
“And you two are alone for a week.”
“I said that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m… yeah, I’m processing that.”
“Are you done? I’d like to ask how Mary is doing. Has she been avoiding seafood as I said she should?” Sherlock glances over the neatly folded suit on the bed.“Uh… yeah, we didn’t eat any seafood so far,” John trails off, sounding a bit distracted by the fact that Sherlock and Jocelyn are off alone in a country together.“That’s good. I’ve done many researches about how a pregnant woman should—”
“So, you and Jocelyn are going to a party in an hour… w
ith people and social drinking.”
“Yes, I’ve said that. I’m telling you how to make sure your pregnant wife is alright and you’re talking about a case?”John lets out a sigh. “Alright, tell me what to do.”After his phone call with John, Sherlock goes next door and walks in without knocking. He sees Jocelyn sitting in bed, eating an apple while she reads one of the books she bought from the bookshop.She looks up when he enters, smiling a bit. “Hey.”“Mary got sick and they’re planning to cut the honeymoon short. They might be back in London in three days.”“Oh, God, is she okay?”“She’s fine. John is with her. However, I am planning to go to the pharmacy to make a list.”“But John is a doctor?”“I know. I still insisted.”Jocelyn presses her lips together. “I’ll see you at the party, then?”He just nods at her again before leaving the room to proceed walking to the drugstore he came across when they were going around the city.Once he left, Jocelyn gets on her feet and sends a text message to John and Mary to tell them to get better soon. She sends it and goes to retrieve the dress she will be wearing tonight. Jocelyn lays it out on the bed, and as she unfolds it, a pair of dark green silk gloves is tucked inside. She lets out a surprised scoff, wondering how posh this dress could get.***Jocelyn looks around and gapes at how everything looks much extravagant than she remembered the first time she came here. There were many people already, all of them wearing beautiful gowns and crisp suits.Everyone here is probably from a generation of the wealthiest families in the country. It was as if the whole of Scotland’s old money decided to dominate the whole mansion.Deanna goes to greet some of her friends, leaving Christopher and Jocelyn together as they walk. People surrounded Oscar Sinclair as he narrates a story, as Jocelyn can tell. She offers a wave towards him, and he nods in acknowledgement while he talks with glee.“Jesus. Everyone here looks like a god.” Jocelyn takes a glass of champagne.“Trust me, you are much smarter than most people here.” Christopher chuckles, making her roll her eyes in amusement.The party went on, and she was introduced to and approached by so many people. Some of them were nice, and most of them didn’t recognize her, which is a relief. She even met some of Deanna’s friends, who were also star struck upon seeing her.However, many of the older people managed to recognize her, and not for something she preferred.“You’re that woman on the newspapers a few years ago, right? The one who was dating that fraud detective bloke,” one of the men spoke as soon as he shook her hand.“Uh, well, I’m not sure if I—”“I’m quite certain that Dr. Grant has done much more significant things for you to only label her as that.”Jocelyn cranes her neck to look behind her, seeing Sherlock in a black suit and a matching tie. Her eyes light up at the sight of him, but she barely smiles. It wasn’t a rare sight for him to wear a suit, since he wears one every single day.However, to see him with his hair swept back with wax is not an everyday sight. His wild curls are gone, and Jocelyn has no idea how to feel about it. Jocelyn turns around to face him, still looking at his hair.“Dr. Grant is a renowned scientist across the nation and helped solved at least a hundred homicide cases in London. Now, she is a professor in a well-respected University. Shame on you for not knowing her in that way.” Sherlock speaks to the man, however, his eyes remain on her, unable to look away.The rude man was surprised to see Sherlock Holmes in the flesh and decides to move away with a huff. A smile grows on her face before she opens her mouth, but she has no idea what to say.Neither did he, for that matter.The minute she turns around and reveals her vibrant and wondrous face, with her eyes lighting up, Sherlock takes a moment to appreciate the way she looks.“You…” her head shakes in disbelief. “—changed your hair.”He lets his eyes roll back to look at his his own hair above his eyes. “Yes. It would be highly inappropriate to let my horrid curls loose during such a formal party.”Jocelyn grins with her heart aching. “It looks good,” she comments, eyes glancing over his outfit. “Would be nice not to get recognized.”“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I’ve been ogled for a number of times already.”“I don’t blame them.” She says without even thinking, and it’s too late to take it back, so she remains casual.Sherlock eyes her face, and down her own body. She definitely appears as though she belongs in this lifestyle.He looks away before offering her a hand. She looks at his hand first before placing her gloved one into it, following him to where the crowd of people was dancing slowly. Jocelyn puts her hand on his shoulder, while he places his own on her hip. He is so gentle with her, and she finds herself just staring into his blue eyes as they sway slowly.“How’s Mary?” She softly asks.“She’s fine now, as well as the little one. John is taking care of both of them.” He reassures, lowering his voice and sending a slight shiver down her spine. “Have you spoken to all the family?”“Yeah, but I haven’t seen Joseph yet.”He hums, still swaying with her to the music. “Have you eaten already?”She looks away, but smiles to herself. “No, have you?”“Would you like me to get you something? There is a whole catering area that I passed.”“I’m fine,” she gently squeezes his shoulder. “Sherlock?”“Yes?”“I want to tell you that this has been the best few days of my life,” she confesses. “Thank you for asking me to come.”Sherlock’s gaze softens before he gently spins her around in time with the music, making her grin widen. Once they face each other again, they were much closer than before, and Jocelyn can smell the faint cologne clinging to his neck.With a sincere voice, he tells her, “I return the sentiment, Jocelyn.”“You better. I’m great company.”“I quite agree,” a ghost of a smile forms on his face.“John would’ve loved to be here, though.”“I am waiting to see his reaction once he finds that the party we are attending is not located in a local pub.”Jocelyn lets out a laugh, letting him lead the dance. She finds herself just wanting to lean in and close the distance between them, but something held her back.“I… honestly don’t even want to go home.”Sherlock raises his brows. “Why not? I thought you’d be ecstatic to see Professor Carter once again.”She gives him a confused look. “Laurie?”“Yes, your significant other. The professor.”“…Laurie and I, that’s been over since last year.”Sherlock genuinely looks confused and even slowed down his dancing. “Oh.”“You didn’t know?”“No, I’m… I’m afraid that I never knew that.” Sherlock informs her, to her surprise. “What happened?”Jocelyn sighs and shrugs. “I think I just didn’t feel as strongly as he did. I had to end it, or else I’d be leading him on.”“From past cases, being led on counts as motive for murder,”She snorts out a laugh. “Right.”Sherlock is pleased to see her amused. “Apologies for my assumption. I’m usually correct about such things.”“You never just assume things.”“Yes, however, I respect you enough not to invade your privacy without your consent. I just assumed you and the professor are still partners.”Jocelyn pauses, looking at him intently as she grasps what he just said. “You mean to tell me that… you try not to deduce me?”“Yes.”“Why?”“Like I said, I respect you and trust you to tell me what I need to know.”Jocelyn is still trying to wrap her mind around that. She remembers how eleven years ago, she left because she was causing him internal conflict in his mind because he notices and stores everything.Now, he is casually telling her that he can control it better, just to give her a sense of security. One must understand that Sherlock cannot just turn his deductions off like a tap, so this must take a lot of concentration for him to do.It would surprise Jocelyn once she finds out that she is the only person that Sherlock does this for. He might never tell her that, though.“Is that news to you?”“A little bit, yeah.”Sherlock keeps his eyes on hers, holding her hand and waist, leaning down to speak into her ear. “Jocelyn, I must say something—”His words are cut off by Oscar Sinclair speaking into the microphone. Sherlock and Jocelyn instantly remember that they were not the only people in the room, and they began to clap with the others. Jocelyn can feel her heart thumping, wondering what Sherlock was about to say to her.Although, all thoughts of them went away once they both hear the next words from Oscar Sinclair.“Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please put your hands together for my niece, Deanna Loréi, the new CEO of Sinclair Holdings!”The crowd erupts with gasps and the camera flashes become more aggressive as they light up the whole room.Jocelyn’s eyes widen before looking for the young girl in the corner, who looked just as surprised as everyone is. The room begins to fill with applause and cheers, while the whole family seems to be gaping at the news they received, especially the eldest Sinclair.Sherlock appears to be shocked as well, before everything hits him at once. He widens his eyes and grabs Jocelyn’s arm, turning her to face him. Their face are inches apart. “Mr. Sinclair has been aware of his daughter’s crimes this whole time.”“W-What?”“He’s been planning to give the company to Deanna this whole time, she is the only acceptable successor.”“But why?” Jocelyn follows his gaze, frantic and confused.“People change, but only the parts of them that need improvement,” he repeats her own words to her, making Jocelyn snap her head towards him. “After Deanna’s father died, Oscar had to take her in as his own and changed his whole perspective. He strived to change for her, and give her a better future. Hence, giving her his whole fortune from thinking that she deserves it more. Once he found out about what his daughter had done, he realizes what he must do.”“Alright, uh… what’s going to happen now?”He looks around the room, watching as Deanna is led in front, smiling with hesitation as people cheer them on. Jocelyn finally sees the furious and bewildered expression on a certain Sinclair.Sherlock realizes that Oscar Sinclair must have informed both of his spoiled children that he will give everything away to Deanna, which angered them. As Sherlock told Jocelyn before, money and wealth are placed highest in a rank for motives regarding murder.He turns to Jocelyn with wide eyes. “You should leave. I have reason to believe that this whole party is under threat.”“What? I’m not leaving you.” Jocelyn gives him a surprised glare.“Jocelyn, please,” he whispers.It happened so fast. Jocelyn ducks down immediately when a gunshot deafens everyone’s ears, she barely realizes that Sherlock’s arms shield her away. The crowd scatters, and their screams replaces the soft jazz music around them. The blur of people running out while yelling in panic, but Jocelyn sees how they could not get past the tall locked doors.She turns around and sees Joseph Sinclair, pointing a gun towards a frightened Deanna Loréi, who is shaking with her hands up. Oscar Sinclair is on the floor with a bleeding thigh, screaming in agony. Christopher was by his side, pressing his hand against his wound to stop the bleeding.Jocelyn’s breath hitches before she begins to make her way towards them.Sherlock’s eyes widen with fright. “Jocelyn.”She lifts her hands, showing her palms towards the eldest Sinclair. “Joseph, put the gun down, you don’t have to do this.”Eleanor is holding her weeping child close as she watches her brother lose it. “Joseph, what are you doing?!”Joseph keeps his gun aimed towards Deanna, who is trying her best not to start sobbing in terror. “This teenager is going to get everything we worked so hard for?”Painfully, Oscar heaves and clutches his thigh tightly. “Son, it is my fault. I never gave you the chance to build yourself something, this is not Deanna’s fault!”“I deserve to get the company and everything I worked my whole life for, dad. Not some girl who doesn’t even fucking drink!” Joseph’s finger settles on the trigger, making Deanna flinch and close her eyes in horror.“And you think killing her and making scene in front of everyone will make the company yours?” Jocelyn asks in disbelief. “How stupid can you be?”“Jocelyn.” Sherlock lowly warns. “You don’t want to do this, Mr. Sinclair.”“Don’t think I don’t know what Deanna did. You really think I wouldn’t know something is up when Sherlock Holmes suddenly appears in our home?” Joseph has a deadly stare on his face. “This bitch had us all investigated!”Even with a bullet through his thigh, Oscar still manages to glance at Deanna with shock, who has an anxious expression on her face.Deborah looks at her daughter with shock. “Deanna?”“I… I don’t… I’m sorry,” the young girl stammers, tears of shock pouring from her eyes.“She had you all investigated because of suspicious activities in Mr. Sinclair’s account, which led me to find that Eleanor Sinclair has stolen money from your father. Miss Loréi terminated the investigation as soon as Miss Sinclair’s crime was brought to light. She did not want her to go to prison and have Maya lose her mother in the process.” Sherlock explains. “It was for everyone’s safety.”A shocked expression washes over Eleanor’s face, clearly not expecting her to find out about what she had done, and still defend her.The entire crowd was cowered into the corners, just watching the Sinclair family’s whole ordeal with terror in their eyes, holding their own family members close. No one dared to move.“Eleanor deserved that money and I deserved the company.” Joseph spits in anger.“Deanna isn’t the one who has the gun towards her whole family.” Jocelyn remarks, which was probably not in her best interests once Joseph eyes her.Sherlock’s eyes are wide once Joseph points the gun towards Jocelyn, and he immediately flinches to step forward, blocking her out of the way. “Joseph, put the gun down. It’s over. The police are coming.”Joseph only lets out a scoff, fingers shaky around his hold of the gun. “You’re right, it’s over. So, it doesn’t matter.” He tells him before he jerks and a deafening sound of a gun going off fills everyone’s ears.Sherlock blinks, his gaze hazy as the blur of a movement dashes beside him. A soft thudding noise makes him look to his left, and his whole heart crumbles.Jocelyn steps in front of Deanna just before she tumbles back and falls to the ground from the impact. Sherlock is in too much shock as he watches her unmoving body on the tiled floor.At that moment, he does not care about anyone else as he immediately kneels right next to her to elevate her head in sudden panic.“Jocelyn, no, no, no,” he shakes his head frantically as he watches her unconscious body with hesitance. He can feel his whole body reject every other sane and calm emotion he is capable of feeling, and the swarm of anger and terror takes over his body. “Do not do this to me, Jocelyn. Not now, please.” He can barely register how another gunshot makes everyone yell yet again. He could not be bothered to turn around and see Christopher kick the gun from his brother, causing him to fire accidentally, the bullet hitting the wall.Deanna immediately going to Jocelyn to help, yelling for the paramedics. Police immediately barged into the room, tackling Joseph onto the ground and holding him down to cuff him.A rare moment in Sherlock’s life; not paying attention to anything else to be reviewed later on. His whole mind is Jocelyn and he watches as paramedics swarm in, carrying her into a stretcher. He was told by a man to stay calm and let them do their job, since Sherlock didn’t seem to let go of her hand. Sherlock swallows and follows right behind them, not even focusing on the fact that they have finally solved the case.As the paramedics take care of Jocelyn and Oscar Sinclair, Sherlock watches a few feet away.Oscar is awake and watches the detective observe the unconscious woman. “Mr. Holmes.”It was with great difficulty for him to take his eyes off her just to look at the other man.Sinclair only gives him a weak smile. “Thank you.”Sherlock gives him a curt nod and says nothing else, turning back to her.One of the paramedics next to Jocelyn jumps in alert, alarming Sherlock to the point where he immediately walks to Jocelyn’s side. She slowly opens her eyes, revealing those green colors to him and he stares in astonishment.Sherlock glances over her body, noticing how her dress is not covered in blood. It takes him a moment to realize that he did not notice that before.“You look stressed.”Once the words leave her mouth, he closes his eyes briefly in relief. “It comes naturally, I assure you.”He touches the little hole near in the middle of her chest and Jocelyn’s weak hand travels over his bigger one, a confused look on her face.It dawns on Sherlock as his face softens, lips parting in realization. Did you know that women back then would have dresses as body armor?“The heavy weight of your dress is not from the pleating. It’s… bulletproof,” his brows knot together in half confusion as he watches Jocelyn rip open the fabric’s hole, only to see the small metal lodged through the hidden vest.“What?” She lifts her head to view it and she closes her eyes in relief.Suddenly, she bursts out chuckling. Are those a thing nowadays? It sounds ridiculous. Jocelyn doesn’t even know if she should ask.Sherlock only watches her, horrified and confused. “What is it?”“Christopher. That bastard.”Sherlock’s eyes soften and he steps forward to help her sit up and get back on her feet. Jocelyn steadies herself using his arms and he begins to guide her with walking. The impact of a bullet and another near-death experience would definitely weaken someone’s knees.Jocelyn watches the young girl approach her uncle. “Do you think she’ll surrender the ownership of the company?”Sherlock glances at the girl as well. “She will do the right thing for herself.”Jocelyn slowly nods at that. She spots Christopher speaking to some of the police. She glances at Sherlock and asks him to give her a moment. He only nods and lets her go. A few reporters behind the police tape were also flashing their cameras, and it makes Sherlock sigh.Jocelyn walks toward Christopher and he only gives her a smirk. “Nice design,” he points at the ripped area of her dress.She scoffs a laugh. “How the hell did you know that would happen?”“I didn’t. All the dresses I have were designed to have vests.”“So, that means—”“Deanna’s was also bulletproof.” He gives her an amused smile. “I knew she’ll inherit it all. Dad told me a week ago.”“And you’re fine with it?”“She deserves it better than my siblings, honestly. I’m just worried about Maya, now.”“What will they do?”“Deborah will take care of her, El and Joseph will serve time.”Jocelyn frowns. “I’m sorry for the whole investigation thing.”He appears amused now. “Oh, I don’t mind. Must be nice to be deduced by the Sherlock Holmes. Well done.”“Well done? I was shot trying to save an already bulletproofed person.”“You didn’t know, which means that you would still do it whether or not your dress had a vest.” He shrugs at her.“I’m sorry for the dress, too. I’ll have it fixed.”“Keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”Jocelyn laughs and gives him a hug. “Thank you.”“Just recommend my bookstore to your students, and we’ll call it even.”She grins, saying goodbye before walking towards Sherlock, who was patiently waiting for her so they could go back to their motel.“We go home in the morning, right?”“Yes. I expect that my dear brother will be expecting us, considering how we are both involved with the Sinclair case, which will soon reach international news.”“Wonderful,” her false enthusiasm leaks from her tone. She grins at him, although he does not return it.Sherlock’s face remains blank. Jocelyn watches him for a moment and looks ahead of herself, carefully carrying her skirt as she walks. They walk to their car and Sherlock supports her as she climbs into her seat. He begins to drive back to the motel without saying another word.They reach the motel and before Jocelyn could open her door, Sherlock does that for her and helps her into the ground.Jocelyn offers him a smile. “I’m alright, Sherlock. I wasn’t shot.”Sherlock only gives her a look. “The impact made you collapse, almost resulting a concussion.”“I’m actually quite fine. Just another near-death experience, nothing new.”Sherlock unlocks the door and pushes it open to let her inside.Jocelyn walks to her bed and takes a seat, sighing in relief. “Can’t believe we finished the case, isn’t that great?”“Great? You were shot.” Sherlock closes the door behind them.“But I wasn’t. Bulletproof, remember?”“You didn’t know the dress was bulletproof until after you were shot. And yet you still shielded Miss Loréi.”Jocelyn observes the way he is looking at her. “And I’d do it again… because she didn’t deserve to die like that.”“And you do?”“…okay, I’m beginning to feel like you’re angry at me for, what, trying to save a young girl’s life?” She stands.“No. I am extremely agitated at the fact that you would put yourself in harm’s way only to save a person you do not fully know.” Sherlock furiously yet calmly informs.“She’s a kid!” Jocelyn is shocked by what he is saying.“That is beyond the point!”“Clearly!”“Jocelyn, I simply would like to understand.”“Understand why I would want to save her life?”“Understand why you would lay down your life so carelessly and for… for a simple case like this!”“I wasn’t thinking, okay? I just acted. I can admit that.”“Well, at least we can both agree that you were not thinking.”“Where is this coming from? I didn’t die!”He snaps. “You almost did! Why are you being so nonchalant over this? You could have died and it would be—” he stops once he realizes that he is no longer calm. “It would be a great loss to the whole world, Jocelyn. You must be aware of that by now.”“Why are you being like this? What else do you want from me?”“Make me understand.”Jocelyn clenches her teeth. “I don’t regret what I did, Sherlock.”“I know, and that only makes this much more difficult to stomach.” He claims, his tone is laced with anger and something else that she cannot exactly decipher.Jocelyn directs her gaze towards him again, this time, he has a much softer look on his features. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”“It’s not that, Jocelyn.”“Then, what’s the problem?”He sharply sucks in a breath, finding it difficult to word his thoughts. “I have never felt that frightened in the span of my whole life. Maybe once, when I found you in a freezer, but today, I thought you were gone after only a split second from a pull of a trigger. I am uncertain which one is worse. Both times were horrifying at best.”Jocelyn listens to him speak, watching as his gaze grows even more intense. She softens at his words and lets out a sigh, arms uncrossing to settle her hand on her hip. “Okay. I’m sorry. For frightening you. But I’m not sorry for trying to save the kid.”Sherlock gives her a look as if to say he could not accept that and only makes her sigh in frustration.“You’re one to talk when you went in front of me. Don’t tell me that I can’t try to save someone else when you were doing the same thing!”“What I’ve done was different.” Sherlock insists with a glare.“How was it different?! You were saving someone because you thought it was for the greater good!”“It was different.” Sherlock presses and steps forward.Her hand goes to the middle of her chest where her heart lies beneath. “This is where he shot me, and the thought of you being shot in the same place without anything else protecting you… Sherlock, I wouldn’t know how to live with myself—”She could barely get the last word out once she feels his lips on hers. The sudden movement of Sherlock frantically closing the distance between them made Jocelyn tense, feeling his lips slowly move against hers.The softness of his lips slowly melts her, and she relaxes before her hands clutch the crispness of his suit.It was beyond from what she ever remembered. The same gentleness and the same tenderness. The only difference is that right now, he feels much more confident with what he is doing.Sherlock’s lips are firm and moving gently yet desperately, and she can feel her stomach bubbling with adrenaline. His hands cup her cheeks, holding her in place as their mouths press frantically together.Jocelyn is unaware of how much time passed once he pulls away from her, eyes glinting with shock and something else entirely. She looks into his eyes, seeing the way his pupils are dilating. His lips were plump and full, enticing and extremely wonderful.He leans down to press their foreheads together. “I would not know how to live with myself either.”Jocelyn’s green eyes were almost blurry with tears before they press their lips together again in clear desperation, with her arms thrown around his neck to hold onto him. He pulls her close until their bodies are pressed together. Jocelyn whimpers against his mouth, and the small sound is enough to make him grip her waist.All the built frustration they have felt for weeks are slowly unraveling.Her hands grasp at the buttons of his blazer, unbuttoning them to push the offensive clothing off his shoulders. Once it’s on the floor, Sherlock kisses her again and pushes her into the nearest wall.Sherlock can barely think of anything else other than her, his Jocelyn. A minor part of him wants to stop, that he does not deserve this; not her.However, the selfish part of him made him reach behind her and effectively zip down her dress, swallowing her startled gasp from the aggressive movement.He pushes the dress down and she immediately steps out of it, revealing her undergarments and miles of skin. Sherlock could barely comprehend his own movements as he grips her hips, pulling her upwards in order to wrap her bare legs around his waist before pushing her back into the wall.His arms are supporting her by holding the back of her thighs. He pulls away to begin kissing down her neck, making her sigh and tighten her legs around his waist. Jocelyn moans into his ear once he begins to rut his hips into hers. She can feel his arousal grounding against her clothed center, and Jocelyn almost cried overwhelmingly.“Sherlock.”He is not sure why her tone of saying his name made his clothes feel suffocating than they usually were.Before her fingers trail down to the buttons of his shirt, Sherlock calmly takes her hands away and pushes them into his hair instead.Her hands tread through his scalp, the curls of his head reappearing. His hair strands are trapped between her fingers. They almost pull on his hair, making him let out a groan against her.He lifts her from the wall and carries her with ease towards the small bed of her temporary room. He lays her down on the soft sheets. Jocelyn lets out a small sound as he settles between her legs, worshipping every single inch of her skin as if she was his religion.He pulls away and towers over her hazy state, and he immediately leans down to her ear.“It occurred to me that I have yet to mention how wonderfully ravishing you looked in that dress.” His voice lowered an octave and sent a shiver down her spine.She gasps as he begins to suck on the skin of her collarbone, shoulders tensing.She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from him, but it certainly wasn’t this. He was so intense, and becoming increasingly overwhelming. She should have known that when it comes to this, Sherlock would also know what to do with everything she would want. Jocelyn could not breathe.Sherlock hums and they both look into each other’s eyes, both of them noticing how dilated they all were. He can almost feel the vibration of his own heart in his ribcage, the slight thrumming of her body against his was enough to drive him insane.Jocelyn reaches behind herself and unclasps her brassiere, pulling it off herself and taking in the sharp intake of breath from his lips as he watched her.She waits for him, and he only grows breathless from the lust and admiration he is feeling. He couldn’t move, so Jocelyn has to take his hand and press it against her chest. He swallows and begins to touch her accordingly, and she lets out a soft moan of his name.How fascinating. He never liked his name, and yet, he feels aroused as she moans it out. Sherlock licks his lips and watches as her face twists in pleasure, and his breath grows heavy.He leans down to near his lips towards her ear. “You have missed me,” he whispers into her ear before his hand travels downward in between her legs.“I—Sherlock, please…”“Tell me you’ve missed me,” he nips at her earlobe and making her shudder. “Admit it, say it to me.”“I d-did, yes, Sherlock, please—” her toes curl from how his slender fingers touch her through her thin material.He hums at her response and slips his hand past the waistband of her panties, making her moan the moment his fingers reach the slick cleft between her shaking legs. She whines his name out and digs her shoulders into the mattress before pushing her hips into his hands.He hushes her and leans down to kiss her jaw, holding down her hips. “You are magnificent, Jocelyn. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he whispers into her ear as his finger circle around her most intimate part, stimulating her as her legs begin to shake.The soft squelching noise fill the room along with his heavy breaths and her needy whimpers.Jocelyn feels a jolt of pleasure when his finger breaches through her and begins to pump. Her thighs spread even wider, begging for more. Her eyes screw shut as she takes everything he gives her. It wasn’t until he stops moving and makes her pant. “No. Look at me as I touch you, Jocelyn.” He commands her with his calm voice.As she is desperate for more of him, she forces her eyes open and shivers under his lustful yet soft gaze. Sherlock thrusts his fingers into her warmth and watches as she looks directly at him while moaning his name.He pulls his hand out of her underwear once she was edged into oblivion. She barely registers the sound of him sucking her taste off his fingers as if she tasted like gold. Afterwards, Sherlock leans down and kisses her. Jocelyn whimpers against his lips, tasting herself. Sherlock pulls away and they both share a long heated gaze, panting into the short space between them.Without breaking their gaze, Sherlock carefully lifts her legs and slides down her panties, spreading her thighs. He trails wet kisses on her chest, stomach, hipbones and the slow movements make her chest heave. His big hands grip her thighs and hold them in place.They have never been intimate like this before. They kissed in the past, but never have gone further to what Sherlock is planning on doing. It may be because he was not as confident as he is now, and she is definitely not sure if she’s ready to receive that.Jocelyn can barely wrap her mind around what he was about to do. “Sherlock.”He nips at the skin of her inner thigh. “Just stay calm, Jocelyn. I’d like to take care of you,” he tells her with his unwavering and collected voice she feels the swipe of his tongue against her sensitive folds, making her gasp again and flinch until her fingers tug on his curls. The intimacy of his actions is making her whole body convulse.Sherlock continues his gentle assault, sending jolts of pleasure through her body until she can barely think of anything else. His tongue was skillful and he knew everything she wanted, every spot that felt good, and every single movement that would make her moan even louder. Every single nerve ending she had are bursting into flames.Her hips are as relentless as his tongue, wordlessly begging for more. All he could think of is her, the way she tastes and how her body is responding by clenching around his tongue. The way she is tugging on his hair to pull him closer, reminding him of how sensitive his scalp is. She tasted so delicious, and Sherlock wished he could stay in this position for centuries.Jocelyn holds back a scream as he finishes her off, her legs shaking around him as her head is thrown back into the soft pillow with her hands grasping his hair. She lies boneless on the bed, panting as her reality blurs out.Sherlock was barely done, since his fingers are still tracing circles on her clit as he watches her face, measuring her reactions to keep them stored in his mind. He has no idea when he may be able to do this for her again, so he needs to remember every single detail.Jocelyn let out a strained whimper when his mouth is on her again, more for his pleasure than hers this time. It was as if he was enjoying tasting her and making her feel good. She feels his large hand reach up to knead her breasts, and Jocelyn feels boneless. She lets her legs fall apart and her body wracks with countless of orgasms until she lost count.When she could take no more, she weakly tugs on his hair and Sherlock lifts his head. Half his face was obscenely wet and Jocelyn flushes even more.Sherlock kept kissing her skin, almost affectionately pressing his lips against the skin of her inner thighs as he waits for her to come down.It takes her a few moments before she recollects herself and looks back at Sherlock, who crawls on top of her just watching with pure fascination the whole time. They stay in that position for a few minutes, with a fully clothed Sherlock above her bare body.Jocelyn lets out a deep sigh and reaches up to cup his cheek, tracing the pad of her thumb against his cheekbone. Sherlock’s gaze towards her was tender and intense. She bites her lips and hopes that she isn’t seeing things at all. If she is, she wishes to never wake up.She doesn’t talk, and only lets her other hand trail down between them. Her hand reaches the bulge inside his pants, making him gasp. He instinctively grab her wrist to pull it away. His grip loosens before he gives her a look.“It’s fine. I… this was about you and what I’ve always wanted to do for you.” He informs her, the low timbre of his voice is still present. Although, his voice shakes. As if it is taking everything in him to remain in control of his impulses.Jocelyn hesitates. “This should be about the two of us.”Sherlock stares for a moment. “It was.” He simply tells her, a finger brushing against her lower cheek. “I find pleasure in making you feel good.”She feels goosebumps all over her body, and she keeps her eyes on him. Somehow, she knows that he’s telling her the truth and so she nods.He pushes himself off her and pulls the sheet over her body. Jocelyn clutches the sheet to her chest and watches as Sherlock walk and pull out a handkerchief from the suit carelessly thrown on the floor.Sherlock uses his thumb to gently wipe the corners of his lips before inserting the pad of his thumb into his mouth, not even realizing that Jocelyn is watching him closely. She blushes and clutches the sheets even tighter.Jocelyn sits up, the sheets delicately draping around her body. She looked so gentle and unsurprisingly beautiful with her makeup smudged and her messy brown hair. It makes him gulp anxiously.It takes him a moment before he tells her that he is going to shower, and he goes. She chews the inside of her cheek, almost asking if she could join him… but her legs are, embarrassingly enough, still shaking.The way he kissed her was something unforgettable, and all she wants to do is kiss him repeatedly. Maybe one day, they can go all the way.Moments later, Sherlock emerges in his boxer shorts with his hair still wet. Jocelyn is now wearing Sherlock’s shirt. She just finished cleaning herself up as she looks at him, her throat almost drying from how he is shirtless. He uses a towel to dry his hair and walks to the empty side of the bed.Jocelyn’s eyes follow him, and he sits on the edge before climbing inside to join her. His curls are finally back, although still a bit damp. The sight of him like this is quite breathtaking.They face one another and Sherlock observes the way she looks, his blue eyes surveying every millimeter of her skin. It occurs to him that she is still bare underneath the sheets and it makes him swallow.She reaches out to him and slides her hand up his side in order to wrap her arm around him. Sherlock tenses the moment her fingers touch the hardened skin of his bare back.Jocelyn pulls her hand back. “I’m sorry.”“No, it’s… fine.” He clears his throat. “I’m just… not quite used to it.”“From your performance earlier, I’d say that’s a lie.” Her teasing tone can still be heard from her quiet voice.Sherlock watches her for a moment before reaching up to touch the strands of brown hair falling over her eyes. Jocelyn feels so relaxed just from the graze of his skin against hers.“What makes you think that I would lie to you?”“I didn’t mean it like that.” She whispers with a gentle smile. “It’s been a while for me, too.”“Cunnilingus?”She snorts out a laugh and shakes her head at him. “No, you moron. I meant being intimate with someone.”Sherlock furrows his brows at her. “I calculated four years, which seems to be flawed for a person of your… physique. Attraction would come natural for the ordinary group of men.”“Ouch. Sorry for not getting laid for four years,” she playfully mocks.“But you do perform masturbation in a weekly scheduled manner—”“Oh, God. Please stop talking.”He seems amused. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.”“Oh, you changed.”“Obviously, I learned many things.”“Do tell.”Sherlock sighs, finding this night relaxing finally. “You’d like to know what I’ve learned about sex throughout the decade?”Jocelyn grins and shifts closer, looking contented and happy. “I’m curious to know. I might share my own sexcapades, too.”Sherlock raises his brows at her horrible term. “Well, if you must know, I have not been intimate in any way with anyone.”“Bullshit.”“It is true.”“There’s no way you haven’t been with anyone for the last decade, not after what you did earlier.”Sherlock finally musters a smile. “I’ve learned that methodological stimulation works efficiently, and it would be much more understandable when done in actual practice. Although each body differs from another, there are still similar patterns that human beings undergo. Thus, reactions from pure stimulation.”“In other words… you read books.”“Not only books. Sex research papers, as well as documented experiments.”Jocelyn laughs and tugs on the sheets around her. “So, you’ve been a saint for a whole decade, then? Is that it?”“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, but the dimple on his lower cheek appears.“Saint Sherlock?” She grins at him.“I am many things but a saint,” he keeps his eyes on her.“I probably should agree, considering how you’ve got moves that could make even the devil blush,” she teases him, despite her cheeks heating up as she remembers his head between her thighs.Sherlock huffs in amusement, but says nothing else in response to that. All he can think of is how much he truly does not deserve to have Jocelyn next to him this intimately. It makes him falter.Jocelyn notices the way he is looking at her in silence. “What?”“Nothing,” he whispers quietly. “I’ve shared my learnings. How about yours?”“No one special. Last time I was intimate with someone, it wasn’t very good.”“Oh?”She hums and shrugs. “He was just thinking of himself. Wouldn’t even make out with me.”A frown forms on his face. “You have not kissed anyone in a while?”“Well, apart from you, I’ve only kissed one man from the last four years.”Sherlock does not have to guess who it is. “Ah. How about before that?”“You’re really interested about this, aren’t you?” Jocelyn gives him a playful look.“I’ve read somewhere that pillow talk is quite relaxing. We could both use some type of that in the moment, don’t you think?”She looks at him, feeling warm inside as she wraps her head around what is currently going on. Her, wearing only Sherlock’s shirt under the sheets with him, who is only wearing his boxer shorts.Jocelyn hums as she thinks to herself. “Let’s see, I think that time would be bad as well.”“Again? How so?”“She had too much lip gloss on.”Her comment makes him chuckle, leading her into doing the same. Jocelyn stares at him as he smiles. He looks so beautiful like this, with his curls messy and damp above himself, his whole face relaxed and glinting with joy as he observes her. Jocelyn reaches up to touch his cheek, finding it surreal that he exists.Her thumb traces the outline of his lips while he watches. She couldn’t help but move closer and press their lips together, surprising him as he leans back, slowly reaching up to place his hand on her hip.Their lips sway in a slow dance, just enjoying each other’s taste. Jocelyn can feel her stomach flipping. Sherlock has never been so relaxed in his life, just feeling her warmth surrounding him was enough for him to wish he could stop time. Slowly, they both roll over until she was on top of him as they kiss.They pull away, but their noses brush against one another. Her hair tickles both their faces, and Sherlock was relaxed by the feeling and scent. A smile slowly forms on Jocelyn’s face as she caresses his cheek.She continues to straddle his hips, and Sherlock is instantly reminded by the fact that she is not wearing any underwear. Sherlock almost curses at the reminder once he feels himself harden.Human anatomy is quite complicated yet fascinating all the same. Annoying, too, but only when it comes to himself. Not with her. Never with her.When she begins to grind against him, his hands grasp her hips with his fingertips holding her bottom. He looks up at her with an amused expression, slightly shaking his head. Jocelyn blushes before smirking.“I have to ask something,” she whispers.“What’s that?” His deep voice brings a shiver down her spine.“Was that your first kiss since 2002?”Sherlock sighs. “Was it that horrible?”“No, not at all!” She immediately says between giggles. “Was it, though?”“Am I required to answer that?”“Either way, I’d know the answer.”“Then I do not have to.”She smiles, finding it oddly endearing that she has been his first and only kiss for so many years. It’s ironic to think that this is the same man who has ruined her for anyone else.“None of the ones I’ve ever kissed in the past were good people. Just one.”Sherlock watches her with a tender gaze. “Well, they certainly wasted their golden opportunities.”Jocelyn shudders when she feels Sherlock’s fingers trail up to the buttons of his shirt that she was wearing. Her breaths grow heavier as Sherlock opens the shirt and admires her. She watches him intently and observes the way the pupils of his eyes dilate. He reaches up to cup her soft breast, rolling her nipple against his thumb.She could barely breathe as she feels his hands on her skin. What does any of these mean? The burning question lies heavy on her tongue, and she grits her teeth as though to force it inside.She fails, and in between her uneven breathing, she speaks. “Sherlock, I… I have to ask—”Suddenly, he sits up and his lips muffle her question, devouring her words. He pulls away, eyes half-lidded as their noses brush against one another. She can feel him harden underneath her, and Sherlock pants as he watches her. He reaches his hand between her legs and she gasps. Every reaction she makes is ingrained into his mind. Her shaky hands travel upwards his bare chest, while his other hand traces the curve of her back.Jocelyn’s hip twitches and her thighs tenses as she continues to feel his hand working on her, listening to how his breath is hitching just from touching her and feeling her reactions.“Let us have this night first, Jocelyn. Just for tonight. Please.” He whispers his plea to her, begging as he begins to kiss her jaw, neck, breasts and stomach.All she can do is let him silence her with a kiss, take everything he gives, be intoxicated by the words he utters filthily into her ear while his fingers are between her thighs. Consumed by the marks he places all over her skin, she becomes his completely without another question.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next morning, she wakes up to her phone ringing. Jocelyn opens her eyes and realizes that she is lying face down on the bed, with the sheets covering the lower half of her bare body. Sleepily, she reaches over to the other side of the bed, but notices how it is cold and empty.She lifts her head to see that she is alone in bed. Jocelyn frowns and takes her phone from the bedside table. Without bothering to check who it is, she answers.“Hello?” She groggily mutters, rubbing her eyes.
“There’s a car outside.”
“It’s so early. Where’s Sherlock?”A brief pause ensues between them. “He is not here with you?”Jocelyn is fully awake now. “He could be in the room next door.”
“It’s unoccupied, Miss Grant.”
From those words, her heart tugs inside her chest. Jocelyn takes a moment to realize what happened, and the disappointment washes over her. She sits up and wraps the sheets around herself as she bites her lip to keep herself from crying.She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, alright. Um, Sherlock isn’t here. He probably left.” He left.“Just to avoid me? Sounds rather dramatic,”Jocelyn sighs and looks around the room, seeing that the slight mess they made was already tidied up. Even the dress was already neatly folded in to the box on the floor. “I don’t think it was you who he’s trying to avoid.”Once she’s ready to leave, she gathers her things and exits the room. She immediately spots Mycroft and approaches him in disbelief. He briefly looks at her, but double takes.His eyes gave her a once over, looking surprised. Jocelyn flushes and avoids his eyes, letting the driver take her things in order to put them into a trunk.Mycroft narrows his eyes at her, unsure of what to say after… the information he gathered from looking at her. “Where do you think my dear brother is now?”“I don’t know, Mycroft. Why don’t you ask him?” Jocelyn gets into the car without much of a fight.Mycroft sighs as he joins her in the car. They were taken to a private jet and she rolls her eyes at Mycroft, shaking her head at him. They could have easily taken a tube.Jocelyn was home by an hour, and she thanks Mycroft for the ride. As soon as she enters her home, she pauses by the door and clenches her fists. It took her whole willpower not to breakdown in front of Mycroft, not wanting him to see her that way. The tears came sliding down her cheeks as she sobs quietly against the door.A phone rings in her house and she jumps in alert. Her eyes widen as she sees Irene Adler in the middle of her living room, holding up a ringing phone. Irene puts a finger over her own lips, signaling her to quiet down. Irene notices the tears on her face and also seems confused, but hands her the ringing phone.Jocelyn just takes it, still completely puzzled by her sudden appearance. It takes her a moment to realize that Irene is wearing one of her dressing gowns and that the sofa seems as if it has been used for sleeping.She answers the call and pulls the phone into her ear. “Hello?”Irene pulls out a small notebook and shows her a page with her handwritten message.
Act normal. Wiretaps.
Jocelyn swallows anxiously. “Who put them there?” She asks as if she was speaking into the phone.Irene presses her lips together and flips another page.
Don’t know.
“Is there somewhere without it?”
Your room.
Jocelyn hands the phone back to the Woman before walking past her to go upstairs.Irene follows behind her, noticing how Jocelyn is wiping her face free from tears.As soon as the door to Jocelyn’s room closes, Jocelyn crosses her arms. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”“Calm yourself, love. Just be thankful your walls aren’t thin.”Jocelyn just stares at her in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to answer my questions?”“There will always be wiretaps in the houses of people under surveillance.”
“Under surveillance?”
“You’re a person of interest. Sherlock Holmes’ former significant other. His ex-girlfriend,” the term rolls off her tongue as if it amuses her, and it makes Jocelyn roll her eyes. “And Sherlock has a lot of enemies roaming around the streets.”She clenches her jaw at the thought of Sherlock. “Can I get rid of the wiretaps?”“Of course. I know where each of them is placed in the house. I can help you take them out. We should transfer them somewhere.”She stressfully runs her fingers through her hair. Too many things happened and it’s not even noon, dear God. “Alright. When did you—”“I came here around two days after I called you. You weren’t here, and I just thought I should wait.”“You came here two days after John’s wedding?” Jocelyn glares at her. “Well, it did take you two months to call me again after the shit you pulled in this room,”Irene laughs at her words. “Oh, I just love listening to you talk.”“What do you want?”“I’m here to tell you everything you need to know about Magnussen.”“Right,” she nods and buries her face into her hands, wiping away the sleep she still feels.“I suppose we wait for Mr. Holmes?”His name sends a sting through her chest. “No, it’s just me.” Jocelyn gestures towards the chair. “Sit down, Miss Adler.”Irene raises her perfectly curved eyebrows at her, but complies either way. “As you wish, doctor.”--“In my defense, they were completely out of line. We should have better control measures in the campus, or else, more students would feel entitled to just do whatever the fuck—”“Miss Grant.”“Sorry. I meant, whatever they want. They can’t just do that to Sherlock, sir.”“And you can’t just climb on tables and yell for attention, Miss Grant.”Jocelyn just let out a scoff, and Sherlock watched how she stood up against the Chancellor of the school. “I am telling you that bullying has becoming more prominent in campus, and you want to talk about me getting on a table to tell everyone to stop harassing my best friend?”Sherlock froze at the term, but kept quiet. The Chancellor deeply sighed, which only led the young boy to realize that this is not the first time that Jocelyn stood up against him.He watched her with wonder in his eyes. He had never seen a person this strong-willed. It all seemed genuine and sincere.“Miss Grant, your concern is very much appreciated. However, you have to understand that the men you are referring to are sons of those who fund the University.”“I don’t give a fuck if these jerks are the sons of the Queen of England, they should face consequences for pulling shit like this.”“Miss Grant, watch your language.”“Language? I said jerks.” Jocelyn remarked, and it made Sherlock sputter out a small laugh.“Something funny, Mr. Holmes?”“None at all.”The chancellor gave him a look.“Sir,” adds Sherlock.“That’s what I thought,” he looked at Jocelyn again.Jocelyn crossed her arms. “I don’t care if you suspend me or not. I just don’t want anyone out there to keep harassing Sherlock like that.”He thought about it for a moment. “Okay, Miss Grant. I will call their parents and discuss this with them.”She sighed in relief, grinning widely now. “Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you so much!” She shook his hand quickly and they were let off.Sherlock walked beside a happy Jocelyn, and a few people along the way greeted her.He glanced at her, completely intrigued by the unpredictable girl who would definitely do anything for the people who are close to her. Maybe not even close to her. Jocelyn would still stand up for someone she barely knew, and today was a prime example of that.“Are you all right?” He asked her as they walk.“Yeah, of course.”“You did just yell and curse at the Chancellor.”“He’s used to it by now.” Jocelyn laughed. “Everyone here knows I don’t forgive easy.”“How do you mean?”“I mean if someone does something that I think is unforgivable, I’ll just turn my back on them.” Jocelyn shrugged, but she kept thinking about her father. “It’s probably going to bite me in the ass someday.”Sherlock is not sure what that figure of speech means, but nods anyway. “Not even if someone asks for forgiveness?”“If they don’t admit they were wrong, I won’t spare a second for them. You know what I mean?”“No. I haven’t really been placed in a situation where forgiving and not forgiving someone were my two options.”“Well, you’re lucky, then. Some of us don’t get options at all.”It occurred to Sherlock that he wanted to learn more about her and maybe even open a new wing inside his mind palace that is solely dedicated towards her.Sherlock paused at the thought, finding it ridiculous now. Why would he do that? He has never considered dedicating a specific area in his mind to an actual human being.All he knew now was that should anything horrible happen to Jocelyn, no one will be able to leave the room alive.--“Right, so Magnussen has a mind palace? Like Sherlock?”“He stores information in there. Just like Sherlock.”“And how did you know even know about Sherlock? And Magnussen?”“Moriarty told me.”“So, if that’s true, then what does he have on me?”Irene gives her a look. “I told you, he has your file. Just not the physical copy of it.”“Then… where’s the actual one?”The Woman unfolds her legs and makes her way towards Jocelyn’s bed, reaching under the mattress and giving it to her. Jocelyn furrows her brows in surprise. “Calm down, I just put that there today. It wasn’t there the whole time.”“You had this all along?”“Of course, how else do I convince you that I’m telling the truth?” Irene gives her an incredulous look.Jocelyn opens the folder and flips through the files of her overdose, as well as her records. She frowns upon seeing photos of each victim.At the bottom, there was a picture of a young boy’s lifeless bloodied body strapped into a chair, and she immediately closes the file, swallowing the lump in her throat.Irene was watching her intently. “Magnussen might not have the physical copy, but he knows its contents. He’s still in the media, he can print whatever he wants, whenever he wants.”“What does he have on you?”“Evidence of me being anything other than a dominatrix. He has a list of people I’ve collaborated with.”“Collaborated with?”“It’s a list of criminals who I spoke to, interacted, and created an alliance with.” She simplifies.“What alliances?”“Inactive now, I assure you. I’ve cut all ties from all of them, the moment I died. No one except you, the two Holmes, and Dr. Watson, knows about myself being alive.” Irene musters a small smile. “It’s enjoyable being dead. No one bothers you.”“I’m sure.” Jocelyn bluntly remarks. “Who were on the list?”“No one special. Moriarty, some people in Pakistan, Floridian men, mafia leaders, terrorist cells,” she slowly smirks. “Some of disloyal Royalty.”Jocelyn snorts and shakes her head. “Right,”Irene watches her with intent, confusion slowly seeping through her body. “I invaded your home, searched through every inch of it, borrowed your clothes, slept in your sofa, broke into your house twice, threatened you with a gun and now I’m talking about all the criminals I’ve been involved with. Yet, you don’t seem frightened.”“Honestly, what else is new?”Still, Irene gives her a puzzled look. “You’re very confident that I’m not going to hurt or betray you.”“Should I not be?”“No, but I don’t understand why it seems very easy for you to trust me.” The Woman gives her an uncertain look, and it almost seems as if she is worried over the scientist’s ability to trust someone so quickly.“Because we’re a lot alike, you and I. We’re trying to be better people because of the things we’ve done in the past. I know that you just want an ordinary life. To stop running and hiding from people because of what you did back then.”Irene shifts in her seat as she listens to the other woman.“Other than that, I know how you’d like to honor Sherlock’s effort in saving you. Second chances never come for people like us, but once we have it, we work our whole lives to convince ourselves that we deserved that chance.”A smile slowly forms on Irene’s lips. “People don’t exaggerate when they say that you’re brilliant.”“Doesn’t mean I want to be best friends with you.”Irene hums in amusement. “I might just have to remedy that.”“Stop flirting with me and tell me what your plan is.”“I don’t exactly have a plan just yet, doctor. Not unless you count assassination.”Jocelyn looks at her with alarm. “There will not be any assassinations. What the hell?”Irene holds her hands up in surrender. “Just a mere suggestion. All information exists in his head. If we get rid of him, we get rid of what he has.”“You’re not suggesting murder, are you?”“Then, what do you suggest we do?”“My suggestion is to look for another angle. We can’t just kill someone.”“Not even if he’s blackmailing people for his own expense?”“Alright. Say we do kill him. Who’s going to do it? And what happens after?”“I can do it, but I would need backup.” Irene gives her a serious look. “His London office is high up his publishing building. It has specific ways in getting in, and it will be very complicated to accomplish. It's a bonus since Magnussen wouldn't expect me. He still thinks that I am no longer alive.”As she speaks, the other woman shakes her head. “You’re being serious about this. You’re talking about killing a human being.”Irene groans in frustration, something she rarely does. “Oh, God. By all means, present a plan on how to keep the information he has from getting out. I am open to new ideas. Can’t we just have Sherlock here? He might have a clue on what to do.”“Why don’t you call him? You’ve been texting him all week.”Although, the look on Irene’s face suggests otherwise. “I haven’t texted him back ever since he asked me why I called you. That was around Monday morning this week.”Jocelyn stares at her in silence. “Whatever. He’s not going to come.”“Why not?”“Because.”Irene gives her a suspicious look. “Sherlock Holmes has an indispensable drive for figuring out things, especially if the information is presented to him. I would know. It’s quite interesting for you to say that he won’t come here, where I am ready to spill secrets.”“He’s not coming.”“Why don’t you call him and find out?” Irene cheekily tells her before getting on her feet.“Where are you going?”“To make some tea. I’ve been here for quite some time now, and you still haven’t offered me anything.”Jocelyn has a grimace on her face. “Do you even have somewhere to live?”“Motels are not exactly five-star.”“Make yourself at home, then,” Jocelyn sarcastically says, huffing to herself. “Stay quiet.”“Will do, doctor.” Irene sends her a wink and leaves the room to make her way towards the kitchen.Jocelyn shuts her eyes and lies back down on her bed. She feels physically drained to even begin to care that Irene Adler is in her house right now and practically suggested for them to commit murder. Why is this happening the day after she almost was shot and then abandoned by the man she is hopelessly pining after?***A few months pass, and Mycroft sighs. “Well, then, Sherlock? Back on the sauce?”“What are you doing here?”“I phoned him,” says John.Mycroft has a mocking smile on his face. “The siren call of old habits. Seven years, four months and seventeen days. You broke your record.”“You phoned him.”“Of course, I bloody phoned him.”“Of course, he bloody did.” Mycroft is in grave disappointment.Sherlock hears the sound of Anderson’s voice upstairs and immediately sprints up the stairs. He plops down on his chair, fitting himself inside the space.“And because of your involvement with the Sinclair family secrets, you’ve reached international news once again. Well done. You’re a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can’t afford a drug habit.”“I do not have a drug habit.” Sherlock sits up in alarm, eyes widening as he watches his brother approach his bedroom. “Okay, stop! Just stop. Point made.”John palms his face. “Jesus, Sherlock.”“Had to inform our parents. Won’t be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc on their line dancing.” Mycroft walks back to the living room.Sherlock approaches his brother. “This is not what you think. This is for a case.”“What case could possibly justify this?”“Magnussen,” he tells his brother, and surprises him. “Charles Augustus Magnussen.”Mycroft gives him a look before turning to Anderson and his companion, telling them they did not hear anything and that they should scuttle.“Magnussen is not your business.”“Oh, you mean he’s yours?”“You may consider him under my protection.”“I consider you under his thumb.” Sherlock’s blood boils. This is exactly why he did not want to tell Mycroft about Magnussen and his connection to Jocelyn.“If you go against Magnussen, you’ll find yourself going against me.”Sherlock brushes him off, though, and tells him to leave. Although, Mycroft does not make a move towards the door.“A month ago, you decided to leave London and abandon all security protocols in the name of investigating the wealthiest family in Scotland. And three weeks ago, you disappeared completely under my radar. Again.” Mycroft begins to walk across the room, glancing around to observe the flat. “You even managed to leave Miss Grant in Scotland without so much as a goodbye.”“Sorry, what?” John blinks rapidly. Sherlock briefly closes his eyes.The eldest Holmes musters a humorless smile. “Why don’t you inform Dr. Watson about how you abandoned Miss Grant in a country she has never been, despite everything she is experiencing?”Oh, the irony. Sherlock can’t help but think to himself.An enraged John steps forward. “Tell me you didn’t do what he just said.”“I don’t see why I should deny it.” Sherlock glares at his brother.“Jesus, Sherlock. Why the hell would you do that?”Sherlock hesitantly gives him a light shrug. “She didn’t wake up early,” and that joke earns a roll from Mycroft’s eyes.“Didn’t wake up earl—you wait for people like that! Not leave them in a country seven hours away!”“I didn’t come home to get scolded.”John lets out a dry laugh. “Scolded? You’d be surprised by my urge to punch you in the face right now.”Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns to his brother. “Go away.”Mycroft moves towards the door and leaves where he came. John and Sherlock remain inside the flat and the army doctor appears quite angry with him.“You said that you’ll protect her.”“I am, John.”“By leaving her alone in Scotland?”He sighs. “Calm down. When I left, Mycroft was already five minutes away. Nothing drastic could happen in five minutes.”“Why would you even leave?”Sherlock bites his lip in contemplation, thinking about his last night in Edinburgh. “What time is it?”“About eight.”“I’m meeting Magnussen in three hours, I need a bath.” Sherlock walks past John and makes his way to the bathroom.“For a case?”“Yes.”“What sort of case?”“Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in.”“Trying to put me off?”“God, no,” he grins and opens the bathroom door. “Trying to recruit you.” He tells John before going inside. “And stay out of my bedroom.”John furrows his brows and begins to walk towards the hallway. Although, he stops walking as soon as the door to Sherlock’s bedroom opens. He widens his eyes in surprise once he sees Janine peeking out.“Oh, John. Hi…” Janine shyly greets, pulling down the hem of the shirt she was wearing.“Janine?”***“You have a girlfriend?”“Yes, I have.” He nods at John, and the dreaded answer made John furrow his brows. Sherlock continues to narrate the way he feels about Magnussen while John’s intense gaze practically burns his forehead.“You have a girlfriend.”“…yes, I’m going out with Janine. I thought that was fairly obvious.”“Yes, well, yes. But you… you’re in a relationship.”“Yes, I am.”“You and Janine.”“Yes, me and Janine.”“Care to elaborate?” John genuinely seems puzzled.Sherlock gives him a look, but before he could speak, Janine enters the room and makes his way towards Sherlock. John watches as his friend smiles widely until his dimples popped out. He observes how Janine sits on his lap and the way Sherlock is holding her.“You, Sherl, you’re going to have to tell me where you were last night,” Janine brushes her nose against Sherlock’s.He was smiling as he stares into her eyes. “Working.”“Working, of course. I’m the only one who really knows what you’re like, remember?”“Well, don’t you go letting on.” Sherlock reaches up to touch her nose before wrapping his hand around her wrist.John can literally carry his confusion and cup it like water in his hands.Janine turns to John. “I haven’t told Mary about this, I kind of wanted to surprise her.”“I think you probably will.”Janine suggests that they all should have dinner at her place, and John forces himself to agree. Sherlock and Janine stand by the door as he says goodbye to her.John’s mind goes blank once Janine leans in to kiss Sherlock.Sherlock smiles as he watches her leave. Although, he drops it as soon as she is out of sight and immediately turns to John in order to discuss Magnussen.“Hold on, let’s backtrack for a moment, what—” John gestures vaguely to the door. “What was that?”“What was what?”
“That.”
“I don’t understand.”“I think I should be the one saying that.”“What are you talking about?”“Janine. You and Janine.”Sherlock narrows his eyes. “You’re repeating yourself, John. Are you well?”“Are you? What about Jocelyn?”At the sound of her name, the detective keeps still. “What about her?”John continues to frown. “Nothing, talk about the house.”Sherlock watches him for a moment before turning back to his laptop to continue explaining what Magnussen does. However, Mrs. Hudson enters the flat and tells them that the doorbell was ringing. Sherlock tenses and realizes that he’s here.A few moments later, Charles Augustus Magnussen enters the flat.Consulting detective, with normal porn preferences. A brother that works for the British government. Officially deceased for two years. He reads him like an open book, and the list of his pressure points seemed so long.Jim Moriarty. John Watson. Mycroft Holmes. 2005 Rehabilitation. Downtown London Restaurant. Martha Louise Hudson. Gregory Lestrade. Irene Adler. New York. Hound of the Baskerville. Serbia. Opium. Jocelyn Grant [see file].Magnussen chuckles and Sherlock halts with talking.“I was reading.” He reaches up to adjust his glasses on his nose. “There’s rather a lot.” The man continues to scan him, and says a few words. “New York.”From those two words, Sherlock pauses as his lips part in surprise.“Sorry, you were probably talking.”“I…” he clears his throat and John glances at him with shock as well. “I was asked by Lady Smallwood to—”Magnussen repeatedly interrupts Sherlock mid-sentence and eventually gets up to the fireplace. John moves out of his way, albeit confused. He hears the sound of a zipper being pulled open and it makes John gape in shock. Sherlock remains unfazed even while Magnussen begins urinating into his fireplace.He throws a used tissue on the floor. “Goodbye.”Sherlock clenches his jaw as he observes him.***“Do you think, for once, you can stop eating my cereal?” Jocelyn scolds once she goes through her cupboards.Irene Adler is seated in her kitchen, her hair tied into a ponytail while wearing a casual shirt and shorts that she borrowed from Jocelyn.Jocelyn just got home from the University, and did some shopping earlier. While filling her shelves, she notices the lack of cereal boxes in them.The dominatrix only gives her an amused look. “It’s not my fault that the only food you have around here are pasta and apples.”“How nice of you to complain about the only house you’re safe in. And those aren’t the only food around here, thank you very much.”“What is with you and apples?”“They are healthy and taste good.”“They taste like feet.”“Are you suggesting you know what feet taste like?” Jocelyn begins to cook their dinner.“You’d be surprised what kind of odd things men like doing in bed.”Jocelyn grimaces. “Oh, God. Don’t do that.”Irene takes an apple from the basket. “I don’t see the appeal. Why do you even like the green ones?”“Stop bullying me, or I might kick you out.”“That is the thirty-second time you’ve said that, but you haven’t gone about doing it. I’m beginning to believe that you are starting to enjoy my company.”“…Shut up.”“You know, apples are associated with sin.” Irene begins. “Eve and the serpent.”“Wow, I never knew that.” Jocelyn sarcastically mumbles.Irene glances around the house. “I cleaned your piano. It was dusty and bothered me a lot.”“I’m glad that my untidiness annoys you enough to clean it.”“Do you play?”“I used to.”“Why did you stop?”“I’m sorry, is this a game of twenty questions?” Jocelyn throws a glance at her.“It could be, ask me questions.”Jocelyn lets out a surprised laugh. “I’d rather not.”“So, you used to play, yet you own a piano. What’s that about?” Irene amusedly asks, but as Jocelyn seems to quiet down, she lets out a humorous chuckle. “Oh, I see. A gift, then? Should I make a guess?”As much as she hated to admit it, Jocelyn actually enjoys Irene Adler’s presence around the house. Irene is much more than what Jocelyn thought she was. Jocelyn isn’t even sure what she thought Irene was, before practically letting her live with her to continue hiding. The Woman is alright, really. Minus her flirtatious nature, but really, she might flirt with just anyone without it meaning anything.Regrettably, the only annoying thing that Jocelyn picked up from Irene was her tendency to raid her cereal boxes.“Don’t you worry, doctor. Once Magnussen appears in London, and we figure out what we’ll do, I might bring you an apple everyday at your campus,” Irene playfully smirks.Surprisingly, Jocelyn smiles. “Someone in campus actually does that a lot to me.”“Oh? Tell me about them, then.” Irene sets the table for dinner.Jocelyn doesn’t exactly mind. She is very much comfortable around Irene. “His name is Laurie. He’s a math professor, and he was the one who got me into working there.”Irene says nothing while she pours wine into their glasses and Jocelyn takes that as a sign to continue talking.“He brings me an apple every day.”“Why does he sound like an ex?”Jocelyn mentally curses at Irene’s cleverness, but still nods. “We talked after I came home to Edinburgh.”“What did you two talk about? Getting back together?”“No. I wanted to be friends again. I didn’t want the breakup to hold us back.”“Being friends after a breakup never works, doctor.”“It’s possible if both people want it to happen.”“And did he want that?”“Yes, we’re friends again,” she mutters as she pours the spaghetti into the pot of sauce before she starts mixing them.Laurie has been kind to her for the last few weeks, and Jocelyn feels like their friendship is mending.“And how does Sherlock Holmes feel about that?” Irene carefully asks, as if his name was forbidden to be spoken around her.It does feel that way, since Jocelyn tenses as she hears his name. “Why would it matter?”“You and Mr. Holmes. You have something going on.”“Nothing is going on.” Jocelyn gives her a look as if she is in disbelief that she would suggest such a thing.“You haven’t talked about him for a month. You haven’t even told him about me being here,” Irene takes her seat. “When are you planning to inform him about me?”“Once we have a plan.”“None of us are even trying to formulate one. What if he already had?”“Sherlock wouldn’t make a move on his own. He’s not stupid.”“What if he’s not alone? Dr. Watson would be back from his honeymoon.”“John wouldn’t let him do something stupid. Besides, he wouldn’t go to Magnussen without me. He would call.”“He might be waiting for you.”“I can’t just do everything all the time,” she huffs and begins to eat. “And above all, he’s at fault here. He should be the one to contact me.”
Fucking moron, leaving me alone in Scotland after a great night like that. Who does he think he is?
Irene seems to be analyzing her body language, smiling in amusement, but she hides it by continuing with her dinner.While they eat and make small talk, Jocelyn’s phone begins to ring inside her pocket. She wants to ignore it since she has been tired all day from teaching six different classes. However, at the back of her head, she wishes that it’s who she thinks she is.Jocelyn grabs her phone, seeing that John is calling her. She furrows her brows and accepts the call. “Hi, John. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”However, as Irene continues to watch her, she notices the way Jocelyn’s smile melts away and is replaced by a shocked frown. Her eyes widen and fill with tears, face paling while she grips the phone tightly. Jocelyn's breathing becomes erratic as she tries to keep herself calm, but failing.Irene pulls herself to her feet in a frantic manner once Jocelyn drops the phone to the floor, gasping for air. Jocelyn had a panicked look on her face as she tries standing, but her knees gave in.Irene had to support her weight. “Jocelyn, what—”“Sher—” she whimpers out, and musters up her strength and pulls away from Irene to make her way outside. “Sherl—” her voice breaks even before she finishes saying his name.
Please, not him. Not now.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Liar.
It comes back, every single moment Sherlock spent with her. Saving John from that bonfire, planning the engagement party, dancing with her that night, planning the wedding, taking John back home after the stag night, the aftermath of the hen party, composing a waltz, consulting her about his worry regarding her husband.And at the wedding, with the telegram from CAM. It stood for Charles Augustus Magnussen.Mary Watson stands in front of him with a steady hand around her gun with a silencer around it. Her eyes are blank and unrecognizable, lacking the warmth she showed to him over the months.“Mary, whatever he’s got on you, let me help.” He takes a step forward.“Oh, Sherlock, if you come any closer, I swear, I will kill you.”His lips curve into a small smile. “No, Mrs. Watson. You won’t.”Sherlock barely blinks. For a split second, he feels nothing, but he looks down and watches his own blood spread through his white shirt. His senses begin to cloud, unable to hear Mary coldly apologizing. His mind takes over and redirects him to his palace without a moment of hesitation.The figure of Molly Hooper walks around him with a grin. “It’s not like it is in the movies. There’s not a great big spurt and you go flying backwards.” Molly presents a corpse with a sheet covering it. She reveals the face, and he is shocked to see himself on the table, lifeless. “You stay still and the bullet pushes through. You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.”He suddenly feels her slap him the way she did this morning, and he jolts before hauling in a breath. Sherlock opens his eyes and watches Mary with her gun towards Magnussen.“I said, focus.” Her hand swings across his face, the impact making his sharply turn away and be outbalanced. “You’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on, what’s going to kill you?“Blood loss.”“Exactly. So, it’s all about one thing now. Forwards, or backwards? We need to decide which way you’re going to fall.”“One hole or two?”Sherlock hears Anderson’s voice, his believer, the one man who believed he was alive somewhere. “Sorry?”“Is the bullet still inside you, or is there an exit wound? It’ll depend on the gun.”Sherlock closes his eyes and begins to look for the type of gun that was used on him, until the voice of his older brother fills his head and makes him turn around. “Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock. It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.”“I’m not stupid,” his voice was him as a little boy.“You’re a very stupid little boy. Mummy and Daddy are very cross, because it doesn’t matter about the gun.”
“Why not?”
“You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?”
“I’ve not been murdered yet…”
“Balance of probability, little brother. If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?”“The mirror shattering.”“Sherlock, you need to fall on your back. Plus, on your back, gravity’s working for us.” They are all talking and Sherlock can barely focus, but the lights begin to dim. “Fall now.”His eyes are beginning to close as he lets himself fall. It wasn’t until a high-pitched frequency fills his ears and throws him off his concentration. Sherlock is sent stumbling backwards, in full panic as he covers his ears to block out the deafening noise as he yells.Sherlock looks to his right and sees his lifeless body being rolled out of the drawers. What’s going on? Please, what’s happening to me?“You’re going into shock. It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.”“What do I do?”At one blink, Mycroft stood where Molly was. “Don’t go into shock, obviously. Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down. Find it.”He closes his eyes and begins to run up the staircase, desperate to find anything to put him at ease. He opens a door, and is greeted by Mary wearing her wedding down, and she holds the same gun she used to murder him. She fires at him, and another jolt of pain sent him flying backwards. Sherlock screams at the top of his lungs and feels himself fall to the ground.Before he hits the ground, his whole surroundings turn dark and empty. Sherlock continues to shake in fear, glancing around the dark space, and he cannot see anything else besides himself.
“Sherlock.”
His breathing slows down before he turns his body around, only to see a single person in front of him. There she was, only a few meters away, wearing her yellow dress from the night he introduced her to his parents.She smiles warmly at him. “Will you dance with me?” she lifts her hand, reaching out to him.Sherlock looks down and watches as blood pours from his shirt. Once he looks up, Jocelyn is already in front of him. This time, her hair is dark brown and she is wearing the peach dress she wore at the wedding. Her image glitches again, and her appearance changes to her wearing a simple black dress—the dress she wore to his funeral.Sherlock’s hands are shaking as he reaches up to her hand against his cheek. He stares into her eyes, and after seeing them so close a month ago.“It’s okay, Sherlock. It’s over. We can go home.”The pain is subsiding momentarily, and he reaches up to cup her face, pulling her close until their foreheads press together. He’s dying, and he will never see her again. The panic surges through him again and suddenly, Sherlock felt like he was falling, as if the ground underneath him was pulled away from his feet. He jolts as reflex when he was put in a different place by his mind, getting him to calm down.Sherlock’s eyes are wide and wild, terrified of what he might see. Slowly, he realizes that he is lying in bed, his surroundings are familiar and blurred out. The white sheets around him are slowly staining with blood.He looks to his right, and sees the sleeping woman at peace with herself. The sheets are delicately placed around her, and her dark brown hair is a mess. Sherlock watches and his chest tightening at the sight of her.Jocelyn’s eyes are closed and she stays still. Her breathing is calm, steady—it makes Sherlock do the same. He watches her with pain in his eyes, and his lips part in utter astonishment the moment she tries to open her eyes.Her lips curl into a small smile. She hums and closes her eyes again. “I’m so sleepy,”“Go back to sleep.”She lets out a sigh and Sherlock’s shaky and bloodied hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can we stay here for another day?” “As you wish.”A sleepy giggle leaves her mouth and she wraps the sheets around herself again. Sherlock can feel her hand touch his chest, and he looks down, only to see her hand staining with blood; as they did when she found him lying on the pavement outside of St. Barts.
“Sherlock,”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
Sherlock tenses and lets out a shaky breath. As he opens his mouth to respond, she had already fallen back to sleep. He does not deserve this, and he never will.The cold truth collapses on him at that moment, and he could not forgive himself from letting himself go too far. Jocelyn does not deserve this. Loving him is and will always be a human error.The pain takes over his body and he begins to convulse on the floor of his mind palace. It was too much to bear, the pain.“Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain. There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding. You have to control the pain.” Molly’s voice echoes in his mind, he can see her blurred face, and he screams and screams until his throat is sore. He runs down the stairs and opens the first door he sees, leading him to a circular padded cell. The walls and floors are familiar, and he later realizes that this is his rehabilitation cell from 2005.This is where Mycroft betrayed his whole soul, locking him up to prevent him to use.Groaning with pain, Sherlock pushes his back against the padded walls, and his face was paling while his eyes scream in fear mixed with panic. “Control! Control! Control,” his voice quiets down with each repeat, and he sees a man wearing on the other side of the room.As Sherlock sharply pants, he watches the man wearing a straitjacket with anger in his eyes. “You. You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?”“You always feel it, Sherlock.”The lights around them flicker as Moriarty charges towards him with his mouth wide with fury. Sherlock flinches back, just as the chain connecting Moriarty to the wall abruptly holds the man back from crashing against the dying man.Moriarty’s face maniacally twists, eyes wide with insanity. “But you don’t have to fear it!”Sherlock cries out in agony, recoiling from the criminal as he collapses to the ground. He gasps for air, as if something was holding his neck down.“Poor John, his innocent little wife turns out to be an assassin. You could’ve stopped it.” He shakes his head at Sherlock, and images of Moriarty shouting at him flashes before his eyes.Sherlock’s vision whitens as his surroundings become blurry, clouding everything inside his mind.“Just think about all the horrible things that happened while you’re alive,” Moriarty mumbles and whistles at him. “Our favorite scientist is in trouble, too,” he clicks his tongue, and Sherlock continues to shake on the ground. “You should just die now, Sherlock. You won’t be a problem to her anymore once you’re dead.”
He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying.
“You don’t deserve that pretty little woman,” he mumbles, salivating all over the floor. “Just think about everything you’ve done to her, I’ve lost count.” Moriarty bellows out a laugh. “You, the great Sherlock Holmes, dying from a gunshot? How pathetic. I died from a gunshot, yet I’m very alive. Do you want to know why?” Moriarty’s mouth is right next to his ear to whisper. “I’m always in your mind,” he quietly sings.His pulse beginning to fade. Sherlock’s eyes flutter to close.“The only difference between us is that you want me to be alive. No one wants you out there, Sherlock.”He can hear faint sirens around him. Sherlock feels trapped inside, and he wishes he could call out for help, call out her name—Moriarty had dead eyes, and with a mocking voice, he begins to vocalize. “It’s raining, it’s pouring, Sherlock is boring… it’s raining, I’m crying, Sherlock is dying…”He can hear John’s determined voice, and he isn’t sure if it’s real or not. Sherlock closes his eyes, accepting his fate. Somehow, he is still holding on even when he doesn’t want to.“You’re going to love being dead, Sherlock. No one ever bothers you. Mrs. Hudson will cry. Mummy and Daddy will cry, Mycroft will cry. And John will cry buckets and buckets!” He laughs again, and Sherlock keeps his eyes closed. “And then there’s little Josie,” he lets out a sigh. “She will probably cry the hardest, now that you’re dead for real this time.”Sherlock swallows at that, but keeps his eyes closed, just waiting for it to end.“John’s wife, though. God knows what she knows, and what she’ll do,” he blows out a noisy breath. “You’re letting them down, Sherlock. John and Jocelyn are definitely in danger.”That makes Sherlock’s eyes shoot open, and he begins to pant. Moriarty watches him curiously. Sherlock clenches his jaw and forces his heart to restart. He slams his fists against the floor of the cell and forces himself onto his feet, staring at Moriarty who had a look of disbelief in his face.Sherlock yells out before pushing the doors open, hearing Moriarty scream out his name to try stopping him. Pictures the walls of Baker Street to feel the texture, to feel his home with his hand. Images of him dancing with Jocelyn while she has a smile on her face begin to play throughout his mind, and his heart begins to beat inside his chest once again. Not today.***Jocelyn was whimpering as soon as she sees a distraught John. Jocelyn runs towards him and lets him steady her by grabbing her arms.The look on John’s face was enough to tell her that nothing is all right. It makes Jocelyn choke back a sob and let herself be held by him. Her eyes poured with tears and her body is frozen in John’s arms.John hushes her and tries to comfort her as best as he can. This is the hardest he has seen her cry. John still hasn’t grasped the events yet, too in shock to even think of anything else.Jocelyn pulls away, and doesn’t have any time to wipe her tears away. “W-Will he be okay? Will he be—oh, God.”“He will be. He will, come here,” he pulls her in for another hug and he feels her sob against her shoulder again.They wait for some time and before they know it, the doors leading to the operating room opens and reveals a doctor who has a look of disbelief on his face.His next words makes Jocelyn’s breaths come out in short waves as she takes her seat in shock, overwhelmed by the many emotions that washed over her at once. John closes his eyes briefly, a surprised laugh sounding from his mouth before he engulfs Jocelyn in a hug once more.***Jocelyn gasps at the sight of him, trying her best not to cry again with relief and shock. She takes a seat next to Sherlock as John stands nearby her. She hesitates, but reaches for his hand and carefully holds it.John frowns, watches the worry and tenderness radiate from Jocelyn as she holds up Sherlock’s hand, and presses her lips against the back of it.Sherlock begins to slightly move. She scoots closer and watches him with concern. “Mary,” he says despite the tubes in his mouth to help him breathe.John leans over. “Did he say Mary?”Jocelyn musters a small smile and places her hand on his cheek. “She’s on her way. Mrs. Hudson and Molly, too.”Sherlock still appears hazy as his head slowly tilts side to side. It seems as though he recognizes her voice even with his eyes closed. “Jo…”Jocelyn presses her lips tightly together, eyes filling with tears as she reaches up to brush her hand against his hair, careful not to stretch any muscle he had. John watches them with a small smile on his face, almost in relief and fondness. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Jocelyn.”His head shakes slightly, as if to nod. “Jocelyn.”She holds back a cry before she leans in to press a soft kiss on his temple. “I’m here. I’ll be here.”***Sherlock groans softly, eyes squinting before he shifts in his hospital bed. He slowly opens his eyes and is greeted by the pale walls of the hospital. He looks to his left and suddenly, a pang of pain jolted his body alive. He lets out choked sounds and he barely notices the way the young woman to his right woke up as well.“Hey, shh,” her calm and soothing voice pulls him back.Once Sherlock is much more aware of his surroundings, he notices Jocelyn on a chair. Her eyes are a bit swollen from, what Sherlock suspects, crying and sleeping.She puts her hand on Sherlock’s thigh. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”Sherlock blinks a couple of times, trying to grasp reality. “You’re here,” he struggles to utter, it comes out unintelligible and Jocelyn doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say.“Don’t talk. Your body is still healing.” She pushes herself off her seat before going to the monitor to his left, increasing the dose of morphine. Jocelyn gives him half a smile. “Better?”He sighs, still feeling the dull pain in his torso. “You’re supposed to be in class.” He struggles to speak.“That’s not important right now.”“Jocelyn.”“Oh, don’t you start. That is exactly what’s wrong. You were pretending to have a girlfriend to propose to her just so you could get shot in a fucking office.” She whispers aggressively. “You were getting shot at while I was at home safe. Do you realize how wrong all of that sounds?”Sherlock frowns. “I’m sorry.”The softness and hesitancy of his voice makes her falter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…” She mumbles. “Why didn’t you just talk to me? You can’t just go off on your own like that. We could’ve planned things first together.” She shakes her head. “When are you going to stop getting yourself in this much danger?”There is no line in the universe that I would not cross for you. “I was so close. I can’t stop, not now.”Jocelyn has a pained look on her face. “You almost died.”The longer he stares at the young woman in front of him, the more he feels somber. “This case is too important. I have to finish it.”“Why?” She snaps.
Two of the most important people to me, you and John, are both in danger.
“Because no one else will.”She scoffs. “Tell me this, then. Who shot you?”Sherlock finds it difficult to hide the way he freezes. “Pardon?”“Your wound is below your chest, you were facing whoever shot you. Did you see their face?”Once Jocelyn glances at the heart rate monitor, Sherlock realizes that he cannot hide anything from her. “I’ll tell you after I’ve finished this case.”“Cut the bullshit! You better tell me what the fuck has been going on, Sherlock! I—” she stops herself from speaking, shaking her head. “Am I not important to you?”Sherlock softens. “You are.”“Then, act like it? Please? You can’t just ignore me for weeks and relapse before going around having yourself shot from time to time.” She scolds him, shaking her head at Sherlock. “Yeah, John told me that he found you in a drug den yesterday morning.”He is silent for a moment, sensing her disappointment and worry. “I pulled through, didn’t I?”“Well, you still almost died!” She exclaims, but immediately composes herself once the door opens, relaxing upon realizing how it is only the elder Holmes.Sherlock only lets out a groan. “Who called you?”“I did.” Jocelyn scoffs at him.“How you manage to continue disappearing out of my radar is something we’ll discuss once you’ve healed.”“Go away, Mycroft.”He glares at him, trying to intimidate the detective. “Under no circumstances am I going to leave this hospital, Sherlock. You’ve gone too far this time.”Jocelyn palms her forehead. “I think so, too.” She sighs, pulling herself to her feet in order to place her hand on Mycroft’s arm. “I’ll leave you two. Is—”“Dr. Watson is outside with his wife, Miss Grant.” Mycroft answers immediately, eyes firmly on Sherlock.Sherlock can tell from one look that his brother already knows.“Right. Well, try not to choke him. He’s still healing.”“No promises.” He remarks, taking his seat. Jocelyn only gives Sherlock a look as if to tell him to behave, and she goes through the door.Once the door closes, Mycroft fills the air. “What in the world were you thinking?” He harshly whispers.Here we go. “I was retrieving Lady Smallwood’s letters, and possibly check to see if he had the copy of Jocelyn’s file.” Mycroft’s face softens and Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Oh, right. Yes. Magnussen has Jocelyn’s file. Irene Adler so kindly informed her on the night of John’s wedding.”“And you mention this to me now?!”“I didn’t know she would be there.” He answers, knowing that his brother has figured it out, surely.And just as he thought, his brother doesn’t even change his expression. “How stupid must you be for not being able to figure it out? I’ve known she was a cunning liar the second I’ve laid eyes on her.”“I did know,”“Then, why didn’t you do something? You could have prevented all of this!”“Because John chose her, and I am not one to meddle upon someone else’s life.” He informs him, eyeing him as if to say unlike you.“Well, congratulations, brother mine. You’ve managed to ruin the lives of those around you. How truly remarkable of you.”Sherlock grunts and shifts in his bed. “Does it please you?”“What does?”“Seeing me like this. In a hospital bed, suffering from a gunshot wound.”Mycroft gives him a confused look. “What—you think this pleases me?” He lets out a sound of disbelief. “Sherlock, the way you live your life terrifies me to the bone! Why else do you think I place high security around you?”“You entrap me. You spy on me and wait for me to make a mistake.”“Because you refuse to be helped!” He exclaims. “If you cooperate with me, see me as a true ally and recognize the fact that we are not enemies, you would not have been shot and all the matters concerning Mrs. Watson would be handled with appropriate protocols!”“And that would lead to me owing you something. I will not be bullied into an alliance just so you could enlist this as one of the favors you’ll wish to have me pay in the future.”“You are my brother. Everything I do is not for the sole purpose of having you in debt.”“You are not known for your sentimentality, brother mine.”“Nor are you.” Mycroft mutters, glancing down at the bandage around his torso.“Sentiment becomes tolerable once you get plenty of it.”“I figured.”“You didn’t figure that when you left Jocelyn in New York to die.” He snaps.Mycroft only frowns, not sure if he’s ready for this conversation just yet. “Sherlock—”“Although, it does not matter now, does it? How could you do that to her? To her?”Mycroft stays quiet for a second. “I simply thought that she was fine and safe, and so I let her be.”“The one time you could have put your annoying and, quite frankly, invasive surveillance to good us. Yet you chose to spy on me instead.” Sherlock tries to let out a humorless laugh, but the sharp pain in his torso prevents him so. “You could have saved her. Prevented all of those horrible things from happening.”“Sherlock,” the guilt seeps through him like light through curtains, making him tighten his grip around the umbrella. “I did not assume for one second that she will spiral down.”“Of course. You’re sorry now. Ten years later.”Sherlock does not want to admit it, but he knows that Mycroft was just as hurt as he was when Jocelyn left. Still, Sherlock just wants to blame someone else.Silence overcomes them for a while before Sherlock continues with his words. “This case with Mary is all down to me.”“Why? Because you made a ridiculous vow?”“Yes.” Sherlock answers through gritted teeth. “Because I made a ridiculous vow.”Mycroft realizes that his younger brother will not rest until this case is solved and Jocelyn is safe, so he sighs. “What would you like me to do?”“I want you to get me out of this hospital in three days.”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“I have to leave the hospital. There is someplace I have to be.”He sighs in exasperation, but maintains his posture. “Fine. I’ll give you three hours of freedom. If you don’t send me a text with an address so I could immediately contact an ambulance, I will not hesitate announcing your disappearance into the whole of Britain.”“How wonderfully touching.”Mycroft gives him a hint of an amused smirk, but it drops half a second later. “Anything else you may need?”He instructs specifically, involving a certain perfume and projector, making Mycroft raise an eyebrow at him. Sherlock rolls his eyes once again. “Don’t give me that look.”“How very dramatic of you, brother mine.”“Shut up, Mycroft. Have it all done in three days.”“As you wish, brother dear.” He mumbles. Mycroft gazes back at him, leaning his back on the seat. “She was glad. She was relieved that I never… spied on her.”Sherlock tilts his head, lips parting in confusion.Before he could ask, Mycroft delivers. “She never explained why, but perhaps it was because she already knew that If I ever found out about her state, I would have informed you. And you would have gone after her.”“Oh, please. You never would have told me even if the world was set on fire. You would have refused because according to yourself, I’d get… hurt.” The detective retaliates mockingly.Mycroft hums, the smile retaining on his face. “The version of myself ten years ago would have informed his younger brother.” He looks at the heart rate monitor to Sherlock’s left. “And you would have gone after her.”“What was so wrong about that?”“She didn’t want you to see her that way, Sherlock.” His brother expresses. “She wants to be remembered the way you think of her.”“If we knew what was going on, we could have helped her. She was alone.”“She had herself. Only one person to disappoint.”“You’re making excuses. We could have saved her.”“She ended up saving herself. Tell me, which is better?” Mycroft remains unusually optimistic. “Stop spoiling yourself with these romantic interludes, brother mine. It’s disappointing of you to fantasize about fairytales where princes save princesses in every fading page of a book, when they are very much capable of rescuing themselves.”How can anyone blame Sherlock, though? He cares too much about that woman and would rather give his breath to her in order to keep her lungs filled with oxygen.Mycroft can see the inner dilemma his brother is having. “As dark as it can be, the cruel flames of hell forge humans into stronger and mightier metals, brother mine.”Sherlock looks down at the wires attached to his arm, eyes darting back to his brother. Mycroft sighs as he pushes himself up on his feet with his umbrella.“I’ll have your requests arranged this evening, have them all done in three days as you’ve asked.” His brother moves towards the door, and he musters a small smile, a much more genuine one. “Get some rest, dear brother.”“Go away.” Sherlock waves him off, making the elder Holmes roll his eyes while shaking his head, exiting the room before shutting the door behind himself. Sherlock closes his eyes and feels much more relieved.***In a few hours, Jocelyn walks into his private room with a tray of food and a bag slung over her shoulder. When she entered the room, he is reading one of the magazines that Janine left when she came by. Upon hearing the door opening, Sherlock immediately snaps his head towards the sound.He appears to be shocked for a moment but immediately gets over it. “Hello.”She gives him a lazy smile and closes the door with her heel. “Hey, hungry?” She sets the tray on the table first.He presses a button to slowly elevate himself into a sitting position. Without him even asking, Jocelyn takes the magazines and neatly places them on a vacant chair.“I don’t eat hospital food.”“I know, which is why your real dinner is in my bag. I got you dumplings.” Sherlock’s lips twitch into a small smile. “So, what did Mycroft say?”“The usual. Be careful and don’t do it again, only much harsher.”“He has a point, you know. You went too far.”“This case—”“—is important, I know. But Sherlock, you do realize that putting your life on the line is not okay.”“It’s worth it.”“Why?” She asks with a laugh of disbelief. “Look at yourself, you’re in a hospital with a gunshot wound.”“Can we please talk about this later? You have to rest.”“Sherlock…”“You’ve taken care of me enough,” out of instinct, he places his hand on top of hers, making her direct her gaze towards the contact. “You must rest. I estimate that the last time you’ve had a full eight hour sleep was a week ago.”Jocelyn bites down her lip, pulling her hand out from under his just to get him some utensils so he can eat. “I can’t sleep knowing you’re here.”Jocelyn rises back on her feet, with blue eyes following her. Sherlock watches her clean. He knows that most of the people around him are busy at this hour. Sherlock can already figure out that Jocelyn insisted with them going back to work once they knew Sherlock is alright.Of course, since he’ll be under her care, he’ll be more than alright.“How’s John?”“He’s fine. He just called a while ago and asked how you were. John says he’ll visit later.”“That’s good. How’s Mary?”Jocelyn chuckles, completely oblivious. “Still pregnant. Told her not to worry because it might not be good for the baby. She said she’ll come by tonight.”He nods, already wondering what Mary will come for. She will, inevitably, try to negotiate for Sherlock’s silence. Of course, lying to John that way is over the line.Jocelyn notices his silence and just glances at him, seeing how he barely touched his food. “You okay?”“Yes, of course. Can I have some water?”Jocelyn reaches for a glass to pour some water into. He reaches for it once she stretched her arm to give the glass to him. Sherlock downs it in one go. “Is there something wrong?”“No.”“Is it the person who shot you?” Sherlock shoots her a look, only for her to raise both hands as a mock surrender. “Just asking. Who is it, anyway?”“Jocelyn.”“Fine, fine. You have to tell me soon, though.”“You’ll be the second person to know, I promise.”“Who’s the first?”“You’ll be pleased to be the second, trust me.”“I better be, Sherlock.”He pulls the corner of his lips into a small smile. “Thank you for being here.”“Well, it’s difficult not to be, considering your situation.” She gestures to him, taking a seat at the edge of his bed, facing him.“Jocelyn.”“Yeah?”“I am very sorry for what I did.”Jocelyn sighs. “Just try not to break into someone’s office again.”“No, I meant,” he pauses. “I’m sorry for what I did to you back in Edinburgh.”Jocelyn suddenly tenses, looking away from him. “Oh.”“I want you to know that you did nothing wrong.”“Oh, I know,” she nods, and Sherlock blinks at her. “It was your fault.”A second passes and Jocelyn breaks out into a small grin, and both of them let out a chuckle. Sherlock nods at what she said, nimble fingers almost gripping his utensils too tight.He stays quiet for a moment. “Tell me, have you been happy lately?”She glances at him, unsure why he would ask that. “I can’t exactly say I’m happy now, since you’re lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound.” She teases him. “But I guess I am, in general.”“Tell me about your week, then.”Jocelyn looks at him before she shrugs. “Laurie and I are friends again.”“Oh?”“Yeah, well, we’re getting there,” she pauses. “What about you?” She makes a move of flicking her head towards the numerous magazines. “Janine’s the one you’ve been texting back and forth, isn’t she?”“It was only a pathway towards Magnussen. Whatever Janine and I had, it was never truly real.” He waves off.Jocelyn tilts her head at him, already aware of that. “But you didn’t like her even just a little bit?”“I could see myself as her friend, but nothing more.”Friendships are frankly the only label he can offer anyone ordinary, as of the moment. He doesn’t say this, but his eyes spoke more.She gives him a weak smile. “Well, maybe you’ll find someone out there.”He hums, raising his brows in a lazy manner. “Finding is boring.”Jocelyn suppresses a smile. “What would you prefer?”“A method that does not require finding.”Jocelyn laughs, shaking her head at him. Sherlock watches her in forlorn.He presses his lips into a tight line. “I’m glad you’re happy, Jocelyn. Truly.”Jocelyn holds their gaze and is internally torn. She wants to tell him about Irene but the thought of stressing him out is unnerving. She nods. “I try to be, I guess.”“Tell me about the professor, then.”“He’s great, Sherlock. You would like him if you actually try to get to know him.” She notices Sherlock appear to be uncomfortable.“Are you considering being with him again?” He quietly asks, unsure why he felt a sudden pang to his chest. Last time he checked, his morphine dose was increased to dull the pain from his wound.“What? No.”“Why not? He’s a great man. Intelligent, financially stable and, as far as I know, protective.”“I told you why already, don’t you remember? At the party?”Sherlock furrows his brows at her. Although, after a split second, he realized. His facial expression relaxes and he silences for a moment. “You don’t love him.”Her silence confirms his conclusion.Sherlock observes her, wondering if she remembers or if she was too sleepy to even hear herself. “What is it, then?”“What’s what?”Sherlock purses his lips. “The reason why you can’t seem to feel the same way towards the professor.”She scoffs, shaking her head as though she’s amused. “Finish your dinner.” She dismisses, pushing herself off the edge of the bed. Before she could actually get up, he grabs her wrist gently, making her twist her head back towards him in surprise.“Please, I’d like to know.”“You’re going to make fun of me.” She blinks at him, although she seems much more relaxed.“I would never make fun of you.”She side-eyes, trying to recall a time that he did. “Well, maybe this time, you would.”“I’d like to listen.”A smile creeps to her face. “And what? You’ll give me advice?”“Just listening.” He repeats, letting her wrist go in order to grab his utensils. “Go on, then. Start from the beginning.”“What, so I’m a client now?”“It passes the time.”She stares for a moment, as if trying to decide whether she should share or not.“Laurie is great. He’s intelligent and funny. I honestly don’t see what’s wrong with him for me not to feel the same. I’ve even spoken to Molly about this, and she just told me that no one can really choose the person they’d like. I guess she’s right.” She smiles at him.Sherlock nods, eyes darting to the white sheets of his bed as he thinks about what she said. Yes, Lawrence Carter has everything. More importantly, he treats her in the way she should be treated; significant and worthy of love. Sherlock knew that he could never provide any of those, apart from being intelligent. It’s the only thing he can rely upon being true about himself.Other than that, he can never meet her standard of being a complete package.“I see.”She laughs unexpectedly. “This is ridiculous, I shouldn’t be keeping you talking.”“You shouldn’t be running errands for me as well. Yet, here we are.”“Well, you’ve left me no choice. I’m gone for three weeks and you’ve relapsed and had yourself shot after breaking into someone’s office.”“Point made.” He hesitates. “Do you ever wonder if your situation with Professor Carter might have to do with outside forces?”“What do you mean?”“Outside forces, Jocelyn. Things we cannot control. Which, in your case, is your inability to return the affections Professor Carter has been graciously offering you.”“You mean, do I already have feelings for someone else?”“That… is a possible interference.”Jocelyn only sags her shoulders, thinking about it. “Come to think of it, there is one person that I can think of.”Sherlock blinks, lips parting in surprise. “Oh?”“Mhm.”“Tell me about them, then.”Jocelyn has a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, he is wonderful. I think he’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”Suddenly, he feels an odd surge of pride. “Is that so?”“Yes, he’s great. Has the weirdest set of quirks, and I find them all absolutely endearing.”Sherlock stares, his lips curling into a small smile, amazed by the way she talks about this person. “What else?”“Well, this man is quite extraordinary. He likes the strangest things no one could possibly even begin to imagine and it makes him so different from other people.” Her fingers play with the fabric of her clothes absentmindedly. “He’s gentle and caring, but tries his best not to seem like it. Although, only a few special people can see through the act.”“Sounds like quite the man.”“Sweetest person you’ll ever meet,” she adds, almost fondly. “Sometimes, I can’t believe he’s real. He’s too good for this world.”“That’s a tad bit dramatic,” Sherlock picks up his cup of water as though he is not bothered.“He is dramatic, but it’s what makes him different from anybody else.” Jocelyn claims proudly, raising her chin as though to mock. “This man is what dreams are made of.” She exaggerates as though to annoy him with more drama.Sherlock lowers his cup of water, eyes directly on the woman. Without missing a beat, he asks her a simple question. “Then why not choose him?”Then, her smile fades yet she does not frown. They stay quiet for a moment until Jocelyn cracks a small smile. “Because this man is attracted to danger the same way a bee is to a flower,” she softly says, “And I am terrified for his life.”Sherlock falters for half a millisecond, and he couldn’t help but break eye contact with her.When he doesn’t say anything, Jocelyn continues. “He has everything, but I’m always so scared of what might happen to him. I can’t live my life fearing for him to lose his.” She quietly mutters, almost whispering but enough for him to hear.Sherlock slowly nods.“And I guess I’ve experienced loss before and it wasn’t pretty.”“I see,” he finally says. “So, this is a pick one between two people situation, correct?”“Pick one?” She repeats, a bit startled. “With him, danger follows. I’ve accepted the fact that they’re mutually exclusive and can’t live without the other. It’s one of the things that are constant about him, some part of him can never change. This is more of a…” she trails off. “Pick him and deal with the consequences type of thing.”“Why don’t you?”“Because I’m scared.” She shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “And until now, I don’t know what he wants. Everything has to be a mystery or dangerous for him to actually pay attention.” She sighs. “I’m just scared of whatever will happen if I ever lose him.”Sherlock frowns, pausing to think. “What if he gives up on the danger and mystery?”She smiles a bit. “I’m not here to change him and take away the things he loves. I can’t separate him from that. He likes the danger and mystery.”He watches her trying to bottle her emotions. A flash of affection appears in his eyes and he can feel his chest tightening at the woman in front of him. “I can see why.”She takes a moment to realize what he means and stare into his blue eyes. Her lips slowly form an anguished smile, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. They watch one another for a moment, and Jocelyn leans in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Sherlock feels his own eyes flutter shut from the contact.It was a simple kiss, yet it held more emotion than Sherlock is capable of deciphering. She pulls away and they both look at each other with a delicate gaze.He wanted to ask her how she could choose a person as horrible as him, but he does not want to give her reasons to leave him.Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut. “We should have stayed in Edinburgh.”Jocelyn sputters out a quiet laugh. “Speak for yourself.” She bluntly remarks and both of them smile at each other.The door behind them is swung open, making the two glance at the visitor. John and Mary stand side by side and all four of them stare at each other. John takes in the scene in front of him; with them sitting very closely to one another.Jocelyn casually moves away and begins to fill up Sherlock’s cup of water again.“Did you have dinner already?” John stupidly asks, a bit far from the question he really wants to ask, which is, what the bloody hell did we interrupt?Sherlock rolls his eyes in amusement. “What does it look like, Captain John Watson?”John rolls his eyes and closes the door behind them. As he and Jocelyn turn their backs, Sherlock and Mary share an intense look. Mary is the first to look away once John approaches her and offers her a seat.Jocelyn checks her watch, making Sherlock look towards her. “What is it?”“I, uh… have to go home to clean.”Sherlock watches her closely, and assumes it is something else. “You don’t have to worry about my parents.”Jocelyn lets out a soft chuckle, remembering that Sherlock actually trusts her to tell him what he needs to know. He can’t know about Irene just yet, he still needs to heal. That is what Jocelyn tells herself before she walks towards Sherlock.“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she leans down to kiss his cheek before walking towards the door.Despite himself, Sherlock was still astonished by her casual move in front of their two friends, and he blinks rapidly once her lips make contact with his skin. John practically grins at Sherlock like an idiot.The moment the door closes shut, the Watsons turn their head towards the consulting detective. Although, once he looks towards Mary and she avoids his eyes. Sherlock just sits still, shaking his head at both of them before going back to his dinner.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“How is he?” Irene asks the moment Jocelyn enters the house.“He’s stable, he can talk now.” Jocelyn looks to the coffee table to see that Irene made tea.“I told you we couldn’t trust him. He would definitely make his own plan without telling you. Did you tell him about me?”Jocelyn closes her eyes. “How am I supposed to tell him that the reason why he got shot was because I kept this from him? He’s in a hospital right now because of me.”“Okay, Dr. Grant, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.”“No, you don’t understand, alright? I could’ve prevented all of it, but I was too proud to even go see him after…” she stops and blows out a breath, her eyes filling with tears.Jocelyn thinks about what John said regarding Sherlock relapsing. Seven years of being clean, thrown away just like that. And now, because of Jocelyn’s contempt towards him, he nearly died.“You have to tell him tomorrow. Or else, he might do something he’ll regret.”She sighs, wiping away her tears. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. I just need to sleep,” she walks past her, but Irene blocks her way.“We can’t do anything on our own, doctor. We need Sherlock’s help. He got into Magnussen’s office which means he could know how to get into his house. And it’ll be over. The world wouldn’t miss him.”Jocelyn lets out a deep sigh. “We’re not having this conversation.” She begins to walk upstairs.Irene follows behind her. “You’d rather have that man take advantage of every person he comes across than to have blood on your hands?”“And you’d rather kill someone than look for another way?”“I’d rather be the better villain.” Irene had a dangerous glint in her eyes.Jocelyn wavers.Irene scoffs and crosses her arms. “And what will your moral righteousness grant you, doctor? Another event where Sherlock has to put himself in harm’s way just for you to come running back to him?”Jocelyn’s eyes fill with tears once again, and her breaths become labored. “Get out.”From those words, Irene appears to be surprised. “Jocelyn—”“I said… get… out… of my house.”Irene narrows her eyes into slits. “I need the file back. It belongs to me.”“No, I’m keeping it. You go help yourself.” Jocelyn glares and walks up the stairs.“Fine, I admit it. I’m wrong.” She blurts out to halt the young woman and holds up her arms as defeat. “You got me. We won’t kill him. Just don’t send me out there. I have nowhere else to go.”Jocelyn softens. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”A wave of relief washes over Irene and she tries to mask it by just nodding. Although, as Irene walks up the stairs, Jocelyn’s doorbell rings.The two women stare at one another, before Jocelyn slowly walks down the stairs to make her way to the door. She glances at Irene and nods, and Irene immediately walked upstairs. With a confused expression, she walks to the door and looks through her peephole.Her lips part in surprise, and she reaches for the doorknob, twisting it before opening the door. A usual humorless smile appears on the eldest Holmes’ face.Jocelyn tries to smile. “Mycroft.”“Miss Grant, I have something to discuss with you, if you don’t mind.”“Oh, alright, come in.” Jocelyn steps aside and lets him in, closing the door. “It’s late. Is everything okay? Is Sherlock—”“My little brother is still recovering in the hospital. John and his wife are there to look after him.”“He’ll be out by three weeks, right?”“It would seem so.” Mycroft narrows his eyes over the coffee table. “I’m afraid that my brother is going out of control. He… used for the first time in seven years, and it worries me. Sherlock informed me that Magnussen possesses your file. I am wondering why the two of you decided to keep that from me, after swearing that we plan things together.”“I didn’t know Sherlock never told you anything.”“It should be universal knowledge that my brother never tells me anything.” Mycroft steps forward with an angered look. “And I believe that you also have something else you’d like to tell me.”Jocelyn’s eyes close briefly. “Mycroft—”“You can come out now, Miss Adler. There’s no need to hide.”Irene Adler begins to descend from the stairs. “Mr. Holmes, the eldest. What a pleasant surprise.”Mycroft only glares at Irene, and turns to Jocelyn. “Do you really believe that you can hide a fugitive inside your home without me finding out? I’ve known she was here the moment you came home from Edinburgh.” He shares a glance with Irene, who doesn’t feel surprised by that fact. “I’ve been waiting for you to inform me yourself, eventually disappointing myself since you chose not to.”“How did you—”“You underestimate my level of security, Miss Grant.”“You’re spying on me now? I thought you said you won’t stalk my every move, after I asked for your help.”“Our agreement has been faulty the moment you and my brother decided to keep secrets from me,” he has a hardened gaze in his eyes, and it makes Jocelyn chew the inside of her cheek. “And I will not make the same mistake of leaving you unmonitored.”Jocelyn wonders if Mycroft blames himself for New York. “Mycroft…”“No matter, my security on you led me to finding out that Miss Adler has invaded your home once again. Only this time, you welcome her with open arms.”“I’m sorry, did you say that Dr. Grant underestimates your level of security? Dr. Grant, would you kindly inform Mr. Holmes what I found in your home?” Irene and Mycroft lock their gazes together, challenging one another.Jocelyn realizes what she meant. “There were wiretaps in my house.”“Wiretaps.” Irene smirks at Mycroft, who appears surprised to hear that. “Not very MI6 of you, Mr. Holmes.”The man wonders if his system is faulty enough for Sherlock to slip in and out of it, and for someone to bug Jocelyn’s house without him knowing. Mycroft glares at Irene. “Where?”“We got rid of them all, practically flipped the house upside down. I moved them to a different room with a recording. Whoever put them there, they won’t realize anything.” Jocelyn tells him, and he nods at her. “It was her idea.”Irene grins at raises her brow at Mycroft.“And how sure are you that Miss Adler was not the one who placed them there?”Irene scoffs. “Oh, please. Do you really think I’m interested in listening to her watch sob films and cook meals every day and night? The woman practically isn’t home the whole day. I wouldn’t waste my time.”Jocelyn gives her a sarcastic smile, and the Woman only winks at her.Mycroft glances between the two women, almost in disgust of their strange bond. “I’ll have my assistant take those wiretaps and have them investigated.”“We can’t remove them, or else the listener would know that we know about it.” Jocelyn reminds him.Mycroft almost groans at the situation. The Coventry conundrum all over again. “I do believe it is in my brother’s best interest if we inform him of your shenanigans after his recovery. I would not have him stressed and asking for a higher dose of morphine,” his bluntness receives a quirk of an eyebrow from Jocelyn. “Miss Adler, please come with me. I’ll have you set up elsewhere.”She raises both her brows. “You want to keep me safe? After what I pulled in your plane two years ago?”“No. I’d like to keep an eye on you. The two of you should not settle in the same house. I cannot believe the both of you thought this was a good idea.”Irene looks at Jocelyn with a hint of worry in her eyes. “Then, I suggest have Dr. Grant live elsewhere. As it turns out, your high-level security isn’t high enough if you managed to overlook someone wiring this house.”“In that case, Miss Grant, please pack your things. You’ll be living in Baker Street for an indefinite amount of time.” He begins to walk with Irene.“Wait, why there?”“Because it’ll be the safest place you can be without seeming suspicious, if anyone is actually watching you. Come along.”***“You said you’d be looking after him!” Mummy Holmes exclaims in a shout, making the other four men in the room cringe.“I was. Until he decided to go against everything I’m doing.”“Oh, don’t bother to scold Mycroft. He is, as you are all aware of, the British government. Scolding him would be the same as scolding the Queen.” Sherlock remarks.John hides his grin behind his hand as he sits in a corner. Mycroft finally rolled his eyes. “What is the point of all this? Don’t you both have a theatre play to watch?”“A theatre play? While our boy has been shot? Do be sensible, Mike.” Their father looks at him incredulously.“It’s Mycroft, and can you both—”The doorknob clicks and it swings open, all four of them glance towards the slightly opened door. Sherlock’s lips part, but form a small smile once Jocelyn peeks her head in. Her eyes widen in surprise once she sees the Holmes family in one room.“Oh, sorry—”“Jocelyn, my darling girl!” Mrs. Holmes opens her arms and walks towards the door, grabbing Jocelyn’s arms to pull her inside the room.Jocelyn nervously smiles at them while Mrs. Holmes kisses both her cheeks. Mr. Holmes gives her a tight hug, making her yelp in surprise. Sherlock watches them with a content look on his face. Even Mycroft seems pleased by this, even while he tries to hide it with an annoyed expression.“Sorry for barging in, I was just… bringing Sherlock some fruit.”“Barging in? Dear girl, we haven’t seen each other in eleven years!” Mrs. Holmes sits her down on a chair, and it makes Jocelyn let out a surprised noise. “How long have you been in London, love?”Sherlock furrows his brows. “I’ve told you both how long—”“You shouldn’t be talking, dear, your wound might fester,” Mrs. Holmes teases her son, and only makes Sherlock scoff. The older woman cups her cheek affectionately. “And you lost your wonderful blue hair!”“First thing I noticed!” Mr. Holmes comments with a laugh.Jocelyn just reaches up to touch the ends of her hair. “Had to grow up.”“Oh, sweetheart, you can grow old with your blue hair and I wouldn’t bat an eye. This one looks lovely, though!”Dear God, they are talking about hair. Mycroft begins to get uncomfortable with the strange reunion. “I should be on my way to my office. Brother mine, there will be a guard outside your door.” He nods towards Sherlock, who only scoffs before Mycroft turns to their parents. “I should drive you both to the showing of Hamlet.”“Hamlet? By God!” Mrs. Holmes says in surprise, but Mycroft only gives her a look. “Oh! Yes, Hamlet,”“We should not miss the showing!” Mr. Holmes assists his wife to stand.Jocelyn watches them with speculation. Going to a theatre and leave Sherlock in the hospital? Sounds rather ridiculous.John stands as well. “Mary just texted me from the office. I should go visit her, see how she’s doing. You know… pregnant and all.”Jocelyn looks at them all with wide eyes. Mrs. Holmes gives her youngest son a kiss on the cheek, to which he grimaces at and all four of them leave. As soon as the door closes, Jocelyn looks back at Sherlock reading the news.“Please, tell me you didn’t tell them to leave once I got here.”“I didn’t. Mycroft did.”“Great.” She mumbles, taking out some apples. “How are you feeling?”“Like there is a hole inside me.”Jocelyn flashes him a look of amusement. “Poetry or truth?”He scoffs out a chuckle and watches as she begins to peel a fresh apple. “How is your day?”“Barely begun. It’s eight in the morning, Sherlock.”“Right. Apologies. How was your sleep?”As she peels the apple, she chuckles. “Why do you ask?”“To see whether you are comfortable.”“I’m alright, Sherlock.”“Why do I feel as though you’re begging yourself to ask me a question?”Jocelyn stares at him. “Your parents, they were delighted to see me. What did you tell them?”“The truth.”“Which version of the truth?”“The only version.” Sherlock offers her a smile.“Right,” she snorts and shakes her head at him before passing the bowl of apple slices towards him. “I’ll be here most of the day, by the way. I’d feel strange teaching my class, knowing that you’re in the hospital.”“My parents don’t seem to suffer from the same problem. They’re out watching Hamlet. In daytime.”“You know that they set this up, right? For us to be alone like this?”Sherlock gives her a softer look. “They are all aware that I’m in good hands.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t do that.”“Do what?”“Say sweet things without realizing it.”Sherlock gives her a look of confusion. “I never do that.”His words make her burst out laughing. “Oh, my darling, you definitely do that.”The simple term of endearment strangely fills Sherlock with warmth. “In that case, I never notice.”“You notice everything.”“Not with you. I’d be too distracted.”Her cheeks flush red again and she just lets out a laugh. “You’re such a moron.”Sherlock tilts his head, unsure why she’d be so flustered over a fact he just told her. He chooses not to question it. He observes the way she was fiddling with the end of her dress, almost anxiously.“Is everything all right?”She slowly scoots closer to the bed. “I have something to tell you. I wanted to wait until you recovered, but I think you should just know.”“Know about what?”Jocelyn crosses her arm over her chest and looks at her lap for a moment. She hesitates before reaching over to hold his palm out. Sherlock watches her closely the whole time. Slowly, she traces letters into his skin, until she spells the word IRENE on his palm.“She’s been living with me after we got back from Edinburgh.”Sherlock just stares at her for a few seconds. “Did she hurt you?”“Wh—no, no, she didn’t hurt me or anything. I let her stay in my house.”“You… you let that woman sleep under the same roof as you? Willingly?”“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done.”“It… is the worst thing you’ve ever done.” He furrows his eyebrows at her.“I can explain.”“Explain quickly before the heart rate monitor ends up in smokes.” Sherlock’s voice is lace with a serious tone, almost dreading the answer.Jocelyn avoids his eyes for a moment before locking their gazes at one another. “Magnussen doesn’t have my file, he never did. Irene gave it to me the day I came back to London, had it all along.” Jocelyn shrugs. “He has a memory palace, like yours. The vaults, they’re not real. The file was showed to him by… you know,”Sherlock barely takes a second to fully digest her words. “He can still use it against you.”“Yeah, technically he does have my file. He has a list of people she was involved with. That’s why she needed our help.”“She is planning to execute him, isn’t she?”“She was. I convinced her to try a different plan.”“And that plan is?”“No idea.”He glances back at Jocelyn and sees the deep frown on her face. “What’s the matter?”“You’re pretty calm after finding out that the reason why you were shot was because of me.”He watches her for a moment. “Will you come here?”“…What?”“Here, lie next to me.”“Sherlock, you were just shot. I’m not about to—”“Please.”Jocelyn lets out a surprised chuckle. “Okay, this is the morphine talking, I should probably just let you sleep.”“This is not the morphine. This is me.”“I don’t want to hurt you.”“Which is exactly why I know that you will not.”Jocelyn pauses, but gives in. She pulls herself to her feet and pulls off her shoes. Sherlock just waits while as he moves to the side for more room. Jocelyn sighs, but climbs into the small bed and and adjusts until her head is close to his shoulder. Once Sherlock huffs, but he wraps his arm around her waist to keep her in place.“Sherlock…”“Stay, please. Don’t overthink it,” she feels him stroke her arm. “And please, don’t think that this is your fault.”“If I told you sooner…”“And if I hadn’t left Edinburgh… well, going off alone always seems like the best idea, until it isn’t.”“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Sherlock. If only I could help you.”“You are here, aren’t you?”“But Sherlock, this happened to you because—sorry, I keep going in circles.”“Jocelyn, look at me.”She tilts her head up to look at him, and his blue eyes are lighter than they usually are.“I’m alright, still alive. Still fully functional.”“With a hole through your torso?”“With a hole through my torso.”Jocelyn snorts out a laugh and after a few moments, Sherlock joins in. She sighs in content, just enjoying being this close to him. She frowns and wonders what they could be doing for the last three weeks if either of them just decided to reach out. They could have had this much earlier.“Sherlock?”“Hm?”“Why did you really leave that morning?”Jocelyn feels him tense from next to her. The hesitation on his face gave him away, and he only sighs through his nose. “Do we talk about that here? In a hospital bed?”An amused smile appears on her face. “So, we do have something to talk about?”“Maybe.” Sherlock gives her a small smile.“What if we talk about this once you’re back in Baker Street?”“I think that would be in our best interests.” Sherlock mumbles to her, still observing her face.Jocelyn feels him shift next to her, but he stops himself. He begins to stammer, unsure of what to say next as he sinks back into the bed.She watches him curiously and his face flushes. “What is it?”“I’d like to kiss you, however, this wound is preven—”Jocelyn cuts him off by leaning up and pressing her lips into his, kissing him gently. Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut and he lets himself get lost to the feeling. He wishes he could wrap his arms around her properly and pull her to his chest.She pulls away and presses their foreheads together. In a slow manner, smiles appear on their faces and makes her chuckle before kissing him once more. It was one of the rare moments where his mind slows down its processor, as if everything about her clouds his senses. Everything she does, even the simplest things, they are so wonderful.Two nights later, John and Greg visit Baker Street with frantic expressions. Upstairs, Jocelyn rolls her shoulders. She is currently in Baker Street, grading papers and drinking a milkshake.Once she hears the loud thuds of boots from downstairs, she leaves the bedroom. Jocelyn is met with Greg and John, who looked as if they were stressed out.Jocelyn tilts her head. “Uh, what’s happening?”“Sherlock’s gone missing.” Greg tells her.“He’s not missing, he escaped the bloody hospital.” John grits his teeth. She curses at herself and immediately grabs her coat to sprint outside with the two men.***“He knew who shot him. The bullet wound was through his front, so he was facing whoever did it.”“He won’t tell us because he was tracking them down himself.” Greg claims.“Or protecting them?” Jocelyn furrows her brows.“Protecting the shooter? Why?”“Protecting someone, then. Why would he care? He’s Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting?” He sits down on his chair, surprised to realize that it’s back.The young scientist crosses her arms and contemplates John’s question. It wasn’t until John and Jocelyn glance at each other.Greg only tells them both to call him once they hear anything, and leaves.“Mrs. Hudson, why does Sherlock think I’ll be moving back in here?”“Oh! He’s just got your chair back again, isn’t he? That’s nice. Looks much better.”Jocelyn glances at John’s chair, distinctly trying to remember if that was there when she first moved back in. She couldn’t recall, but she knows why Sherlock would remove it, as Mrs. Hudson implied.She helps Mrs. Hudson with the tea, but notices how she was looking at John. Jocelyn follows her gaze and sees John staring at the small perfume bottle on the small table next to his chair.Jocelyn peers over and realizes that it’s a brand of Claire-de-la-lune, recognizing it immediately since she recalls being with Mary as they shopped together. Jocelyn remembers it since the brand name is almost the same name as her favorite classical piece.John’s phone begins to buzz on the table, and he takes the phone and answers it. “Sherlock, where the bloody hell—no, I’m not about to play this game with you… Sherlock…” Jocelyn watches as John’s face turns cold and hardens. “Where?”She glances at Mrs. Hudson’s worried face, and tries to give her a reassuring smile.“I’ll be there,” John hangs up.Jocelyn grabs her coat. “Where is he?”“He said that I should go alone.”“…what?”“I think you should stay put, I’ll bring him home later. I promise.”Before she could get a word in, John is already out of the flat.For an hour, she tries to distract herself from thinking of all the things that might have happened to Sherlock. The past few days have been nothing but incredible and Jocelyn has known a pattern in her life that whenever something good happens, something rips it out from her arms again. She can’t bear to think of what it might be this time.The door is suddenly swung open. It makes both women jump in surprise. Jocelyn goes to the living room and watches as John and Mary both walk inside.Her breath hitches upon seeing Sherlock by the door, holding onto the frame to keep himself standing.Jocelyn immediately goes to his side and supports him, and Sherlock complies with slinging his arm around her shoulders.“Will you… will you get me some morphine, Mrs. Hudson?”“I don’t have any morphine—”“Then, what is the point of you?” Sherlock raises his voice and makes Jocelyn widen her eyes at him.Mrs. Hudson looks just as confused. “What is going on?”“Bloody good question.” John turns to them.Jocelyn just glances between all of them, seeing the way Mary appears to be neutral and blank, and John is fuming with anger.John paints a sarcastic smile on his face. “Yeah, I have a better question. Is everyone I’ve ever met, a psychopath?”Sherlock pauses to think. “Yes. Good that we’ve settled that, now we—”“Shut up! And stay shut up, because this is not funny. Not this time.” He has a humorless smile on. He glances at Mary with anger. “You. What have I ever done, hm? My whole life, to deserve you?”“Everything.”Jocelyn closes her eyes briefly. “Sherlock.”“I told you, shut up.”“I mean it, John. Everything you’ve ever done is what you did.”“Shut up. One more word and you would not need morphine.”“John, that’s enough,” Jocelyn putting herself between them, pushing Sherlock to stay behind her.“Stay out of this, Jocelyn.” John points and makes her clench her jaw.“You were a doctor who went to war. You’re a man who couldn’t stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming in a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative for getting high. That’s me, by the way, hello.” He raises his hand to cheerily wave. “Your sister’s best friend easily attracts rendezvous with criminal masterminds.”Jocelyn widens her eyes at him. “Wh—”“John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You are abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people. So, is it truly such a surprise that the woman you’ve fallen in love with, conforms to that pattern?”“But she wasn’t supposed to be like that. Why is she like that?”Both Mrs. Hudson and Jocelyn glance at Mary with curiosity and puzzlement. Mary avoids Jocelyn’s eyes.“Because you chose her.”“Why is everything always… my fault!” John turns and aggressively kicks the chair, Jocelyn even felt Sherlock flinch a bit.“John, listen. Be calm, and answer me. What is she?”“My lying wife,”“No. What is she?”“The woman who is carrying my child, who has been lying since the day I met her?”Jocelyn’s lips part in surprise, still watching Mary, but she continues to avoid Jocelyn’s gaze.“No. Not in this flat, not in this room. Right here, right now. What is she?”It takes a moment for John to respond. “Okay, your way. Always your way,” John picks up the chair he knocked over and places it in front of the two other chairs. He looks at Mary. “Sit.”“Why?”“Because that’s where they sit! The people who come here with their stories. The clients, that’s what you are now, Mary. You’re a client. This is where you sit and talk, and this is where we sit and listen. Then, we decide if we want you or not.”Jocelyn feels Sherlock move away from her, but gives her shoulder a reassuring and firm squeeze from his hand, as if to say he’s fine. She let him go and watched as he practically limps towards his chair. He looks at her before nodding once, and Jocelyn got the message as she turns to go upstairs to leave.“I want Jocelyn to be here.” Mary says.John scoffs out a sarcastic chuckle. “In a position to make demands?”“John.” Sherlock cautiously says before glancing at Jocelyn. He waits for her to respond and only gestures to the chair next to him after she nods.Mary goes to sit on the chair that John placed in front of them all, adjusting her clothes to lessen her discomfort. The atmosphere thickens and Jocelyn wonders why Mary wanted to add her to the audience.Mary places a flash drive on the table next.Sherlock immediately observes it. “A, G, R, A. What’s that?”Mary hesitates before looking directly at John. “My initials.”Pain flashes in John’s eyes, and he looks away from her. Jocelyn watches the exchange and still has no idea what to think.“Oh, right. Jocelyn, meet my wife, the woman who shot Sherlock.”Her jaw slacks at his words and her eyes widen towards Mary once the truth was dropped into her lap like a bomb.“What?” she swallows, trying to contain the boiling anger and pain inside her as John’s words sink in. Mary finally looks at her in the eyes, and it broke Jocelyn. “You—”“Let’s not discuss this now,” Sherlock gives John a look and barely gives Jocelyn time to digest what she just found out. “By your skillset, you are or were an intelligence agent. Your current accent is English, but I suspect that you are not. You are on the run from something. Magnussen knows your secret, and that is why you were going to kill him. I assume that is why you befriended Janine in order to get close to her.”“You can talk.” Mary muses, and Sherlock tries to muster a smile.“Oh, look at you two. You should’ve gotten married.” John humorlessly remarked, and it makes Sherlock glance at him as if to apologize.“The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life.”“So, you were just going to kill him?”Jocelyn blinks and sighs to herself. Everyone wants to kill Magnussen these days.“People like Magnussen should be killed. That’s why there are people like me.”“Perfect. So, that’s what you were? An assassin? How could I not see that?”“You did see that, and you married me. Because he’s right,” she tilts her head towards Sherlock, who appeared as though he disliked being right for the first time. “It’s what you like.”The Watsons stare at one another, and John has his murderous expression written all across his face.“So, Mary. Is there a reason why you wanted Jocelyn to hear all of these?”Mary glances at Jocelyn, who remains enraged. “I know that you have your own issues with Magnussen, with the whole drug thing in New York.”“You want her as a witness to reassure us all that you will not use her past against her. How did you know about that? These are words exchanged in secluded areas.”Mary hesitates. “Maybe all of you should read everything in the drive,”John observes her for a moment, seeing the way she is holding back. “No, I think we want to hear it from you.”It was the next word leaving her mouth that got to everyone, sending a shudder down Jocelyn’s spine.
“Moriarty.”
Sherlock only grits his teeth and briefly closes his eyes at the sound of that treacherous name. The spider at the center of the web, always so desperate with staying alive.“What’s Moriarty got to do with you?” John’s breathing begins to sound heavy.Mary pauses and appears as if she is still trying to hold back. “I was one of his on call assassins.”John sputters out a menacing chuckle. “So, you were at his beck and call whenever he wanted to murder someone? Christ, you two would be a team!”Sherlock watches Mary for a moment, analyzing her words and discomfort. He slowly pieces things together and leans back into his seat. “You were there that night, weren’t you?”“What night?”“The night I arranged with him, by the pool,” Sherlock stares at Mary, already hearing his voice in his head. “Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty.” John holds back the tears, not wanting to imagine his wife being one of the people who almost killed them.Mary could not say anything, still trying to remain stoic and unbreakable. “I didn’t know any of you back then,” her cracks at the end. “I was only doing my job.”John just clenches his jaw and stares ahead of himself.“Any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want,” he grimaces in pain, and Jocelyn tries to reach over to help him, but he holds up a hand to indicate he is fine. “—extracted and returned. I hate to inform you, Mary, that this task is quite impossible to achieve,”“Why?”Sherlock glances at Jocelyn and gestures towards her, and Jocelyn swallows. They share a look, and Jocelyn wordlessly tells him that her trust for Mary has burned to ashes. Sherlock still nods at her, and she gives in.“Magnussen doesn’t have any physical files. There are no papers, shelves, or vaults with anything. Everything he knows are inside his mind palace,” Jocelyn slowly explains, holding back an angered glare.“I suspect that any physical files you were expecting him to have are already nonexistent, and remain in his head. Hardcopy files wouldn’t matter to a man who runs the papers.”Mary steadies her breath and Sherlock can easily read her off and know exactly what she was thinking; I should have killed him that night.John doesn’t seem surprise, but no one can blame him. His wife has turned out to be an assassin; nothing will surprise him ever again.Jocelyn could not focus on anything else other than Sherlock, and once the paramedics arrive, Sherlock gasps for air and Jocelyn lets the paramedics take care of him. She listens to his pained sounds and it shoots a pang through her chest, hating the way he is in so much pain now, all because of this woman in front of her.As Sherlock was taken to a stretcher and into an ambulance, Jocelyn begins to follow. It wasn’t until Mary grabs her arm to stop her by the door, with a serious look on her face.Her eyes wide with rage. “Don’t you ever touch me. The only reason I’ve not hit you is because you are carrying John’s child.”“I know that you feel indifferent towards me now, and I understand that, but listen to me very carefully.” Mary lowers her voice. “Do not trust anyone, even the ones you think you know.”Her lips twitch into an angered smile. “Don’t worry, you’ve set an excellent example,” Jocelyn harshly pulls her arm away from her hold and makes her way outside.***Jocelyn listens to the steady beeping of the heart monitor as she sits by the hospital bed. She watches the way Sherlock begins to shift in his bed, opening his eyes to the dim lighting in the hospital room. She scoots her chair closer and places her hand on his arm.Sherlock relaxes once he sees her. “What time is it?”“Half past twelve. You were in the emergency room for hours.”“Oh,” he trails off and briefly looks at her. “Are you alright?”“I don’t know, uh, my friend’s pregnant wife is the one who shot you because she’s an assassin who worked for Moriarty and also wants Magnussen dead,” she narrows her eyes into slits.He observes her and frowns. “Where is John?”“Baker Street. He doesn’t… he doesn’t want to go home with, um…”“Right, of course. When are you going to Baker Street?”She musters half a smile and reaches over to brush the hair out of his face, making him briefly close his eyes. “I’m staying here.”“You shouldn’t have to.”“Last time I left you alone, you decided to escape.”“It was important.”“Right.”“Our only choice now is to negotiate Magnussen’s silence.” Sherlock weakly places his hand on top of hers. “Do you trust me?”“The way you’re asking me that right now isn’t sitting well.”“Do you trust me?”She falters. “I do.”He visibly relaxes. “Then, don’t worry too much.”“You’re in a hospital after you escaped and limped across London, how can I not worry?”“I have a plan, I’m not sure any of you are going to like it. I’m afraid I can’t tell you yet.”“Sherlock, I’m… I hate keeping secrets from you just as much as I hate that you keep secrets from me. This is what we promised each other, and yet we keep breaking it.” Once he doesn’t say anything, Jocelyn sighs. “Please, don’t do anything to endanger yourself any further. I don’t know if I could—” she stops herself.“You can say it. It will not bother me.”Jocelyn pauses to looks at his frail hand on top of hers. “I just… want us to be away from any kind of danger.”He frowns, almost feeling guilty for bringing this upon her life again when the main reason she came to London was to live an ordinary life. “I know.”“Don’t you ever get tired of the same thing over and over again?” She asks softly.“I do, but it is what it is.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A week later, Sherlock is released from the hospital. Right now, his arm is slung around John’s shoulder as they climb the steps of Baker Street. Jocelyn opens the door for them once all three of them arrive, and John sets Sherlock down on the sofa.Sherlock immediately tries to stand on his own. “We’ve got work to do—”“No. You are going to sit on your arse all day, and rest.”“I’ve rested for hours upon hours. Now that I’m here, we can invite the Woman over and I can finally speak to her in person.”John glances at Jocelyn, who only shakes her head as she makes some tea. “Nope, not a good idea.”“Why not?”“Because your girlfriend says so.” John bluntly remarks, not even bothering to notice the way both of them briefly stiffen from the strange term.Sherlock immediately scoffs. “Jocelyn is not my… girlfriend,” he scrunches his nose at the term, finding it even disgusting to say it aloud. So human. “Nor will she ever be.”Jocelyn genuinely laughs. “Definitely. And I’m advising you both to remain calm. You lot are much more difficult to handle than forty young adults in a classroom every two hours.”“We are both calm. Right, Sherlock?”Sherlock groans. “I need a case.”Jocelyn pours him a cup of tea. “John’s right, you know?”“About you being reduced to a mundane label such as being my girlfriend?” He says the word with complete disgust.John lets out a loud laugh.“No, you moron! About you sitting on your arse for another week.”“The reason why I’ve been released from hospital—”“—is to treat your flat as another.” Jocelyn cuts him off and places his tea on the coffee table. “Now, shut up and stay here,” Jocelyn goes over to squeeze Sherlock’s shoulder, receiving a hum from him. She says goodbye to John and leaves the flat.Sherlock glances at John, who had a small smile on his face that seemed to be a mixture of being pleased.“All right?”“Yeah. Just thinking.”“About?”“How you’re still holding back.” John shrugs. “You have her now, Sherlock. Can’t you see that?”He blinks multiple times at his words, realizing that his friend is quite right. Jocelyn is just… waiting now. Ever the patient woman, she is, when she is not stubborn.“Well, she’s around. It’s enough.”“No, it’s not. Trust me, it’s not.”***In the University, Jocelyn walks through the hallway and smiles whenever a few students greet her along the path. She walks into her classroom and on her way to her office, seeing Laurie already there.She smiles at him. “Hey.”“Welcome back, professor.” He twists a green apple in his hand, making her grin and walk towards him, catching the apple from him once he tosses it into the air.“How did you know I’d be back today?” She smirks at him, biting into the apple.“Media’s being relentless lately. I saw that Sherlock Holmes is out of the hospital,”Jocelyn lets out a snort. “God, when are people going to shut up about him? He’s not that special,”“Special enough for you to leave classes for two weeks. Have a good day, Jocelyn.”Jocelyn looks up at him and lets out a laugh before he leaves, closing the door behind himself. Jocelyn stares at the apple in her hand and wonders how Irene is doing. She finds herself hoping that she is comfortably safe somewhere.Her classes continue, and she feels odd being back after everything that has happened in her life. After classes, Jocelyn eventually finds herself entering the Diogenes Club. She looks for Mycroft and is directed to his office by his secretary.Mycroft looks up from his desk and raises his brows at her once she walks inside. “Miss Grant.”“Hi, uh, do you have a minute?”He gestures towards the seat in front of him. “What is bothering you?”“I wouldn’t say I’m bothered.”“I can definitely see your discomfort from the way your shoulders are tensed.”Jocelyn holds back herself from. “Irene. Is she alright?”Mycroft blinks at her. “You took a cab and went through half an hour’s drive just to ask if that conniving woman is… alright?”She rolls her eyes and gives him a look.“Miss Adler is in a secluded beach resort. I can reassure you that she is safe and comfortable, seeing that in the last hour, she has ordered—” he flips through a few papers as if to look for something. “Macaroni and cheese and a… bottle of bourbon.”Jocelyn snorts, actually finding it amusing that Irene is ordering the stuff that Jocelyn serves at her house. “You keep track of what she orders?”“If I didn’t keep track of everything, Miss Grant, that criminal would still be in your house.”“Ugh, you’re never going to live that down, are you?”“I will not, and it will be used for future references,” he pulls a strained smile towards her. “Something else is bothering you.”“It’s Sherlock.”“I figured. What has my brother done now?”“He said that he has a plan with Magnussen. He never told me what it was. I’m worried that he’ll go off on his own again.”“Well, you know my brother. Secretive, even from the people that which he trusts most.”“I don’t want him to get into trouble.”“Have you tried setting up conditions? He cannot just keep things as important as these. As far as I can tell, Miss Grant, healthy relationships begin with trust and complete devotion. If my brother cannot provide those things for you, I suggest you should speak to him about it.”“Yeah, but… we’re not in a relationship.”Mycroft rolls them with exasperation. “Honestly. The both of you are frustrating at best. I’m not quite sure how Dr. Watson manages to handle you two on a daily basis.”“What’s that supposed to—”“Miss Grant, just speak to my brother.” He pulls himself to his feet while glancing at the time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with Gregory for our dinner reservation.”Jocelyn blinks at him, but lets the eldest Holmes escort her outside, only for them to drive their separate ways. She arrives in Baker Street, walking inside and greeting Mrs. Hudson on the way, who had a delighted look on her face. Jocelyn makes her way to the flat upstairs and pushes the slightly opened door.It was dim inside, and the only light came from the kitchen. She puts down her bag on the sofa and shrugs off her coat, hanging it by the door. “Uh, Sherlock? John?”“John will not be joining us this evening.”She spins around and sees Sherlock, wearing his button-up shirt and dresspants again. She leans back and observes how he is holding a basket full of apples.Jocelyn stares at the basket for a moment. “Er, why? Is he alright? Why is it so dark here?”Sherlock turns on a light. “He is fine. Currently with Mike Stamford for a drink out. He won’t be home until morning, I estimate.”“…Right. Where’d you get that?”“Oh. Mycroft took liberty of having these delivered, as per my request.”“You… requested a basket of apples from Mycroft.”“I can’t exactly leave the flat while I’m on house arrest. Else, I’m quite capable of buying this myself.”She is now amused, imagining Mycroft’s confusion once Sherlock calls him up and asks for a basket of fresh apples. “Could’ve asked me.”“It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise.”“A surprise?”He blinks a few times, opening his mouth but closing it afterwards. “Yes. A surprise.”“Well, I mean, you did surprise me—”“I’d like to ask you on a date.” He blurts out, almost regretting talking over her and seems as though he wanted to apologize immediately.Her lips part with astonishment. “What?”Sherlock swallows and tries his best not to avoid her eyes. It would not be a good sign if he looks away from her. “A date. According to John, it is when two people who like each other, go out and have… fun,” he says with uncertainty, the words foreign from his mouth.“A… a date?”“Yes.” Sherlock is doing his best not to let his face crumble its usual blank expression, always trying to seem confident.A gentle smile forms on her lips. “Okay. Sure, I’d love that.”He visibly relaxes. “Good. We begin now.” He turns and makes his way to the kitchen.His words might have been stuck in her mind for almost a minute as she processes it. “What?” She follows him to the kitchen.Two microscopes are placed on opposite ends of the table, and a box filled with various ziplocked items were located in between. There were sheets of papers, case files and some pens. There were scented candles on the counters as well, just right next to a small radio. To the right, she can see the oven being lit red from being activated.“You… you did all this for me?”Sherlock observes her face and grows conscious about what he had done. “It is a bit… underwhelming, but considering the fact that I am on house arrest, as my brother so poetically put it, I’ve decided to make the best out of home-based equipment. It will not be as satisfactory as going outside with an infinite number of places we can visit. Factoring in your distaste for restau—”“No, this is… this is perfect,” she looks at him with a glint in her eyes. “You’re perfect.” Then, she couldn’t help but take a few swift steps towards him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him gently.He was caught off-guard by her reaction, widening his eyes for a moment before slowly losing himself to the sensation of her lips. He still could not figure out what it is about this type of physical contact that makes him lose all sense of control. Sherlock relaxes and slides his arm around her waist, kissing her back ever so softly.They pull away, pressing their foreheads together. Jocelyn is so happy, she doesn’t know how to handle this properly just yet. With everything going on, it feels strange to be happy right now.“I read… blog—kiss dates, first—” he babbles nonsensically, his mind short-circuiting.“What?” She grins, caressing his cheek with her thumb.“A-Apologies,” he clears his throat, appalled by his own inability to speak. “I’ve… read somewhere that kissing usual happens by the end of a date, typically not on the first.” He slowly speaks, afraid to stammer and stumble over what he says.“We’ve never done things in its typical order.”“Afraid not,” he mutters, clearing his throat again and pulls away from her once he feels his own face heat up. “Right, um… please sit. We can solve cases from home.”“From here?”“Cold cases from Lestrade, from when I was in the hospital. These objects are naturally procured, with his consent. I asked nicely.”“Oh, now you’re definitely trying to impress me.” Jocelyn teases.“When do I never?” Sherlock mumbles, giving her an amused look and smirks.Jocelyn bursts out laughing while going through the case files he had.They stay that way for an hour, just talking casually about the evidence with them. Jocelyn would pass a specimen to him, and they would both use their microscope to observe.Normally, people would think this is an odd way to spend a date, but as Jocelyn bites into her apple while laughing at a remark he made about one of the suspects, she wouldn’t have it in any other way.Sherlock is enjoying seeing her look happy. For the last few weeks, everyone around him found it difficult to remain positive. The light radiating from her was exquisite, it warmed him. Sherlock almost forgot that he had a wound right below his chest, from the way Jocelyn laughs at everything he says.In under an hour, Sherlock texts Lestrade who to arrest, and Jocelyn leans in to kiss his cheek—successfully making him freeze in surprise.He smiles at her. “Let’s have dinner.”Her smile is enough of an answer for him. She watches him stand and make his way towards the oven, grabbing a pair of mittens in order to grab the casserole inside. Sherlock pulls it out and walks to the living room, placing it onto the table. He immediately goes back to the kitchen and grabs two plates, along with forks and wineglasses. Jocelyn dotingly watches him as he lights a candle in the middle of their table.Sherlock reaches for the cover of the casserole, revealing the food he made for her. Once she sees it, she comically gasps in amusement, with so much happiness enough to overwhelm her.Jocelyn examines the homemade baked macaroni and cheese he made. “Oh, my God. You did not.”“I did. However, it still puzzles me the way you tolerate cheese.”He does not understand why she likes cheese, yet he still made her favorite meal. That is actually very sweet, in his own way. “Did you make this yourself?”“Of course, but I had some help. Mrs. Hudson taught me how you liked it.” He carefully takes his seat at the opposite end of the table.Jocelyn was about to serve herself, but Sherlock takes her plate and does it for her. She just holds back her smile and lets him. Once he places her plate back, she takes her fork to have a bite. Sherlock watches her with anticipation and relaxes when she hums dramatically.“Oh, God. I missed your cooking.”Sherlock smiles and begins to pour her some wine. “I’ve never cooked this for you before. The only time I can recall making a proper meal for you was that beef stew.”“With carrots and potatoes,” she laughs. “Christ, that was horrible.”“You are in no position to criticize me, since between us both, I am the better chef.”“Irene would disagree,” she playfully raises a challenging brow at him.“Ah, yes. The fugitive you’ve welcomed to your house. I’ve almost forgotten about that.” Sherlock dryly says. “Mycroft mentioned to me that you and the Woman have grown quite… fond of each other.”Jocelyn smiles a bit, although puzzled. “Fond? That’s exaggerating things.”“Which is it, then?”“I’d say that she and I are acquaintances.”“An unusual friendship.”“You’re one to talk. You’ve got John.” She smiles.“John and I are completely compatible. You and Miss Adler are polar opposites.” Sherlock raises his brows at her.Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him, still chewing her food. “Are you jealous?”Sherlock visibly clenches his jaw, the heat creeping from his neck onto his face. “Absolutely not,”Jocelyn holds back a laugh, thinking of how Sherlock is jealous of Irene whilst he felt nothing for any of the men she has been with. “Oh, Sherlock. There’s nothing to be jealous of. Irene and I are platonic acquaintances.”“I am not jealous. What insinuates you such an appalling idea?” Sherlock is beginning to find it difficult not to look away from her once he feels his cheeks flushing in humiliation.“You’ve gone red,” she chuckles.“No, I have not.” Sherlock clears his throat. “The point is, I’m a much better cook than you are.”“If I agree, will you cook more meals for me in the future?”He hides his smile behind his glass as he sips some wine.“The carrots were still half-cooked for the beef stew you made back then.”“Please, do not attempt to remind me. I’ve learned many things for the next few years after that.”Jocelyn laughs. “I guess we both learned a lot.”Sherlock watches her with reverence. “We have, and here we are.”“Here we are,” she repeats, still processing the fact that they are on an actual date, their first date.He seems to be thinking about it as well, and he extends his glass towards her. “To more quiet times like these.”Jocelyn gives him a pleased smile, her chest filling with warmth as she clinks their glasses together before they take another sip.Their night goes on with Jocelyn spewing out stories about her students and aunt, and Sherlock tells her about some cases he solved, and whatever amusing story he remembers about him and Mycroft.For some reason, none of them brings up John. It was as if he was a difficult subject to breach. They both notice this, of course, but none of them brings it up.Once they both finished their meals, Sherlock stands and walks to the kitchen, only to retrieve the small radio. Jocelyn watches him curiously, as he begins to press a few buttons on the device. Her ears perk up once she hears the familiar tune of her favorite Sinatra song.A wide smile spreads over her face, and her hand flies to cover her mouth. It was the same song that was playing when she first moved in with him.“God, you’re a bloody moron.” Jocelyn laughs a bit, but her voice is laced with emotions she tries her hardest to hold back.“Moron?” Sherlock offers a smile.Her green eyes brighten themselves. “Yeah, you heard me. You’re a moron.”“If I’m a moron to you, I can only imagine what others are.” Sherlock walks towards her, offering his hand for her to take.She tilts her head up to look at him with awe, seeing the soft gaze he had for her. She places her hand into his much larger one, pulling herself on her feet. Sherlock guides her to the middle of the living room, and slides his arm around her, while she puts her hand on his shoulder. His posture is straight, and he looks magnificent as she stares up at him.Their gazes lock together as they sway wordlessly to the music. For just a moment, the only thing that matters is this. Just the two of them dancing to this song, holding one another so close. Jocelyn could not believe that this is happening to her, it feels too unreal.She barely even notices the way her eyes are beginning to fill with salty tears, blurring her sight while her lip trembles. She only notices once the smile fades from his face.Sherlock’s gentle expression turns into worry as he watches her, stopping with his swaying. “What is it? What’s wrong? Have I… have I done something—”“No, I’m just,” she sniffles, her tear leaving a trail down her cheek. “I’m just so happy.”Sherlock’s worry dissolves, and he offers a small smile while lifting his hands in order to wipe away her tears with his thumbs.She chews the inside of her cheek, placing her hand on top of the hand cupping her cheek. “I just feel like this is temporary. We get one amazing moment and it’ll be ripped away from us again, like all the time.”Sherlock falters, recognizing the pattern once she points it out. “I will not let that happen.”She gives him a grateful smile, so amazed that this human being exists. He is too good to be true, and everything about him feels surreal. “I’m so terrified that this is just a dream.”He tenderly caresses her cheek. “It’s not,” he softly tells her. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”Before she could answer, he captures her lips with a kiss, and her arms slowly slide around his shoulders and neck to pull him close. Sherlock wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, deepening their kiss. Before they both know it, they’re stumbling towards Sherlock’s room and shutting the door.He pushes her against the wall, but immediately hisses and pulls back. He looks down at his chest and glances at her.She watches with concern. “Did I hurt you?”“No, I… I must have stretched myself to an extent.”They pause for a moment before they both burst out into a soundless fit of laughter. Jocelyn cups his cheek and leans back in, pressing their mouths together.They stumble backwards and he slowly lies down on the mattress, pulling her to his lap. Sherlock feels her fingers reach for the buttons of his shirt, and this time, he lets her. She pushes the clothing off his shoulders, seeing the soft tuft of hair on his chest. Her eyes rake over his skin, and settling on the bandage where he was shot. She slowly reaches over to touch the edges, and his gaze becomes more intense.Their eyes lock together before Sherlock leans back in, trailing kisses down her neck while reaching for the zipper of her dress. He pulls it off over her head and leaves her only in her undergarments. He watches her in awe, wondering how he ever deserved to have this. She is just so, “Elegant.”Jocelyn looks at him with those doe green eyes, and he begins to stammer. “S-Sorry, I did not mean to think aloud—”She only kisses him again with her fingers running through his curls. Oh, he just wants to worship her. He was careful as he lays her down, ridding them of any more clothing. Sherlock is so lost to her skin, glorifying every inch of her while listening to the pleased sighs leaving her mouth. His hot breath reaches her neck as he sucks in different kinds of colored bruises, wanting to keep hearing her sigh his name.Sweat trickles down Jocelyn’s temples, neck and down in between her breasts. Sherlock has never been captivated by an image before, not until he saw Jocelyn be in her most vulnerable state, trusting him completely albeit him being the more inexperienced one.A loud moan breaks out from her chest once he begins to use his tongue on her, tasting her. Each nerve ending is set off from his mouth, and all she can do is hold onto his hair and curl her toes.Jocelyn shakes from her climax and Sherlock leaves kisses on her skin as he climbs back to her neck. “Oh, Sherlock, I want you, please.”They are both panting as he nods at her request. The more he looks into her eyes, the more he could feel the pressure in his lower stomach. Jocelyn presses up against him and locks their mouths together, eliciting a soft groan from him.Sherlock barely recognize his own sounds as his hands travel down the roads of her bare legs. Was that me? Did I make that sound? He tries his best to think, but somehow, it becomes difficult now that Jocelyn is slowly pushing herself to feel him. He isn’t letting his mind take over.His mind is telling him to take a moment, breathe, talk about this first; but his body refuses to pause all movements. The need to hear Jocelyn sigh his name in every intonation is becoming an eternal desire.She tries her best to even her breathing as her fingers touch the soft little hairs on his heaving chest. Jocelyn keeps her eyes on his, seeing the way his pupils dilate.Jocelyn feels his arms snake around her waist with his grasping hands on her back, pulling her close to his naked chest. She gasps when he presses an experimental kiss on her neck. “Oh, fuck, Sherlock,” she breathes, tilting her head back to let him do what he wants to her. Ah, there it is. Sherlock muses to himself.As much as he, refuses to deny it, for the past four years, he has been wondering what would make Jocelyn vulnerable. He never thought that the answer would be him.She climbs over his lap until their bare chests press against each other. Jocelyn reaches down and wraps a hand around him, making Sherlock let out a moan and bury his face into her neck. Now, he understands why people do this. Letting their partner touch them in the most intimate way is, indeed, pleasurable.Jocelyn pumps her hand, feeling the way Sherlock’s thighs and legs are tensing from how great the pleasure is coursing through his body. She is so amazed by how extraordinarily human he truly is. Touching him this way, and seeing his face contort with pleasure was something inexplicable. Somehow, it's not enough. She lets go of him, which results to an increased burning need.From her daze, Jocelyn wraps herself around him, tightening around his hips to pull him closer. They both moan when his member catches on the wet cleft between her thighs.“Please,” She whispers to him, running her fingers through his curls to comfort him, which appears to be working since his eyes flutters shut from the sensation.Sherlock positions himself properly and slowly lowers her. They both gasp at the feeling, and Jocelyn’s thighs shake around him. Sherlock has a tight grip on the skin of her hips as she sinks down into him. As soon as he's buried to the hilt, their labored breathing increases. The sweat on their skin glistens under the light of the lampshade. Jocelyn whimpers in pleasure as she pushes her hips to his.He grunts, screwing his eyes shut and resting his forehead on her shoulder, sucking marks on her skin. His hands grip her hips and guided her on his length. Jocelyn cries out when she’s being filled up, careful not to scratch Sherlock’s back. She feels the light scars on his skin as her fingers travel down his back. It reminds her of the sacrifices he made in order to keep his family alive. To keep her alive.Once he achieved an agreeable pace, Sherlock grunts as he lifts his hips to hers. The buildup within both their lower stomachs are becoming prominent, and his primitive urge to thrust into her slowly takes over him. Jocelyn pulls Sherlock’s head in for a heated kiss, but it somehow just ends up with them panting into each other’s mouths. Their bodies convulse to the sensation of being one.Sherlock has never been this close to someone before, and he makes the most of it by touching her everywhere his hands and lips could reach; her sides, her hipbones, her neck, collarbones, her nipples, her jaw, her pulse point, everywhere.He lays her down and settles between her legs, his hips piston against her in a rapid and pleasurable pace to chase their peak. Sherlock had hoped for this to be slow to take their time, but there was something took over him and drove him to slam his hips into hers while having their eyes locked together.From how he’s touching her, Jocelyn can feel her own climax coming. Sherlock nears his end as well, but tries his best to make this pleasurable for her.As soon as he sees her gasp and arches her back whilst digging her shoulders into the mattress, he slams his hips into hers before giving one final thrust, groaning out her name. Sherlock’s body is shaking, tiring out before he carefully collapses into Jocelyn’s quivering body.They are both a sweaty panting mess, and she winces once he begins to pull out and lie next to her. Sherlock barely has any energy left after what they have done, but he still tries his best to cover them with sheets to keep her warm.She deeply sighs with a grin, reaching up to wipe the sweat off her forehead before attempting to fix her hair.Sherlock finally cranes his neck to look at her, admiring the way she looks flushed and in disbelief. He turns his body and watches her do the same, the sheets covering her elegant body.After that, he feels the sudden need to keep her close—and so he does. Sherlock wraps his arms around her and presses a kiss on her forehead. Jocelyn looks at him with so much adoration, and he can feel his chest warming.Without any words exchanged, Sherlock is quite pleased about tonight’s events. He inhales the scent of her hair, feeling so comfortable this way. Sherlock begins to wonder how he could ever be repulsed by her presence three years ago. She is the most wonderful woman he has ever met. If he never had the chance of meeting her, he might still admire her from afar just because he will never be able to ignore her presence.Jocelyn leans in to press soft kisses on his cheek and jaw. Sherlock loses his ability to speak. “I-I… oh,” his breath hitches as he focuses on her lips all over him. Physical contact will remain such an odd thing, yet somehow, it makes him lose all logic.Jocelyn only lets out a hearty laugh, nuzzling her face into his neck. “Will you be here when I wake up?”“I would rather be nowhere else.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Everything is quiet, as Sherlock begins to caress the skin of her hip under the sheets. It was not an awful kind of quiet, but rather, it feels pleasant. Comfortable, in fact—as if it was always supposed to be this way.The sunrays were shining through his curtains now, and he could not even focus on the dull ache under his chest. All he can do is lay on his side, just watching her look so calm and at peace.He feels her shift from right next to him and anticipates the way her eyes begin to open. Sherlock finds himself wishing he had the words to describe her eyes as she awakens. A small smile takes over her face.“Morning.”“Good morning,” he mumbles while tracing her hipbone with his fingers.“How long have you been awake?”“Not long.”Jocelyn smiles at him and feels incredibly happy to wake up right next to him. She shifts closer until their bodies press against one another, his hand sliding downwards her back. She hums teasingly when his hand settles right above the curve of her bottom, and Sherlock gives a sleepy smirk.“We should have breakfast. You need to take painkillers.”“And you should, er,”She watches him look for the word before she raises a sleepy brow at him. “Take a morning after pill?”“Contraceptives are imminent,” he clears his throat. Since he didn’t plan ahead for the night, it was still important for their health. “Shouldn’t we, er, talk about this?”“Probably, if we want to continue.”“Do you want that? To continue?”“I think, by now, we both know the answer to that.” She says between chuckles.“Right,” he feels the heat rush to his face again.Christ, he hates it. The embarrassment surging through his body is another way his mind is betraying him. However, she appears to be endeared by it. It’s not every day you get to see Sherlock Holmes blushing at the subject of sex.“What about you?”“Of course,” he answers immediately. “I mean. Yes. Of course.”Jocelyn chuckles. “Well, maybe now, you should probably plan ahead and actually buy condoms.”He clears his throat and nods. “I will make a note of that.” Sherlock is actually quite flustered and it amuses her. “Did you mind—”“Not really. Both of us are clean. You’ve been in the hospital for almost a month, and I’ve only been with a few people. All protected. It’s fine.”He sighs in relief, although he wonders how she is perfectly all right about this. “Good... good. Well, maybe right now—”“I know what to do, Sherlock. I’m a doctor.”“Who specializes in examining crime scenes.” He is relieved by her calm reaction.“I have a medical degree.”“So you’ve mentioned. Shower?”“Mhm. I’ll go first.” A smirk appears on her face as she lets out a hearty chuckle before climbing off the bed.He practically gapes at her, eyes hungrily raking all over her bare body glowing under the sunlight and making him swallow. She only throws him a grin over her shoulder before entering the bathroom through the connecting door. He hesitates before he stands, making his way to the bathroom as well.***Sherlock lifts his mug of coffee up to his lips, sipping as he reads the newspaper. He glances to his left and sees Jocelyn brushing her hair while using the mirror in his room. He pulls the mug away from his mouth, admiring her for a moment before turning back to his reading.It wasn’t until he hears footsteps up the stairs to his flat, and he turns to see John appeared to be hungover.Sherlock raises his brows at him. “You took your time.”“Yeah, well, Mike was insistent with having multiple glasses,” He looks at Sherlock, narrowing his eyes at him for a second.“What?”John points to his own neck. “You got a...” he trails off, holding back a laugh.Sherlock clears his throat and tugs on his dressing gown’s neckline, in an attempt of hiding the supposed love bite. “I might send a request to my brother to have Miss Adler transported here, so we can all speak in person.”“Right—wait, no, hang on. You’re supposed to be resting.”Sherlock glances to his room to make sure she is preoccupied before lowering his voice. “I might have figured out how to play Magnussen.”John furrows his brows. “Why are you whispering?”“I cannot find it in myself to trust Miss Adler. Jocelyn seems to, and I trust her judgment. However, when it comes to Irene Adler... well, a conversation might change my mind, which is why it is imperative for her to come here.”John observes him with a frown. “You’ll tell Jocelyn about your plan, right?”“I will tell her what Miss Adler will say.”Before John could retaliate, Jocelyn carefully walks into the room while slinging her bag over her shoulder. John observes the scene in front of him, with Sherlock smiling warmly towards her.“Oh, hold on,” he lifts a finger to walk to the table, only to return with an apple. “For the road.”Jocelyn snorts and takes the apple. “Bye.”He only nods and watches her leave. Once she disappears out of his seat, he glances at John—who appears to be caught off-guard but in a delighted way.Sherlock only flushes and clears his throat, settling his arms behind his back. “We do have an advantage; Magnussen does not know that we are aware of his memory palace’s existence. If Miss Adler is being truthful about it, that is.”“You think she’s lying?”“I believe she is all sorts of things, but a trustworthy person. I wonder what she will say in her defense.” With that said, Sherlock contacts his brother and waits.***Sherlock finally sighs and looks up from his microscope. “Do you have something to ask, John?”“Yeah, uh, did something happen while I was out?”“Is it not obvious enough?”“I mean, well—”“I have bruises upon my neck and she can barely walk. What may you deduce upon that?” Sherlock lowers his eyes back down to the microscope.John’s eyes widen momentarily from his bluntness. “Uh, well, um, I don’t know. Wow, I mean...”“What?”“Nothing, I just, wow,” he sighs out with a smile, and it pleases Sherlock for a second. “I just never thought that you never… I thought I’d never see this day. Jesus, wow. This is brilliant. Sherlock, I’m… wow, I’m so happy for both of you.”“If you say ‘wow’ one more time, so help me—”“Sorry, I just can’t believe it, wow—sorry.”“It’s not a big deal, John.”John is extremely delighted to see how happy his friend is, despite his own sadness that his friend found what John had lost. Sherlock finds the sudden silence uncomfortable as he looks up from his microscope again to look towards his friend with an uncertain expression.He sees the look on John’s face. “Apologies, if I—”“No, no! Sorry. It’s fine, don’t be sorry. I’m very happy for the two of you.”The detective still frowns. “You are thinking about Mary.”“I—yeah. Christ, she’s pregnant and I’ve left her alone.”“She lied to you, John, and not just with something small. She deceived you. Believe me, your reaction is justifiable.”“Yeah, I know. I just... she’s carrying my baby, Sherlock. Don’t you think I should do something?”“Ultimately, it is your decision. I have my own opinion of what you should do, however, she is your wife and that is your child. I have no say in this.”“But if I ask you, what do you think I should do?”Sherlock continues to look at him. “I’m quite sure you are capable of making that decision, John.” He speaks, as if John already knows what ‘that’ means.“What did you do when Jocelyn left you a decade ago?” He asks all of a sudden, and Sherlock freezes in place.He looks at his friend, who appears to be curious and in need of any sort of advice from the detective. So, Sherlock lets out a breath through his nose and pulls himself to his feet, temporarily abandoning his experiment to sit back on his chair in front of John.“You would like to know what my first action was when Jocelyn fled Europe to New York.”“Is it too personal?”“Not entirely, no. Unless you are uncomfortable to hear of my past.”“Sherlock, we solve cases nearly every day. Nothing makes me uncomfortable anymore.”He musters a small smile at that. “You should have met Jocelyn when we were younger. Oh, she was a spitfire. Never cared about what anyone thought of her. She has always been a defender, and stood up to anyone who would try to talk one down. You would have adored her.”John is quite amazed by the way Sherlock talked about Jocelyn with such affection on his face. It was something John has never seen on Sherlock before, not even when he was pretending to be in a relationship with Janine. “Oh, yeah?”“Yes, of course. Many ordinary people disliked her, but the competent ones understood and respected her. Jocelyn has, somewhat, a reputation in campus for being quite,” he pauses to search for a word. “Gracefully untamed.”“That’s a bit contradicting, right?”Sherlock shoots him a small smile. “If you knew her back then, you would say it is a fitting description. She has done more for me than I could care to admit. When she first came back to London to stay with us, you mentioned her first name to me.”John tries to recall but his memory isn’t as sharp as Sherlock’s. “And?”“I knew her name, and I knew who she was. However, I… didn’t know who she was to me.” Sherlock furrows his brows. “To truthfully answer your question, I could barely remember what I did when she left. I blocked her out of my mind for too long.”A frown begins to grow on John’s face.“I remained that way for almost three years. When I was an adolescent, I used to… heighten my thought process just to see her in my mind.”John has no idea what to say to that, honestly.“Once I was made aware that it was unhealthy, I decided to stop and successfully blocked her out of my mind. I went five years into blocking her out of my memories.”John recalls Sherlock mentioning something about consciousnesses, and how he managed to lock one of them away. “Five years. That’s a pretty long time. But you forgave her.”“Under the correct circumstances, yes.”“Circumstances?”“If she hadn’t come back, I never would have been open to the idea of forgiveness. If she never tried to redeem herself, I never would have considered it.”John wonders if Jocelyn never came back to London, would Sherlock still be this happy? “Was it easy to forgive her?”“No.”John presses his lips together, looking away. It makes Sherlock appear regretful, immediately wondering if he should have lied.“We work for forgiveness, John. We admit we are wrong, we own up to our mistakes. That is why I forgave her, and vice versa.” He slowly words. “However, I will never forget what she did to me, nor will she forget what I did to her—regardless of the fact that both of us are forgiven, and there is nothing wrong with that.”He watches the conflict form between John’s brows, saddened by the way his friend seemed to be suffering through something Sherlock could have prevented.His ears perk at the slight noise from the staircase nearby. “We have all the time in the world,” he pauses, glances at the door. “Isn’t that right, Miss Adler?”John widens his eyes and glances over his shoulder, only to see a figure by the door.Irene Adler stood by the doorframe, wearing a thick coat, a hat and glasses as her disguise. She reaches up to her sunglasses to slide them down the bridge of her nose, flashing the two men a small smirk. “You should always lock your doors, Mr. Holmes. Who knows what stranger might come in.”After all this time, all three of them are once again in one room together.Sherlock sighs and pulls himself to his feet, taking a vacant chair to put it in the client’s place. “Have a seat, Miss Adler.”“Dear God, this flat hasn’t changed one bit. Hello, Dr. Watson.”John leans back in his seat to view her, not feeling respectful enough to stand to greet her further than a nod. “I wasn’t expecting you until tonight.”“It took a lot of convincing with your brother. Hope you don’t mind.”“Why didn’t you tell us in the first place that you had the file all along?”“Now, where’s the fun in that?”“Miss Adler, if you wish to be on the same side, I suggest that you stop playing your games and focus on doing what is necessary, not your whims.”Irene gives him a look, and John watches their exchange. “You’re one to talk. Going off on your own without telling our dearest Jocelyn.”They stare at one another until John clears his throat. “Can we just get this over with, without the two of you trying to... you know... one up the other.”“Well, Dr. Watson. You’ve certainly grown more confident over the years. Tell me, was it Sherlock’s death?” Her words make John clench his jaw.The consulting detective shoots her a glare before making his way towards his chair. “I believe John’s confidence should not be our main focus for today. What I would like to discuss are the wiretaps in Jocelyn’s house.”“I wasn’t exactly surprised when I found them, and neither should you. Have you taken into consideration that you might be the reason why those wiretaps were there in the first place?”“Sit down, Miss Adler.” Sherlock repeats more forcefully, and eventually makes Irene frown before complying. “Thank you. Now, please be detailed. Why did you reach out to Dr. Grant?”“I’ve said it before. Both Jocelyn and I can benefit from this. We get to Magnussen, our past remains secret.”“Do forgive me if I have difficulty in believing that you will help someone outside selfish reasons.” Sherlock coldly states with an unchanging expression. “You know people who can do your work for you. From one phone call, Magnussen would be dead already.”Irene crosses her legs, her red lips curling into a small smirk. “Oh, you definitely had sex last night.”Sherlock blinks a few times in alarm. “Miss Adler, deflecting the topic will get you nowhere. In fact, it is making me trust you even less.”“Mr. Holmes. I wouldn’t wish any harm to go her way.”“Why?”“Us girls need to stick together, and since she needs help just as much as I do, I don’t see why we shouldn’t join our forces. Obviously, I’d lose those benefits if she is ever harmed in my hands.”“That, I can agree with.” Sherlock comments.“So, is it true then? Magnussen has a mind palace? Like Sherlock?” John turns to Irene with a notepad, writing things she would say.“Yes, but according to Moriarty, his is far more superior,” she smirks, shooting the detective a look. “Which I don’t believe, of course.”Oh, God. “And what was Moriarty’s relationship with Magnussen?”“You can call them business partners. They were certainly not friends, but they benefited from each other.”Sherlock can definitely see that happening. Both of them were manipulative and egotistical psychopaths. The only difference is that Magnussen does it for the money. Moriarty never cared for such a trivial thing.“I asked you here today because I’ve been informed that your initial plan was to kill him, but my informant said that you changed your mind. Obviously, that’s not true.”“She almost got me. I could never resist a pretty face,” she smiles at Sherlock, who holds back a roll of his eyes. “There is no other way to get rid of Magnussen, all of us know that.”“How do we know that we can trust you?”“You know I’m alive. If I betray you, which I wouldn’t, you could just reveal me to the world and it’ll be an open season. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate.”“How are we your last resort? Like Sherlock said, you know people who could just do what you want.”“No one left to trust. I’m certain that you two care about Jocelyn more than you dislike me. I can work with that.”“Miss Adler, if you will continue to be part of the plan, I would like to know why you want him to go down.”“I told you, I want to be free of him.”“You told Jocelyn that all you want is for Magnussen to get what he deserves. From those words, I can infer that you mean revenge. What did he do to you?”“Do I have to repeat what I just said? He preys on people, backs them up into a corner until they have no choice but to give in. I want him to crumble and know what it feels—”“No. This is rage firing inside you. The result of something unforgivable. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator.” His eyes scrutinize her. “You are doing this for someone you love.”Irene holds his gaze. “You haven’t lost your flair, Sherlock Holmes.”“Am I correct?”“In a way, yes.”“Who is it?”“None of your concern.”“It would be my concern if it disrupts Dr. Grant’s safety.”“I can assure you, Mr. Holmes, that no harm will come upon your little girlfriend. That poor woman has been through enough.”Sherlock ignores the hideous term. “If you do care for her safety, you would reveal this person you are protecting. What connects them to Magnussen?”“Not much. There’s a scarcity on trust these days.”“It seems like there is a lot of that to go around.” Sherlock lowly says with looming eyes. “Well, this has been a lovely audition. I’m pleased to announce that we reject your assistance and I will have my brother remove you from the beach resort you have been residing.” He pulls himself to his feet casually, ignoring the wide eyes of the Woman and the gaping mouth of the soldier.“What?”“I would not trust you with Jocelyn’s life. I dislike risking important things to the unknown.” He says through gritted teeth, walking to the door to open it for her. “Goodbye.”“Sherlock—”
“Good. Bye.”
“You are making a big mistake, Mr. Holmes.”Sherlock steps forward, locking his icy blue eyes with hers. “If you are anywhere near Jocelyn Grant again, I will not hesitate revealing you to the world and allow killers to track you down. Are we clear?” His expression remains unchanged, and she stays silent. “I’ll take that as a yes. Pack your things and leave. Do not interfere with us again. Good day.”John watches his friend slam the door on her face. He observes his friend, who appears to be conflicted. “You okay?”“I’m fine.”“You just kicked Irene Adler out.”“Thank you for that wonderful observation, John. I almost didn’t notice what I’d done,” he walks towards the window, watching the Woman be driven away. “She will not reveal who it is she’s protecting.”“Come on, Sherlock. It’s obvious that it’s you. She loves you.”Sherlock gives him an appalled look. “Why would she still care? That was two years ago.”“Your thing with Jocelyn was a decade ago, and look at you now.”“...That is different.”“Still.”He shakes his head. “It’s not me. I’m quite sure of it.”“What’s going to happen, then?”“Irene Adler never gives up in a fight, but admits defeat once she is backed into a corner. Her words, not mine. She wants something from Magnussen first, before she kills him. That is why she would not contact any of her people to do it for her.”“So... what are we going to do about it?”A grin slowly spreads over his face. “We wait.”***“Okay, everyone. I hope you all will prepare for an exam tomorrow. It’s a hard one and I will be incredibly annoyed if you all pass.” Jocelyn remarks, watching her amused students leave her class. “No, I mean it.”Professor Carter walks into the classroom. “You are making the exams way too easy for them.”“Excuse you, my exams are very hard. It’s them who understand everything easily.”“Because you are a great professor, Jocelyn.”She playfully rolls her eyes. “Did you need something?”“Can’t I visit my friend after classes?” He smiles. Jocelyn takes her seat on the chair, giving him a look. “Fine. I left my phone back home and I really need to text my brother to tell him I’m taking up his offer to come stay with me in London for a few weeks. I was hoping to borrow yours?”Jocelyn remembers the numerous times he would forget his glasses or wallet somewhere. “You always forget your things. Is your memory alright?” She asks with a smirk, handing him her phone.“Ha-ha,” he mutters and quickly types in his text message, sending it before giving it back to her. “I’m supposed to be hosting a dinner party with him and his friends here tomorrow.”Jocelyn appears delighted. She slips her phone back into her pocket and smiles. “Sounds lovely.”The two friends go home afterwards, and Jocelyn takes off her coat and drops her bag on the sofa the moment she steps inside the flat. Footsteps emerge from the kitchen and the detective reveals himself wearing his dressing gown and casual clothing.She smiles at him. “Hey, did you have dinner already?”“Irene Adler came today.”The smile slowly disappears from her face. “You spoke to her without me.”“Yes. Well, John was present in the room.”“You are unbelievable.” She glares and proceeds to the kitchen.He frowns, trailing behind. “I wanted to discuss what it is that she wanted. As expected, she did not cooperate. That is why I’ve decided that we will not blindly assist her.”“What did you do?”“I asked Mycroft to remove her from the resort,” he glances at the clock. “By this time, she would have gone.”She widens her eyes at him. “You what? Sherlock, why the hell would you do that?”“She did not answer my questions.”“You were interrogating her.”“She was being intolerable.”“She was scared!”“You trust too easily, Jocelyn.”“Oh, so we’re talking about trust now, are we? Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was coming?”“You had classes.”Jocelyn leans back, shocked. “Are you... are you seriously going to use that as an excuse? That’s so fucking lame, Sherlock.”“I thought it best not to involve you.”She groans throwing her head back in frustration. “How can this not involve me? I’m literally the reason why any of this is happening in the first place!”“Jocelyn—”“You won’t even tell me about what your plan is with Magnussen and now you’ve kicked Irene out behind my back?”“I’ve asked you to trust me.”“Apparently, I trust too easily.”He sharply exhales looks down to the table between them.“You weren’t the one who spent three fucking weeks with her. I got to learn her behavior, her way of thinking and how she would react to things. While you were out getting high and pretending to be in a relationship with someone!” Jocelyn blows up on him.“I realize how this appears, but I can assure you that I’m only doing what’s best for you.”“That’s not something you can decide on your own, Sherlock.” Jocelyn heaves out.Sherlock avoids her gaze, as if he seems regretful about it now. Although, he appears as if he regrets telling her more than he regrets actually doing it.She lets out a heavy sigh. “Fucking hell, I’m going to take a bath.” She mumbles, walking to the bathroom without waiting for his response.Once she locks the door, she steadies her breath for a second before tying her hair up and shedding her clothes. Jocelyn fills the tub with water and soap, sinking inside afterwards.She takes her phone from her discarded pants and scrolls through the messages. She looks through her sent messages to view the text Laurie sent earlier to a number belonging to his brother. All it says is ‘Sure! You’re very welcome here! :) LC’She snorts and puts down the phone. A relaxed breath leaves her lips, leaning her head back against the rim. For half an hour of silence, she was at peace. Her eyes flutter shut, gently scrubbing a sponge against her skin, when suddenly the door clicks open.Her eyes shoot open, glancing over her shoulder to see the connecting door to Sherlock’s bedroom is slowly swinging open.She watches as Sherlock peeks in, and she glares at him before scrubbing her leg again. “What is it, Sherlock?” She continues scrubbing.Sherlock purses his lips. He approaches her and sits on the rim of the bathtub, trying his best not to be distracted by the amount of skin visible above the bubbly water.Jocelyn tilts her head to look at him, softening once she sees genuine remorse in his eyes.He averts his eyes. “It occurred to me that I’ve done you a grave disservice. I want to apologize.”“I just want you to tell me everything.”“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”“Then make me understand.”Sherlock stares for a moment before reaching over to trace the tips of his fingers against her soft cheek. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”Her heart melts from his gentle confession. “I want you to be safe, too. Which is why I need you to tell me things. Please, don’t put yourself in harm’s way for me.”“I won’t. However, if I have to—”“For God’s sake, Sherlock.” She pushes his hand away from her cheek.“Jocelyn, you should be aware by now that I will do whatever it takes to... keep this.” He vaguely gestures between them. “I’ve gone years without this, believing that I’ve never wanted anything. Now that I’ve realized that I do, indeed, need this—it can’t slip away.”“Sherlock.”“I’ve never done anything saintly, and I’ve never claimed to be the bastion of temperance. The only thing I can admit is that all I want is to protect the ones I care for. That is you.” He quietly admits, clearly hesitating to meet her eyes.Jocelyn wavers. They hold their gaze for a second before she exhales. “Come join me.”Three simple words and Sherlock unbuttons his shirt, unzips his trousers and removes his pants to climb into the tub. Jocelyn cups soapy water into her hands and pours it into his shoulders, and his eyes concentrate on her face.It was strangely intimate to be in a bath together, he realizes. Maybe it was from the way she was careful to glide the sponge on his skin, gentle with the scars on his back. Maybe it was the way her fingers are so soft on him, clearly cautious with the touch.She notices the way he was looking at her and glances back at him to cup both his cheeks. “I can’t lose you.”It was interesting how a few words from her, he is easily affected. No other human has ever had the same intoxicating effect she has on him.“I know that you’re trying to protect me, but I want to be sure that you’re safe, too... I’ve lost you for so many years, and I don’t want that to happen again.”Sherlock slides his palms over the back of her hands. “I know.” That is why I’m doing this.“Promise me you won’t go too far.”“Jocelyn...”She shakes her head. “Promise me.”He looks into her eyes, and finds himself giving in. “You have my word.”The moment he finishes his sentence, she leans in to press her lips against his. He responds by gripping her waist, maneuvering her onto his lap as the water splashes around them. Their kiss turns heated as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tugging at his hair.Suddenly, Sherlock forgets about the confined space of the tub once her hand wraps around him. In a rapid manner, the whole universe narrows down into the four corners of this bathtub. He lets out a groan into her lips, pulling away to rest his forehead on her shoulder. “Jocelyn.”Her arousal increases from the mere fact that she is the only person who has ever seen him lose control this way. She pumps her hand on him, feeling his thighs tense from underwater. Even when he was breathing heavily into her neck, he still pressed gentle kisses on her neck. She lifts herself and positions his cock into herself, lowering her body until he is moaning into her neck, breathing out her name.His hips begin to jerk, pushing himself into her warmth uncontrollably and gives her goosebumps. They roll their hips with urgency, and soon after, they reach their peak and Sherlock pulls out of her, releasing himself between them, a shudder down his spine. He relaxes and absentmindedly litters kisses on her collarbone.It makes her smile into his shoulder, pulling away for a moment. “I think we should move now.”Sherlock can barely feel his legs, wondering how sexual engagements with her will always result into him being reduced to a babbling mess.“I... yes, that would be best.” He clears his throat and tries to sort his thoughts as he watches her drain the tub to turn the shower on.They were back on their feet, and she holds back a laugh once the water begins to cling to his curls, flattening them around his head. Sherlock rolls his eyes at her amusement, but still smiles once she begins to chuckle. She washes his hair in between kisses, and he does not feel the need to hide his joy to see her relaxed.It felt strange yet comforting to be able to turn her around and press her against the tiles, taking her from behind. Her moans echo in the small bathroom, and Sherlock spreads kisses all over her shoulder and neck as they chase another release.After the shower, they both go into the bedroom and change into new clothes. He gives her space and stays in the living room as she goes about her evening.She eats her dinner after changing. Jocelyn stays in the kitchen, seeing Sherlock staring intently at the floor with a blank look on his face.She frowns before standing up. “You’re thinking about John.”“He’s out drinking again.”“I’m not sure how we can make things better.”“There’s nothing we can do, quite honestly. None of us expected this.”“That Mary is actually an assassin?” Jocelyn sputters a laugh, before regretting it. “I should probably not joke about that.”“That may be so.”Jocelyn observes him for a moment before approaching him, and he tilts his head up to follow her movements. She stood in front of him as he sits on the edge of his chair, and she slides her hands on his shoulders. Sherlock feels his own lips parting, at awe of her.Beauty has always been a strange concept to him, since it remains subjective and personal for the unique human mind. It could be physical attractiveness or the appeal of a certain personality—which all the more complicates it.Yet, he understands it, by the way she carries herself. By the way something destructive is thrown at her, and yet she smiles. By the way she returns the kindness to those who genuinely give it.From the way she stood tall, despite all the things in her life that should force her to cower down. It is mesmerizing to watch.All these thoughts swirl in his head. He couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean down to her chest, feeling her palms at the back of his neck slide upwards to tangle her fingers through his hair. The steady heartbeat beneath her skin was strangely reassuring. He can recall feeling this emotion from before, but it is stronger now. He feels home.A wave of warmth filled her once he rested his head on her chest. “It’s not your fault.”“I know.”She cracks a smile. “No, you don’t.”“Always seeing through me, aren’t you?” He inhales her scent to familiarize himself. He hums as he feels her fingers treading through his scalp.“You did everything you could to make John happy, and he knows that. He wouldn’t be too pleased if he finds that you’re blaming yourself for this.”“I could have prevented this.”“Don’t do that. Like you said, none of us expected this.”“I could have said something.” He pulls away from her, and she frowns. “Initially when Mary and I met, I’ve already noticed her ability to be a liar—but I never mentioned it to John.”“You trusted John’s judgment.”“That is precisely what is wrong. I could have saved John from all of these complicated emotions he must be dealing with because of his wife.”She realizes it’ll take a while to convince Sherlock to not blame himself.“Don’t worry, she would never hurt John. In fact, I’m reassured of John’s safety if Mary is close by.”“You’re not serious, right? Mary is an assassin, in hire for Moriarty. She was one of the snipers from three years ago.”“She was not aware of who we were.”“Still. She shot you. Are you seriously defending her?”“I am only saying that we look at this in an unbiased angle.”“Unbiased? All right. She shot her husband’s best friend.”He sinks into the chair. “She had her reasons.”“You are aware that if she never loved John, she would’ve shot you in the head, right?”“Yes. However, setting our personal feelings aside, if John decides to stay married to her, we will not try to stop him. He is capable of his own choices.”Jocelyn bites down her lip. “And Irene? What about her?”“I don’t trust her.”“I know you don’t.”“But you do.”“Not fully, but she was genuinely kind to me. That accounts for something.”“Maybe.” He observes her tired face. Sherlock hesitates, but gives in. “I will call Mycroft and tell him I changed my mind. Irene Adler can stay.”She sighs in relief,. She lowers herself into the chair to sit on his lap for a moment before kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”He gives her a restrained smile. Jocelyn pulls away from him and finishes her dinner before bidding him a good night.A week passes and nothing quite exciting has happened. Usually, whenever Jocelyn wakes up, breakfast is already served in courtesy of Sherlock. John would arrive around nine in the morning, hungover and tired. Sherlock would offer him coffee and John would wordlessly accept it. None of them speak about Mary again.She hated it so much. Not knowing things always bother her. Sometimes, Jocelyn worries that the reason why Sherlock won’t sleep next to her is because he is aware of how she feels about him keeping secrets.Neither of them talk about it though, and she just feels so tired of begging him to open up to her. So, they stay silent.Jocelyn goes through the day with her classes. Mycroft gives her daily updates regarding the Woman, and Jocelyn would roll her eyes when he insists for it to be in handwritten letters instead of emails. So far, nothing interesting happens.Until tonight, that is.It was already ten in the evening. Jocelyn is in her office writing up some paperwork she cannot possibly do outside the campus. She barely notices the time until her phone beeps, showing that she has a new message. She gathers her things and locks her office and leaves.As she walks through the gates, she picks up her phone to view the message. It was from Sherlock and it reads, ‘It is late. Where are you?’She rolls her eyes and smiles a bit. Even when they weren’t exactly in a secure place right now, he is still very sweet to her without noticing. Sherlock notices everything except his own actions, and she finds that amusing.Before she could reply, another message pops up at the top of the screen and takes her interest more. It was from an unknown number. All it says is, ‘Dr. Grant, please report back to your office. We should talk. Thank you.’She furrows her brows, feeling her heartbeat race. Before she could hesitate, she turns back around and walks to her office again.This is probably a stupid idea, and she is already regretting it as she walks through the hallway. It compels her to put her phone in her coat once she needs it. She smiles at the few guards she recognizes, and feels a bit relieved to know that there are still people in campus.Jocelyn walks inside her classroom and looks around the emptiness of it after turning on the lights. She makes her way towards her office, unlocking it to open. Darkness greeted her, and she reaches to her side to flick the lights on.The man is seated on her chair with his fingers laced together, his elbows on the armrests.Jocelyn leans her shoulder on the doorframe. “How did you know where I work?” Adding to that, how the hell did he get in?“Has Sherlock Holmes never told you that I know almost everything about anyone?” Mr. Magnussen does not even meet her eyes.“I could just call the police and say you’re breaking and entering.”“But you won’t.” An amused smile appears on his face before he finally glances at her.
Jocelyn Melrose Grant. Cambridge University Professor. Former Forensic Analyst [see file]. MD-PhD [see file]. High-functioning Alcoholic. Recovered Drug Addict. Porn Preferences: Normal. Status: Off-limits.
Magnussen motions for her to come inside as if this was his office, and she walks inside and closes the door. “What makes you think that I won’t try to have you arrested right here?”“You would have called the police even before you came here, but I know that you’re too curious.”“Of you? I’ve dealt with much worse.”Magnussen chuckles, amused by her. “I don’t doubt that for a second,” he reaches up to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, still looking at her.
Pressure point: N/A
His lips quirk into a smirk and it only makes her uncomfortable.“Is there a reason why you’re in my office after hours, Mr. Magnussen?”“Quite an interesting person, you are, little girl.” He chuckles.The term makes her fume. “Excuse me?”“You are aware of what Sherlock Holmes offered me, aren’t you? It makes me wonder what else he wants from me, other than everything I have on Dr. Watson’s wife, of course.” After speaking, he hums and smiles. “Mrs. Watson... what an extraordinary woman.”Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him since she was not aware that Sherlock spoke to Magnussen already. “Let me guess, you’re going to blackmail me into doing something?”“Oh, you English people. I love watching you all just assume things and... think that you’re right.” He pauses. “Although, I can hear a bit of American in your accent.”Well, it was expected that he knew about her eight years in New York. Blackmail is the only thing he is good at, as far as Jocelyn knew.“What do you want from me?”“Nothing whatsoever. I just...” his eyes are still intensely scanning all over her, adding to her discomfort. “I’ve wanted to see what all the fuss has been about.”Jocelyn looks away from him, feeling a shudder of disgust down her spine.“And, of course, I wanted to test you. How brave of you to come here just from a single text.”Murder is not his style. He’s more of a blackmail sort. It’s mostly why she agreed to see him....Then again, she did agree to meet with Moriarty.“I knew it would be you. And I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, too.”Magnussen chuckles before pushing himself off the chair. He begins to make his way towards her, making the young woman take a step back. Magnussen opens his palm and reaches it towards her, offering his hand for her to shake.She looks at him with a glare, and he only raises his eyebrows at her. Jocelyn desperately wanted to get away, or just slap him across the face.However, she is aware of what he has on her, and she can consider herself under his thumb. She swallows, but reaches her hand to accept his, tensing once he pulls her hand to his lips to place a lingering wet kiss on her skin.Out of instinct, she flinches and watches him let go of her hand after practically caressing it.“Do give my best to all of your friends. They are, I must say, quite splendid.”Oh, shove it up your arse, pervert. Jocelyn wanted to remark, but bites down her tongue and observes how Magnussen makes his way towards the door. He leaves the way he came and Jocelyn finally lets out a breath.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She arrives in Baker Street, feeling a mixture of disgust, confusion, and anger. She closes the door behind herself and tosses her bag on the sofa as she walks back and forth the living room. Footsteps approach behind her and she turns to see Sherlock in his maroon dressing gown.“What was the deal you made with Magnussen?”Sherlock’s delighted expression turns grim and puzzled. “What?”“The deal you made, Sherlock. What did you offer him?”“Jocelyn—”“No! I don’t have time for bullshit excuses right now, I really don’t.”Sherlock slowly makes his way into the living room. “I’ve told you that I can’t tell you.”“I’ve had enough of this. Go ahead,” she gestures towards herself, urging him to read her.Sherlock stares back at her, briefly glancing at her hand—the one Magnussen touched. “He came to see you.”“I was on my way here, and he texts me to go back. He was in my office by the time I got there.”“And you just followed him, after one text message?” Sherlock asks incredulously.“No, no, no, do not twist this to me. That is not the point here. You kept this from me, too. You never mentioned that you and Magnussen met up. How did you even get out? There was no way you did that by yourself in the state you were in.”“My brother had a hand on it. As a favor.”“Fucking hell! I am so sick of this! I keep pretending like this is fine, like everything is okay! When are you going to stop hiding shit from me?”“It was a simple negotiation for his silence.”“Elaborate.”There was a pause between them, and all Sherlock can do is stare back at her with hesitation. Ultimately, he stays silent.Jocelyn slowly shakes her head at him, holding up her hands in defeat while walking backwards to increase the distance between the both of them. “Fine. Your way.” She snatches her purse and walking to the door.Once Sherlock mustered the strength to form words, he steps forward with concern. “Where are you going?”“Anywhere but here,” she aggressively opens the door.“It’s not safe for you to be out.”She slams the door shut and faces him with fury, and he almost reels back. “None of us are safe anywhere, Sherlock. I could die tomorrow and none of us will expect that! Hell, none of us knew that Mary was a fucking assassin until a month ago! I’m so done listening to you like, like... like you always know everything!”He frowns, taking in her anger. “What can I do for you to stay within these walls?”“Tell me about the deal.”“I can’t, Jocelyn, please.”“Why not?”“I’d rather not put you at risk.”“Is that supposed to make me feel better? You tell me right now or I walk out of that door.” He wavers in response. “Yeah. That’s how this works, Sherlock.”“You are giving me an ultimatum, that is not fair.”“You have the nerve to talk about fairness?”“Jocelyn, please, you have to just trust me.”“Tell me, or I walk.”Their eyes look together in silence, both are unable to look away.After a few seconds, her eyes soften. The silence made her heart ache inside her chest. She slowly shakes her head. “Right.”Sherlock watches her reach into her pocket, and he hears the jingle of metals as she pulls out her keys. She takes off a single key from the chain and pushes it into his chest. As instinct, he clutches the small key in his hands with furrowed brows.Jocelyn sends him a glare and turns, picking up her bag and turning around. As she approaches the door, she halts her movements. Waiting for a few seconds, she cranes her neck to see him still standing frozen in the middle of the living room, looking back at her.Disappointment washes over her body. “You’re not even going to fight me on this, are you?”He stays silent.A scoff leaves her mouth and it takes everything in her to hold her tears back. “I knew this was temporary.” She shakes her head at him, turning to finally walk through the door and leave without looking back.***She enters the bar and looks around, seeing how people are kept to themselves in pairs or by groups. She sighs to herself and takes a seat on one of the stools, asking the bartender for strong dry whiskey. The bartender only raises a brow at her and does as she was told.“Jocelyn?”Startled, her head jerks to the left, only to see Laurie with a curious look on his face.Jocelyn only lets out a sigh in relief. “Christ, you scared me.”Laurie’s brow arches, and he makes a swift movement of taking the empty stool next to her. “It’s almost eleven, what are you doing here?”“I can’t have a drink by myself now?” She sharply remarks, only to realize that she snapped at him. Jocelyn briefly closes her eyes. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean that.”“Rough night?”“Yeah. Do you come here a lot?”“Not at all,” he glances at her drink, seeing how it is a strong one. “I would’ve introduced you to my brother, but he just left with his mates a few minutes ago. I was just about to go home when I saw you.”“You should go home if you want. You don’t have to keep me company.”“You kind of seem miserable. Not sure how it’ll do with my conscience if I just leave now. What’s going on?”She raises the glass to her lips. “Oh, trust me. You don’t want to know what kind of shit day I’ve had. It’s fine, I could just ring up someone,” Mycroft, “You should go home, since that’s what you were about to do before you saw me here.”He nods, offering her a small smile. “Well, I’ll sit with you anyway. Feel like you need someone to watch you at least.”Jocelyn snorts and palms her forehead, feeling much more comfortable now. “Would you like a drink then?”***John comes home around four in the morning. He raises his brows once he sees Sherlock in his chair. He was cleaning his violin, which was already a sign that he was going to play during this hour.And it is also a sign that something is wrong.“Hello. Good night out?”“Er, yeah,” he glances towards the kitchen, seeing an untouched full-course meal prepared. “Did you have dinner?”“I was about to. Until Jocelyn came home, yelled for seven minutes and then left.”John widens his eyes. “What? Where is she?”“It would be rude to assume, but she is most likely somewhere similar to where you go every night as it seems. It is where people go once they feel disappointed.”The soldier hesitates, feeling uncomfortable now that Sherlock mentioned his drinking habits. “You still haven’t told her about the plan.”“It would put her at risk.”“She’s already at risk, she’s the center of all this. Why won’t you tell me, then?”“I’d put your wife at risk, which would include your child. Then, you.” Sherlock continues to gently pluck at the strings.“How would it?”He sighs, unable to stop thinking of the woman he disappointed tonight. “I’m quite confident that my plan will work, but one must always be prepared. If by chance my plan goes wrong, it’s best if I go down alone. I do not want anyone to take you all as accomplices.” He paints a somber expression on his face as he glances at him. “Ignorance is bliss, John. That’s why.”***Jocelyn groans once she wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. She grasps her hammering forehead and slowly sits up, pulling the sheets around herself once she felt cold.Her eyes cast downward, and she realizes she was no longer wearing her clothes, and she curses under her breath while wrapping the sheets around bare body.There was a knock on the door, and Anthea peeks through the gap and flashes her a small smile. “Good morning, doctor.”Jocelyn relaxes and palms her face. “Please, call me Jocelyn. You’ve already seen too much last night.”The secretary only lets out a light chuckle and gives her some clothes. “Of course, Miss Grant.”She only sighs and says a small thanks. “Is, um… Mycroft angry with me for barging in his house, drunk at three in the morning?”“Of course,” she nods without another beat.“Oh, great.”“He’s waiting for you in the dining hall. Breakfast will arrive shortly.”“Thank you,” she smiles, and the woman returns it before exiting the guest room.Once she is alone, Jocelyn closes her eyes briefly and groans into her palms.Half an hour later, she emerges from the room wearing a dress. She can hear faint muttering in the dining room, and she really hopes it is not the person she has been thinking of.Jocelyn enters the room, only to see Mycroft Holmes with his phone to his ear. He catches a glimpse of her and mumbles into his device before turning it off. Mycroft had a stern expression on his face.She cringes. “Last night—”“—was appalling.”“Yes. Right.”“My brother was not exaggerating when he said that you tend to get undressed once you’ve gone past seven drinks.”“Well, to be fair, it’s really hot in this haunted mansion.”He sends her a glare, and she just sits down on the chair to his left, thanking one of the staff once they offered her a glass of water.“You should be thankful of your professor friend. He was the one who so kindly drove you here.” Mycroft says lowly as he begins to have his breakfast. “Although, knocking on my door at half past three in the morning was hardly an attractive pose. And your mannerism of disrobing once you are in a bedroom in a drunken state—”“About that—”“I’d rather not know.”“Agreed.”He huffs. “Please, do not ever do such a thing again. I was terrified. You would not be pleased with me once I am terrified.”She frowns. “Sorry.”“What happened?”“Do I really need to answer that since you already know?”“What has he done?”“Did you know that he made a deal with Magnussen when he escaped the hospital?”Mycroft sighs. “No, I did not. However, I—”“You helped him get out, yes. He told me about that. And you just let him go out like that, with a gunshot wound.”“He is much more capable of holding himself up. Wounds could be psychosomatic once you focus hard enough.”“Please, don’t bullshit me.”“Sherlock knows the risks, but he knows better than to actually let himself die in the hands of another. If he is to die, it will be in his own terms. That is how powerful he is. No one is ever brave enough to kill him, Miss Grant.”“That doesn’t make things better. What if he gets himself hurt?”“My brother has a high tolerance in pain.”“You don’t know that.”“I grew up with it.”“Stop it! I know that you don’t want this!”“Just because I tolerate it, does not mean I have to be joyful about it. The reason why he is not involving you is because you are likely to be seen as an accomplice, and that information spreads. Not to the authorities who may arrest you, no—but to the ones who search for targets and victims to harass.”She falters since she certainly did not think of it that way.He observes her face, seeing the realization wash over her. “Sherlock is already a person of interest. He faced Moriarty. You did not. At least, not publicly. All information connecting you to Moriarty will be spread like wildfire, and you will become a target. Sherlock is a public figure, which is why it is easy to hide in plain sight. Whether he goes to prison or not, no one will question it because of his career choice and unique personality.”“…since I’m just a professor, people will question it.”“Precisely. What do you think will happen to you if you were put under the spotlight of a criminal investigation? You will be blacklisted. You lose your career and be imprisoned with whatever Magnussen has on you. That is why he is being incredibly careful; do you not understand that?”“Why the hell did none of you explain it that way?” She angrily asks.“Because this is how you will react. And because you dislike being left in the dark. Not knowing will gradually make you lose control.”“That’s a bit excessive.”“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow. “We are only doing what is best for you.”“Both of you are treating me like a child.”“Because you elect to act like one.”Jocelyn lets out a scoff, pulling herself on her feet. “God, I have no idea why I came here.”“Miss Grant—”“No, just don’t, okay? I am so tired, Mycroft. I can’t just keep saying I want you all to be honest with me.”“Being truthful has a cost.”Jocelyn briefly closes her eyes and slowly looks over her shoulder, only to see Sherlock in his usual long coat and scarf with his arms behind his back with John next to him.She looks back at Mycroft. “How nice of you to call over the person I’m trying to ignore.”“I didn’t, actually. He was very persistent in waking me around seven to come see you. I said no, and oh, look. He’s here.” Mycroft pulls a restrained smile. “Good to see you, brother mine. John.”John nods in acknowledgment, but Sherlock keeps his eyes on Jocelyn who was avoiding his gaze.“Well, this has suddenly become tremendously awkward. John, if you’d like to accompany me elsewhere. I believe my brother and Jocelyn are about to have a domestic that I do not want to witness,” he tries not to grimace at the thought of the two most annoyingly loud people in his life in an argument.“Sure, right. Yeah,” John trails off, a bit bewildered to witness it too.“Though, I do hope it will be quick. I have a—”“Maybe just shut up now,” John coughs out, giving Mycroft a look.Jocelyn just rolls her eyes and listens to the two other men leave the room. She glances at Sherlock, who had a genuine apologetic look on his face. Jocelyn looks away from him and says nothing.“I’m sorry.” He breathes out, and she barely looks at him. “Please, say something.”“What do you want me to say? I forgive you?” Jocelyn gives him a tired look.“Mycroft explained it to you as best as he could.”“He’s your brother. He will side with you during a war, if needed.” She frowns.“This isn’t a war. It’s just you and me.” Sherlock determinedly says.Jocelyn only shakes her head. “No. It’s just you." She makes a move to walk away, but he speaks again.Sherlock takes a step forward. “Jocelyn, please, you have to understand that once this is over, you will know anyway. Once I make sure that it is safe for you.”“You keep talking about my safety while ignoring my own need for you to be safe, too.”“I am safe. It is a safe procedure.”“If it is, then you can tell me!”Sherlock walks towards her until only a few inches separates them. She tilts her chin to look up at him, eyes surveying his face. From the looks of it, he barely had any sleep. In fact, none last night.It makes her chest cave in, and she closes her eyes in frustration. “I can’t be with you if you hide things from me.”His face barely changes. “I know.”Jocelyn presses her lips together. “So, this is it, then?”“I imagine so.”“You’re not even going to fight for me?” Her voice breaks.Sherlock frowns, unsure what to make of what the emotions bursting in his mind and body from the sight of her crying because of him. “I’m not quite certain why, but… I’d rather you loathe me than you imprisoned.”A tear slides down her cheek before she could even help herself, still looking into his eyes. She wants to plead him to choose to be with her instead, to trust her and let her keep him safe as well. She wants to beg him to stay with her.Instead, she sighs and reaches up to cup his cheeks. Jocelyn pulls herself on the tips of her toes, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Sherlock’s eyes flutter shut from the contact, and once she pulls away, he had to stop himself from pulling her back.Jocelyn takes a step back before walking past him. The moment she is out of his line of sight, her face crumbles as her chin begins to shake in order to hold back a cry.Neither of them looks back at the other, and Sherlock listens to her footsteps fade. He cranes his neck to the left, with one tear running down his cheek. It was pleasant and equally tragic how only one person has the capability of making him cry.***It was a normal day for everyone else, unfortunately. The sun rises and sets as if nothing quite interesting happened. As if the world hadn’t completely turned itself around her.Still, the best way to cope is to pretend as if nothing happened.“I heard that Anderson’s back on his job?”Greg nods, appearing pleased as well. “Yes, thank God they reconsidered his appeal. Man would’ve worked for nothing.”“He could be a bit of a dick sometimes, but I’m glad for him,” Jocelyn chuckles.He only watches her for a moment, seeing how unusually calm and pleased she looks. “Yep, it’s absolutely wonderful. He changed, you know? Him and Donovan. They’re a much more resilient now.”“Oh? Well, that’s nice to hear. I’m glad they turned their life around.”“Yeah, it’s great! Strangely enough, Donovan and Sherlock are kind of getting along now.”She briefly tenses at the sound of his name. “Really? That’s very odd.”“Yep. Can you believe that she actually made him laugh the other day?”Oh, so he’s laughing, then? He’s perfectly fine, then? That’s good. Great. That is fantastic news. “All is forgiven, then?”“Gratefully, yeah. So, how’s the whole Cambridge thing, then?”“You mean me being a professor?”“Mhm, how is it?”She narrows her eyes at him. The smile slowly fading from her face. “Mycroft asked you to come check on me, didn’t he?”Greg presses his lips together. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here, actually. I really did come here to see you.” He admits, and she wavers, apologetic for the assumption. “He seems worried, though. Won’t admit it, but I know how he is.”“It’s Mycroft, he freaks out over everything without admitting it.”Lestrade smiles. “He sees you like you’re his younger sister. It’s nice to see him love someone other than his own brother.”“You’re not at all jealous that Mr. Holmes loves me, too?” Jocelyn smirks at him playfully.“Just because he loves you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t despise you.”“Touché,” she raises her cup of coffee and they bumped the rims together.Greg offers her a small smile. “So, er, Sherlock?”Jocelyn just stares at him. “What about him?”“Mycroft can be mysterious and everything, but he still talks about stuff.”“Don’t worry. Everything is good.” She smiles.“Yeah?”“Of course! I’ve never been better. Things are going great at school, and my aunt is being lovely, Laurie and I go out for a drink on Sunday evenings, my students are amazing and all of them passed the exams.” She lets out a laugh, thinking about how everyone else’s lives are amazing. “Molly’s getting married in about a month. She is ecstatic, and you know, I’m one of her bridesmaids and that’s pretty cool…”“Jocelyn.”She pauses, watching a worried expression take over his face. She backtracks on everything she said and realizes that she was definitely not talking about just herself at any point.“You haven’t been to Baker Street in two months.”“So?”He lets out a breath, clearly not wanting to ease himself into someone else’s business, but for the sake of his friends, he still wanted to check up on things.“Nothing, it’s just… odd that you and Sherlock aren’t on speaking terms.” Again.She could feel the word ‘again’ on the tip of Lestrade’s tongue. It almost makes her want to tell him to say it, since it is true.“What’s wrong with that?”Lestrade just frowns a bit, clearly seeing through her—which she hates completely. Damn detectives, always figuring shit out. To think that she actually has feelings for one! He can be such a genius and so bloody stupid at the same time, it makes her furious. He is so goddamn frustrating; she just wants to scream into his face and just—“Hey,” he pulls her back into reality with a worried smile. “Still here?”“Yes, of course. Yeah,” she nods immediately. “I’m totally fine.”They both pause for a moment and it is taking everything in her to keep it together. She has been bottling everything up for two bloody months. She is not about to break down in the middle of a fucking café.She only smiles at him. “I’m okay, Greg. Don’t worry about me. In fact, I’ve never been better. And I’ve made a big decision.”“A decision?”“Yes, actually. I’ve… been thinking a lot about it for months now,” she genuinely gives him a smile. “I know it’s a sudden, and I know that I’ve spent too many months away from actual forensic work, but… I miss it so much.”Lestrade offers her a pleased smile. “You sure about this?”“I’m not bloody sure about anything anymore, but I’m done with just overthinking everything.” She palms her face. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job as a professor… but I just don’t feel complete.”“What changed your mind?”“I’ve been thinking about it even before... before everything.”“Well, I’m happy for you, Jocelyn.”Jocelyn is glad to hear that, and since he was the first person she ever told this, a weight lifted off her chest.In the middle of a conversation about Scotland Yard, Lestrade’s phone goes off and he apologizes while glancing at it. Jocelyn eats her breakfast while watching Lestrade appear serious.“What’s wrong?”“Homicide, just got called in. It’s an interesting one, too,” he seems reluctant.From that move alone, she immediately realizes. “Well, go on. Call him.”He takes a second before complying. The call was picked up immediately, and at the back of her mind, she wonders if he has been anticipating incoming calls all morning. He speaks into his phone before hanging up. “I should be heading out now.”“Oh, sure, definitely.” Jocelyn nods.“Or you can come with me?”She barely hides the way she tenses, watching as he gets on his feet to put his coat on. “What?”“You’re planning to come back eventually, right? Why not familiarize yourself again, even just for one case?” Lestrade chuckles.She bites down her lip, considering it. On one hand, she will be helping with a case. However, on the other, she will be seeing him for the first time in a while. Is it even worth it?Well, she has been doing quite well for two months. Nothing could just make her crumble suddenly. With that, she only smiles at Lestrade and grabs her coat to follow him outside.***“You’re right, this is definitely interesting.” Jocelyn mutters to Greg as she walks around the corpse. “Victim’s in her early twenties. She’s a med student. Got her throat slit, right around the carotid artery with something sharp,” she holds up a ziplocked bloody knife. “Probably with this one.”“She died from blood loss?” Donovan asks.“No. No, it’s actually—”“Choking on her own blood.”Her sentence was finished by a familiar voice to her left. She lifts her head to give him a glance, only to see the consulting detective with an unreadable gaze towards her. Jocelyn pauses her movements to watch him, and they just remained that way. John walks into the scene and slows down his walking once he sees Jocelyn in the room.She blinks and pulls herself on her feet. “Yeah. She was still alive when her throat was slit, and from the angle of the knife used, it was intentional. Killer was careful with their knife, going from the blood splatter.”Sherlock approaches the corpse, pushing his coat back to be able to squat down. “From the scene, she struggled quite well. If the killer was being careful, then the victim must have been incapacitated at some point.”“Sedative?” John suggests.“No, there are no marks on her body. No sign of injection,” he moves his head around, but his focus is slowly dividing itself and he has no idea what to make out of it. “Why would she give in to her killer?”Jocelyn just goes to Greg. “I’m just going to speak to the forensics team, yeah?”Greg only nods towards her and lets her do her own thing. Jocelyn walks off and Sherlock listens to her footsteps fade. Once she was gone from his earshot, he briefly closes his eyes and pulls himself to his feet to walk towards Lestrade.“Why is she here?”“I offered.”“Obviously. Is there a reason why you have forgotten to mention that she will be here?” He has a hardened gaze.“Look, Sherlock, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”“It is not.”“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying—”“It’s not a big deal.”“…Yes, that’s what—”“This is all fine.” His jaw clenches and he aggressively turns around to focus on the corpse again.John and Greg share a look, however, Greg appears much more apologetic than John’s unimpressed expression.As Jocelyn speaks to the team, she recognizes some of them being her co-workers back then. From the corner of Sherlock’s eyes, he can see Jocelyn speaking to one of the victim’s neighbors. The neighbor was being friendly. Sherlock squints at them and begins to approach the two.Sherlock’s pure academic curiosity was the one that drove him to walk towards them, nothing more. John trails right next to him, confused yet amused.“Right, well, the police are going to—oh,” she looks to her left, stepping backwards once she sees Sherlock by her side. “Uh, this is Dr. John Watson and… Mr. Sherlock Holmes. They’ll be questioning you.”The man offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.”The detective’s arms remain behind his back. Sherlock maintains a blank look on his face. “Apologies. I’ve touched parts of the crime scene.”“Oh, right.”The consulting detective surveys the man from head to toe. John notices and presses his lips together, holding back a chuckle. “Right, we’re going to have to talk to you. Come on.”“Actually, John, there is no need.” Sherlock voices out, eyes trained on the stranger—well, stranger to him, anyway. “I have everything I need. Questioning the neighbors are irrelevant for this type of case. I suggest we move along. Thank you, goodbye.”Jocelyn briefly closes her eyes in annoyance before pulling a strained smile towards the neighbor. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”From the atmosphere of the room, he just nods and moves along with John so he could be asked some questions. Jocelyn is left alone with Sherlock at one corner of the room, and she crosses her arms. “What are you doing?”“What am I doing? I am solving a case.”“By what? Pushing the witness away?”“He is not a witness. He was the one who found the body by delivering misplaced mail from down the hall and called it in. He is not important to the case.”“Fine. If he is so unimportant, then why didn’t you stop John from questioning him?”Sherlock blinks, clearly cornered. He only blows a breath. “Where have you been?”She builds up her walls immediately. “My aunt’s. She’s a wonderful roommate. Doesn’t keep secrets from me.”“Jocelyn...”“We don’t have time for this. You have people to interview and I have a knife to examine.” She walks past him and of course, he lets her.***John looks at Sherlock. “You okay?”“Why do people always ask that?”“Because usually the person they’re asking would look like they aren’t?”“I’m perfectly fine.”“Alright, so, who was that guy?”“Oh, ignore him. He is irrelevant.”“Really? Why?”“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it is the fact that he is an alcoholic with a pregnant wife who he neglects daily, only marrying her for the sake of appearances. Maybe it is the fact that he is having an affair with our victim, but tries to play it off as if he doesn’t, for his wife not to leave him.” Sherlock monotonously lists off. “However, the wife will likely leave him if he continues to stare at Jocelyn as if she were object that was created to please him. One of the reasons why I despise being labeled as a male.”John suppresses his amusement, clearly seeing how bothered Sherlock is about this. He isn’t sure if it is jealousy or not, but John has a feeling that it might be.“How are we feeling about that?”“You are not suggesting that I am jealous, are you?” Sherlock scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Of that wretched misogynistic boy? As if Jocelyn would lower herself to his rank. She deserves nothing of the sort.”“I didn’t say anything. You did.”“Well, I’m not.”“Sure, you aren’t.” Sherlock glares at him as they walk, but the soldier just musters a smile. “What? I believe you.”“Clearly, you do not.”“Look, Sherlock, it’s alright to be jealous, but honestly, you have nothing to be jealous of. We all know that Jocelyn still—”“If you say that sentence to me one more time, I will give in to my urges of smacking you across the face, John.”“Sherlock, it’s been two months, don’t you think that’s enough time for you to sort things out with her? I mean, it’s none of my business—”“That, we can agree upon.”“—but as your friend, I’m slightly concerned for your wellbeing. Clearly, this has been the longest that the two of you haven’t spoken to one another.”“Eight years is longer than two months, John. Has boring surgery work rotted your brain into an incapacity of being able to do simple mathematics?”“You’re deflecting again. That’s good. It means that you’re in denial and you really want to talk to her.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “She is doing quite well. Her aunt is good for her. To be around family, that would ease her mind.”“You’re her family, too, Sherlock.” From those words, a frown appears on Sherlock’s face. “Talk to her.”“She clearly does not want me to.”“That’s because you aren’t willing to open up to her. What were you expecting? That they would just follow you everywhere after you admit that you have not been completely honest with them?”He glances at John. “Are we still discussing the same woman?”John wavers and looks away. “The point is, if you want to fix things, start by being honest.”“I never lie to her.”“Well, you don’t tell the complete truth either, it’s worse than actually lying.” John looks out of the window.***Jocelyn is inside the lab again, and once she was alone, she finally smiles so wide until her cheeks begin to strain. Her hands smooth over the counter, sighing to herself with such satisfaction.She jumps once the door opens, making her drop her goofy smile immediately, and she cranes her neck to check, only to furrow her eyebrows upon seeing Sherlock.Jocelyn signs. “So, we’re passing notes now?”“What?”“You told Lestrade to come here to tell me about the case when you could’ve done it yourself.”“I am only here to view the phone records, Jocelyn.”She rolls her eyes and goes to sit in front of the computers with dual monitors, opening the records. She hears him walk towards her, leaning down.Jocelyn almost tenses once she feels his arm rest on the back of the chair. He was so close. Close enough for her to be able to inhale his cologne.He had a thing for cologne, as much as it might come as a surprise to anyone. Sherlock has always been so fascinated by the chemicals composing perfumes. Jocelyn almost hates how he wears cologne only because he finds them interesting, and not for the sole purpose of being more attractive—because he is. Christ.From the corner of her eyes, she can see the little veins on his neck, stretching as he scrolls through the records with those scrutinizing eyes. The sharp jawline of his, those strong cheekbones, the skin peeking out from the neckline of his formal button-up. They are all making her think about the moments she would freely place kisses on them.Being so lost in her thoughts, she barely notices herself turn to look at him. She barely notices him ask her a question. Sherlock glances at her with curiosity, and the image of his head between her thighs made her look away.Jocelyn blinks, ignoring the sudden heat rise to her face. “Uh, so far, only three phone numbers appear the most often. I can trace them, and you can do your… thing.”Sherlock narrows his eyes at her for a second stays silent. She can feel his eyes on her, and she wonders what he could be thinking. Hopefully, he hadn’t deduced what she has been thinking. God, help her.The sound of her phone going off finally gave her some relief and she immediately takes it upon seeing Molly’s name. They speak for a short moment about the case, and Sherlock just watches her. As he observes her, a confused look slowly grows on her face.Once she hangs up, Sherlock asks, “What is it?”She waves him over and leads him to the examination room. She opens the machine and pulls out the knife while wearing gloves. “Molly said that the slit on the victim’s throat is angled in a way that she can tell the knife’s blade is around two inches.”“The knife you are holding is two.”“There is still a slight difference because the cut was so calculated that it could hardly be done using this knife with a big handle.” Jocelyn gestures at the knife. “So, I did some tests, and I saw that the only way that wound could be made is from holding the knife in the same way you hold a pen.”“Careful posture, precision of incision, our killer is talented. They are smart.”“Exactly! It also means that this isn’t the knife used to kill her.” Jocelyn declares. “But the blood matches hers. And get this, the precision of the slit is so perfect that there’s no way shaky fingers could do it.”“If the victim was incapacitated yet awake…”“Our suspect was basically performing surgery,” Jocelyn darkly grins at him, clearly excited that they both figured it out. “The blade would be two inches; my guess is that it’s a scalpel.”“There were no scalpels found in the crime scene, only this one.”Jocelyn holds up the knife, smiling. “This was used to throw us off, but luckily—”“Luckily, we have a brilliant scientist working with us.”It only occurs to her now how incredibly close he is again, with only a few inches parting them. Jocelyn could not look away from his blue eyes. She has spent weeks dreaming about them, wishing that she would wake up to the same ones as well.Sherlock reaches up to touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers, and it snaps her out of her thoughts. She steps back, and he realizes what he has done as he lowers his hand.“You should probably, um, tell John and—”“Yes, of course—”“…Lestrade.”“Yes,” he clears his throat. “Thank you.”She nods and watches him leave. Once he’s gone, she lets out a big sigh and closes her eyes, putting the knife down and pulling off her gloves. It takes her a second before she grimaces and buries her face into her palms.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They arrive at another crime scene and she was given protection gear. Jocelyn walks through the scene and has a focused expression on her face.She sees the corpse laid out on the ground, same as the last one. Jocelyn frowns, looking around the apartment. “Nothing links them to each other?”“Except that they both live in flats, both are women, both are educated. Nothing.” Greg shrugs.Jocelyn reaches over to lift the woman’s brown hair, just to view the cut on her throat before glancing at the knife on the floor. “Willing to bet that the knife isn’t our murder weapon.”“I agree,” Sherlock’s voice sounds from across the room, making her look up and stand upright. “Nothing connects them whatsoever. Neither of them even knows that the other exists, much less speak to them. Therefore, I was right. The neighbor was very much useless to this investigation.” He briefly glances at Jocelyn.Jocelyn rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “That, and the phone records only showed calls to the previous victim’s parents and sister. Both of which were in different countries, so they have an alibi.”“We’re either dealing with a serial killer.” She tilts her head at the corpse. “Do we have a profile on her?”“Mid-twenties. She’s a nurse at St. Barts, actually.” John answers her.“The other girl was a med student. Could be career related.” Jocelyn suggests.“Serial killers don’t have to kill people who know each other,” Lestrade adds. “They can kill people who have similarities, like a hate crime.”Sherlock sighs. “If that is it, then it will be difficult to catch him.”Jocelyn crosses her arms. “Yeah. He tried to throw us off with the knife thing, but it didn’t have any prints. He’s smart and careful. He won’t just make a mistake that will lead us back to him.”“She is correct.” Sherlock agrees, eyes trained on her.“We can’t call it a serial killing if there’s only been two.” Donovan crosses her arms.“I can guarantee that another one will turn up tomorrow morning.” Sherlock mutters.“We can’t just wait for this guy to murder someone else.” John widens his eyes at Sherlock.“Would you like to catch him or not, John?”“Of course, I want to catch him.”“Then we wait for him to make a mistake. That is what serial killers do once they are given a spotlight and some attention.”Jocelyn hums, catching their attention. “I don’t know, I think we can still find something. The way these women struggled first before being incapacitated and having nothing in their system?”John narrows his eyes. “Possibly an undetectable substance, then?”“No, Jocelyn is quite thorough, there was nothing found in their systems.” Sherlock casually disagrees. “This could only mean that these women either knew their killer or was convinced to calm down.”“Or both,” Jocelyn adds. “It’s possible that our killer knew his victims, but not the other way around. He could have threatened someone that the victims cared about, and they just decided to let the killer do what they want. To protect someone.”“Yes.” Sherlock nods towards her, the corner of his lips almost smirking at how great she is with her job.Admittedly, in other people’s eyes, she may not be in Sherlock’s level. Her skills are nothing like Sherlock’s, not even close. And maybe that is the truth. No person can match the detective’s genius.But in Sherlock’s eyes? Jocelyn was his equal.She barely notices the way he was looking at her. “And the precision of the cut? He’s not a beginner. The other veins were undisturbed, to a surgeon’s level.”“We’re looking for a surgeon?” John raises his brows.“Not necessarily, only the skills. Although, the description fits. Both women are inclined in medicine. It could be someone in the same facility. Good work, Dr. Grant.” He offers her a small smile.Jocelyn casually nods, but her face heats up. “Anyway, I can take the knife and test it. Good luck,” she pats Lestrade’s back.Donovan actually smiles and leads her to the forensics van. Sherlock’s eyes follow them with this look.John is amused. “You look like a lost puppy.”“Do not bring dogs into this, John.” He sends him a glare.“Just talk to her, for God’s sake. Do us all a favor,” Lestrade mumbles.“Has everyone decided to meddle with my life? Is that a new occupation?” Sherlock scrunches his nose, pulling out his sliding magnifier.“We’re actually doing this for selfish reasons. We don’t like having sexual tension around us while we work.” John chuckles.“Sexual—dear God,” Sherlock looks appalled. “I’ve been aware that you romanticize almost everything for years, John, but I never thought you’d go this far.”“Well, it’s not us having tension while there’s a corpse on the ground.” Lestrade snickers while listing things down. John joins in with a short laugh.“Oh, please.” Sherlock rolls his eyes, completely repulsed. “Can we focus on this instead? We have a serial killer in our hands.”“Whatever you say, detective,” John snorts and goes to help him.***Jocelyn sits on her stool, looking into the microscope in front of her. She grits her teeth, trying her best to focus. Just on time, the door opens. She looks up from her microscope, only to see Sherlock and John walk inside. The grim expressions on their faces makes her anxious. “What’s wrong?”“There’s another.” John nods.“Another corpse? It’s been less than three hours.”“Same scene, same type of woman, same bloody knife. The killer is taunting us.” Sherlock grits his teeth in frustration. “Throwing us off.”She frowns at him, clearly seeing how this is beginning to bother him.“You’re the one who said that we should wait for him to kill someone else.” John reminded.“With the reassurance that he will do it the very next day. Not just a few hours later.” Sherlock hisses. “We had ample of time to figure out the motive, and whatever connects the two women if our suspect is not a serial killer. Now, he has killed another.”John glances at Jocelyn, almost pleading her to at least calm the detective down. Jocelyn gives him a look before she nods, and John subtly exits the lab to give them privacy.Sherlock barely notices his friend slip out of the room, focused well enough inside his mind palace to look for any clue that he must have noticed in all three scenes. Jocelyn steps in forward and reaches over to place her hand on his arm. The physical contact pulls him back to his feet, finally realizing that she is right in front of him.She looks up at him with worry. “You are pressuring yourself too much.”He only knots his brows, studying her concerned expression. “There is a serial killer out there, targeting science-inclined women. This vile human is working himself from the bottom to the top.”“What do you mean?”“A med student, a nurse, and now a doctor in training. He’s going through each stage of becoming a doctor, killing one from each tier. It is possible that he will target an experienced doctor, and then…” he pauses, looking at her.She narrows her eyes at him, only for her eyes to soften with realization. “You’re not suggesting I’m a target, are you?”He feels overwhelmed with fear. “We have to consider the possibility.”“Do I even fit the description?”“Brown hair, green eyes, female. A doctor with medical and doctoral degrees. If the pattern goes as it is, you could be among the possible fourth.”“Don’t be ridiculous, Sherlock.”He senses her discomfort and steps back. “I am not saying that you are. Only suggesting that you can be.”“I’m not that important to kill, am I?”“Would you really like me to answer that question?”“Oh, come on,” she sputters out a small laugh. “No one’s going to target me, Sherlock. There are plenty of other doctors in London.”“You think too little of yourself.”“There isn’t much to think about.”“Why would you say that?” Sherlock looks genuinely shocked.Jocelyn sighs and backs away. “So, if there is another corpse elsewhere, shouldn’t you be—”“Do you truly believe you are insignificant?”“I don’t know. You’re you,” she gestures vaguely towards him, only for Sherlock to be more confused. “And I’m just a person, Sherlock.”“You… do not see how wondrous you are?” He genuinely seems puzzled by this, and she freezes. “If that is the case, I can reassure you, that you have done plenty in your lifetime that can guarantee you to be the opposite of insignificant, tenfold.”From his words, her cheeks begin to fluster. “Oh, my God,” she mutters, turning her back to him.“Have I said something wrong?”“Yes!” She spins and widens her eyes at him, but the flush on her cheeks negates her appalled voice. “You can’t say stuff like that and expect me to—”“To what?”“You can’t expect me to come running back to you.”“I am not expecting that from you.”“Then why are you saying things like that?”“Because it is the truth.” Jocelyn blows out a breath, closing her eyes and running her fingers through her hair. “You are impossible, Sherlock, and the worst thing about it is that I still—”Sherlock blinks at her abrupt silence. “You still what?”“Forget it,” she humorlessly chuckles.He watches her get back to work. After a few seconds of silence, he realizes that she ended their conversation with two simple dismissive words. He nods once. “I will inform you if anything changes.”She says nothing and he leaves her be. The door closes and she tries her hardest not to crumble in her seat. The cold slowly seeps through her blouse from the vents, and it is beginning to be impossible to ignore it.***The killings stopped that day, and no other deaths were reported to be of any similarities with the last three. The case was unsolved, and it was on John’s blog a few days later.Whatever the conclusion was, it still bothered Sherlock to have a cold case. He dislikes leaving things unsolved, evidently. Cold cases are one the most frustrating things there can be.After their conversation in the lab, Sherlock never saw Jocelyn again for several weeks. He tries not to dwell upon it, or else, his mind might put him elsewhere. Somewhere he has strayed away from for so many months now.It was finally December. Right now, all he can do is to stay in the flat and wonder about the serial killings. John would be in his chair, reading the papers despite it being night.John checks the time and sees that it is now ten in the evening. He lets out a sigh and folds the newspaper, glancing at Sherlock who was laying on the sofa with his eyes closed.“You okay?”“You have known me for almost four years, John. I think you are aware that speaking to me while I’m in a trance would break my concentration.” Sherlock says without even opening his eyes.“Yeah, and I also know that if you don’t eat, you’re going to pass out one of these days.”“I am still fine. It’s a Saturday.”“How reassuring.”“It’s not my fault that you eat too often.”“Three meals a day isn’t too often, Sherlock.”Sherlock finally opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “You are going to speak to Mary tomorrow, aren’t you? What will you say to her?”“I’ll tell you after.”“Hm.” Sherlock closes his eyes as if he already knows what John will do. Still, John takes comfort upon the fact that Sherlock doesn’t press and gives John his own space. “Whatever it is, I wish you the best of luck.”“That… means a lot to me, actually. Thanks, Sherlock.”“Although, I’d like for you to talk quickly. We are going to continue this serial killer case. I dislike leaving things unsolved.”“Wow. Thanks, Sherlock. Appreciate it.” He dryly replies, resulting to Sherlock smirking with his eyes closed. “Right, well, I’m heading upstairs to sleep.”“Do you really feel the need to announce it?”“Oh, sod off, Sherlock,” John scoffs and shakes his head, grinning to himself as he walks towards the stairs. “Good night.”Sherlock hums, listening to his friend’s fading footsteps and a door closing. Once John is out of earshot, Sherlock opens his eyes. He kneels on the ground, leaning over in order to reach underneath the sofa. Sherlock takes his small box of nicotine patches and opens it.As he was about to take four patches, he hears footsteps in the landing area. Sherlock immediately pushes the patches back into the box, away from John’s prying eyes. He stands and waits for the door to open, but it never does.Sherlock furrows his brows before walking towards it, turning the knob and pulling it open.He softens once his eyes fall on a figure with their back towards him as if they were about to walk back downstairs. The young woman is wearing an open brown coat over her maroon dress with a scarf around her neck.Jocelyn was shivering from the cold, and she appears in distraught with her flushed cheeks.She looks up at him, remaining at his doorstep. “Hey.”“Hello.” Sherlock continues to stare, a bit confused. He could tell that she is cold, but he could not move.She crosses her arms over her chest. Jocelyn tries to muster a small smile. “I was just in the street. I thought I should come by and… I know it’s late.”“Yes, it is.” Sherlock says before thinking.She swallows. “Right, yeah. You’re right. I should probably go,” she stammers and turns to make her way downstairs.Sherlock knots his brows together before realizing his error. “No, I did not mean—no,” he reaches over without thinking, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. She halts and looks up at him. “Please, come in.”She bites down on her lip before nodding. He steps aside to let her inside, and she walks in.Jocelyn turns to face him. “I know you’re not going to tell me about Magnussen, no matter how many times I’d ask.” He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up her hand. “No, let me finish. I just want you to tell me that this will work.”“What?”She steps closer to him. “Tell me it’ll be okay. Promise me that whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”Sherlock is uncertain of why she is asking this. “You’re going to be okay, Jocelyn.”She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I said we, Sherlock. Tell me we are going to be okay.”He surveys her whole expression, taking in the look in her eyes. He wonders what drove her into coming here so late at night after not seeing each other for so long. He has no idea how long it has been—he does know, that was a lie he tells himself—since she was in Baker Street, but seeing her here makes the flat much more alive and… easy.Sherlock slowly nods. “We will be alright. I promise.”The relief flooding her face was profoundly satisfying to witness. “Good.”“Is that all that you came here for?’“Yes. Yeah, that’s… that’s it. I just wanted to ask you… yeah.”“Alright.” He calmly inhales. “I will walk you to the front door.”“I can see myself out.”Sherlock nods his agreement, so she begins to walk towards the door, inching closer to him until she walks past his body. Even the softest brush of her shoulder against his was mortifyingly effective on making his mind short-circuit. Sherlock glances at the ground and walks towards the fireplace, suddenly feeling cold. He turns when he never heard the door close.Jocelyn stops at the door, not exactly walking past the doorframe. She cranes her neck to gaze at him, and they share a look. She hesitates but spins on her heels, facing him once again. Sherlock reels back, anticipating her next words.However, words were not what he received. Jocelyn pushes the door closed and marches towards him, cupping both his cheeks in order to press their lips against one another. Sherlock makes a low noise in surprise, but he wraps his strong arms around her waist and pulls her closer.He clutches her hips and drove her against the wall, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Sherlock pulls away in order to push the coat off her shoulders before trailing his mouth down her neck. Jocelyn gasps as she realizes the words he tried to say with his touches. It was as if he was saying, I missed you, for so long, and I would like to show you.Without saying anything, she only responded with, please touch me however you like, I’m all yours.Sherlock hoists her up and wraps her legs around his waist, pushing her against the wall. His hands hitch her dress up her thighs, and she gasps from his soft and rough touches. Jocelyn breathlessly places her palms against his cheek, desperately kissing him. He pulls her off the wall and begins to walk down the hallway leading to his bedroom without pulling away from the taste of her lips.***It was morning, and it seems as though the sun demanded to be seen as the light peeks through the curtains. Jocelyn awakens to an empty bed, making her frown to herself. She sits up and goes through some of the clothes she left in his closet—definitely not on purpose.She slides on some shorts and puts on one of Sherlock's shirts before proceeding outside, attempting to fix her hair by combing through it with her fingers. Her attention was grabbed once she hears some murmurings in the living room. Jocelyn strides her way towards the opening to the sitting area, only to see John and Mary.The married couple turns to her. Jocelyn is reminded that the last time Jocelyn saw Mary, her stomach was still flat.John tilts his head. “What—”“What is she doing here?” Jocelyn barely has any time to feel embarrassed since she was barely dressed, her rage is beginning to resurface.“I brought her here to talk.” John calmly tells her, but her face twists with anger.“She should not be here.”“I’m not going to hurt anyone, Jocelyn, you know me,” Mary presses, but the young woman only shakes her head.“No. I don’t know you. Do you really think that you are welcome to be here? After you shot—”“Jocelyn.”She stops her words upon hearing a voice behind her. Jocelyn wavers once she feels a large hand gently curling around her wrist. His touch was enough, and she did not need to look back at him.This woman nearly killed Sherlock and Jocelyn was not about to experience that all over again, not after she just got him back. She scoffs and walks back to the bedroom away from everyone else.John gives Sherlock a look, which he returns with a sigh before following behind her. Meanwhile, Jocelyn paces inside of Sherlock’s room with her hands on her forehead. Sherlock calmly enters the room and closes the door behind himself.“I understand that this is difficult.”“Difficult? Sherlock, the woman who shot you is in our living room. Have you not realized how fucked up that is? Out of everyone, it should be you who should find this awful the most.”Sherlock falters, noticing the simple our in her sentence, which should definitely not be his focus. Definitely. “I realize that, however, this is not about me. Or you. This is about their marriage, and we stray far from it.”“By letting them use our living room for them to sort shit out? Is that how we stray far from it?”“John needed a safe space. Baker Street was his first choice. He would feel unsafe if he decides to reveal his decision to her in their home.”Jocelyn softens, immediately feeling guilty. “Decision?”He lets out a sigh, stepping forward to take her hands into his. “John is planning to take custody of his child. He will not be staying in this marriage. They will get a divorce once the baby is born. Mary will be on her own to fend for herself.”“But… he’s telling her this while she’s seven months pregnant?”Sherlock almost smiles, amused by the way she is still concerned over Mary despite her anger. “Believe me, I tried to convince him not to. However, I am convinced that Mary knew this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time. It would not come as a shock to her.”She closes her eyes and glances at their hands. He lifts both her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss on each knuckle. The corner of her lips curl into a small smile, touched.He looks at her with affirmation. “Alright?”Jocelyn nods and steps forward, wrapping her arms around his torso to embrace him. Sherlock freezes for a moment, but returns the gesture with a contented breath. “Are you okay?”“Of course, I am.” Sherlock mutters, knowing that she is asking this because of Mary’s presence nearby. In all honesty, he is bothered by it as well. Still, he puts aside his own feelings for the sake of his best friend. It was the least he could do.She basks in his warmth, wishing that she woke up next to him. Jocelyn pulls away, but her arms remain around him. “Christmas is in three weeks.”“Do you have plans?”“My aunt wants me to go with her to Korea for a few weeks.” She sheepishly smiles at him. “I leave tomorrow.”“Your aunt seems fond of going to Asia during Christmas breaks.”“She has a thing for their food.” she grins. “Do you have plans?”Sherlock musters a smile, feeling comfortable as her hands wander on his back. “I do, actually.”“Oh? Tell me.”“Why not spend Christmas at home?”“Christmas drinkies in Baker Street? Ooh, that sounds—”“No, I meant my home. Musgrave Hall.”“Oh. Oh… Musgrave Hall?”“The one and only.”“That old mansion is still up and running?”“My childhood home has not burned down in the last eleven years, Jocelyn.” He smiles in amusement.“Sorry,” she sheepishly chuckles as he watches her with a tender gaze. “And your parents will be there?”“Celebrating their anniversary a few days before Christmas, yes.”“Sounds familiar.”“Oh, it will be different. Trust me. So, will you come?”“I want to see the look on Mycroft’s face once he realizes that Christmas day lasts for forty-eight hours—of course, I’m coming.”“Splendid. I recommend you wearing a horrendously bright yellow dress.”“Should I also dye my hair blue?”“If you insist. It is, rather, a very sexy look on you.”Jocelyn gapes at him with a grin. “Since when do you say words like that?”“Ever since I’ve seen a fitting example.”Her face heats up like a teenager. “Oh, my God. Now you’re just distracting me from the real chaos happening in our living room—your living room. Sorry,” Before Sherlock makes a comment about it, she slides her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. He widens his eyes. “You shouldn’t have left bed so early,”“Apologies, I… I, er, had to come with John to… fetch Mary.”She smiles at him, finding it endearing how he still acts this way despite last night’s events. “You still should’ve stayed, I would have let you do… all sorts of things to me,” she traces her finger on his cheek and on the corner of his lips.As she looks into his eyes, they visibly dilate so quickly. “Jocelyn…” he says breathlessly.She continues to smile at him, backing away. “However, we have a guest. Better not make them uncomfortable.”“You are making it quite difficult.” Sherlock shamefully turns to the side in order to subtly adjust his dresspants, clearing his throat. She holds back a laugh by biting her lip, watching the flush on his cheeks. “Right now, try not to go to the living room. You might bite a pregnant lady’s head off.”“There are worse ways to go to jail for.”Sherlock lets out an amused scoff before making his way towards the door, exiting the bedroom to leave her be. Jocelyn sighs and runs her fingers through her hair before walking to the bathroom to take a shower. She changes into appropriate clothes and walks into the kitchen, taking some beignets and pouring herself some coffee. She tries not to peek into the gap of the door towards the living room, and just watches Sherlock continue his experiment.She drinks her coffee, feeling quite comfortable sitting in front of Sherlock as he uses his microscope. Jocelyn glances at the door again, but looks for a way to take her mind off it.“Is that for the serial killer case?”“No more leads there, I’m afraid. This is for something else.”“No leads?”“None. Their co-workers do not fit the description, John and I double-checked. Our killer is still out there.” Sherlock sighs, glancing at her from his microscope. “What do you think?”“I think that if he got away, he could kill again.”“My thoughts exactly, but our hands are empty. He’s good.”“We all get stuck. It happens.”“I know.”“No, you don’t,” she makes her way towards him. Sherlock’s eyes follow her, so he twists himself on his chair in order to face her properly. She settles between his knees and slides her hands over his shoulders. “You look stressed.”“There is a loose killer at the moment, and a trained assassin in the flat.”“And whose fault is that?” She smiles at him, while he slides his large hands on her hips.“I’m not about to kick Mary out of the flat, Jocelyn.”“I know that.”“You cannot seduce me into doing it.”“Who said I was seducing you?” She smirks.Sherlock hums. “Are you?”“Do you want to be?”“I already am.”Jocelyn sputters a small laugh, which pleases him. She leans in to gently kiss him, and he responds immediately. It was such a sweet kiss and it took away all her worries. Sherlock has never been so relaxed. They pull away, and the look on his face was enough to send her stomach flipping. At this moment, he was looking at her as if she is the only thing that exists.If only she knew that right now, that may as well be the truth since his entire attention is on her and nothing else.Jocelyn tilts her head back to look at him properly and he couldn’t help himself with leaning down, pressing the side of his face onto her chest. He feels her hands run through his hair to hold him close as he listens to her steady heartbeat.Sherlock finds solace in her warmth, almost as if she is more of a home than this flat he rents.“I have something to tell you.”“Hm?”“What would you say if I tell you that I’m coming back to forensic work?” He lifts his head from her chest and gives her a surprised look. “Not right away, but after this year maybe.”“You… want to go back?” She nods at his question, and his eyes fill with quiet delight at the thought of working with her again. “Well, that is lovely news, Jocelyn. I am incredibly happy to hear that.”Jocelyn lets out a happy chuckle and cups his cheeks. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”“Now, we can annoy Lestrade. Full force. Together.”She lets out a shocked scoff, and elicits a small smile on his face. “Cheeky.”“I am very glad you came last night.”“Yeah, after I arrived at your doorstep. Quite a few times actually.” Jocelyn retorts with amusement.Sherlock shakes his head, suppressing a smirk. “You are ridiculous. I meant—”“I know. Me, too.” She traces his cheekbone.Sherlock tilts his head up to look at her. “Though, I do wonder what compelled you to come,” he rests his chin on her chest, and she grins while running her fingers through his curls.Jocelyn presses her lips together, still smiling as she swivels herself into sitting on his lap. Sherlock raises his brows at her, but makes no move of removing her. Instead, his hands slide down her lower back in order to keep her steady.“I have a box of your things in my home.”“Yes, I’m aware.”“And Mycroft had it delivered to my aunt’s house, along with my other things.”“And?”She wraps her arms around his neck and shrugs. “Maybe I missed you.”“How interesting.” Sherlock quirks a smirk at her when she rolls her eyes. “What did the box contain?”“Oh, you know, some of your old stuff from years ago. Clothes, notes, case files, photos, even some of your old music sheets.”“Hm. I always wondered where those went.”“Haven’t really used those music sheets.”“Maybe you should again. Maybe you can play something here.” He gives her a look. “In our living room.”She only smiles at him and sips her coffee before climbing off his lap. The door slides open and they glance at John who had an unreadable expression.He swallows before nodding. “She agreed on my terms.”Sherlock visibly wavers, parting his lips. Before he could say anything, John leaves without another word to go upstairs. Jocelyn frowns in concern, looking towards Sherlock. With that, Sherlock stands and adjusts his jacket before calmly following John.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Christmas came a week later, and Sherlock finds himself inside his childhood home. It changed quite a lot, Sherlock always made excuses about not being able to come by for a holiday.Now, he is incredibly open to remembering the memories he made in this home. Maybe because they will have a special guest soon. The thought makes the corner of his lips curl, but he tries to be subtle about it.“Oh, dear God, it’s only two o’clock. It’s been Christmas Day for at least a week now. How can it only be two o’clock? I’m in agony.”The whole Holmes family are inside the mansion, along with John and Mary. When the married couple first arrived, they gaped at how extravagant the whole place is. Although, John should’ve expected a house like this, since Sherlock and Mycroft both look like they grew up in money.The doorbell rings and Sherlock finally looks up from the newspaper. Mycroft raises his brows as he looks at the alert in his brother’s expression.Sherlock clears his throat as he tones himself down. “I’ll answer it.”He barely gives them time to respond as he makes his way towards the front door. Sherlock doesn’t even notice the excited smile on his own face.He opens the door and pauses, smile dropping once he sees Bill Wiggins on his doorstep. Sherlock almost forgot that he was expecting Wiggins, who brought him the correct doses for each of his family member to be put to sleep.Sherlock hastily thanks him and shuts the door on his face, holding the small pouch of vials in his hands. He slips it into his jacket and walks back to the kitchen to resume his reading.“Who was it?”“No one important, apparently.”Mrs. Holmes had a delighted look on her face. “Is Jocelyn coming, Sherly?”He tries not to grimace at the nickname. “Yes. Although, she’s half an hour late. Her flight should have been an hour ago and the distance from the airport to here is—”“Oh, brother mine, don’t get too nervous.”“I’m not nervous.”“I am sure that your on-again-off-again girlfriend will be here soon.” His tone drips with sarcasm.Sherlock snaps his head towards him with wide eyes. “Jocelyn is not my girlfriend.”Mycroft lifts his mug to his lips, not saying another word. Sherlock glares at him before turning back to his reading. He keeps glances at the clock, absentmindedly listening to the ticking of it.Once their mother goes to the other room, the eldest takes the opportunity. “Why did you let John bring his wife in our family home?”“I asked John to bring her.”“You, of all people, shouldn’t open our home to a great danger like her. She shot you, brother mine.”“Yes. I think I was there. She’s pregnant, Mycroft. She should not be alone.”“With child or not, I would gladly throw her out of Musgrave Hall. She is not welcome here.”“You are beginning to sound like Jocelyn.”“I believe Miss Grant and I have completely justifiable reasons. Surely, her opinions are far more important to you than mine.”“Envious?”“Undoubtedly,” Mycroft smiles insincerely.“It’ll be fine.”“How do you think our parents will feel if they find that they are having tea with their son’s shooter?”“They won’t.” Sherlock glances at the clock once again with a frown.His brother notices and suppresses a smirk. “She’ll be here, brother mine. Do stop counting the seconds.”“You should stop talking now.”“Wonderful idea. I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline.”Sherlock gives him a look. “I decline your kind offer.”“I shall pass on your regrets.”“What was it?”“MI6, they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. They’d like your expertise someplace else. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in about six months.”Sherlock frowns. “Then why don’t you want me to take it?”“It’s tempting to send you off to a fatal mission, but on balance, you have more utility closer to home.”“Utility. How do I have utility?”“Here be dragons.” He shrugs. “And also, your loss would break my heart.”Sherlock grimaces. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”“Likewise?”“Sentiment is not a good look on you.”“I wouldn’t mind sentiment when it comes to you.” Mycroft mutters under his breath.Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Dear God, has the horrendous Christmas spirit gotten to you now?“Naturally not. I hate Christmas.”“Clearly.”***“Something’s wrong. It’s been way too long.” Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf.John furrows his brows and stands as well. “Want me to come with you?”“No. On my own.” Sherlock huffs and glances at the clock, seeing that he might be late for his appointment with Magnussen if he decides to go check on her. It doesn’t matter.Mrs. Holmes walks into the wide living room. “Where do you think you’re going?”“Jocelyn is five hours late. I am not about to stay here and wonder why.”“Sherly, could you calm down? I am sure she will be here in any minute.”“You mentioned that three hours ago.” Sherlock does not wait for a response as he walks to the door and down the hallway.As soon as he opens the front door, he walks down the clear path, sliding his hands into his pockets. Although, he stops once he sees a figure at the end of the path. His lips part as relief washes over him. From the short distance, he sees the young woman hold up a hand to wave while picking up her walking pace.In a few seconds, she was breathless in front of him. The first thing he noticed was that she was wearing a black skirt and light yellow blouse.“Sorry! Sorry, I’m so bloody late. Traffic today was a complete nightmare. Also, I never realized how long the streetway is. I had to walk!” she exclaims with her bright green eyes and amused smile, observing how he’s outside wearing his coat. “Oh, sorry, we’re you going out?”He takes a few seconds to realize she was speaking directly to him. “What? Oh, yes. I was, erm... I was about to come check on you at your aunt’s home.”“That’s… miles away.”“I know.”A smile grows on her face, glancing behind him to the house. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”Wordlessly, Sherlock politely offers his arm, and she takes it with a chuckle. He leads her inside and she gasps at how well the mansion has been maintained over the past decade. It still looks as elegant as she remembers.They both reach the living room where everyone was having conversations with one another. Once their presence was among them, the others glance towards them both and Jocelyn flashes a smile.Mycroft glances at Sherlock with amusement. “Either you were quick to teleport or she was already here.”“Shut up, Mycroft.”Jocelyn makes her way towards Mycroft, opening her arms while smiling as he cringes away. Mycroft rolls his eyes before embracing her. Jocelyn hugs him warmly until he relaxes.The eldest Holmes pulls away and the soft look on his face was immediately replace with an unimpressed one. Sherlock pours the drinks for them all and offers Jocelyn a glass of champagne.His parents begin to speak to Jocelyn about her trip in South Korea, and they all seem genuinely interested. Most likely because his parents might visit the country as well.In midst of chatter, Sherlock clears his throat and turns to Jocelyn. “I’d like to speak to you. Privately, if you don’t mind.”Jocelyn eyes him for a second before nodding and putting down her champagne glass, smiling at the others before letting Sherlock lead her upstairs. On the way, she keeps looking around. She barely even notices the room she was being led into.She smiles to herself, listening to the door close. “So, what were you—”Her words were muffled by his lips as she gasps. Sherlock’s hands grasp her hips, pushing her against the nearest wall. Jocelyn responds immediately by grasping the hair on the back of his head, eagerly kissing him back with the same enthusiasm.Sherlock pulls away and she couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. He looks appalled with himself, blinking multiple times before looking away. “I-I apologize. I did not mean… I shouldn’t have, er… I must have—”“Hey, it’s okay, look at me,” she cups his cheek, gently turning his head to her direction. “You can kiss me whenever you like.”His face flushes. “I… I had to take you away, even just for a few minutes.” He mutters with his deep and richly low voice. “I’ve been craving your presence for so long.”She presses her lips together to hold back an even bigger smile. “It’s only been three weeks.”“An extremely long three weeks.”“You’re being dramatic.”“Can you truly blame me?” Sherlock surveys her face, the glint in her eyes, the faint perfume clinging to her blouse, the soft wave of her brown hair. “I am a true addict. Once I’ve had one taste, I will crave more.”“You should write poetry.” She says in an amused whisper.“I’ve read John’s emails to past girlfriends. I will never disgrace you in such a way.” He says in a serious tone, which only makes her sputter out a chuckle, shaking her head as she leans against the wall.She glances behind him, now realizing which room they are in. Jocelyn looks back at Sherlock with a tender gaze. “You know… this is where I kissed you for the first time.”“Hm. Odd. I recall it was the other way around.”“Bullshit. It was me.”“Between the two of us, who here actually has an impeccable memory?” Sherlock teases, and Jocelyn playfully scoffs at him. “Let us agree that we met each other halfway.”She bites her lip and nods while chuckling. The sight of her laughing only makes him smile and lean down to capture her lips once more.He had so many questions for her like how her trip went, if she ate already, if she enjoyed her time with her aunt; did she also pose like a tourist as she did in Edinburgh with him? All these mundane questions he never thought he would ask anyone else.It is always only going to be her.Sherlock slips his tongue between her lips and Jocelyn moans against his mouth, making him pant. He reaches down, hitching her leg against his hip as his hand inches upwards into her skirt.Before his hand could slip any higher, a knock on the door makes them both pull away. Sherlock glares at the door while Jocelyn leans her head on his shoulder, stifling her laughter.“Uh, Sherlock? Your alarm went off, and you said it was important to remind you.” John’s amused voice is muffled by the door, and he walks off.“For God’s sake,” Sherlock rolls his eyes while Jocelyn holds back a laugh. “Oh, this is amusing to you, is it?”“I’ve never seen you like this.” Jocelyn just grins at him with wonder. “What’s gotten into you?”You’ve been gone for three weeks. “Champagne. Downstairs?”“You go ahead. I need to freshen up.” she glances down at his lips. “You have, um, lipstick all over you.”Sherlock reaches for the handkerchief inside his pocket and wipes his lips. “Had we been anywhere else, I wouldn’t have minded.”“Quiet, you.” She chuckles and kisses his cheek, and he hums. “Can I use your room?”“What is mine, is also yours.” He gives her one last glance before leaving the room.Jocelyn smiles to herself and wonders why he is so happy. She would assume it’s because today is Christmas, but he is not that kind of person. He seems so different today.Her smile slowly fades, coughing a bit as she presses a hand on her abdomen. She feels a bit dizzy but holds her ground. Jocelyn pauses before going to the bathroom to fix her disheveled appearance.Minutes later, Jocelyn descends from upstairs. She can hear muffled yells, confusing her as she approaches the other room. Sherlock emerges from it, wearing his coat and scarf again.“Sherlock?!” John yells.Jocelyn widens her eyes and glances towards the room, seeing Mycroft slumped across the sofa, and their parents are on their chairs in the living room. “What… what is going on?”Sherlock smiles at her and grabs her by the shoulders. “Today, you will be set free.” He briskly leans down to kiss her forehead, despite her shock over the fact that everyone in the house is drugged.An angry John walks in. “Did you just drug my pregnant wife?”Sherlock casually lays a blanket over his brother’s unconscious body to keep him warm. “Stop worrying. Wiggins is an excellent chemist. He calculated Mary’s dose, so your child won’t be affected.”“Wiggins? You let a junkie drug Mary?!”“Why did you drug them?” She glances at his family with concern.“Because they are all likely to stop me. And it is a good alibi to say that everyone was incapacitated during these events, wouldn’t you say?”“Did you… did you drug me, too?”Sherlock gives her a look of confusion. “Given your history, I would never.”“Then, why did I—”“Look, this is very sweet and all, and I’m happy that you two are back together again, but my pregnant wife has been drugged! Please tell me you haven’t gone out of your mind.” John glares.Sherlock swivels and takes a laptop from the table. “I’d rather keep you guessing.”Jocelyn just stares in shock when suddenly, she hears an approaching helicopter just outside in the field. Sherlock lifts his head and quirks a smirk. “There’s our lift.”She makes her way to the window and watches the helicopter land on the grass. “Sherlock…”“Hm?”“Please tell me you’re not going against Magnussen on Christmas Day.”“Well, I can’t do that. It would be lying, and I never lie to you.”“Yeah, you keep saying that.” She frowns at him, wrapping her arms around herself anxiously.He walks towards her, holding Mycroft’s laptop in his hands. “Do not worry. They are safe. The drug will not have any side effects.”“Will you be okay?”“Of course. Once this is all over, we can go home. After this, I might take you on a proper, erm… date.” He tests the word on his tongue with uncertainty.“What?” She gapes at him. He did not just casually talk about going on a date after he just drugged his whole family.“I could do better than the last. I’d like for us to be outside this time.” Sherlock gives her one last nod and calls for John to hurry. “Please, watch over them while we are gone.”She takes his hand and gives him a concerned expression. “Come back as soon as you can, yeah?”“Always do.”Jocelyn sighs and agrees, squeezing his hand one last time before going to see Mary in the other room. She reassures John that she will look after his wife. John nods before leaving with Sherlock.Half an hour passes, and Jocelyn is beginning to deeply regret not coming with them. She could have helped or done something. Jocelyn felt utterly useless for letting them do things for her instead of doing it herself.The house phone begins to ring. Jocelyn glances at the sleeping family but proceeds to the telephone anyway. There was this hopeful feeling that it is Sherlock, calling to say it’s done. To say that it is all over.She holds the telephone to her ear. “Hello?”“Dr. Jocelyn Grant.” The shaky voice at the other end of the line is a man’s. “I… I hope you’re well.”Jocelyn is unsure how to respond. The man seems to be upset, and it brings her a dizzying amount of anxiety.“Who is this? Why are you crying?”“I… I’m not crying, no… I ’m typing. And this… bastard is reading it out loud.”“Who is this?”“You… you should know that I missed you, Josie…” the man’s voice trembles, and her stomach tightens from the small use of her nickname.The temperature around her suddenly decreases, and the freezing December air holds her down tightly until she couldn’t breathe. Those words feel familiar. “What do you want?” She keeps her voice steady and defensive.
“N-nothing yet. I just want to keep… you on your toes for a while.”
If he knows the house number, then he knows the address. “Please, don’t hurt them.”
“Oh, I’m not the one… who is going to do the hurting, Dr. Josie. I think… it’s time for you to s-solve your own case.”
“What kind of sick game are you playing?”“Yes, a game. This is a game, Jocelyn. Chess.” He holds back a sob and she wonders what is being done to him at the other line. “If you don’t… win… I will kill this man.”“A-Alright. What case are you giving me?”
“Your case.”
“My… my case?”“Tell me what our dearest Sherlock is planning.” He pauses while she goes frigid. “I know what he has planned out. I’m always listening, Josie. I’m watching it happen right now.”Jocelyn grips the telephone tightly. “He never told me his plan.”
“Solve it, or this… man dies.”
“How am I supposed to solve it if I don’t have anything to go on?”
“I’ll give you a hint, then. What did Sherlock take with him to Appledore?”
Jocelyn feels as though she shouldn’t tell him.
“Go on. You can tell me. I already know… the answer. He brought his brother’s laptop, didn’t he? The one with so, so, many secrets. Filled with agents’ information. Such deliciousness, for a businessman’s newspaper company.”
She frowns before her face relaxes. “If you’re suggesting that Sherlock will trade his brother’s secrecy in exchange for my freedom—”
“Oh, spot on…”
“He wouldn’t do that to his brother.”
“You are quite right. He w-won’t. So, that brings us to the next clue. W-What does Magnussen do for a living?”
“He owns a publishing company…”
“You can do better than that, doctor. Please… u-use your imagination.”
She clenches her teeth in anger. “He blackmails people in order to keep them in line. Maybe to make a deal with people, too.”
“And what does… Mr. Sherlock Holmes do?”
“…he’s a detective.”
“What kind of a detective is he?”
Oddly enough, the first thought that comes to her mind is dramatic instead of consulting detective. Jocelyn’s lips part, glancing at the drugged family in the room. “A dramatic one.”
“Impressive, you’re actually… thinking like someone I know.”
“Are we getting to a point?”
“T-Tsk, tsk, so… impatient… now, what would a… dramatic detective do to a man who preys on his victims using blackmail?”
She wavers. “Give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“So smart… so clever… clever little detective.”
“I solved your case, now let him go.”“Not yet, but nearly.” The man lets out a muffled cry. “You’ll be hearing from me soon, J-Josie.”“No, wait—”The line goes dead and Jocelyn stares at the telephone in shock. Her mind goes blank as she wonders who she just spoke to.***“Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes. The drugs thing, I never believed for a moment. Anyway, you wouldn’t care if it was exposed, would you?”“You… put me in a fire for leverage?” John’s voice is tight.“Oh, I would never let you die, of course. I had people nearby. I’m not a murderer, unlike your wife.”John’s throat tightens as he flinches back, making Sherlock hold back a murderous gaze towards the other man.“Let me explain how leverage works. For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well, apart from me.”Sherlock observes him with a small quirk of a smirk.“One of Mycroft’s pressure points are his junkie detective brother, Sherlock. And Sherlock’s pressure point is his best friend, John Watson. John Watson’s pressure point is his wife. I own John Watson’s wife, I own Mycroft. He’s what I’m getting for Christmas.”Sherlock hands over the laptop. “This is an exchange. Not a gift. In return for the password, you will tell me how you acquire information. Especially with files pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson.”“Oh, she’s bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I’ve seen.”“I don’t need to see it.” John keeps his stern expression.“I enjoyed it.”“Then show us.” Sherlock steps in.“Show you Appledore? The secret vaults? Is that what you want?”“What I want is—”The loud ringing of his phone interrupts his speech, and Sherlock clenches his jaw. Magnussen eyes his pocket and raises an amused brow. John watches him curiously and the detective pulls out his phone and glances at the screen, seeing Jocelyn’s name flash on the screen. He hesitates, but declines the call, slipping the phone back into his coat.“Am I interrupting?”“What I want is to know how you acquire your information. I would like to see the vaults as well. I’d say it is a fair exchange.”“A fair exchange? You know, I honestly expected something good.”“Oh, I think you’ll find the contents of that laptop—”“—Include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft and security services will be converging on this house. They’ll find top secret information in my hands and will have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I’ll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath.” Magnussen looks at John with a smile. “Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He’ll be a very proud big brother.”Sherlock furrows his brows, but does not feel surprised that Magnussen knows what he is doing. Still, Sherlock has one fair advantage; he knows that the vaults are nonexistent, at least physically.“The fact that you know it’s going to happen, isn’t going to stop it.”“Then, why am I smiling?”Sherlock knows exactly why he’s smiling, but does not let it show on his face. Instead, he paints a curious look on himself.“Why are you smiling?” John takes a step forward.“Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake, which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves. And everything he holds dear.”Sherlock narrows his eyes.“Let me show you the Appledore vaults.”Sherlock and John look towards one another with a subtle nod before they follow behind. “You still need to tell me about how you acquire information.”“Criminals are the best source of information. They know all the best stories for the right price and defense attorneys. Finding information is not the hard part, Mr. Holmes. Finding a target? That is the difficult part of the job. One must always look for their background.”“And figure out the pressure point.” Sherlock holds back a smirk, seeing how his plan is in motion and Magnussen is none the wiser.“Pressure points for some. Like you. Like your brother. Like Dr. Watson.”Sherlock eyes him carefully and the three of them stop in front of two doors. “Like Dr. Grant?” From those words, Magnussen turns to look at him, a sly smirk on his face. “You paid her an unwarranted visit the other month.”“Yes, I did. Splendid thing. She has the softest hands.” Magnussen lets out an enlightened hum, Sherlock clenched his fists at the words. “The entrance to my vaults.”Then, Magnussen opened the doors, revealing a purely white room with no windows and small chair in the middle of it. He begins to stride across the room and circles around the chair.However, there was something else in the white room that wiped the confident look on Sherlock’s face immediately.Just a minute earlier back in Musgrave Hall, Mycroft Holmes stirs awake. Once Jocelyn hears the slight groan coming from the eldest Holmes. Mycroft pushes himself off the sofa, wondering how the bloody hell he got himself a blanket.“What… what did he do?” He looks around the room, seeing his parents sleeping.Jocelyn gulps. “He had your intake calculated and put you all to sleep. He asked me to stay and look after you all.”Mycroft grits his teeth and massages the skin between his brows. “Of course, he would. This would be the only way to keep you here and prevent us from stopping him. Which is actually quite clever.”“Your brother drugged you and your first thought is that he’s clever?”Mycroft looks through his bag and widens his eyes. “For God’s sake, he did not.”“He, uh, took your laptop.”“Oh, Sherlock. I’m inclined to inform the governing officials and call a chopper for this type of theft. Perhaps it is his plan after all.” He pulls out his phone and makes call, all while he slumps over the sofa from his body still adjusting to being awake.Jocelyn fidgets with her hands. “Mycroft, something happened.”He looks at her, giving his full attention and Jocelyn goes rigid. “Well?”She freezes. “It’s Sherlock, he won’t answer my calls. I don’t know if he’s okay or not,” she shakes her head and prays to God that Mycroft won’t notice.Strangely enough, he does not see through her lie, which is quite surprising since this is Mycroft Holmes. “He will be fine, Jocelyn. He knows what to do. Although, I don’t particularly see why he felt the need to put me to sleep.” He rolls his eyes and proceeds to walk outside.“Wait, where are you going?”“Appledore. My brother will be ending all of these once and for all.”“I’m coming with you.”“No. I’d prefer it if you remain here and keep an eye on everyone in this house.”“But—”“Stay here.” Mycroft gives her a stern look and leave the house.Meanwhile, Sherlock stands frozen in front of the set of doors that Magnussen just opened. There, the army doctor and consulting detective’s eyes wander towards the chair, seeing a small black flash drive place on it.The drive had a small ‘M’ on its surface.Magnussen walks around the chair, facing the other two men. “There are no vaults underneath this building. The Appledore vaults are my mind palace,” he raises his hand to his head. “Although, you already knew that.”Then, at that moment, Sherlock feels dread creeping under his skin.“You English people always assume that you know everything, when in reality, you know nothing. It’s quite sad, really. Here you are, about to ruin the lives of people you try your hardest to protect.”John stares at him. “What’s in the flash drive?”Magnussen flashes Sherlock a smirk. “The contents of Mycroft Holmes’ laptop.”The color drains from Sherlock’s face as he is still unable to speak.“I know that the laptop you have with you has been wiped weeks ago. I also know that you transferred those files in another location.” The man slowly takes the flash drive and walks towards the doorway. “And, I also know that you are recording every single word I’ve been saying to use in order to negotiate my silence.”Sherlock stares into the white walls, finding it difficult to move his body now.“Since I have the laptop’s original contents, both of you will still be imprisoned for providing it to me.” Magnussen stops by Sherlock’s side.The recording will be inadmissible in court if the flash drive has the contents of the laptop. Sherlock’s lips part in astonishment.“You’ve disappointed me, Sherlock Holmes.”John is watching the scene, seeing the look on his best friend’s face. The army doctor is slowly realizing that this might not have been part of the plan.“And I assume that the two of you are also here for Irene Adler’s list as well?” Magnussen lets out a brief laugh. “The dominatrix that brought the Royal family to its knees. A client of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. The two of you should screen your clients more thoroughly next time.”“I don’t understand.”“You should put that on a t-shirt.”“Are you saying that Irene Adler is your spy? She wants you dead.” John gives him a look.“She is not my spy, don’t be an idiot. You’re quite right about her wanting me dead, working with me will be the last thing she would want.”“Then, what are you talking about?”“Miss Adler would do anything for her status to remain secret, even wanting to go through the lengths of murdering me. It would be a delight to see her face on the news once again.” Magnussen says thoughtfully. “Speaking of news, you’ll both be heavily featured tomorrow. Attempting to sell state secrets to me.” He tuts in mock disapproval before glancing at his watch. “Let’s go outside. They’ll be here shortly. Can’t wait to see you both arrested.”He begins to walk away, and John turns to Sherlock. “Sherlock, do we have a plan?”The detective remains silently staring into the white walls. He does not answer, and it makes John grit his teeth before following Magnussen to the front patio. Once John is gone, Sherlock closes his eyes and swallows.Magnussen looks out into the darkened sky. “They’re taking their time, aren’t they?”“I still don’t understand.”“And there’s the back of the t-shirt.” He muses, looking up at the sky. Sherlock arrives shortly after, still with an uncertain expression.“What’s Irene Adler got to do with this?”Magnussen hums. “She’s the one who informed you about me, isn’t she? It’s why all of you are very eager to silence me.”“I wouldn’t be too sad if you were.”Magnussen offers a smirk. “I just love your little soldier face. I’d like to punch it. Bring it over here for a minute.”John stares in disbelief for a moment, glancing at Sherlock who would not dare to meet his friend’s eyes.“For Mary. Bring me your face.”John strides forward and does what he is told. Then Magnussen asks him to lean forward and stick his face out, which he does with hesitancy.“Now, can I flick it?” Both men stare at one another, one with amusement and one with rage. And Magnussen begins to flick his face to his own amusement. It makes Sherlock physically sick. “It works like this, Dr. Watson. I know who Mary hurt and killed. I know where to find people who want to kill her. I have their addresses and phone numbers. All in my mind palace. I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down, and I will. Unless you let me flick your face.”John flinches again and tries his best not to reach over and strangle him with his bare hands.“This is what I do to whole countries. Just because I know. Knowing… is owning.” He chuckles and turns to John again. “But Mrs. Watson’s identity isn’t the only one, is it? I believe it has something to do with a certain scientist in your home. Jocelyn Melrose Grant.” For show, he licks his lips.Sherlock finally snaps his head towards him with fury in his eyes. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”Magnussen is unfazed, but humored. “She is a lovely lady, Mr. Holmes. I’m not entirely sure how you managed. That perfume of hers, I still have it memorized. Quite difficult to forget.”From those words, Sherlock’s fists clench until his nails are digging into his palms. “You said I was one of my brother’s pressure points, which means there are multiple. I can only infer that Dr. Grant is one of them.”“You’re right, she is.”“And she is one of mine.”“Of course.”“Then, why did you never target her?” He shakes his head.Yes, of course. The fire that John was put under, Sherlock expected Jocelyn to follow soon after. If he had chosen to target Jocelyn, both Mycroft and Sherlock go down.The grin on Magnussen’s face was menacing, as if to mock everything Sherlock thought he knew. “Now, why would I do that?”Sherlock feels his own skin crawl beneath his coat. “But… you have the contents of her file.”“What file?” His tone is mocking and amused.“You… you mentioned it in Baker Street. The file. New York.”However, the man only shrugs. “Well. I must have deleted those. You’d know what that means, right, Mr. Holmes?”Sherlock can feel his chest caving in. This cannot be happening.“Luckily for her, you are not the only one who wishes to protect that woman. And unfortunately for you, you are the weaker negotiator.”Before Sherlock could even wrap his head around what Magnussen just said, the sounds of an approaching helicopter began to enter their earshot. Sherlock’s eyes are wide and clueless, the terror in his eyes as he realizes his mistake.He never considered the possibility of Magnussen making a side deal with someone else who would protect Jocelyn.
“Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, step away from that man.”
“Here we go, Mr. Holmes!” Magnussen yells.Sherlock has barely any time to react, hearing specific voice in his head and specifically the Woman’s. Sherlock hears the voice of the Woman in his ear, urging him to do what is necessary. To do her plan.Now, the only words he can think of are, Forgive me, Jocelyn.He squints his eyes from the blinding spotlight. “To clarify, the Appledore vaults only exist in your mind. Nowhere else, just there.”“They’re not real! They never have been!”“Sherlock, what do we do?” John looks towards his friend. Sherlock eyes the pocket of John’s coat.“Nothing! There’s nothing to be done! Oh, I’m not a villain. I have no evil plan. I’m a businessman, acquiring and distributing assets. You happen to be one of them. Sorry, no chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes.”The detective glances at John, pondering if he should do this. John deserves to raise his child in a safe environment. Even Mary Morstan and Irene Adler deserve to live their life.“Oh, do your research,” Sherlock steps forward and slips his hand into John’s pocket, curling his hand around the handgun and pulling it out. “I’m not a hero. I’m a high-functioning sociopath! Merry Christmas!”The adrenaline he felt almost dizzied him. Seeing the look of horror in Magnussen’s face once he aims his gun towards between his brows, it was almost euphoric to witness. To see the man who harassed the woman he deeply cared for, fall backwards to the ground. With his lifeless body; euphoric. The kickback of the gun once he pulled the triggered; euphoric. The echoing noise of the bullet exiting its home; euphoric.However, once he raises his hands above his head and sees the bewilderment in John’s face, his euphoric state was brief. He realizes what he just did, and his expression shifts to utter regret. “Get away from me, John! Stay well back!” He yells with panic.“Christ, Sherlock!”“Stand fire!” Mycroft’s frantic voice sounds across the field. “Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes. Do not fire!”Sherlock does not need to look down on his body to know how many red beams are aimed towards him.“Oh, Christ, Sherlock…” John breathlessly gapes at Magnussen’s lifeless body on the ground.Sherlock turns to him with his hands up. “Give my love to your child. You can now safely raise them.”John wavers, realizing why he did what he did.The detective hesitates. “And please, tell Jocelyn…” he hesitates, “Tell her not to forget me.”John falters and he watches him with anguish as the detective turns to face the helicopter again, slowly lowering himself on his knees.Inside the helicopter, away from Sherlock’s eyes, Mycroft pulls off his headset with despair in his eyes.He looks towards the patio, and instead of seeing his fully grown brother, he sees the younger version of Sherlock. The version of him that gifted Mycroft an umbrella for Christmas. The same umbrella he keeps polished every week just so he can use it for the last eighteen years.Sherlock lowers his head, knowing that his brother cannot save him from what he had done this time.An hour later, Mary is watching as Jocelyn measures her blood pressure using Sherlock’s home equipment.Jocelyn briefly glances at her. “What?”“Thank you.”“I’m not doing this for you.”“I know. Still, thank you.”Jocelyn doesn’t answer, only taking her blood and immediately examining it to check if it’s normal. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes are still asleep on their chairs, and Jocelyn wonders how they will react once they realize that their son drugged them.She smiles to herself as she checks under the microscope. “Your blood level is normal now. The baby’s healthy.”“She is healthy.” Mary clarifies. Despite their indifferences, the two women smile a bit.“Have you thought of a name?”“Well, I can’t decide for it, can I?”Jocelyn realizes her mistake. “It’s for the best, you know.”“I know. John would make an amazing father,” she smooths a palm over her protruding belly.Jocelyn isn’t sure what to say. On one hand, she feels furious about Mary since she almost killed Sherlock. However, right now, all Jocelyn can see is a mother who will lose her child in two months. Although, she watches as Mary smiles at her belly almost happily.“She’ll grow up without you. That doesn’t upset you?” She narrows her eyes curiously.Mary sighs. “It upsets me greatly to the point that I might die, but the thought of her growing up to be just like John, it’s enough for me to be happy.”Her eyes soften, lips parting once she was taken aback by Mary’s words. Jocelyn can see that Mary is not ready to let go of her child yet, but also knows that it is the right thing to do.Jocelyn will never understand the feeling of being a mother, she knows that, but she can feel the pain that Mary is feeling.Before Jocelyn could respond, her phone begins to ring in her pocket. A breath of relief exits her mouth once Mycroft’s name flashes upon the screen. She answers the call and presses the phone to her ear.However, Mycroft does not let her greet him first. “Miss Grant, there will be a car outside. Please take Mrs. Watson to her house and leave my parents to Anthea. She will be there shortly.” His voice is tight and monotonous, making her tilt her head in confusion.“What’s going on?”
“Once Mrs. Watson is home, you will be driven to your aunt in Milton Keynes. I will contact you soon.”
Then, he hangs up the phone. Jocelyn stares at the screen in confusion, recalling the words of her mysterious caller from earlier. “Something’s wrong.”Mary’s head cranes to the left, hearing a car pull over outside.They see it through the glass windows and Jocelyn walks to check it. Anthea exits the car with her phone in her hand and makes her way to the door, entering the mansion, with several guards.Jocelyn immediately walks up to her with wide eyes. “What happened?”“Mr. Holmes has not informed me of his trip—”“Bullshit, he tells you everything. What happened?” Jocelyn repeats in a forceful tone while the other woman stammers. “Tell me!”“Jocelyn,” Mary holds her back with one hand. “I think we should calm ourselves down for a moment.”“I can’t calm down while the three of them are out there doing everything they can to save us both.” Jocelyn scrunches her nose, disliking the feeling of being useless. “You. You’re taking me to Appledore. You’re going to call a chopper and take me there right now.”“B-But, Miss Grant, Mr. Holmes said it’s too dangerous—”“I don’t care what Mycroft said! You’re taking me there now.” She aggressively demands, putting on her coat.Anthea finds herself nodding in submission and quickly typing into her phone in order to make a call.As she does that, Jocelyn turns to Mary. “You have to stay here with them. If anyone tries anything, I know that you can handle it.” She hands her a small bag from inside her bigger one.Mary eyes it for a moment, taking the bag before peeking into it. Once she sees its contents, she widens her eyes and looks at Jocelyn with an astonished look.The scientist only rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”“You brought a gun to the Holmes’ Christmas dinner.”“I bring a gun whenever I’m miles away from home.”Mary takes a moment to realize that Jocelyn trusts her with a gun around the Holmes family. She holds back the tears and just gives her a nod. “Be safe.”“You, too.”Minutes later, Anthea leads her outside, and Jocelyn narrows her eyes at the strong wind being propelled by the helicopter. She was assisted to ride it and they took off.Time passes and she arrives in Appledore, only to see many people scouring the area. Agents are scattered all over the place, as well as an ambulance. Her heart stops as her gaze catches the sight of a body covered in a sheet from head to toe, being carried into the ambulance. Please, no. Don’t be him. It’s not him. Please.There was a pool of blood on the cemented floor of the patio, and a small handgun next to it, as if it was thrown carelessly to the ground. Her eyes widen, seeing how familiar the gun is. It was the same gun she saw from Baskerville; the one John was carrying. No, please. No, not now. The helicopter lands from a distance, and she wastes no time with clambering off. She could not find Sherlock or John, or even Mycroft. None of these people are familiar, but she does not care. Jocelyn sprints as fast as she could, until a few of the security holds her back.“Miss, you can’t be here! Who permitted you?” One man had a handheld transceiver. “Set team one, we have a civilian in the scene.” He mutters into his transceiver, in shock of the woman’s presence.“Let me go!” She tries her best to push off the officer grabbing her, but they would not budge from dragging her away from the scene, yelling at her. “Let go! Sherlock!” She screams at the top of her lungs, not even caring if the other officers were standing by, watching her with uncertainty.From the other side of the house, as he was being escorted to a police car, Sherlock lifts his head once the transceiver of the police car goes off. He looks behind himself towards the faint sound of shouting. John cranes his neck around with curiosity and despair, while Mycroft widens his eyes.“Jocelyn…” he trails off with an unsure tone. Once the thought sinks in, Sherlock pushes off the officer who had a tight grip around his arm and begins to run.“Brother—”Sherlock ran as fast as he could. A few police officers block Sherlock’s way and holds him back. “No, no, let me through,” he swallows, moving his head to find a clear view towards the front patio, but all he can see is the blur of black suits belonging to the police force.“Get off of me!” Jocelyn grimaces when her arms are grabbed as they drag her away. Anthea was at her side, telling the men to stop, but they would not listen.Sherlock’s eyes fill with rage once he finally catches sight of her from a distance. The way those people are forcefully dragging her away is enough to send a wave of madness through him. “No! Keep your hands off her!”“Sherlock,” Mycroft puts an arm across Sherlock’s chest to hold him back. “Do not engage. She’ll be fine.”The consulting detective’s eyes are wide as he stands frozen, watching the police force take her away in an ungentle way. She was escorted to another car and driven away, while Sherlock watches. He could not do anything about it, and the officer grabs his arm again, harshly pulling him towards the back of the car.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Six days. She did not hear from Mycroft, or anyone regarding what happened for six days. Jocelyn finds herself remaining in her aunt’s house, not daring to leave it once.After she was dragged away from Appledore, Jocelyn was taken to building belonging to the government. It was terrifying to not know anyone and be forced to sit and speak to various people about her presence in Appledore. They all told her not to ever speak about the incident and forced her to sign documents—all while she still does not know what the incident was about.She could not stop thinking of that hostage from the end of the line during the phone call.After all of that, she was escorted to her aunt’s home, and she has never left since. She could not stop thinking about the mysterious caller. Jocelyn has never encountered someone who used other people’s voice to communicate, it was unfamiliar yet somehow, it brings a same feeling of uneasiness way back when—“Jo,”“I’m… I’m so sorry, I’m just not really hungry,” she feels awful since her aunt made an effort to cook for her on New Year’s Eve.Her aunt only nods and smooths her palm over the top of Jocelyn’s hair. “Stop worrying. I’m sure he will call soon. He’s too smart not to.”Another horrible thing is that she must lie to her aunt about the situation. As far as she knows, this were one of those tedious breakups that she would witness on television. Jocelyn could not tell her that she does not know if Sherlock is even alive and the thought of that already makes her sick.“Yeah, I know,” she's still staring out into the window.Her aunt gives her one last look of concern before deciding to give her space. Jocelyn folds her legs and holds back a cry, with her mind wandering to different scenarios.This is a different type of despair. To not know whether any of them are all right or even alive is something she just could not shake off.The body she saw at the scene, she whimpers at the thought of it being one of them. The vile part of herself wishes it to be anyone else other than Mycroft, John and Sherlock.Oh, Sherlock. The thought of him being gone makes her sick. The blood on the patio, there was so much. Sherlock.And that is exactly what happens to her. Jocelyn feels a vile feeling rise from her stomach to her throat, forcing her to sprint to the bathroom and kneel on the toilet. Jocelyn pushes out what remains in her stomach and coughs the bits of food from last night.Her aunt rushes to her side with worry, holding her hair back as she spills her stomach into the toilet. Once she is finished, she sinks into the ground with a sob wrecking her chest.“Jo, I think I should take you to the hospital, you’re burning up.” She presses a palm against her neck. “I don’t think it’s a fever.”Jocelyn feels too tired to even fight her on this, so she slumps in the passenger’s seat and lets her aunt take her to the hospital without another word.***Sherlock is sat in his cell. He has been stripped away from human contact for six days. He hasn’t seen anyone other than his own reflection for so long. In his mind, he has been counting the seconds he had been here.For the last six days, his entertainment and company was this.
“You’re thinking about me, again.”
“Is it really such a surprise?”The mind palace figure of Jocelyn smiles. “You feel stressed.”“I’m being held in custody as the British Government decides my fate. It should feel stressful.” Sherlock monotonously replies, not exactly showing his stress-level in his face.She curls her hand around one of the bars and looks towards the darkened hallway. “You know, because of you, John’s able to raise his child without ever needing to look over his shoulder.”“I killed Magnussen.”“To save them all.”“I don’t think I’ve saved them all. Magnussen made a deal with another person who… protected Jocelyn as well. Either that, or he sold Jocelyn’s file to someone, which will make it impossible to silence them while I’m here.”She observes him for a moment. “You don’t regret what you did.”He falters. “No. I don’t.”“You’re more concerned over the fact that you’ve done something that I was very much against.”“I did not conjure you just so you could taunt me.”“You’re taunting yourself.” She takes a step forward. “The only person who ever viewed you as who you are. Who saw through every little curtain you draped around yourself—you’re about to lose her because of what you’ve done.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? You’re making me say these things to yourself!” She seems frustrated as well. “Stop trying to hurt yourself. You know that she would never say any of this to you.”Sherlock buries his face into his palms and breathes heavily. “I conjured you, I can shut you out.” With pure anger, Sherlock bellows, “Go!”And just like that, her image disappears, while he pants to catch his breath after letting out his anger.It only took a minute for him to give in. He frowns at the silence, sighing as he closes his eyes.Once he opens them, he feels a presence sitting right next to him. The warmth is absent, but she’s there with a silent smile. This is about the fiftieth time he has done this.“You need me. Even just a ghost.”“Is it really… such a surprise?”One of the guards are making their way to his cell, and they unlock the barred gates. Sherlock furrows his brows and stands, following behind them as they lead him towards the hallway.Sherlock stays quiet, passing empty cells and smelling the faint scent of paper and metal. He was led to a room with a two-way mirror, eyes shifting in relief once he sees a familiar person sitting in front of a table.The eldest Holmes offers him a tight smile. “Have a seat, brother mine.”Sherlock reluctantly obliges and eyes the folder placed on the table between them. He immediately feels the need to ask so many questions, but he remains silent.Mycroft opens the folder quite casually and begins to read. Sherlock observes his brother, realizing how Mycroft finds it difficult to read his verdict aloud. Mycroft Holmes closes the folder and looks directly at Sherlock with undecipherable eyes.He opens his arms, gesturing towards Sherlock. “Do you have anything to say?”“How is she?”“Unharmed, I can attest. My secretary has been looking into her. She hasn’t left her house until this morning. She visited the hospital with her aunt. I fear that she might be sick.”“Might?”“Contrary to popular belief, brother mine, I do not know everything. Which you proved quite well six days ago.”The detective looks away from his brother in silence."In addition, I am fulfilling my vow to you. To never read her without permission. Frankly, it is a difficult task. One cannot just turn off their intelligence like a light switch.”“You can.”“Perhaps. It takes effort, however.”Sherlock sighs. “John?”“Currently under protection. Mrs. Watson will be under a witness protection program. If she leaves London, she will be protected. As you wished.”“Good.”Mycroft stares at his brother. “There is no going back from this, Sherlock.”“I should hope so.”“Once this is done, you will never be allowed back in this country.”“I’m aware of the consequences once I pulled the trigger, Mycroft. No need to worry. Will I be able to have a hold on my phone soon?”Mycroft immediately looks alarmed. “I am aware that you are allowed with one phone call. However, in this case, I would advise against it.”“Not for a call. Just… something else. Please?”Mycroft only gives him a puzzled look, but nods anyway. He watches the relief wash over Sherlock’s face as he leans back on his chair.“I’m very sorry, brother mine.”“Spare me, Mycroft. This was my own mistake. You are doing the best you could to ease my comfort. I do appreciate that. So, shall we?”Mycroft observes his calm behavior. He had just told Sherlock that he will never be able to set foot on the grounds he dearly loved and possibly face situations that will prove fatal to him in six months; yet he is as calm as he ever was.Mycroft pulls himself off the chair and buttons his blazer before escorting his brother outside.Now, Jocelyn is in the doctor’s room after the examination. If Jocelyn’s head weren’t pounding, and if she hadn’t forgotten her phone at home, she would be refusing to see any doctor and calling a cab to the nearest bar.“So, how are you feeling?” The doctor asks her once Jocelyn is seated on the platform.Well, I just peed in a jar inside a hospital bathroom. “I’m actually quite fine. My aunt outside is just overreacting. Could you maybe just tell her that I’m alright? She’s been so worried for days now.”“That’s not how it works.” He chuckles.Jocelyn sighs. She knows that, she’s a doctor. It was worth a try, though. “I’m fine. Just some light nausea, nothing serious.” Or maybe it’s the fact that three of her friends have gone missing and no one seems to have noticed.“Hm. When was the last time you felt nauseous?” He begins to strap a device around her arm to measure her blood pressure. “Do you get sick often?”“Hm. Not really. Last time I was this sick was two years ago.” Jocelyn shrugs, watching him scribble words into his clipboard. It makes her uncomfortable.“When was you last menstruation?” Her doctor casually asks without look up from his clipboard.Jocelyn frowns, mentally doing the math. “A month ago. My next one starts tomorrow, I think.”The doctor smiles and his next words startle Jocelyn. It was one of those moments where she has no idea what to say next, or if she is hearing things, or if she wishes she could not hear at all. All she can do now is gape at her doctor in pure shock.It takes her a few minutes to grasp the situation. Her hand slowly travels downward to her stomach, gently pressing against it through her shirt. Jocelyn lets out a shaky breath and tilts her head down to glance at it.She leaves the hospital that day, and the doctor tells her aunt that she is fine and has nothing to worry about. Although, Jocelyn did ask her doctor to maybe lie even just a little bit until the news is only between them.For years, Jocelyn thought that it is impossible for this sort of thing to happen to her, and now it is so sudden.When they arrive home, Jocelyn sits upright upon seeing various cars parked right outside. Her aunt pulls over nearby and just stares cluelessly at the people surrounding her house.Jocelyn frowns and exits the car, making her way towards the people. “What the hell is going on here?”They all turn and look relieved upon seeing her. “Dr. Grant, your presence has been requested.”“By who?”“By Mr. Mycroft Holmes. It is an urgent matter.”***“Christ, you look awful.”Sherlock hums, glancing at the way John’s eyes appear swollen. “Weeping for your best friend?”“Tears of joy. I hate living with you.”The detective musters a small smile before glancing at his brother. “Since this is likely to be the last conversation I’ll have with John Watson, would you mind if we took a moment?”Mycroft looks back at his brother before nodded, jerking his head towards the side of the jet, directing his men to give them a moment of privacy.“So, here we are.”Sherlock puts his own arms behind his back. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”“Sorry?”“That’s the whole of it. If you’re looking for baby names.”“No, we’ve had a scan. We’re pretty sure it’s a girl.”Sherlock’s eyes light up. “Oh.”“I was about to tell you on Christmas day. But then we, you know…”“Right. My sincerest apologies for interrupting your announcement.”John only lets out a small chuckle, but it was layered with sadness. “I was going to ask you to be her godfather, too.”“Oh…”“Yeah, and Jocelyn as godmother.”Sherlock cracks a smile at the mention of her. “She would adore that.”John lets out a fond laugh. “She’s probably more excited about this than the rest of us. My kid might even like her more than me.”The detective is amused by the idea, imagining Jocelyn immediately being acting as the overly dramatic godmother for this baby—he wishes he could be there to watch it all happen. “How’s Mary?”“She’s fine. I… changed my mind about forbidding her to see the baby. I think I’ll let her visit during weekends.”“Really? Good. No mother should be parted from their child, so long as they love them.” Sherlock nods.John thinks about his words and finds himself agreeing. Mary may have done some terrible things, but John will never doubt her love for their baby. Sherlock presses his lips together, unsure what else to say.John steps forward to speak quietly. “Have you, er, spoken to—”“No,” the detective shakes his head.“Why not?”“Not a good idea.”“Sherlock, you can’t just disappear on her again.”Sherlock lowers his head and tries to think of words to say. “John, there’s something I should say. I’ve meant to say always, and then, never have. Since it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again, I might as well say it now.”John anticipates his words, noticing how serious his tone is.“Sherlock is actually a girl’s name.” Please, do not forget me.John grins and looks away with a laugh, making Sherlock smile as well. “It’s not.”“It was worth a try.”“I’m not naming my daughter after you.”“I think it could work.” They share a glance and just smile at one another. Sherlock removes his right glove and reaches out between them for a handshake. “To the very best of times, John.”John stares at his hand, looking back at him with a look that says, Really? A handshake? Nonetheless, he shakes his hand. Sherlock releases him after a few seconds and walks away while slipping his glove back on. As he begins to walk up the stairs leading to the jet, something makes him turn his head.A car caught his attention, just at the corner of his eyes. He stops all movements and observes how the car is one of Mycroft’s.Sherlock is still standing on the stairs when the car door is flung open and reveals a frightened woman.His eyes widen momentarily and so he sharply turns his gaze towards his older brother. “You phoned her?”He slowly descends from the stairs and watches as brief relief washes over the brunette lady upon seeing him. He cannot face her this way, knowing what he has done and knowing how this will be the last. Sherlock’s chest is beginning to cave in, he cannot do this.“Time to make amends, brother dear. And maybe, a proper goodbye.”Sherlock feels furious over his brother for doing this to him. He was supposed to leave the country without anything making him want to stay.Seeing her again and knowing that he will never be able to do so soon, it made him want to beg his brother to let him remain in London.When she is finally right in front of him, with dark circles under her eyes that only hints lack of sleep, Sherlock forgets how to speak for a moment.Jocelyn’s green eyes were wide and bewildered as she reaches up to cup his cheeks, as if to check if he was real. Her breath catches in her throat before she grabs his shoulders and wraps her arms around his neck, embracing him like he will disappear in any minute.Sherlock is taken aback by her gesture, but returns the hug, nonetheless.She chokes back a sob. “You’re alive. You… you’re alive.”Sherlock musters a small smile, eyes closing at her warmth in his arms. He can feel her trembling as she pulls away.“Hello.”“Hello? Six days of nothing and your first word to me is hello? You are insuffereable! Where the hell were you?”He parts his lips, feeling her anger radiate through her body. “Erm, I… I was detained for six days by the MI6.”“Why?”The detective sighs. Since she is here already, might as well be honest with her. “If it would not be a bother, I’d also like to have a moment alone with Jocelyn Grant.”Mycroft nods at his secret service employee, making him lead them to a farther destination to watch the pair from a distance, John following suit.“I’m going to Eastern Europe on an undercover work.”“Oh, you were detained for six days just so you can go to Eastern Europe to solve more of your bloody cases?” She sarcastically says.“Yes…”She closes her eyes, containing her frustration over this man in front of herself. “You were gone for almost a week, Sherlock, and now you’re saying that you were detained? Why?”He takes a deep breath, and he says, “I killed Magnussen.”The color drains from her face, staring at him in shock. Sherlock could not look, but he also found it difficult to look away. Somehow, he wanted to watch it happen; her face twisting with disgust by his actions. After all, she is the only person most capable of hurting Sherlock… and he wants to feel the pain.“My plan failed, and I was forced to go the coward’s way out. I failed you,” his voice breaks at the end.However, Jocelyn shakes her head, furrowing her brows at him. “You didn’t fail me, Sherlock.”“I… I didn’t even set you free. All of this has been for nothing.”“It’s not for nothing. John is going to raise his daughter as safely as he could, and Mary can live a normal life now, too. Even Irene can breathe.”“But none of those include you.”Jocelyn weakly smiles at him. “You know that I can take care of myself.” She tries to lighten the mood, but he averts his gaze. “Look at me.”He forces himself to lift his eyes from the ground and onto her tired eyes.“You never failed me. You’ve done everything in your power to protect me, and that is something I can never repay.”Sherlock almost gapes at her in surprise, her words becoming unexpected to his ears. Jocelyn has always been vocal about not taking a life, taking her past into consideration.Although, right now, she genuinely seems as if she sees nothing wrong with what he did. She appears distraught, but mostly because she knows that he will be punished for this.“But… you do not—”“Mary and Irene were right. People like Magnussen don’t deserve to live.” Her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip wobbles. “But it shouldn’t have been you,” she muffles a sob, screwing her eyes shut as tears escape from them.Sherlock wavers at her words, realizing that she is more upset by the fact that out of everyone, he was the one who did it.“What’s going to happen to you?”“Exile. I will no longer be allowed on the grounds of Britain. Undercover work, as I mentioned.”She sniffles. “On your own?”“Hm. Yes.” Alone protects me.“And then what?”“Who knows.”The feeling of rope around his neck would be the last thing he would feel, and the fact that it will not be Jocelyn’s frail and boney hand in his while he lays on a bed during his old age and final day. How could something as mundane as that vision cause him so much sadness?Although, Jocelyn is clever in her own way. Her face whitens like a sheet, giving him the impression that she knew. “No…”Sherlock wavers at the sight of her breaking. His lips part before she takes a step back, tears sliding down her cheeks. Sherlock momentarily panics and pulls her to his chest. “Please, do not cry. John is not aware of this.”“Sh-Sherlock, they… they can’t do this. They can’t!”“There’s frankly nothing to be done. Mycroft has done everything he could. He gave me a case that would extend my remaining time.”She could barely hear what he was saying, too wrapped up by the fact that Sherlock is being sent to his death in six months. “No, no, you… you can’t go,” as instinct, her hand presses against her lower stomach.“I can’t stay.”“You have to,” she tightens her grip on his coat. “You can’t leave me, please.”Sherlock can feel his eyes sting. It was a rare moment for him to have tears in his eyes, but he cannot help it. “Jocelyn…”Jocelyn screws her eyes shut. Just tell him. Tell him, go on. You can do it. You can make him stay.
Or make him dread leaving and be in constant regret while he is miles away.
“I can come with you.”Sherlock lets out a surprised and fond chuckle, but the look on her face suggests she is serious. “Jocelyn, you cannot abandon the life you have built here in London for me.”“If I can’t do that, neither can you.”“I don’t have much of a choice.”“I can ask Mycroft to—”“This isn’t his decision to make.”“I can come visit you or call you.”“The government won’t let that happen.”She sharply inhales. “Why do I feel like you don’t want me around anymore?”“This case I will be taking, it will be too dangerous. I will be traveling to different countries every three days or so. It won’t be safe for either of us.”“If it’s not a safe environment, then why take it?”“Would you rather me be killed in a week, or six months?”Her face softens from his harsh yet calm words, rendering her speechless.“As I said, you cannot come visit me or come along. I regret that neither of us are permitted to see each other.”She hates how calm he is, as if all of this is okay. “Sherlock… someone called that afternoon, at your parents’ home. I didn’t know who it was, but he mentioned that he knew about your plan.”Sherlock furrows his brows. This must be the person who Magnussen made a deal with. “What else did they say?”“He… he told me that he missed me. Like I knew who he was.”He stares off into the distance, eyes darting from side to side as he wonders who this caller might be.“Why are you telling me this?”She weakly smiles. “Maybe you’d want to stay and solve this one?”Sherlock lets out a sigh, taking a step closer to her. “Jocelyn, I’d like you to know that there is nothing else I would want other than to stay, but due to circumstances, I’m no longer allowed here. Mycroft will watch over you from now on. He will look into this phone call, just speak to him.”Her breath trembles, shaking her head at everything he was saying. “How much time do we have?”“Five minutes.”She grimaces, her mouth forms a hesitant and humorless smile. “I don’t know what to say,”“As do I…”Her lips trembles as she suppresses her emotions. Jocelyn chews the inside of her cheeks, feeling her own sobs trying to break out of her chest. “Will I ever see you again?”Sherlock visibly swallows. “I don’t think it is likely.”She looks down, nodding. Then, she cannot tell him. It will only bring them more pain. Jocelyn will probably get rid of it. She can’t exactly do it alone, and while Sherlock is slowly inching himself towards death. It would be wrong to do that.He clears his throat, noticing her silence. Sherlock observes her and purses his mouth. “I fear that you might think of this as the end.”“Isn’t it, though? You’ll be gone for real this time. I don’t think I can handle going through all of that for a second time, Sherlock,” she whimpers and screws her eyes shut.Sherlock watches her with guilt in his eyes, seeing how much pain this is causing her. “You can handle it. You are stronger than you think you are.”“I’m really not.”“Yes, you are. You will look back at this moment one day in a few decades with a smile on your face, knowing that you have lived through this.”Jocelyn looks at him with tears filling her eyes.“And maybe you will tell stories about me,” he cracks a smile, making her do the same as well.“I don’t think I want to spread stories about a dramatic detective,” she tries to add to the joke before wiping her eyes.Sherlock watches her for a moment with fond in his eyes. “It is not over, Jocelyn. It is only the beginning of a new chapter.”Jocelyn stares up at him, still appearing as if she does not want to accept any of this. He parts his lips, wondering what he should say next.“Since… since this is most likely the last time I will see you, I believe I have something to tell you.”She observes his face for a second, and her heart drops to her stomach once she realizes what he is about to do. The panic surges in her body as she stares at him in shock.“Jocelyn, I—”“Please, don’t.”The word passes through her lips before she could stop herself, immediately making Sherlock purse his mouth shut, albeit confused. He stares at her and she looks away.“I know what I said that morning, you know?” She says, and Sherlock wavers, reluctantly staring back at her in silence. She meets his eyes, still smiling weakly. “I know why you left that day. I was awake when I said it,” she holds back her face from twisting into another painful sob. “And… it’s been true for eleven years.”He has no idea what to say. All Sherlock can do is memorize every inch and visible muscle on her face, making the most of his final moments with her.“For years, I kept thinking about everything that could’ve been. If only I stopped wasting time.” She smiles humorlessly. “I waited years for you to tell me how you feel about me, and I understand. You’re not the type of person to just know what they feel right away, I get that. It never bothered me. I just… I don’t—” she sobs, covering her mouth. Sherlock’s chest clenches at the sight. “I don’t know how I should feel now that you’re going to say these just before you leave me.”“Jocelyn…”“I know what you were going to say,” she looks up at him, eyes swollen from hours of not knowing if he was safe. “We don’t have to say it out loud. We both know.”He slowly reaches for her hand, pressing their palms together. Jocelyn feels his fingers press against her wrist. He blinks, realizing how her pulse is rapid under the pad of his fingers.They lock their gaze together, and she presses her fingers against his wrist as well, and his pulse is erratic. She stares into his eyes, watching them dilate.Sherlock lifts his other hand and brushes his fingers against her hair in a gentle manner. He sighs through his nose, eyes filled with glum. In a way, it was as if he was tracing the words on her hair. “As you wish.”She swallows tightly and nods.“Jocelyn, will you do something for me?” He asks and she pauses before nodding. “After this, will you go to Baker Street and retrieve my violin? I’d… I’d like for you to keep it neat. Will you do that for me?”She feels her own heart twist. “You’re not bringing it with you?”“Baker Street will remain as it was.” He holds his head up high before tilting his head. “Maybe apart from a few missing coats.”Surprising herself, she lets out a small chuckle and smiles at him for a second. He feels pleased upon seeing the smile on her face. Although, the laugh turns into a frown and then turns into a suppressed cry. Sherlock feels the pang of pain across his chest.She nods multiple times once she composed herself. “Okay.”“Thank you.”“Will you… will you do me a favor, too?”“Anything.”Jocelyn swallows. “The moment you turn around and walk to the plane; don’t look back at me. Even if you want just one more look, will you hold back? Can you do that for me?”Sherlock still does not understand, but agrees, nonetheless.Jocelyn smiles at him again, a genuine one. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, but immediately looks at the other people from the distance, while Sherlock eyes her the whole time. This will be his last memory of her, and he will not let it go to waste.It was a silent agreement, for them not to run to each other and kiss until they couldn’t breathe. Once they begin, they might never want to stop.They both wanted their last kiss to be a happy one, and inside the four walls where they had their first. Neither of them is the type to have a goodbye kiss, anyway.They share one last glance and Sherlock steps forward, placing his hands on both her cheeks before leaning down to kiss her forehead. She feels her chin wobble, eyes closing as she rests her palms on the back of his hands. Sherlock presses their foreheads together, letting himself have this moment even just for a few seconds.Then, Sherlock pulls away. Jocelyn no longer feels the warmth of his hands cradling her face. His shadow begins to inch himself away from her as he steps back. For one moment, Sherlock keeps his eyes on her.And he finally turns around. Sherlock never knew how difficult it was to fulfill his last promise to her, and he was exerting all the effort he can provide.Once his back was towards her, Jocelyn’s face crumples with a quiet sob. She watches him walk away and climb the stairs.Her heart stops once he halts by the entrance of his ride, eyes wide and filled with hesitation. Jocelyn almost felt his contemplation of having one last look, one more moment.However, Sherlock forces himself to step forward and into the plane. He disappears from her sight and she lowers her head, covering her mouth to suppress any more sobs that tries to break out.Six months, and he will be gone. Jocelyn wouldn’t even know which day it will be, and the mere thought brings her weak to the knees.At the end, it was as if Magnussen still won.***She arrives in Baker Street half an hour later. Her driver waits for her outside as she approaches the door. Jocelyn remembers the time she first time she stepped into this flat during the two years of Sherlock being officially deceased. It was also the same day she found out that it was all for show; to save everyone.Now, Sherlock is truly gone. She will never see him again, and the thought nearly drove her to sink into her knees, whatever is left in her body. She spots the violin case in the corner of the room.Jocelyn sighs, tracing her fingers on the bottom of the case, remembering the day she gifted him this case for his birthday, despite his complaints of her purchasing something for him during a time where money was a problem for her. He kept it all these years.She sees the violin inside, smiling to herself and taking the instrument out of its case. Although, once she did that, there was a small envelope sticking on the bottom of the case, previously covered by the violin itself.Jocelyn knots her brows for a second and reaches inside to take the piece of paper stuck inside, assuming it was one of Sherlock’s compositions. However, once she flips the envelope over, her heart shakes in her chest upon reading her name scrawled on the envelope in a familiar handwriting.She puts down the violin and immediately opens the envelope, pulling out a single piece of paper, reading every single word carefully.
—Jocelyn,
This is for the case of something going wrong. Once you are reading this, it would mean my end. It does not mean it has to be yours as well.
Whatever I have done, I know that it was all for you. Which means that I do not regret it.
This flat is now yours, I’ve added your name to the lease. Every inch of it, and all belongings therein; yours.
I’ve written you hundreds of compositions. You may choose any, or even take them all. Maybe even none. Feel free to do as you please with them. Everything I’ve composed, they are all yours. Perhaps one day, we will meet again and perform them together.
I will be waiting for our next dance. However long it takes.
Yours,Sherlock—
Her eyes fill with tears, sighing shakily before pressing the small letter to her chest. She shuts her eyes and clutches the letter carefully.Absentmindedly, her other hand is placed on her stomach, gently petting her own skin through her clothes.She tilts her head before glancing at the bow inside its place in the case, reaching inside. Jocelyn pulls out a small fountain pen from the pocket, breaking out into a fond smile mixed with tears down her cheeks.
It would mean my end. It does not mean it has to be yours as well.
She nods silently, as if he was right in front of her, telling her these exact words himself. “Okay.”She looks down at herself and presses her lips together in contemplation. Jocelyn’s hand places itself on her stomach and lets out a calm breath.It was silent in the flat for a moment before something rings within the flat. She looks around in confusion, not spotting any phone visible within her sight.She folds the letter and tucks it into her pocket. She slides the pen into her coat and follows the sound, reaching the drawers of Sherlock’s table. She slides the drawer open and sees the pink phone from one of Sherlock’s early cases.She pulls the phone out and unlocks it, seeing three new messages.
Why are you not answering your phone? MH
Turn on television. Immediately. MH
Stay where you are. We will come to you. MH
We. He said we. Jocelyn feels cold welcome of hope. She turns to make her way towards the television. Although, she stops once she hears the soft thuds of footsteps outside the flat. Jocelyn pauses her movements, hearing the faint sounds outside the door.She walks to the door and opens the door, with so much hope that it would be the person she thinks it is. The joy overcomes her, the moment she twists the doorknob and swings the door open.However, she goes frozen.The happiness in her eyes are drained even before they overcame her whole body. In front of her, stood Irene Adler, wearing a formal green dress with her hair perfectly curled in place. Her eyes are blown with fear, standing just as frozen as Jocelyn was.Although, the sight of her was not the reason why Jocelyn could not move. She redirects her gaze towards the unfamiliar man right next to Irene. He was holding a gun with silencers in each hand. One was pointed towards the back of Irene’s head, and the other was aimed towards Jocelyn’s face full of fear.The man had a scar across his right eye and appeared to be around her age. He looked wild and dangerous to a whole new level and Jocelyn has never seen him before in her life.“Are you Jocelyn Grant?”She swallows and looks at Irene, who appeared to be pleading her not to answer. She wonders where her driver is supposed to be. He should have been guarding the door while she’s in the flat.“Yes.”“You’re coming with me.”“Why?”“I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions.” He sneers, shifting in his weight as he presses the gun into Irene’s neck, making both women flinch. “Car’s outside. I want you to walk to it without making a scene, or I will blow Miss Adler’s brains into these walls.”“Doctor. Don’t.”“Shut up, or I’ll shoot Jocelyn Grant in the hands. She won’t die, but it will hurt.” He growls into Irene’s ear, making her glare back at him.Jocelyn holds her hands up, showing her defeat. “I’ll come with you.”The man cocks his head to the side, motioning her to walk. Jocelyn clenches her jaw and slowly moves to his side. The man shoves Irene Adler into the flat and closes the door in such a swift manner.“If you move, Miss Adler, I will hurt her.” He presses the gun on Jocelyn’s hip. “Walk.”She blinks and begins to walk, stumbling down the stairs a bit. As they walk, Jocelyn looks at him from the corner of her eye. She closes them for a second before swinging her elbow backwards to his chest. He lets out a groan and the gun goes off, silenced by the device around the barrel. The bullet rushes to the wall, creating a permanent hole.Before he could attack her, Jocelyn frantically pulls out the pen from her coat and covers her left ear and turning away her right before clicking it in front of his face, praying to God it works—considering the fact that she never used it.The signals made her head ache, but she covered herself just enough to shock only him. Once she looks at the stranger, he was paralyzed on the stairs. Jocelyn’s breath catches in her throat as she grabs a gun from the floor. She aims one towards him, seeing how his eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping.“Who the hell are you? Who sent you?!” Jocelyn yells.She hears a gun cocking behind her, almost right next to her ear.
“I wouldn’t do that!”
Jocelyn goes rigid and does not turn around. The slight mocking tone in that voice, the way they carried themselves. That voice.Before she could turn to face them, there was a sharp pain at the back of her head and her whole sight goes black. Last thing she remembers was dropping onto the floor, in front of the doorstep of 221B Baker Street.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’re not making any sense, Sherlock. What have you been doing?”“I’ve been in my mind palace, of course! Running an experiment. How would I have solved the crime if I’d been there in 1895?”Mycroft takes a moment to observe him before his face falls. “Oh, Sherlock,” he sighs and closes his eyes, making his way towards one of the seats to sit down.John glances at Sherlock’s phone, catching a glimpse of a small photo on the screen. He reaches for it while Sherlock is distracted by his own mind.“I had all the details perfect! I was there. All of it! Everything! I was immersed!” He complains.“Of course, you were.”John views the screen, seeing various pictures of Jocelyn, making silly poses with wide grins. John swipes through the photos. “You took pictures of her in Edinburgh,” and he’s looking through them.“Calms me down.” Sherlock makes a low grunt.“You’re… reading my blog, too.”“Helps me if I see myself through your eyes sometimes. I’m so much cleverer.”Mycroft’s nose flares in anger. “Do you really think anyone is believing you?”“No, he can do this. I’ve seen it. The mind palace, it’s like a whole world inside his head,” John scrolls through his own blog, seeing that Sherlock is reading about the time they met.“The mind palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do, and I know what it most certainly cannot.”“Maybe there are one or two things that I know, that you don’t,” he pettily shoots back at him with an annoyed stare.“Oh, there are. Did you make a list?”Sherlock turns his head away from his brother and stays quiet. Finally, he glances back at his brother. “You’ve put on weight. That waistcoat is clearly newer than—”“Stop this. Just stop it! Did you make a list?”“Of what?”“Everything, Sherlock. Everything you’ve taken.”“…no, it’s not that. He goes into some sort of trance. I’ve seen him do it—”Sherlock cuts off John once he pulls out a small paper from his pocket, throwing it to Mycroft’s feet. John picks it up and reads it, wavering in shock upon seeing the substances he took.“We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that day. Wherever back alley or doss house, there will always be a list.”Sherlock grimaces, remembering the time he overdosed a few weeks before he was enrolled to a University. Weeks before he met Jocelyn.John’s hands begin to ball into fists. “He couldn’t have taken these in the last five minutes.”Mycroft lets out a humorless chuckle. “He was high before he got on the plane.”“He didn’t seem high.”“Nobody deceives like an addict.”“I’m not an addict, I’m a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my thought process.”“For God’s sake! This could kill you, you could die!” John exclaims, waving the small paper.“Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality.”“Is that what Jocelyn would think?”Sherlock snaps his head towards him, eyes wide. “Do not bring her into this. She has nothing to do with what I did.”“She is precisely why you did what you’ve done. Visualize how disappointed she will be once she finds this out. I hope that will help you wonder the damage you’ve done to yourself.”“Could you just shut up for five minutes? I have to go back. I was nearly there before you stepped on and started yapping away!”“Yapping? Sorry, did we interrupt your session?” John’s voice breaks with rage.“Sherlock, listen to me.” Mycroft looks directly at him. “I was there for you before. I’ll be there for you again.” He pauses with sincere eyes. “I’ll always be there for you.”Sherlock stares at his brother in silence, suddenly feeling the guilt seep into himself.He blinks, glancing at the angered look on John’s face. “Baker Street. We must go. Moriarty’s back.” He pushes himself onto his feet but miscalculating his balance as he stumbles. John immediately assists him, but Sherlock pulls away, claiming he’s fine.“I almost hope he is. If he will save you from this.” Mycroft blocks his way and holds up the list.Sherlock snatches the paper and begins to tear it into shreds. “No need for that now. I got the real version now. Work to do.”“Promise me?”Sherlock gives him an incredulous look. “I promise, Mycroft.” He rolls his eyes and storms past him, making Mycroft sigh quietly. The eldest Holmes pauses before kneeling to collect the ripped pieces of paper.All three of them exit the plane and Sherlock shrugs his coat back on. Mycroft goes to his own vehicle and leaves his brother with John.“Sherlock, you just kind of OD’ed. I think our first stop should be the hospital?”“You have a bottle of naloxone in Baker Street. That would suffice as long as my blood levels are normal.”“But Sherlock—”“What now? I was about to go to certain death and I’ve just been pardoned. I have to see her, and frankly, you’re not helping,” Sherlock rolls his eyes in amusement. “Come along John, better not keep a lady waiting.” An ecstatic smile spreads over Sherlock’s face and he hops into the car.Throughout the whole ride, Sherlock taps his fingers against his thigh as he bounces his knee in excitement. John almost told him to calm down, but lets his friend experience this overwhelming feeling of joy. After all, Sherlock thought he will never see Jocelyn again.The moment the car pulls over in Baker Street, Sherlock could no longer wait. He grasps the door handle and hauls himself out in the pavement, not even pausing to speak to John. Sherlock pushes the door open and immediately sprints to the stairs, unable to control his smile.His excitement clouded his senses and made the whole mess on the first floor go unnoticed as he pushes the door to his flat open.“Jocelyn, I…” he begins with a grin, but pauses the moment he sees a person who is most definitely not Jocelyn.Instead, it was Irene Adler. Her eyes filled with terror and confusion. All at once, the happiness was drained from his body and was replaced with anger and… and fear.Sherlock’s nose flares as he regains his posture and balance, grabbing Irene Adler by the shoulders and pinning her to the wall. “Where is she? Who took her?!”Irene’s eyes are wide, mouth gaping as she tries to find the words. The next name she utters makes Sherlock falter in shock, and John’s eyes bulge from their sockets.Meanwhile, elsewhere, Jocelyn stirs awake in a comfortable single bed. She tilts her head, wincing at the sharp pain on the back of her head. Her eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light around her. She jolts awake and frantically glances around the dark room.It was a small room, with what appears to be dark blue walls. She glances to her right and sees the mirror, and from working for police almost all her life, she knew that this was a two-way mirror. She shivers and anxiously looks around for anything to grab, but there was nothing else other than the bed.Or so she thought.“Ah, glad to see you awake now.”Jocelyn neck snaps towards the sound of that voice to her left. A cold feeling overwhelms her body as she stares back at them. She can see them sitting on a table made for two, with plates of food and glasses of water on it. Once her eyes squint, she can finally see their face and her breath hitches in her throat. No.“Please. Have a seat here.”Jocelyn grits her teeth, mustering up all her courage before slowly standing on her feet.Her eyes fall on her arm, seeing that she has a white bandage wrapped around her limb.“I had to draw some blood from you. You know, to make a scene. It’s quite difficult to sow doubt onto people’s minds. I had to make them think you were hurt and taken.”She quickly realizes that she is no longer wearing her old clothes. Instead, she was wearing some light blue hospital scrubs suit. She widens her eyes at her outfit, already thinking about what may have happened. The letter, it was in her pocket. No, no, please, not that letter.“Don’t worry. I haven’t done anything to you. I had the maid change you.”“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”“And she speaks,” Jocelyn stares at the smile being flashed to her.A few seconds of remaining frozen, she finally makes her way towards the chair and takes her seat. Her whole body is tensed up as she surveys the food in front of her without moving her head.She can feel eyes on her the whole time, and she is trying her best not to break because it can’t be. It really can’t, it shouldn’t. All this time, all she knew was one thing. Now, everything has changed.With one breath, she heaves out, “What the hell are you doing, Laurie?”Her so-called friend, one of the fewest and most trusted, sits in front of her with a fork and spoon in both hands, ready to dig into his meal. He stares at her blankly. “Having dinner. Obviously?”Jocelyn stares at him in horror, barely grasping the fact that it is apparently night already. “Why are you doing this?”“I saved your life. A small thank you would suffice.”“I was safe in Baker Street until you pulled a gun on me.”“Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean today. I meant months ago,” he casually mentions. “Who do you think prevented countless of killers from getting their hands on you?”Her heartbeat races. “What?”He clears his throat. “Let me explain very quickly. While you are under my protection, no harm will come to you. He would have brought you in another freezer to relive your horrors in a previous one, right after he put John Watson under the fire. So, I made a deal with Magnussen to ensure your safety.”Jocelyn has no idea what to say. All this time, she viewed him as her friend. Her mind replays the events where Laurie would bring her an apple every day and make her look forward to each one. Never, for one second, did she think he was capable of something else entirely.She could feel a shiver down her spine upon realizing that Laurie knew about the walk-in freezer incident. Her shaky hands ball into fists, and he notices.Laurie takes a moment to observe her. Instead of appearing bothered by her angered expression, he seems amused. “I understand your concerns, Josie.”“Don’t call me that.”“Why not? It was what Moriarty referred to you as.”Her blood runs cold, as if the temperature around them decreased drastically the moment that name was uttered.Laurie lets out a soft chuckle, what once sounded gentle in her mind, now gave her a tremendous amount of fear. “God, he’s right. Mention his name to you, and you turn like a sheet.”“How do you know Moriarty?”“Please eat. I know you’re starving.”Impulsively, Jocelyn slams her palms on the table, shaking the plates and making Laurie lean his back on his chair, sighing. “You take me back, right now!”“Calm down. I’m offering you dinner.”“I don’t want to eat. I want to go home.”“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”“Then, tell me what you want from me, because that might be the only thing holding me back from swinging my fist across your face.”From those words, a smirk appears on his face. “Not very regal of you, doctor.”“You’d be surprised what else is not very regal of me.”“Ooh, so angry,” he stares for a moment. “It’s not that simple to explain, really.”“I think we have all night if you’re planning to hold me captive, Laurie—or whoever the hell you are.”He chuckles. “Right, now that you’ve mentioned it, I would ask you to refrain from calling me that. I’ve grown bored of that name now,” he mockingly sighs and stares back at her. “I’d prefer it if you’d call me Sebastian,” he nods. “Sebastian Moran.”Jocelyn lightly shakes her head in disbelief. “Alright, Sebastian Moran,” she says his name with blank eyes, toned with disgust and pain, making him smile. “What do you want from me?”***“Professor Carter?” His eyes were wild with panic and deep frustration.A few hours before Jocelyn woke up in an unfamiliar place, Irene Adler, Sherlock, and John were in Baker Street. Irene was sat down on the sofa, still quite in shock of the events. However, nothing can measure up to Sherlock’s hysteria.“Sherlock, I think you need to sit down,” John watches him, already imagining his friend’s blood pressure. That would not be a good sign after taking the substances he did.“Sit down? How on earth can I sit down!”“I didn’t know he would take her,” Irene insists with a glare, still finding it in herself to try not have the blame be placed on her.“But you knew he existed, right? This Moran. And you didn’t tell us.” John frowns.Irene swallows before nodding, looking down at her lap. John scoffs and shakes his head, watching Sherlock pace frantically.“Who’s Moran to Moriarty?” Sherlock asks with a sharp tongue.Irene only shrugs. “Who is John Watson to you?”Sherlock stops pacing, eyeing Miss Adler again with those manic eyes. “We must find her. There is no telling what he might do to her.”“We should call the police!” John presses.“And what?” Sherlock snaps his head towards him. “Wait until the professor is done with her before she is returned to us? If he can control even Mycroft’s people, it is not fair of us to doubt his capabilities.”“Calling the police is a terrible idea,” Irene sighs. “He might retaliate in other ways.”“We release his face and name to the public.”“That did not stop Moriarty and if this Sebastian Moran is, indeed, trying to replace him, then he would not mind putting himself out there. If anything, we would be doing him a favor. Giving him a spotlight.” Sherlock speaks too fast for John to comprehend everything. “And even if we do that, who knows what he will do to her.”“So, what do we do?”The detective icily looks at Irene. “You. Why did you never inform us about him?”“Moriarty told me to work under him. I only did it because I believed in Moriarty, I thought I knew what he was capable of.” Irene closes her eyes. “It was a big mistake in my part. I was naïve.”“What did he do?”“Sebastian is nothing like Moriarty. In fact, he claims to be better.” Irene scoffs and look to her left. “When Moriarty… disappeared, Sebastian has been assembling the network back.”Sherlock furrows his brows at her. “But I dismantled the network.”“Exactly, you dismantled it. Doesn’t mean it’s gone.” Irene disagrees with a shake of her head. “You just disassembled a whole jigsaw puzzle. The pieces are still there, just scattered with nothing holding them together.”Sherlock and John share a glance, uncertain of where this is leading.“When I found out what he wanted to do, I… I didn’t want to be part of it. I wanted to leave, that’s why I went to Jocelyn and told her about Magnussen. So, all of you can help me. Through Magnussen’s downfall, it was one step closer to Moran’s. And once he’s gone, the remaining criminal system that Moriarty built will collapse with him.”John knots his brows in confusion. “What’s Jocelyn got to do with this?”Irene has a humorless smile on her face. “It has everything to do with her,” she looks up at Sherlock. “Like I said, the pieces are still there, just scattered. And she happens to have the center piece.”Sherlock’s nose flares in anger, imagining everything that might be happening to Jocelyn. The confusion she must be feeling right now. The betrayal of a dear friend is not something easily brushed off. He knew how much Lawrence Carter means to Jocelyn, and this type of event must be horrendous to experience.He wonders how long Laurie knew Jocelyn, until it hit him.“This is it,” Sherlock whispers to himself. “The man.”“What?”“John, remember when Jocelyn was locked inside that freezer?” Sherlock furrows his brows. “Moriarty mentioned the presence of another man who he claimed that he killed. What if this Moran is the same man during that event?” Sherlock holds back the urge to grip his curls in anger for not pursuing that case, simply because he believed that she is safe. He turns to Irene. “What else are you not telling us?”“I don’t know everything, but I do know that Moran won’t kill her. You can trust that. She’s been under his protection since they met.”“That still does not justify you not mentioning him.”“If I did, he would rain bullets down the nearest populated building where I stood.” Irene glares at him. “I don’t want innocents to die from my actions.”“Innocents?” John asks.“Yes, innocents. He thinks that targeting them would bring down a principled individual.”“And do you claim to be one of those principled individuals?” Sherlock sneers.“I’d rather not be responsible for the deaths of hundreds.” Irene gives him an appalled look. “He is always listening, he will find out if his identity’s been made known, and that’s why he left me here, to inform you that he’s out there. He exists.”Sherlock narrows his eyes at her. “Was he the one who put wiretaps in Jocelyn’s house, too?”“Give me a break, Mr. Holmes. I helped her get rid of them as soon as I could.”Sherlock glares at her, trying his best to calm his mind down. “Whether or not he will hurt her, she cannot stay with him. Where did he bring her?”“That’s the thing.” Irene emphasizes. “The network is undergoing reconstruction. There’s no telling which country he’s bringing her to.”Sherlock clenches his fists. The detective burns his gaze towards her, and they lock their eyes, challenging one another. “John, inform my brother of what has happened. We look for Jocelyn now.” He pointedly says before walking past Irene and out of the door.“Look where? We have nothing to go on!” John stands and follows behind him.“We have to try!” Sherlock desperately claims. “We… we have to.”John frowns and walks towards his friend. “Are you even in a fit state? You just OD’ed earlier, you should be in a hospital.”“I’m alright, I just need… I need to find her. I need to find her, John.”Irene observes the scene with a frown. She has never seen Sherlock Holmes this frightened. He always seemed to hold himself on a higher ground than anyone, always proper and composed. At this moment, the terror was so clear in his face and body.Even his mind, but no one else can see that other than Sherlock. It was as if his whole brain was afire, every single neuron was blazing and sending confusing signals to one another. He couldn’t think.John grabs his friend’s shoulders, turning to glance at Irene with worry. “Call an ambulance. Now.” She nods and retrieve’s her phone from her purse, dialing a number without another moment of hesitation.John wraps his arms around Sherlock’s torso and pulls him to the sofa. Sherlock tries to fight him, but with his state, he was weaker than him. John presses his fingers on Sherlock’s wrist.“His heart rate is racing dangerously. The pressure might make the drugs surge through him even quicker.”“Can’t you calm him down?”“Frankly, the only person who can do that has been kidnapped.”Sherlock lets out a painful moan, clutching his arms. Evidently, his blood is pumping through his veins and it’s not helping his case.“For Christ—can you look after him? I need to give this pompous prick a shot of naloxone.” John shots up and runs upstairs to his room.Irene watches as Sherlock continues to shake on the sofa. “Is this your solution from being executed? Execute yourself first?”Sherlock sends her a glare while curling into himself. “You are in an incredibly unique position, Miss Adler. If it weren’t for the fact that Jocelyn seems to care about you, I would have killed you myself.”“Careful, Mr. Holmes. I think you may have forgotten than you’re the reason why I’m alive in the first place.”Sherlock stares at her with hesitation. “Answer me this, then. Is he alive?”“At this point, I’m not even sure anymore.”Sherlock’s breath hitches before squeezing his eyes shut. John arrives back with his kit and a small vial. “This’ll calm you down just until the ambulance gets here,” he mutters to Sherlock, giving him the medication.“No, I need…” While receiving his emergency shot, Sherlock relaxes. “I need to find…” His heart rate slows down and goes back to normal in several minutes. Although, now he feels dizzy with sorrow and worry. “I…” with the horror subsiding, it slowly turns into fear as he passes out.***“She won’t die, but it will hurt.”“I’m sorry?”“It’s what your henchman said to Miss Adler before taking me.”Laurie lets out a short chuckle. “Henchman… I like the sound of that. But I don’t think my brother would. You can refer to him as Silas.”“That was your brother?”“Do we not look alike?”“He has a different accent.”“A lot of history to unpack.”“She won’t die, but it will hurt… means you want me alive.”“Obviously.”“Why not just kill me?”“Oh, no. I can’t do that.” Laurie shakes his head. “You ask a lot of questions. All this talking, don’t you ever get bored of it all?”“I stop being bored once another criminal forces a conversation with me.”He lets out a laugh. “Right, yes. Because Jim, Irene, and Magnussen—I see, that’s quite funny.”“Just stop it, Laurie—”“Sebastian—”“Whatever—I don’t care!”“You should care, because I think we saved your detective from imminent death,” Jocelyn wavers at those words. “We had to play a spectacle to catch people’s attention, but at least we did it.”She softens, clearly astonished.Laur—Sebastian only smiles. “You weren’t expecting that, were you? Why would I save Sherlock Holmes if I could just chop his head off for everything he has done? Now, that is an exceptionally good question.”“What use am I to you?”“You’ll find that out tomorrow. For now,” he lifts his hands and claps loudly, making her flinch back.Not a second later, the door is swung open before a young Asian woman enters with a calm and blank expression. She lowers her head and begins to tidy the table. Jocelyn watches her with a frown, and Sebastian just waits.“Laurie,” her voice is low once the young woman leave. “Who was that?”“That was Naomi, the housemaid. She took care of you today. I expect you to be nice to her.” Sebastian stands and walks towards the door to leave her be. However, he stops by the entrance. “Though, I do need to remind you that if you try to escape, there will be consequences,” he waits for her to ask what those are, but she stays quiet—which only makes him nod. “Good night, Jocelyn.” Sebastian exits the room.Jocelyn sits on her bed with a deep sigh. Her hands slowly shook as she sinks into the mattress. Then, without caring if there are eyes watching her now, she fills the pillow under her head with soaking tears and quiet sobs of fear.
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Sherlock wakes up in the hospital and is immediately greeted by his brother’s solemn expression. Once Mycroft sees his brother awake, a breath of relief exits his mouth.The detective lets out a groan before trying to push himself to sit up.“What are you doing?”“We need to begin searching for her,” Sherlock says through gritted teeth.“Sherlock…”“Oh, don’t give me that look. I am perfectly capable of walking,” he angrily declares and begins to tear the wires away from his arm, making Mycroft flinch.“Sherlock.”“What?”Mycroft hands him his mobile phone. “It was found like that a few hours ago.”Sherlock views the photo, remembering this location to be the same place where he met Moriarty for the first time. “The pool is pink.”“An admirable observation, brother mine.”“Why are you showing me this?”“To inform you that the blood was tested, and it belongs to Jocelyn.”His breath shakes before his hands go limp for a moment, almost dropping the phone into his lap. Still, Sherlock remained as stoic as possible. “From that shade, a tremendous amount of blood would’ve been spilled.”“The police are currently investigating this.”“Has Mrs. Forbes been informed?”“Yes. She was quite… well, you can imagine.”“We must search for her now.” Please.“I see that as a logical step, brother mine, however…”Sherlock gives him a look. “Do… do we have a plan?”At least with Mary, her tendency to lie was clear the moment they met, but Laurie? Sherlock did not anticipate this.Mycroft appeared as clueless as he was, and it was a sight Sherlock was not used to seeing. “If we don’t find her by tomorrow, the police will have no choice other than announce her as a missing person.” Mycroft’s voice wavers, laced with pain that he tries not to show on his face. “And I’m uncertain where to begin searching.”One of the most important people in their lives has been taken and possibly hurt. The two brothers sit in silence, with their hands empty.Soon enough, it was night in England. Jocelyn has been missing for ten hours.Sherlock was walking down the street, gathering every inch of intel he could from his homeless network. However, he found nothing. No one has seen her or even witnessed any action near Baker Street by the time Jocelyn was taken.His hands were shaking as he walks down the street, seeing the elated expressions on different people’s face as if nothing is happening to him. Sherlock finds himself wanting to scream in anger, and he has never felt that urge before.As soon as he returns to Baker Street, his whole body was weak. His phone buzzes for the fiftieth time, and he knows it’s from John. He has been worried about him all day, since Sherlock escaped the hospital again. Everyone is surely looking for him.Well, only one of them found him.Sherlock gazes at the figure nearby the stairs, approaching them with a tired look on his face. His face twists in anger, while they look at him with regret and empathy. Sherlock lets out a huff and walks past them to go to his home.“Anything I can do for you, Mrs. Watson?”“Sherlock…”“All this time, you knew about him and chose to say nothing!” He almost yells out.Mary reluctantly watches him. “Sebastian and I had an understanding. I don’t reveal his identity and he won’t reveal mine. I didn’t know he would take her.”“I will not listen to people whom Jocelyn previously trusted with her own life, only to be betrayed at the end.” Sherlock’s eyes were filled with rage. “I gave you one chance in the past because of John, but now… you have harmed Jocelyn and that is something I can never forgive.”Mary frowns. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”“Please, leave.”Mary bit her lip and nods before she walks past him. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning back to face him. “I just want you to know that if Sebastian is still the man I think he is, then Jocelyn is alive.”Sherlock narrows his eyes towards her and she finally leaves. Once he is alone, he lowers himself into his chair and palms his face.Then, he realizes that Mary said alive… not safe.***It was difficult, as Sherlock expected, but nothing was more difficult than to visit Jocelyn’s aunt. Her initial response was swinging her palm across Sherlock’s face and yelling at him for being so reckless.Sherlock did not exactly mind, since he felt as though he deserved it. More to it, the sharp stinging of his cheek reminded him that he still had blood pumping through his veins.Their next move was to inform Harry Watson. John thought it best if they go to New York to tell her, since a phone call wouldn’t be appropriate. When they left her apartment, John tells Sherlock that he has never seen Harry cry that hard, not even when they were younger.Sherlock remained neutral with his face and body, but John knew better. The army doctor knew this was killing him. The moment Sherlock Holmes realizes he knows nothing, is the same moment where he truly feels like he is nothing.Once he is alone in Baker Street, he finds his own chest tightening until he couldn’t breathe. It was incredibly difficult not to blame himself for this.The news spread like wildfire through the people. He hears them all whisper about her in the streets the day her face made it to the front page of the papers. Adored Cambridge professor, missing, it said. The worst thing about it is that the tagline was ‘Famous detective Sherlock Holmes’ former girlfriend,’ so Sherlock stopped reading after that.So many have reached out to him. His parents, the Loréis, former classmates, various students, professors, ex co-workers and even strangers. From their emails to him, it was almost as if she was dead. Which is honestly ridiculous.Baker Street was silent and lifeless, with only the noise of Sherlock’s violin in the middle of the night.No one knows how to approach him, and it is beginning to feel absurd. It was as if it was the year 2002 again.He finds himself entering Jocelyn’s house, walking past the police tapes surrounding it. Everything she owned were still in place, and Sherlock was hoping to find any clue at all as to where she was being hidden.Sherlock’s eyes rake all over the empty home. He feels his own chest caving in as he remembered coming here during Christmas, when he gave her the tapes from her youth. He frowns at the memory and proceeds to her room. Sherlock is a bit hesitant since coming into her room feels as if he is violating her privacy. Jocelyn values her own personal space, as he observed over the years.Still, he walks inside, realizing now that he has never been here. He sighs, eyeing the room carefully. There has to be something here that he can use.Although, nothing would compare to what he felt once he views the framed photo on her nightstand. He reels back and reaches for the frame, observing his own youthful smile from ten years ago. Sherlock swallows tightly, eyeing the slight crack on the glass and wonders if he was the reason behind that.He puts down the photo and looks at the walls, seeing some old photos of his family and her during that one Christmas they spent together.Sherlock slowly spins around the room, observing every inch of it but finding nothing that could help him find her. He steadies his breath and goes to her closet, pulling out the small box with his name on it. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he was violating her privacy.He opens the box and goes through the amount of his things in her possession. He recognizes all of them immediately, especially his shirt—which looks a bit small now. Sherlock can feel warmth spreading over the inside of his body, wondering how she ever kept all of these. The thought makes him swallow, and suddenly, he feels a sting in his eyes.He remained immovable, until a week later.He was contacted by Lestrade immediately, and Sherlock felt his own hands begin to shake. The sound of Greg’s hesitant voice saying, “We found a body,” was disturbing at best.It was found burnt to a crisp right under a bridge. The usually strong Mycroft wavers for even a few seconds as they view the body in the morgue. John lets out a shaky breath, while Sherlock barely flinches.Molly had tears in her eyes, and she tries her best to hold them back as she pulls the sheet off the burnt body.“There’s, uh, no way to tell if it’s her, but—uh, the body’s… rotted for days now.”“That’s not her.”“Brother mine—”Sherlock won’t hear it, barely showing an ounce emotion on his face as he calmly turns around and walks out of the morgue. Molly stares after him and lets a tear slip from her eye.She hesitates before looking up at them, clearing her throat and wiping her cheek. She bites her lip. “There were traces of gunpowder on her. And, uh, chlorine. She died from blood loss through a gunshot wound, and was… set on fire afterwards.”“Very well. Thank you, Dr. Hooper.”John stays with Molly, as though to comfort her. As Mycroft leaves the morgue, he sees his brother speaking to Mrs. Forbes, who was demanding to see the body.He grabs his brother’s arm and pulls him away from the woman. Mrs. Forbes storms into the morgue with a cry in her throat.Sherlock widens his eyes at his brother. “She is not allowed to see the body of a nonrelative—”“Sherlock, stop this madness!”He shoves Mycroft off his arm and adjusts his coat, head snapping towards the sound of wailing in the morgue. He glares at his brother. “Now, look at what you’ve done. She believes that is her niece. Good job, Mycroft. Very well done.”“Let her mourn the way humans are supposed to mourn.”“There is nothing to mourn. She is still out there.”“And how sure are you? Please, Sherlock. Stop this nonsense now and—”“And what?”Mycroft holds his head up high and remains as stoic as ever. “Accept how things are. These things happen, Sherlock.”And that was it, Sherlock stares blankly at his brother. “You don’t seriously think that she is dead, do you? You? Out of all people? Why are you speaking like this? She is missing, and frightened—but she is strong and alive.” Sherlock insists.Mycroft’s face barely changes. “What do we say about hope?”Sherlock’s stare blazes right through him. “Hope burns the feathers.”“I only wish you would not raise yours.”Sherlock looks away from him before he begins to walk down the hall. “What do we say about wishes?”His brother remains unmoving, watching his brother stride away. “If wishes were horses—”“Beggars would ride.”***Her death was announced to the world hours later. Many people sent flowers to Milton Keynes, Cambridge and surprisingly, to Baker Street.Sherlock would look through the many bouquets and tiny handwritten cards from people he never heard of. He grimaces at the amount of flowers being sent to him. She technically never lived in his flat. It was never her permanent address, why are they treating him as if he was a widower?When Mrs. Hudson sobbed into Sherlock’s shoulder, he begins to wonder, does everyone truly believe she is gone?He ponders over the thought as he reads the newspaper, seeing her face immediately on the front page with the headline, ‘Former Scotland Yard scientist and professor, dead at 31’ and he reads for about half a minute until he reaches his name. From that point, he throws the newspaper into the fireplace and watches it burn.***The press went wild. Sherlock could barely leave the flat without a swarm of flashing cameras and yelling crowds. He was used to paparazzi—oddly enough, but now it’s getting to his nerves. The way they scream his name and then ask about Jocelyn was insulting.Sherlock knows she is not dead, but since they all think she is, wouldn’t it be offensive to yell out certain questions to him?Even Sherlock knew common courtesy, and he’s, well… he’s Sherlock.While Sherlock is bothered by this, he knew that Jocelyn would brush it all off. If she was here now, right next to him, she’d be narrating the news articles while laughing.For a moment, Sherlock wished that he had done many things before she was taken. There were so many words unsaid, that he wished that he could say. So many actions he never did. So many looks he never gave. So much time he never spent with her.Sherlock brushes off the thought with a huff. No point thinking of that, since he is very much certain that he will find her.***Furious, he strides into the crime scene with a hesitant John and gives Lestrade an incredulous look. “Why did you not contact me?”Lestrade visibly frowns at the sight of him. “You shouldn’t be working, Sherlock,”“I shouldn’t—what are you on about?” Sherlock rolls his eyes and walks past him. “Now, where is it?”Lestrade looks at John with concern, who only shakes his head as if to say, ‘Let him be.’ Naturally, Greg takes it in a way that maybe work is the best way to relieve sorrow.Lestrade lets them in, crossing his own arms. Sherlock pauses and his lips part at the view. John feels his own blood run cold at the sight of it.In front of them are three lifeless and rotting bodies situated on a raggedy sofa. Each body is positioned as if they were sitting. The body in the middle belonged to a woman. The man to her left held her hand, while the man to her right had his arm around her shoulder—and both men wore suits while she wore an elegant dark green dress. The man to her left held a rotten apple.And those details were not the main reason why Sherlock suddenly felt cold. No, it was the fact that the three bodies had no heads.It was as if they were severed clean from their shoulders, with blood seeping from their neck and into their clothes.“Jesus.” John mutters under his breath.From how the bodies appeared, it seems as if they’ve been here for days. John scrunches his nose at the smell, even raising his arm to block his nose.Sherlock steps forward and lets his lips curl up in anger, observing the way that the woman’s clothes are similar to those that Jocelyn wears.“He’s taunting us. Showing off, telling us that he has her,” he observes the way they practically have their claws dug into her.The others shared a hesitant look, but chose not to say anything else. Sherlock knew what it meant; they think this isn’t about Jocelyn at all, when Moran practically wrote her whole name on the scene.Either that, or they all think Sherlock is in denial of things.“That’s not the only thing here either.” Donovan voices out.Lestrade sighs and leads them to another room. As soon as he is in the room, Sherlock crouches down, eyeing the words scratched onto the wooden floor with a nail. He falters the moment he reads the words, ‘Miss me?’ They all probably think Sherlock is a fool for refusing to believe that Jocelyn is gone. The game is not over, and from how everything is appearing, she is probably being kept alive. He doesn’t know why the Sebastian Moran hasn’t reached out to negotiate with Sherlock, though.As John and Sherlock leave the scene after analyzing, Sherlock turns to his friend. “This is part of his game, making himself look untouchable. He’s trying to get our attention.”“Them, you mean?”“No, this is just Moran. We have to consider the possibility that the two of them may not be working together. It had no hint of it being Moriarty’s work. It was too sudden, too clean. It was Moran’s.”“You don’t think they’re working together?”“There must have been a fallout between them somehow. If there wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter if Moriarty is dead or alive, Moran would have went after me while I was dismantling the network. A perfect opportunity. I never knew he existed. I wouldn’t have seen him coming. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. Which means…”John nods. “They don’t work together…”“And if Moriarty is dead, then it would make sense for Moran to do all of this after both of our deaths two years ago. Two possibilities, and each is just as horrible as the other. Two psychopathic criminal masters in a row with each other, or it might be the case of Moran taking over Moriarty’s network after his death. And Jocelyn is right in the middle of it.”“Christ.”“No worries, John. We’ll find her.”“Sherlock,” John stops walking, and it makes the detective do so as well. “The funeral is in a week, remember?”“What funeral?”“Her funeral.”“Oh, for God’s—it wasn’t her.”The two friends just watch one another, and it was as if Sherlock is daring him to say more.John gives him a strange look, but remains quiet.Sherlock slowly holds his head high. “Go ahead and say it to me.”“Sherlock, I…”“You think I am a fool for claiming that she is alive.”John falters. “I just don’t want you to—”“This is not hope. This is factual information. I do not dwell on hoping for something. If I know it is true, then I latch onto it.” Sherlock glares at him and continues to walk down the street. Idiots.***“It’s Moran. He’s trying to tell us something,”Mycroft takes a deep breath. “And what do you suppose that is?”“She’s alive, Mycroft. The woman represents her, with Moriarty and Moran by her sides.”John and Mycroft exchange a look before Mycroft stares back at his brother.Sherlock breathes heavily. “It’s Moran, we all know that this is him. It is obviously him! The apple? He practically wrote her name all over the crime scene!”Mycroft suppresses the urge to snap the sense out of him. The only way Sherlock knew that Moran is good, is because he managed to convince Mycroft Holmes.“What do you propose we should do?”“I say we track him down ourselves.”“Have you gone completely mad?” Mycroft’s face twists. “If… he has Jocelyn, do you have any idea what might happen if you try to interfere?”“I need to try, Mycroft. I have to look for her,” he practically pleads him, which is something he has never done before.“I realize that, Sherlock, and that is why I have sent out five discreet search parties. If you are out there in the open, there is no guarantee what might happen to you, do you understand me?”“Moran will never reveal himself to your team, I am the only chance you have.”“And I will not risk that chance!”“Why not?” Sherlock bellows.“For the sole reason of not needing to suffer another loss! I will not send you out there, risking your life—”“Is she suddenly not worth it?”“That is not what I meant.”“It is clearly what you meant—you believe that she’s gone, don’t you? Out of all people, you should be the less convinced!”The older Holmes remains silent, locking their gazes with one another. “Dr. Watson, please tell me you do not agree with this,”John, who was sitting in his chair just watching the brothers argue, only lets out a sigh. “Last time you had a plan, it all went to shit,” he points out to Sherlock. “And you’re not even in a fit state to fly around the world looking for one person.”“I am always in a sound and fit state when it comes to her. But I cannot do this alone. I would need you by my side, John. Please, I… I need your help.”John frowns, glancing at Mycroft who appears conflicted as well. Neither of them wanted to entertain the possibility of Jocelyn being gone, but neither of them wanted to ignore it either.“Okay. What do we do first?”“We leave in a few hours, retrace the remnants of the network.” Sherlock appears relieved that John agreed. “I have to appear in mourning. Mycroft will maintain my image here in London while you and I will be going to all the places I’ve been to when I was dismantling the criminal web.”John nods. “Alright.”Sherlock gives him a grateful look. “Thank you.”“Difficult to refuse my best friend.” John stands. “The man who saved my life, along with my wife and daughter.”Sherlock presses his lips together in contemplation before engulfing his friend in a tight embrace.John was surprised by this, but hugged him back. “We’ll find her, Sherlock.”“There is no doubt that we will.” Sherlock pulls away.Mycroft is still unconvinced. “How sure are you that she is safe in the hands of Sebastian Moran?”“I would say it is because of how he feels for her, but considering the fact that I did not see his connections to Moriarty, it’s not entirely possible that his… affections would be false too.” Sherlock regretfully states.John swallows. “Why is he doing this? What do you think Moran wants to happen?”“I can’t tell you he wants to happen, but I can tell you what he is doing. He is inciting war against me.”“If he wanted that, he would’ve done it a long time ago.”“Perhaps.” Sherlock nods and Mycroft falters from Sherlock’s dangerous tone. “But that is precisely what he has done the moment he laid a finger on her.”
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“A speech?” Sherlock grimaces as his eyes are closed.It has been two weeks since Jocelyn was taken. Currently, he is in Bulgaria with John. They’ve just finished going to the municipalities that Sherlock went to when he was dismantling Moriarty’s network three years ago. This was their fifth country, and they found nothing. Not even the criminal branches in the countries were active.“Yeah, a speech, Sherlock. For the, uh… funeral next week. Molly says you haven’t been picking up your phone.”“I delete any text that begins with ‘Hi.’”“You know they think that she’s gone, right?”“Evidently.”“So, I think it would be best for them if you just… go along with it.”“Pretend as if Jocelyn is not alive?”“I’m just saying that they’re all convinced, and very bothered that you’re not.”“Because she is alive. Why would I waste energy in weeping and mourning when I can use it to track them down?”John’s frown deepens. “Molly just wanted you to know that you are still welcome to have a speech tomorrow.”“I respectfully decline.”“You know they’re expecting you to be there, right?”The detective is unfazed. “Why?”John blinks. “You and Jocelyn are together.”“Obviously not. She is currently missing, John.”“I didn’t mean it liter—never mind. The point is, they are expecting us to attend. It’d be weird not to.”“Jocelyn would be appalled.”John has no idea how to convince his friend to attend. Since if Sherlock doesn’t, people would take it as a sign of disrespect. John didn’t want anyone to think that he doesn’t care about Jocelyn, since she is probably the person that matters most to him.“Her dad’s going to be there.”Now that catches his attention. “How unusual.”“Well, they all think she’s dead, so I don’t find it unusual.”“He never bothered to visit her the whole four years of her being back in England. I wouldn’t be surprised if he found out about her death through the papers.” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Like I said, Jocelyn would be appalled.”He has never met the man before, but regarding Jocelyn’s feelings about her father, it would be best if Sherlock doesn’t. He might swing his fist across her father’s face for actions he has done in the past. It would not be a great display, especially during her funeral.“I still think we should go.”“You go. I’m going to Portugal next.”John exhales deeply and shakes his head at his friend before he proceeds to his bed to sleep. Sherlock stays awake, plastering a nicotine patch onto his forearm. His hands shake as he concentrates on the words written on the notebook, eyes closing.“You’re pressuring yourself too much.”Sherlock’s eyes shoot open, greeted by ivory walls and a piano in front of him. He glances to his right, only to see the figure of Jocelyn. Her brown hair falls gracefully over her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes struck through him. Her pink lips curl into a little smile as her fingers glide over the keys of the piano.“You have to relax, and let the hands do the work,” she whispers, easily playing a few notes. “Slow yourself down. Don’t let it consume you. Instead, let it become part of you.”Sherlock finds himself calming down as he listens to his memory of her voice. This was his memory of when she was teaching him how to play the piano.“This won’t be easy, Sherlock. It will take some time. But you’ll get it eventually.”Sherlock remains silent now, realizing just how much he wanted to tell her. “Once I bring you back, I will tell you everything.”“Good.” “I just need more time.”“Time, the true enemy of mankind. It’s got you regretting all the things you never did while I was still around.”“…I’ll be able to do them once I find you.”“Will you, though?”He snaps his head towards her. “Yes. I will find you.”“What else will you find along with me?” The figure asks as she plays the piano with ease, but it is slowly going out of tune. “It is quite terrifying, isn’t it? The thought of her in a prison cell, surrounded by criminals who would do anything to break her.”Sherlock shuts his eyes. He came here to relax himself, not to stress himself out even more.“You remember what Moriarty said, right? She will hate her life until she begs them to kill her.” Her voice morphs into a much more sinister one.Then, she wasn’t the only one in the room anymore.He hears slow footsteps behind them, and the light begins to dim. “I’ll make her do things you can’t even imagine. So many possibilities with the good scientist. I can make her feel all the different types of pain,” out of nowhere, his laughter fills the room.Sherlock feels his heart drop, and everything crashes at him all at once. His eyes are wide open as he heaves in his place on the floor, and the ivory walls are gone at an instant. Sherlock shook and breathed heavily, and immediately realizes that John is at his side with a concerned look on his face.“Sherlock, hey, look at me. Calm down, it’s me.”His eyes are wide, and he was pale as ivory. “I have to… I need to go out.”“Sherlock, it’s two in the morning.”“She’s still out there, they could be hurting her right now and I can’t… I cannot just stay here and sleep!”John frowns. “Jocelyn is going to be alright. Right now, she wouldn’t want you to lose control, alright?”“Right now, she would want me to find her.”“She’s strong, Sherlock, we’ll find her.”Sherlock grumbles and sits down on the bed. “We don’t even know what they are doing to her, what if they are hurting her as we speak? Doing unthinkable things to her—”“We shouldn’t think about that.”“That is all I could think of, John. What if she is severely injured and is receiving no help? What if she is starving? Suffering alone in the darkness, I—”“Sherlock.” John exhales. “Calm down, or we will never find her. Think clearly because none of this will work if you don’t.”The detective almost gapes at his friend, unsure of how vulnerable he is right now. He would never let anyone else see him this way, so he is glad that it was John.“So, you need to pull yourself together, because she needs you to.”Sherlock stares back at him with surprise, but it slowly shifts to determination. John is right, Jocelyn wouldn’t need this, he needs to be his best self in order to find her. He inhales and clenches his teeth, nodding at him. John sighs in relief, patting his back before letting Sherlock lie down in bed. Sherlock sinks into the mattress and relaxes, eyes closing in exhaustion.--“What do you believe in?”“I’m sorry?”Jocelyn grinned in curiosity, braiding her pale blue hair in front of the mirror. “I’ve never asked you that before.”“Ask me what?”“Well, your religion, of course. Like, what God do you believe in?”“Now, why would you ask that? It is not exactly an important aspect about me.”“Everything is an important aspect about you.” Jocelyn teased.Sherlock huffed a laugh. “Well, if you are genuinely curious, I was born Christian.”“Shocking. Did you go to church every Sunday? Wearing posh outfits?”“As how Christian parents would force you to do so.”Jocelyn smiled, imagining a younger Sherlock complaining about going to church. “But do you believe in it?”“Never did. Mycroft and I only attended to please our parents. We sat there for an hour, trying our hardest not to criticize it all.”“So, you don’t believe in anything? Like superstitions and the lot?”“Superstitions,” he let out a chuckle and shook his head. “There are scientific explanations for everything, Jocelyn.”“Well, how do you explain the start of the universe, then?”“Einstein. Hubble. Hawking. It’s all been explained before.”“How about coincidences?”“The universe is rarely so lazy.”“What about our lives as human beings?”“Darwin.”“Why do we exist, then?”“Lifeforms are self-organizing systems, regulating the internal environments to maintain its organized state.”“…You got that from a book.”“Everyone got that from a book.”Jocelyn suppressed a small laugh. “So, there’s not a single moment where you believed in a form of higher power?”Sherlock watched her, and shakes his head. “Is there a particular reason why you are asking me this?”“Nothing, I just never knew.”“Well, now you do,” he sighed, furrowing his brows in concentration on his tie.Jocelyn rolled her eyes and walked toward him, shooing away his hands from his neck and did it herself. Sherlock blinked, but let her do so. He watched her focused face as she fixed his tie.She peered up at him for a moment, her face heating under his stare. “What?”“I’d like to know your perspective on the matter, as well.”“If I believe in God or not?”“Yes.”“Well, I was born Catholic, but I don’t believe in anything. My parents were never religious, neither is my aunt. It doesn’t really matter to me.”“I wouldn’t be surprised. Both of us are science-oriented people.”Her smile grew. “It’s not just about that. I was just, you know… not surrounded by it. Makes me wonder that maybe I’d be a believer if I grew up that way.”“I doubt it. Mycroft and I were raised that way, and look at us now.”She chuckled. “Well, there’s that.”Sherlock watched her with softer eyes. “You are not a lesser person for being a nonbeliever, just as the believers are not above those who aren’t.”Jocelyn finished doing his tie, admiring her work. Sherlock is pleased as well. “Well, thank God, then.”--Sherlock wakes up alone in the hotel, and he immediately knew that John is out grabbing food for them. As he sits up, his phone rings. However, the tone of his phone was not of a beep or a bell. No, it was an erotic sigh of a female voice.From that alone, Sherlock almost groans in annoyance. He reads the text and frowns to himself.
‘Lobby.’
He rolls his eyes, gripping his phone before putting on his jacket. Sherlock disguises himself and exits the hotel room. He arrives in the lobby and spots the Woman sipping her coffee.Sherlock glances around them and casually approaches her side, masking his anger with a calm expression. “What are you doing here?”“Great to see you, too, Mr. Holmes.”“Do you have any idea what you might be jeopardizing by being here?”“Look, I’m just going to make this quick,” she subtly slides a piece of paper over the table before continuing with her coffee. Sherlock glares at her but takes the paper. “It’s the places Sebastian took me.”“The two of you must be close, then.”“Don’t be ridiculous. He only invites me whenever I’m free.”“I assume that you also know what he likes.”“I don’t engage in certain activities with potential buyers.”Sherlock is unfazed.“Most of them are criminal bases, the first seven are the main ones around the world.”“And you just thought of now to bring this to light?”Irene gives him a look of annoyance. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to track you down? You jump from country to country every five hours.”Sherlock still huffs, scanning the list. There were thirty-five countries. Sherlock and John have already been to two of them, but none from the main bases. He slips the paper into his coat and without another word, he stands.Irene raises her brows. “What, no thank you?”“You got her into this mess in the first place. Do you deserve my gratitude?” Sherlock keeps his voice down and begins to walk away from her.The Woman follows. “I’d like to help.”“Why?”“You know why.”“Let me guess, you have romantic feelings for her?” Sherlock throws a sarcastic smile towards her.Irene chuckles as they walk down the hall side by side. “I may be gay, and she is definitely a catch, but no. Less competition for you.”“Then why?”“I happen to care about her. She grew on me. And I’d do anything to watch Sebastian Moran rot.”Sherlock abruptly stops and his gaze flames. “If you are using me in order to inflict your revenge fantasy, I’d advise you to leave Jocelyn out of it.”Irene raises a brow at him. “I prefer thinking of it as hitting two birds with one stone.”He starts walking. “Go away.”“And if I don’t?”“I will not be responsible if any trained killers get their hands on you,” he goes to close the door, but her hand stops it.“I don’t have to trail behind you like some lost puppy. If I hear anything, I will contact you immediately.”“I don’t want you to.”“Good,” she lets go of the door. “You’ll still receive it.”Sherlock stares blankly at her before she smirks at him and walking away. Admittedly, he feels a certain type of comfort knowing that there is someone else who fully believes that Jocelyn is alive somewhere. Sherlock is still uncertain of John’s perspective. There is a nagging feeling that John might be doing all of these to please Sherlock.--“That was the worst way to honor Shakespeare’s memory ever.” Sherlock informed her the moment they stepped out of the auditorium, hand in hand.Jocelyn threw her head back in laughter. “Please, don’t tell the cast that. They worked hard!”“Not hard enough.”“It’s hard to impress you, Sherlock.”“You are not wrong.”Jocelyn continued to laugh, and it brought about the dimples on Sherlock’s cheeks. “Well, you have to admit, the music score was great.”“Only because you wrote the pieces.”“We wrote the pieces.”“You dictated. I wrote them down.”Another laugh exits her body, their hands intertwined between them, gently swinging back and forth. Jocelyn jumped into the slab of cement, balancing herself on it like a twelve-year-old and began to walk. “Recognition is in a few weeks, do you have plans?”He gracefully held her hand to help her balance. “Dinner with my parents, and Mycroft. They are fond of celebrations, as you might be aware of.”“Ooh, celebrations. My aunt might cook for me and my mum again, nothing as fancy as your family.”“If it makes you feel better, I prefer your aunt’s cooking over my own mother’s.”“You shouldn’t say stuff like that!” She claimed in between laughter.Sherlock smiled at her as he stops walking. She remained elevated by the long slab of cement, and he tilted his head up to meet her eyes. Jocelyn stood in front of him as if she were on top of a pedestal, and it was a breathtaking sight.He reached up and tucked a piece of blue hair behind her ear and sighed. Jocelyn watched him with surprise since he has never been this comfortable with human contact. Honestly, she was very shocked when he suddenly slipped his hand into hers once the play was over.“Why are you looking at me like that?”Sherlock continued to watch her carefully. “Jocelyn, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely forthcoming with you.”Her smile faded. “What does that mean?”“I never answered your question, about if there was ever a moment where I believed in a form of higher power.”She tilted her head in curiosity as he stared.“I have once, it was in the middle of November. I’ve only arrived home after a visit to campus.”Jocelyn listened to him closely, trying not to get distracted by his soothing voice and the way he was caressing her hand.“And… I had just met this person who apparently knew Chopin note for note, all by memory. Like the back of their hand.”A smile grew on her face, still having her eyes on him.“And I thought, what a strange coincidence. Something must have put this person into my path. I am not lucky enough to just happen to meet them. A greater force must be in control.” Sherlock muttered before pausing. “Of course, I immediately brushed off the thought. The idea of Gods is quite odd.”Jocelyn looked back at him with a gentle look before taking a step forward. “Well, whether or not God exists, I am very glad that our paths crossed.”“Not just crossed, Jocelyn,” he slowly raised her hand to his face. “Our path is one and the same, and it has only just begun.”--
“Found in Ireland, this morning.”
“Hm. Do you believe me yet, Mycroft?”
“Already have. Coincidences are rare, and this outweighs my previous opinion.”
“Great to know that it took another three headless people for you to realize how utterly stupid you have been.”Sherlock can practically hear his brother roll his eyes. “Never mind that, Sherlock. It is important for you to come home in time for the funeral.”“You’ve just told me that you believe she is alive, why are you so keen on attending that funeral?”
“Keeping up appearances, little brother. It would be odd if we were not there.”
“Hm. You may be right. Your absence during my fake funeral will suggest that your absence to hers would reflect mine. Brilliant.”
“Elementary. Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“Mrs. Forbes has chosen her desired photo to be displayed during the ceremony.”
Sherlock wordlessly checks his phone again, only to see that his brother sent him a photo. Thankfully, his brother was not here to see him falter his movements. He leans back on his seat and stares at the photo on his screen.It was one of those professional photos where doctors must pose for their curriculum vitae. It was a fitting photo to use. She was wearing her lab coat, her wavy brown hair was loose on her shoulders, and a bright smile took over her entire face. She looked so happy. It was easy to figure out that this photo was taken years ago, around the time she worked for Scotland Yard for the first time.
“Brother mine?”
“Yes. Mrs. Forbes chose well.”
“Yes, my thoughts precisely. Her father will be attending the mass. How are we feeling about that?”
“Jocelyn despised the man. I’m not sure why Mrs. Forbes invited him.”
“She is his daughter. I do not blame her aunt for this.”
“I don’t either, however, it is not the best decision she has made.”
“We do not have a say on the matter. After all, they are her family.”
“Mrs. Forbes, yes. Clarkson Grant? No. The only thing Jocelyn and her father have in common is a last name.”
“And their blood, if you’ve forgotten. Something other humans put importance upon, apparently.”
“Naturally.”“I will contact you if anything changes.” And from that, Mycroft ends the call.Sherlock views the photo again, hesitating before saving it into his phone. He swipes through his phone, just viewing some photos he took of her, categorically organized into a folder. With a frown on his face, he just stares at a photo of her from when they were in Edinburgh together.For some reason, he felt compelled to slowly touch the screen where her face is, and he snaps out of his daze. Sherlock clears his throat and turns off his phone, putting it down to continue his research.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sherlock glances at his reflection in the mirror, fixing his tie and smoothing out his sleeves. Right now, he is in his bedroom, making sure he appears presentable. He is sure that there will be many photographers outside of his flat, prepared to capture stills of him on his way to the church.He leaves his room and is greeted by John, holding a bouquet of flowers. Sherlock hesitates and eyes the flowers for a moment before he sighs, walking past his friend on his way downstairs.John furrows his brows, noticing how his friend shifted his behavior. He follows Sherlock and they stand in front of the door to brace themselves.Sherlock waits for John to open the door, but it never happens, so he looks at him with a frown. John is staring at him. “You okay?”“Yes.”John is not convinced. “Ready?”Sherlock nods at him and the door swings open and the swarm of reporters bombard them with the camera flashes and invasive questions. A few bodyguards led them up to the car, and Sherlock keeps a neutral expression on his face.Once they are inside the car, John briefly looks at Sherlock again, glancing at his hands and the way he is gripping his wrist. It was enough to tell that the detective had several patches underneath his sleeve.***Jocelyn was never religious, but she would have been pleased of his work. As it turns out, planning a funeral is much easier than a wedding.Losing focus, it eventually leads to his surroundings blurring. The unwavering stoic expression on his face was passed off as him containing his grief.Mrs. Forbes held her head high, remaining collected and strong. It must run in their blood, evidently. Although, from time to time, Sherlock notices the older woman’s chin tremble whenever she glances at the casket.He would not be surprised if she resented him for what happened to her niece. Sherlock resents himself as well. Difficult not to.As much as he hated to admit it, Moran was good. His work was clean and very thorough. It would be difficult to think the other way around. He knew how to play people. If it were a different situation, he would have applauded Moran the same way he did with Moriarty.Sherlock politely nods at the ones offering to shake his hand, accepting their gesture. He glances around them, seeing a few students, colleagues and even distant relatives arriving at the scene. Even his parents are here, looking as distraught as everyone.Everyone seems to see him as the widower, it was strange. Is this how Jocelyn felt years ago? Is this what she went through? All these people, coming up to her, offering their condolences as if he were the spouse that passed away?She must have gone through much worse because she believed he was truly dead.Familiar co-workers and people from Scotland Yard are also here. The Loréis. Jackson Palmer and his wife. People whose cases were helped tremendously by Jocelyn’s work. Friends from years ago, former classmates; so many people and Sherlock can pick apart the ones who genuinely cares for her, from the ones who are here just for show—for recognition.“Sherlock.”He looks to his left, only to see John staring right ahead of himself. Sherlock follows his gaze, and he reels back, only to be greeted by Jocelyn’s father making his way into the church. Sherlock tightens his jaw and tries to remain calm.“How wonderful of him to bring the family he left his daughter for.”Sherlock goes to the back of the church, away from any prying eyes as he checks his arm, frowning at the way his hands were shaking from the nicotine patches. He forms a fist with his hand and shuts his eyes.Footsteps arrive from behind him and he turns to see Molly, wearing a black dress. Sherlock immediately composes himself. “Molly.”“Are you alright?”“Perfectly fine,” he nods multiple times. “How are you?”Molly gives him a sad look and shrugs. It was then that Sherlock notices how she is no longer wearing her engagement ring, but he does not say anything.“I just… still can’t believe any of it.”He looks away. “I’d be more concerned if you did.”Molly tries to smile at that. In the middle of silence, she steps forward with her arms opening.Sherlock flinches back with alarm. “What are you doing?”“…Giving you a hug?”“Is that what people do?”“Yes… we hug the ones who lost people they love.”He blinks at her choice of words, but decides to say nothing. He gives her a hesitant nod and she just comes closer to wrap her arms around his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder. Molly embraces differently from Jocelyn, but it was still somewhat comfortable.Sherlock swallows but he leans down and embraces her back, resting his chin on her shoulder. Slowly, Sherlock finds himself sinking into it as he closes his eyes.Molly embraces him tightly and rubs his back. “It’ll be okay, Sherlock.”“I know it will.”No, you don’t. He can practically hear Jocelyn’s voice in his head, and that would definitely be what she would say.Molly pulls away. She offers him a sad smile and kisses his cheek before letting him be by himself. Sherlock glances at his watch and walks back into the church. He spots his brother speaking with their parents.Sherlock’s mother is dabbing a tissue in the corner of her eyes, and the sight almost makes the detective falter. His mother rarely cries.The mass begins and Sherlock still remembers how everything works. They all rise, and the priest says a few words that probably means something to people who are not Sherlock.Once Mycroft nudges his side, he suddenly realizes that his name was announced in order to come towards the altar for a brief speech.He still could not figure out why Mrs. Forbes chose him to do the speech, and not herself. However, looking at her tired state, it would be best if she should remain in her seat.Sherlock makes his way to the podium, buttoning his blazer and preparing himself to face these people. Once he is in front of them all, he can see all their faces, and all their attention was on him.“Dr. Jocelyn Melrose Grant. That is how most of you may know her. She was idolized by many, admired by all, and now has become the world’s greatest loss. Dr. Grant was known to most as Scotland Yard’s scientist and Cambridge’s professor, but to some, she was only Jocelyn. A niece, a daughter, and a friend.”A few people glance around at each other with sad and warmed expressions.Sherlock remembers that they all believe she is dead, so his speech must be more convincing and genuine. He is not sure how to successfully do that, but he tries nonetheless.“Uh, formalities aside, Jocelyn is… was the only person who ever saw through me. Many people claim to know me, but I can reassure that none of them will know anything, except Jocelyn. I would call her my equal, but she was much more than that. She was her. She was Jocelyn.”He catches a glimpse of everyone’s surprised expressions. It was obvious that this was a shock to them. To hear Sherlock Holmes, speaking this way after knowing how cruel and cold he can be.
And then it happens.
Mycroft glances around and pauses his movements once he sees the person walking through the doors of the church. Sherlock notices his brother waver for a single moment, and he follows his gaze. His own eyes widen as he watches the person walk down the aisle, holding some flowers.The man strides through the doors in a crisp black suit. He looks as saddened as everyone, and it was as if he lost someone he loved most. If anything, he looks gloomier than Sherlock Holmes himself.There stood the professor, making his way towards Jocelyn’s aunt with a forlorn expression. Sherlock stares at him in horror as Jocelyn’s aunt gives him a tight embrace and allows him to sit next to her.All the noise began to blur out from around him, never having anticipated such event. He watches as Laurie—or rather, Moran, enter the church. The professor looks absolutely torn, but Sherlock knew better.He was smug, for showing up at the funeral he caused.The only words running through Sherlock’s mind almost did not make sense. He was very sure that these words formed a coherent sentence, but right now, they do not. Captive; blood; searing pain; knife; strangle; suffer; burning flesh.He could not stop thinking about the fact that the person who is the root of this funeral is among the crowd, watching him do his speech. Sherlock keeps imagining himself bruising Moran’s face over and over with his own fists until he can pick off the bloody scabs from his own knuckles. There was this deep need to hurt Moran, without caring about whoever is watching.But as he makes his usual deductive reasoning, there was no trace of Jocelyn on him. No, there was nothing. He looks as if he just came home from a vacation, solely to attend the funeral of his dear friend.John senses that something is wrong and turns his head to see what Sherlock saw, only for him to immediately look away in shock.“Um…” Sherlock blinks. “Apologies, um…”Everyone watches him with sympathy, mistaking his difficulty as somewhat related to the death of the young woman. However, that not the case.The blood in Sherlock’s veins begin to boil, and he has no idea what he was about to do.He clears his throat, gripping the wooden podium’s edges until his knuckles turned white.
Keep it together, do not think about the fact that he has her captive, suffering—
He swallows, but holds his head up high. “I … most of you are not aware of this, but Jocelyn Grant was an excellent pianist. We used to perform together during university, that is how we met.” He pauses. “I can fairly say that she was one of, if not, the finest musician I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. She knew what she was doing, and she did it passionately.”He can see a few people shedding some tears. Most of them, he did not know. Sherlock naturally assumes that they were good friends of Jocelyn.“If she were here right now, she would be surprised by the large amount of people in this church. She always thought so little of herself, and never spared a moment to be self-centered,” he purses his lips. “She was more than just a name on a piece of paper. More than a label. She was Jocelyn Grant, the woman you could trust with anything.”Laurie is still watching him and for a split second, Sherlock saw the glint of amusement behind his eyes.The worst part of it all is that Sherlock cannot do anything. Moran has power over him; he has her and could do anything to her if Sherlock even tries anything. Sherlock is powerless.John knew that Sherlock is not taking this very well, especially since the person who they all believe took Jocelyn, is among them right now. John slowly cranes his neck to glance at the professor.Laurie gives him a side glance, not moving his head. John exhales deeply once a hint of amusement flashes across Laurie’s face. He looks away and feels Mary reach over to grab his cold hand for reassurance.Of course, Sherlock noticed that. “When we were younger, she asked me what I believed in. Quite frankly, I’m not a religious man. I do not believe in Heaven or Hell, or whatever God that people these days pray nightly upon. I do not believe in souls, or the afterlife, or reincarnation. No superstition, nothing.”The exchange of puzzled expressions among the room was enough to tell Sherlock that he may have said the wrong thing, so he continues.“But I believe in Jocelyn Melrose Grant.” He keeps himself calm. “She is the world’s greatest loss, and the world is not aware of it yet.”Laurie finally breaks and lets his lips quirk into a small smile, even for the briefest second.Sherlock never thought it was possible to be this enraged towards someone. “I do solemnly vow to hunt down whoever did this to her, and bring her to justice.” He locks his gaze with Moran, almost glaring at him. “Whatever it takes.”Laurie raises his brows as though he was impressed, and Sherlock leaves the stage and retreats to his seat. A few other people began to say some words about her, and Sherlock listens to each and every one of them. He listens to people say how much Jocelyn impacted them, how her work inspired them, and how her kind heart affected him.Finally, the priest continues the ceremony and then the casket is carried outside to be transported to the cemetery. Sherlock watches as the casket is slowly being carried, and everyone else begin to stand to follow behind it.Sherlock’s first instinct was to discreetly approach the professor, but Mycroft grabs his arm. He widens his eyes at his older brother’s serious expression.“I advise you to not make a scene. Clear your mind, brother mine.”Sherlock clenches his jaw, and his hands begin to shake from the nicotine. He tries to clear his mind, but he could not. The person who took Jocelyn from him is attending her funeral. The nerve he must have. It is making Sherlock want to beat him bloody, and he was never a man of violence.Although, he knew that the professor is just here to elicit a reaction from him. He just knows it, so he jerks his arm out of his brother’s grip and walks away from him. Sherlock goes to John and Mary.John has an unreadable expression on his face. “Can you figure out where he has been?”“There is no way to tell. He has been in various weathers and climates for the last three weeks.”John grits his teeth. “Which means he’s travelling places to places; just like us. We’ll never be able to reach Jocelyn if they don’t stay in one place.”“Act naturally. He should not know that we are looking for her.”John sighs. “I feel something coming. He wouldn’t just show up here.”“I know,” he tries to contain his anger. “Stay close, both of you. He won’t do anything to you in a public place.”Mary tightens her arm around John’s before her other hand securely protects her stomach, and it was a clear sign that she was terrified. After all, the companion of her previous boss is here.It was time for the casket to be lowered into the ground, and everyone was lined up to toss flowers into the hole. Sherlock’s fingers were shaking, aching for a fix. Most specifically, something to take his rage out. He was carefully observing the professor from a distance, who was still comforting Jocelyn’s aunt.Sherlock grits his teeth and restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He follows his brother’s movements and places a few roses on the casket.Jocelyn disliked bouquets, so Sherlock opted with only a few roses. These were not her favorite flowers, but he was sure she would not mind. After all, none of this is real.The burial resumes, until the hole is filled with dirt. The casket is buried right next to Jocelyn’s mother, which her aunt insisted to happen. Sherlock frowns at the gravestone, reading it with his eyes.
Jocelyn Melrose Grant, February 1, 1983 – January 1, 2014
***As he walks among the people, they all give him empathetic expressions. It was ridiculous, but to remain polite, he just offers a nod and continues to roam around the room. One of the caterers offer him a glass of champagne and he sighs in relief, immediately drinking it and asking for another.“Easy now, detective.”Sherlock glances to his left and sees Harry Watson with her eyes red and slightly swollen from crying, but she had a small smile on her face.He hesitates. “How are you?”Harry exhales and shrugs, holding back her tears. “My best friend just got murdered. I wasn’t here. Not sure what I feel,” she bluntly states.“I’m… deeply sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen to her.” At least that one was not a lie.Harry lets out a weak scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t your fault.”That certainly was a change. Harry Watson did slap him the moment they met when Jocelyn was in a hospital because of him.“It was.”“No. Jocelyn wouldn’t want me to blame you for this, and the same goes to you.” Harry shakes her head and sighs. “She mentioned you to me once, you know?”Sherlock gives her a look of astonishment, and Harry offers another smile.“She didn’t say a name back then. She said that she knew a guy who could play the violin like no one ever had. I realized it was you, at John’s wedding.”He wavers, finding it pleasing how that is the trait that Jocelyn saw as his main one. Not his genius, not his bluntness, and certainly not his cold personality that is comparable to a sociopath. No, it was his skills with the violin.“She said that this guy was her favorite musician, and when I asked if I could listen to him online, she just laughed and said he didn’t do it professionally.” Harry smiles at the memory. “But she said that he should. And she was right.”Sherlock musters a small smile at her, but it fades quite quickly.Harry continues. “When she was younger, she told me that she was forced into piano lessons by her dad. Eventually, it made her feel so competitive with everything she does. Practiced every single day until she was perfect.”Sherlock knew about that. It got to the point where she does it just to be perfect. Not because she enjoys it, but rather, she wanted the approval of the father that never looked her way—“She said that you made her adore music.”He reels back in surprise. Sherlock could feel a wave of an unnamed emotion wash over him. He remains collected as possible, but he can see the figure of Jocelyn in the corner of his eyes. She was grinning from ear to ear, listening to every word coming from the eldest Watson.“You made her that way, Sherlock. Thank you for that.” Harry smiles at him again before stepping forward to give him a hug.Sherlock stays frozen, but tries his best to embrace her as well.Harry pulls away and grips both of his shoulders. “I just hope you know that Jocelyn cared very much about you.” She shakily sighs and just nods towards the detective, walking away before she could breakdown once again.Sherlock watches his friends for a moment before looking to his right, only to see Jocelyn’s father. Oh, bloody hell…“So, you’re Sherlock Holmes.” Clarkson Grant offers his hand to him. “I’m Clarkson Grant, Jocelyn’s father.”Sherlock’s eyes dart to the man’s side, only to see the mind palace version of Jocelyn looking amused with her arms crossed. She cocks her head towards her father as if to tell Sherlock to be polite.He accepts his hand, giving him a firm handshake.“Good speech earlier.”Dull.“Thank you.”
Checked into a hotel not far from Milton Keynes. Argument with his wife about his infidelity and drinking. Both his children love him, though. Left Glasgow the moment he heard of his eldest daughter’s murder. Uneasy about the news.
Sherlock is extremely disappointed.“How long have you known Josie?”“I’ve known her for eleven years.”Her father looks at him in surprise. “Eleven years?”“We met during university, in Cambridge.”Her father nods in realization, and Sherlock wonders if he was thinking about how he left Jocelyn to fend for herself all those years ago. “Oh. That’s such a long time.”“Yes. Eleven years is an awfully long time.”It was from those words that Clarkson Grant realizes what Sherlock knows of him. “So, you and my daughter have been together for eleven years?”“If you’ve gathered that from a newspaper, I can definitely tell that your daughter would be disappointed in you.”Mr. Grant is taken aback from his calm words, eyes widening slightly. Sherlock did not have an ounce of guilt from saying those. If anything, he feels satisfied. He can even see the mind palace version of the young scientist applauding him.“Mr. Holmes, I am here to grieve my daughter.”“No one is holding you back. I never asked you to approach me.”“I approached you because—” he sighs and shakes his head. “Who would do this to her?”Sherlock looks at him with no answer. This is the first time he met her father, too. It was strange because he never imagined meeting him at all. Jocelyn was not very keen with the idea of seeing him again, when they were younger.Mrs. Forbes came to the rescue by walking over them, gently placing her arm on Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock politely nods, realizing that she was still angry at Jocelyn’s father. Understandable, but she thinks that he still had the right to grieve.Sherlock begs to differ. He gives Jocelyn’s father one last look before moving on towards the table with drinks.Lestrade was already there filling his own glass. “Saw you talking to her dad.”“Yes, well, it went downhill. As I predicted.”“You good?”“Did my brother tell you to check on me? Domestic bliss must suit you both.”“No, I’m just… I just want you to know that we are all here for you.”“I’m not going to relapse, Greg.”He stays silent and Sherlock stares back as if he was expecting him to say something else. “Jocelyn was a great woman, Sherlock. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, you know?”“I am aware.” Why is he telling Sherlock things he already knows?“She... I loved her a lot, we all did.” He looks back at the detective. “And I know you did, too.”Sherlock softens and keeps a deep frown on his own face, lips parting in astonishment as he slowly blinks. Greg purses his lips and pats his shoulder before walking past him to approach the eldest Holmes. Sherlock is left alone with his thoughts and he takes a moment to digest Lestrade’s words.Love, what an interesting word. He thinks to himself as he glances around the place. Sherlock feels odd to use the word ‘love’ to describe how he feels for Jocelyn. Love is the same word people would use to describe an admiration for a certain object or animal or event.He can recall John saying that he loves being a doctor. Same as Mrs. Hudson saying that she loves to bake. Molly loves Valentine’s Day, and her cat. Lestrade loves drinking coffee in the morning. Mycroft loves food, as much as he hates to admit it.Sherlock can certainly say that he loves solving cases and playing his violin. However, it is not the same as to what Jocelyn has brought to his life. It was significantly different from that. It is strange to use the same word.His train of thought was cut shortly the moment he spots Professor Carter nearby the fire with a drink in his hand, staring at the young scientist’s portrait. He was alone and deep in thought, as if waiting for something. Or someone.Sherlock grabs another glass of champagne and takes a sip before slowly making his way towards the fireplace with his head high.The detective arrives at the professor’s side, eyeing the framed portrait as well. The bright smile on her face was captured and stilled forever.Without even glancing at one another, Moran brings his glass to his lips. “Mr. Holmes.”“Professor.”“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the professor repeats the same words Sherlock has been hearing all day. Although, his tone is much lighter and mocking.“Bold move. Arriving for her funeral.”“Well, she and I were great friends.”“What sort of great friend would kidnap her from her own home?” Sherlock bluntly forces out of his own mouth.“The kind who only wished good things for her, I imagine.”Sherlock’s grip around his drink tightens, once Moran confirmed many things. “I don’t recall holding someone at gunpoint and making them bleed counts as good things.”“I can reassure you, it was for her own good. And don’t worry about your little friends. I won’t bother them.”“Why?”“I’m afraid I can’t be bothered to spare the time playing games.” Moran has a smile on his face. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Holmes?”“You can tell me where she is, but we both know that you will not.”Moran finally tears his eyes away from her photo just to glance at Sherlock. “You really think she’s alive?”Sherlock holds himself back from wavering, just staring at him with a neutral expression. What?“I know she is alive. You wouldn’t kill her, I know that for a fact.”Moran twists his body to face him. “Of course, I would never do that, but I’m afraid she had different plans.”“Where is she?”“What makes you think I know where she is?”“You took her away.”“And she escaped.” Laurie calmly drinks from the glass. “I suspect that she would be around here somewhere, but from your reaction, I see you have no idea where she is either.”She… escaped? Sherlock takes a moment to take that in. Why hasn’t she come home? “You are trying to distract me.”“Why would I do that? I’m a powerful man, Sherlock Holmes. I don’t need you to be my plaything. Not like what Jim did.” he says his name with spite, which also confirms Sherlock’s suspicions of them falling out. “A woman like her won’t last long out there. And who knows who else is looking for her?”The detective’s upper lip curls with anger from those words. He tries his best to contain it, not wanting to make a scene.“I tell you what, though. When I find her, and I will, I’ll be sure to send you a message.” Moran walks up to him and pats his back. For people who might be watching them from afar, Moran paints an empathetic smile on his face. “Maybe I’ll even bring you her head.”Moran pats his shoulder once again before walking past him to approach some mourning Cambridge students.Sherlock relaxes his hand, not wanting to crush the glass. He looks around to find John, only to spot him with his wife nearby the window.“Jesus, Sherlock, you can’t just go to that guy without telling us first!” John quietly seethes through his teeth.“He was unarmed. Too confident.”“What did he say?”“Jocelyn apparently escaped and is currently on the run.” Sherlock lowers his voice, seeing the way his friends widen their eyes. “He does not have her, she’s hiding. I’m assuming that she did not come home because this is the first place Moran would look.” My clever scientist.“Christ. Where would she go?”“We don’t even know where she has been, we certainly wouldn’t know where she would flee to.”Mary gives him an anxious look. “What else did he say?”The detective clenches his jaw, tightening his fists as he looks at Moran from afar, who is comforting his students.Without looking at Mary, he answers her, “Moriarty is looking for her, too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We can’t just wait! This is our moment to do something! He doesn’t have her, which means, he cannot use her against us.” Sherlock exasperatedly tells his insufferable brother.“What if that is exactly what he wants you to do? Or if he is not being truthful about not having Miss Grant with him?” Mycroft frowns, making Sherlock scoff. “Brother mine, I’d like nothing else than her back with us, but she would want us to be careful with this.”“She would want to go home. Don’t you see? But she can’t, as long as she is being hunted down by Moran and Moriarty! You know how she is, she will not risk our lives!”“We need a plan before we dive into this headfirst.” “He’s back to teaching at the University as if nothing happened. We can follow him. Calculate everything he does and strike.”
“Strike?”
“Hold him in custody. Interrogate him, as we did with Moriarty.”“We cannot do anything while not knowing if Miss Grant is safe or not!”“Boys, please, can we stay calm about this?” John palms his forehead since the two brothers has been having this back and forth for almost two hours.Sherlock sends John a glare before turning back to his brother. “Two criminal masters are trailing behind the path Jocelyn is leaving. I am not going to leave her alone.”“Dr. Watson, what is your say in this?”“I don’t really want her to be alone with this, either.” John shakes his head. “If Moran’s not playing with Sherlock, then chances are, he’s not lying about not having Jocelyn anymore.”Sherlock is relieved that his friend understands the situation.“But,” John adds, making Mycroft sigh in relief. “I kind of agree with your brother. It’s too risky to take his word for it. We should just find her before they do.”Sherlock presses his lips together in contemplation. He is right, dear God.“Thank you, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft huffs and crosses his arms. “Surely you will listen to your friend than your own brother.”“Now’s not the time for petty feuds, Mycroft.”“This is not a petty feud, brother mine. This is me ensuring that both you and Jocelyn come out of this alive and well.”“Do we even know where she could be? Where’s the first place she would go to hide?”Sherlock concentrates for a few seconds before his whole face goes lax. He tilts his head up and narrows his eyes at the map on the wall. He makes his way towards the map, tapping his pointer finger on it. “I think I might have an idea where to begin.”***“Yeah, when you said you had an idea where to look, I thought we were going there.”Sherlock and John went through four different countries in under four days, collecting intel and creating sources. John almost passes out from the lack of sleep, and Sherlock feels incredibly guilty of it. Unlike Sherlock, John does not have the controlled energy consumption. John manages his energy quite differently from Sherlock’s.“Miss Adler still has a lot on her list, we need to consider the possibility that Jocelyn might not have a way to flee a country. She could have just escaped with no money or anything to use in order to travel.” Sherlock explains, trying his best not to imagine her starving in an alleyway somewhere. “Also, the possibility of her not escaping at all, and still in hostage.”He frowns at the thought just before his phone beeps in his jacket pocket. Assuming it is his brother checking up on him, he ignores it.“Have patience, John. We’ll find her. She’s out here, somewhere,” his eyes wander around the map on his laptop, along with photographs that his homeless network took of the streets for Sherlock to check if they are being followed. And so, under his breath, he mumbles to himself. “Come on, Jocelyn. Give me one sign. Just one.”His phone buzzes again, and he ignores it. When will his brother leave him alone while he is working?“There’ve been like three separate beheadings with three people each. Same style, same type of people. They’re all from Moran, what does it even mean?”Sherlock suddenly realizes something. “Patterns.”“Sorry, what? Patterns?”“John, that is brilliant! You are fantastic! God, this has been staring at me right in the face!”“What? What do you mean?”“Past cases… past cases,” he mumbles as he goes through John’s blog. “Here.”“The Suicide Glass?”“And this one.”“The Doctor’s Doppelganger? Why are you showing me my blogposts?”“The patterns, don’t you see? Cases we solved with Jocelyn after she quit Scotland Yard.”“…and?”“Each of them has a pattern of crime work. Suicide pact with broken champagne glass. All three of them. The Doppelgangers? Three women from each tier of becoming a doctor, dead from a scalpel. Each of them resembles the other. Brown hair, green eyes, small.”“And Moran beheads three people from three different countries. Two men and one woman.”“Exactly.” Sherlock sighs, pressing his lips together. “He kills by three, John. Always by three. If we trace murders by triad all around the world during the last few weeks.”“We can retrace Moran’s steps.” John nods.“And we can find where Moran possibly took Jocelyn.”His phone beeps in his pocket, and he continues to ignore it. John briefly looks towards the small sound but says nothing.Soon enough, every murder by triad coincides with the list that Irene Adler provided to them. John is asleep on the mattress, and Sherlock is still wide awake. He sits on his own bed, taking out the notebook and begins to review everything for the hundredth time.His phone beeps once more and he finally groans in annoyance before he takes out the device from his jacket.The moment his screen lights up, Sherlock’s lips part in surprise. He stares at the screen, reading the four texts he received. Sherlock unlocks his phone and watches the screen.“John?”“Hm? Five minutes, Sherlock…”“John.”“What?” John sits up and blinks at him.Sherlock chews the inside of his cheek and hands the phone to John. The doctor squints at the screen before his eyes widen, reading the text messages from an unknown number.
Miss me? JM
“Great speech the other day. JM. Is that a new jacket? JM.” John reads the other texts aloud with a frown. “Always nearby. JM. Christ. If he saw us, then what the hell do we do now?”“No, no, no, this will jeopardize everything! If he knows where we are, then he can follow us when we reach Jocelyn.”“We’ll lead him straight to her.”“Moriarty,” Sherlock lowly growls under his breath. “He will never leave her alone.”“We need to find her, fast.” John urges Sherlock. “If we get to her, then we can keep her safe. Away from the two of them. We just need to get to her first!”Sherlock packs their things. He texts a code message to his brother and in five minutes, both are out of the door.--“How’s your torso?”Jocelyn watched Sherlock grimace a bit as he moved, still uncomfortable from the gunshot wound he had several weeks before.“Fine,” he buttoned his shirt while watching himself in the mirror. His eyes begin to focus on her reflection as well, and noticed that she was frowning. “What’s wrong?”“Nothing, I just... it’s nothing.” Jocelyn lies back down on the bed,. “John’s out late again, isn’t he?”“Yes. The bar downtown. Veteran discount.”“Maybe we should talk to him.”“Finding out that your wife was an assassin working under the man who almost blew you up won’t exactly be remedied by talking.”“It could still help. You and John barely talk about personal stuff. Best friends discuss those sorts of things, you know,” she tried to smile at him.Sherlock sighed. “We clearly did not predict Mary to be this way.”“No, we didn’t. Thank God we can’t predict the future. Or else, we would never choose to wake up every morning.”From those words, Sherlock casted her a glance, observing the deep frown on her face. It was obvious in her eyes that she wanted him to stay in bed with her. Sherlock did not need to deduce that from how evident it is, and it made him waver for a moment.As he remained lost in his thoughts while watching her, Jocelyn wrapped the sheet around herself and kneels on the bed before swinging her leg across Sherlock’s lap and sitting down. Jocelyn gripped his shoulders, amused by his surprise.He let out a breath and tilted his head to meet her eyes. It was quite embarrassing how easily he is affected by her smallest of actions. The way she was eyeing his mouth was enough to make him swallow nervously.“Stay.”“I, um… I need to, um, work.”“At two in the morning?”“I think better at nighttime. It’s quiet.”“What if I stay here by myself, being as loud as I can? Will you be able to work in the quiet?”“Jocelyn,” he heavily breathes out, his mind already conjuring sinful mental images.“Sherlock.”Their gaze into one another’s eyes almost burned through Sherlock’s body. He has never met anyone else who can captivate him with just their eyes.The stubborn determination was right behind those green eyes, and he can tell that she is aware of how Sherlock knows what question she wanted to ask.Instead, she just shook her head and slumped her shoulders. “Fine,” she grabbed the sheets and tightened it around herself before getting on her feet to walk towards the bathroom.Sherlock watched her intently, controlling his breath as she stopped by the door to drop the sheets until they pooled around her ankles. Without looking back, she walked inside the bathroom wordlessly.He sighed and briefly closed his eyes, puffing out a breath before he exited his bedroom to sit with his mind for a while.Later, the sound of running water stops, and after a few moments, the door opens. Jocelyn came out with her hair wet, wearing Sherlock’s blue dressing down.“Are you even going to sleep tonight?”“No. Have a lot to figure out.” Sherlock answered without opening his eyes.“You haven’t slept in two days.”“Don’t worry, I will sleep for a full day on Saturday.”“That’s… three days from now.”“Time management.”“Sherlock?”“Hm?”“Are you avoiding me?”That made him pause everything playing in his mind. He opened his eyes and saw the way she was reluctant with looking at him. Sherlock, completely terrified he must have put her off.“Avoiding you?”“It’s just that you… never mind. I’m going to sleep.” She turned to walk back to his bedroom, and Sherlock stood with a frown.“Jocelyn.”She does not turn around, and only calmly retreated into his room. Sherlock furrowed his brows. Of course, he will soon regret the time he did not come after her. Instead, he let out sigh and sat back down, letting her sleep alone in his bed.--Sherlock opens his eyes, exhaling through his nose after reliving that memory in his head. He keeps wondering about it, how things would have been avoided if only he chose to follow her back into his bedroom. Would things have been different?“Maybe. Who’s to say? Even you can’t predict the future.” Her voice echoes in her head.Currently, he is in a jet plane with John. The army doctor is reading a newspaper behind him while Sherlock is casually sipping a glass of bourbon to focus.“It’s not possible to predict the actual future. Just certain possibilities.”She looks over his shoulder, staring at the map. “Do you really think she’s there?”“Jocelyn is like the future. Unpredictable.” He rolls his eyes at the cliché simile. “So, no. I am not sure.”“Her birthday is coming up. It’ll be a month since she disappeared.”“Thank you for the reminder,” he hastily mutters, taking out a few nicotine patches from his jacket pocket and plastering a few onto his arm.She grimaces. “Do you really need that much?”“Yes.”“Well, I would’ve predicted this. You, needing a fix.”“Then, I was wrong. There are some futures you can predict,” he annoyedly corrects himself.“Hm. Thank God that none of us can predict the future, or else, we would never choose to wake up every morning.”Sherlock finally glances at the figure, but she was gone before he could see her face. He frowns to himself and lets the words repeat in his mind even as they land.He could not stop thinking about Jocelyn, and the state she must be in. It was odd that only a few weeks ago, he was laughing with her against the wall of his childhood bedroom.Now, she was abducted and is possibly at the verge of death while two criminals look for her all over the world.It was around six in the morning now, and they landed in America a few days earlier. A very specific city in North America caught Sherlock’s attention. He recalls it quite well, even though it was only mentioned to him once in a short conversation.When Sherlock first came to Louisiana, it was for a criminal base. Sherlock had them all arrested by putting in a discreet word in the police force.Now, the criminal network base was empty when Sherlock got there. Instead, the lot was turned into an apartment building.When he walks inside, he is immediately greeted by the reception and minibar. Behind the counter stood a young Korean woman. She looks back at Sherlock for a moment before continuing with wiping the glasses.Sherlock looks around the place, warming his hands by rubbing them together. Everyone is preoccupied with one another and talking amongst themselves.Nothing was out of the ordinary, and it was at that point that Sherlock is losing the trust he placed on his own intellect.He exits the building through the backdoor and waits for John to arrive. Sherlock then continues to scroll through his emails with a frown, recognizing some names from Uni, offering their condolences.It was odd because, obviously, she is alive. Why would they reach out to him this way? It is exhausting at this point and normally, he would ignore it. However—“Sherlock.”He freezes in his place, hearing a soft yet hesitant voice a few feet behind him. Sherlock’s brows knot in confusion, blinking hard a few times before he slowly looks over his shoulder. He wavers upon the sight behind him, lowering his phone.The young woman reluctantly offers him a smile. “You’re late.”Sherlock is still uncertain if this is another form of a mind palace figure, but he is aware of the things his mind cannot do. That includes shifting the appearance of a person without seeing it firsthand.And of course, this is a vastly different form of appearance.In front of him stood the young woman with short and wavy jet-black hair. She wore a long coat to keep her whole body warm, and she looked as speechless as he was.Sherlock swallows, slowly making his way towards her until he was right in front of her. She tilted her head back to meet his blue eyes with her green ones—which were much more prominent due to her black hair.His eyes are wide in utter confusion and bewilderment, lifting his hands to cup her cheek and his breath hitches the moment his skin made contact with hers. Warmth. Life. She is alive.“Jocelyn…”She finally smiles in a genuine way, placing her hand on top of the back of his hand against her cheek. Jocelyn nods happily. “Yeah, it’s me.”She barely gets the word out when Sherlock pulls her frantically into his arms, inhaling her scent. Jocelyn lets out a surprised yelp, followed by a small laugh as she throws her arms around him tightly.Sherlock can feel his pulse racing beneath his skin, and he did not want this to be an illusion. He smooths his fingers down her hair, which appeared shorter than the last time he saw her weeks ago. He pulls away, hands cupping her cheeks as his entire face lights up.He grins and without thinking, he presses their lips together. She smiles into him, kissing him gently and he realizes just how much he desperately missed her. He never thought he’d be doing something like this right outside the back alley of an apartment building, but here he is.They both pull away, briefly pressing their foreheads together and adjusting to one another’s presence.“How… how did you, how—” he stammers, unable to take his eyes off of her. “You… changed your hair,”Jocelyn touches the ends of her short hair with reluctance. “It doesn’t look too horrible, does it?”“No, of course not. No, you look… you look wonderful. Healthy, even. You… look healthy.”Jocelyn keeps smiling at him.Sherlock finally snaps out of his surprise and felt ecstatic. “How did you escape? Are they coming after you right now?” Her smile slightly fades. “On second thought, you can tell me on the way! We must go down the street, John can drive us to the airport, and we can go home,” He happily exclaims as he turns around and begins to walk.For the first time in Sherlock’s life, he did not care more about proving everyone wrong. Right now, all he wanted was for her to come back.Although, he stops walking, solely because he did not hear another set of footsteps.Sherlock turns to see Jocelyn still firmly planted in her place, with a restrained expression on her face.“Jocelyn, we have to leave now, we can’t stay here. If they’re still after you…”“I… can’t go.”His face softens, blinking. “He is here, isn’t he? Is it Moran’s brother? Moriarty?”“Neither… actually.” Sherlock gives her a confused look. “Look, Sherlock. There’s a lot of things that I have to understand. I can’t do that if I go. I have to be here.”“Why?”“I can’t explain yet. I’m… I’m not even sure what any of it is yet.”“Why would you stay for something you do not understand?”Jocelyn hesitates and looks back at the building behind her, before turning back to Sherlock with a small smile. “Let’s have a drink first.”Sherlock narrows his eyes as he lets her guide him inside. She leads them to the small bar on the ground floor, and she sits on one of the stools, smiling at the bartender.“Bourbon, please, on the rocks. And a glass of water for me,” Jocelyn speaks to the bartender.The bartender only nods at her and begins to pour her a glass of water. Afterwards, she begins to fix him his drink.Sherlock takes the stool right next to Jocelyn. “You’re not having one?”She smiles most to herself. “Water is fine. I knew you’d find me here,” she smiles. “You took a while, though,” she teases.“When one is searching for a person who is as unpredictable as the future, one has to search everywhere.”“Unpredictable. Is that really what you think of me? Even after finding me here?”“Well, I admit, I should have considered this place first.”“You should’ve.”“Although, I thought New Orleans would be louder.”“Sherlock, it’s Monday. Give them a free pass,” she grins widely.He hums, slowly shaking his head. “The Crescent City.”“Big Easy. Even the apartment complexes have their own minibars.” She lets out a hearty laugh at that before raising her glass.He stares at her even as she drinks her water. Sherlock missed her so much, it almost made his chest ache. Although, he is not aware that ‘miss’ is the right word for what he is feeling.Sherlock looks around the place. “Are you going to explain what we are doing in a bar, openly, where anyone can see us?”Jocelyn snorts while rolling her eyes. Sherlock realizes he missed the sound of her laughter. And the eyeroll. “Calm down. I know everyone here, they don’t work for Laurie.”“And how do you know that?”“Because they all work for me.” Jocelyn tilts her head in amusement. “You think you’re the only one who can start a homeless network?”The corner or Sherlock’s lips curl into a smile, eyes lighting up with pride. Sherlock was about to ask a question, but the bartender neatly lays his drink on the counter.Jocelyn smiles. “Thank you, Naomi.”The bartender nods and offers a kind smile towards Jocelyn and casting a dark glance towards the detective before leaving. Sherlock curiously eyes the bartender before glancing back at the young scientist. Soon, everyone on the ground floor is gone, apart from Sherlock and Jocelyn.“You haven’t answered my question from outside.”“If I come home, he’s never going to stop. I’m sure Irene told you about him killing innocent people.”Sherlock places his hand on her knee. “Let me help you. Let me stay with you, here.“It’s too risky. You’re supposed to be in London. If he finds out that you’re here? That you found me? He’ll come for both of us.”“Why is the professor doing this?”“I don’t know, but I want you to know that I’m alright here. I don’t want you to worry.”Sherlock grows even more puzzled. “We can leave right now, Jocelyn.”“And how many people have to die, just so I can come back home?” She shakes her head. “It’s not worth it.”“I am not about to leave you. I just found you.”Her lips quirk into a sad smile. “Technically, it was me who found you.” He tilts his head in confusion. “Been watching you for a while. I just had to keep my distance.”“Why did you not show up sooner?” He sternly asks.She shifts in her seat from his tone. “I just… didn’t want to be found yet.”“Why now?”“It’s safe here for both of us to talk. I took the opportunity.”“How did you know I’d come here today?”“I told you, I’ve been watching you for a while. You’ve been chasing me around the world. Not bad,” she lets out a breath of disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did.”Sherlock wavers, unsure if he should be amused or confused. “I think at this point, you should not be surprised over the things I would do for you.”That makes her whole body warm. “I knew you won’t believe I was dead.”Sherlock leans closer. “I would never. However, Jocelyn, half the country is mourning for you.”She visibly shifts in discomfort again. “Didn’t think anyone else would notice.”“Of course, people would notice. You are a public figure.”“For being a renowned scientist or for being your ex-girlfriend?” She smiles in amusement.“You were not my—alright, this should not be our focus at this moment. I am here to bring you home, not to start an argument with you.”“Sherlock, I have to stay. I can’t turn my back on this.”“Are you hearing yourself? Turn your back on what?” He knots his brows together. When she couldn’t answer, Sherlock shifts closer. “Come back home. You belong with us. With your family.”She hesitates. “I’ll be fine.”He frowns. “Harry and your aunt were devastated.”The guilt flashes across her face. “No one should pause their lives because of me.”“You can come home and tell them that yourself.”“Sherlock, listen to me, okay? I’m alright. I’m safe. I can promise you that. You have to trust me.”“I trust you with every cell in my body. However, Moran and Moriarty are after you, and they mean to hurt you.”Jocelyn continues to watch him, and he begins to wonder what else she is not telling him. “I’m doing this for us, Sherlock. I need to stop Laurie, and to do that, I need to do it by myself. He wants me. Not you, not Mary, or Irene. Just me.”“Why you?”“I’m not entirely sure.”He grows suspicious. “That only implies you have an idea why.”“It’s complicated, I’m still trying to understand. If I did, I would’ve told you by now.”“How did you escape him?”She purses her lips. “Did you see the bartender earlier? Friend of Mary’s. She was one of the snipers from the pool. She was told to aim for you.”Sherlock’s features soften in surprise, blinking a few times. The bartender is good with disguise, then. Better than Mary, since he did not see any traces of her being an assassin.“She helped me escape New Zealand when Laurie wasn’t looking. The two of us have been on the run ever since.”New Zealand? “If she worked for Moriarty in the past and now works for Moran, why would she help you?”“Long story.”“I think we have all night.”She glances at her watch. “Actually, we have ten minutes until John rounds the corner with his car.”“I… please, do not ask me to leave you.”“Sherlock…”“Do not push me away.”A tear escapes her eye. “Trust me when I say that I’ll come back home, I just need to stay for a little longer.”“Moriarty is still out here, and it’s possible that he followed us here.” Sherlock warns her, holding her hands.“Trust me when I say that I’m in safe hands,” she musters a small smile.Sherlock never doubts Jocelyn, however, this is Moriarty they are talking about. “Jocelyn…”“This isn’t a goodbye, Sherlock.”“Don’t do this.”“Sherlock, please…”“Tell me what I can do, tell me. Anything at all.”“Anything?”“Yes.”She purses her lips. “Go home and stay there. Act like how you would if I did die. Make it convincing.”These words startle him. “What?”“It’s just for a little while. Like you said, we’ve been apart for much longer. We can wait a little more.”“No, no, they,” he pauses, feeling his whole body grow cold. “They will take you away from me,” his voice breaks and this is the most vulnerable he has been during the whole ordeal.“Look me in the eyes, Sherlock.”He forces himself to stare into her eyes, holding back his own tears. It was taking everything in him not to break, and Jocelyn can see that. After all, every emotion Sherlock would feel will always be heightened. It is either he feels nothing or feels everything.“I’ll come back. I just need you to promise me something,” she squeezes his hands. “No one can know that you saw me today, okay? Can you do that for me?”“Jocelyn, I…”“Please, Sherlock. Just… do this for me. I need you to promise to keep my secret, and to stop following me.”Then, he shakes his head firmly. “No.”“Sherlock—”He stands from the stool. “I searched for you for a month, Jocelyn, without resting. We looked for you all over the world without pause!”Jocelyn stands as well. “And I am so grateful for that. You have no idea how happy I am to realize that you never gave up on me… but this is something I have to do on my own.”“I cannot just let you be in an unsafe environment right after seeing you again!”“I’m not in an unsafe environment—”“Moran threatened me during the funeral, saying that he will bring me your head!”“Trust me, he’s not going to hurt me.”“How would you know?”She wavers, wrapping the coat even tighter around herself. “I just do, and I want you to trust me on that.”“Jocelyn…” he reaches up to cradle her face. “Just come with me, I… I do not care about anyone else.”Jocelyn stares back, mortified. “Well, I do. And I know that you will regret making me come home at the expense of other lives.”He screws his eyes shut, knowing that she is right. “I don’t want to leave you.”“I know this is difficult, but you have to trust me. Sherlock, people have to be convinced that I’m dead. Mycroft has to be convinced.”“Why him?”“Because he’s not going to stop looking for me. I can’t avoid different groups of people looking for me all at once.”“And you think that I’d stop looking for you? Me?”“Yes, because my life depends on it.”Sherlock silences, staring intently at her with all his emotions building up inside his body. After a few seconds, his features soften, and he looks away.Jocelyn frowns at the way he looks torn, so she steps forward and cups his cheeks. Sherlock immediately places his own hand on top of hers.“I know what I’m asking you to do, and I’m so sorry, but this is only for a little while, Sherlock.”“What do you expect me to do while I’m back there?” Sherlock mutters in pain. “Just sit and knit while you risk your life here? With criminal masters chasing after you?”She tries to smile. “Never a dull moment in our lives, hm?”“Jocelyn.”“I want you to go along with this charade. That I am dead.”“How am I supposed to do that? I have already convinced my brother and John that you are alive. It will be impossible to redo that.”She bites her lip. “Laurie threatened to send you my head, right?”Sherlock narrows his eyes at her before his face relaxes in realization. “No, don’t do this.”“If I send you a similar random body from a morgue. A head. Will they be convinced?”“Jocelyn, please.”“Will they be convinced?” She repeats in a much more assertive tone.Sherlock clenches his jaw. “Yes.”“Then, I’ll send one to Baker Street. Don’t let anyone else know about it, or it will reach Moran, and he’d know it wasn’t him who sent it.”“Why are you doing this?”“For me, for you, for us. Does it matter?”“I… I just want you to come home.”She smiles, a little bit too casual for someone who is going to face criminals on her own. “And I will.”Sherlock swallows tightly. “Is there anything else I should know?”She stays quiet before mustering a small smile. “I’ll tell you what. The next time we see each other, I’ll tell you everything.”Sherlock memorizes the texture of her newly dyed hair for the tenth time, looking into her green eyes. He takes a deep breath before nodding.From that, she sighs in content. Jocelyn pulls away, still looking into his blue eyes.Sherlock gives her a determined look. “Whatever it takes, I will bring you home.”She smiles at him, amused. “You know, seeing you today made my birthday a lot better.”Sherlock’s eyes soften. All he can do now is watch her in silence.“Save me that dance, Sherlock,” she whispers between them and after a few seconds, she kisses his cheek.Then, she takes a step back, still holding his hand. Slowly, she slips away from his grasp and walks towards the elevator, stepping inside. She lingers in the elevator for a moment, still watching Sherlock. Just before the doors slide shut, she flashes him a small smile.And she’s gone.Sherlock, still in disbelief of what had happened, only blinks rapidly and replays everything in his mind as he begins to walk towards the exit and leaves the building. As he strides while deep in thought, a car pulls over the sidewalk.He looks inside the car and recognizes his best friend behind the wheel. Still lost in his thoughts, he joins him in the vehicle. He closes the car door and waits for John to begin driving—although he never does.Instead, John glances at him with a curious look. “You okay?”“…what? Oh, yes. Quite fine…”“Did something happen? How did it go?”There was no hesitance, or reluctance; he shakes his head once and looks straight ahead. “The place has been renovated into an apartment building. No leads.”“Oh, well, we can try somewhere else.”“Hm.”He leans into his seat, looking out of the window with concern. He has never been so confused until this moment. With Jocelyn being alive and well. Her being very persistent with staying. Something motivated her to stay. He cannot tell what for. All he knows now is that Jocelyn is alive, and that is all that matters.The question is; for how long? He is already dreading the answer of that.“What’s next on Irene’s list?”“We’re done for the week. I’d like for us to go home.”“You… what?” John briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at him with surprise. “Home? Why?”He inhales before speaking, “Jocelyn is not here.”
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It was morning where Jocelyn was, and she barely slept. She had to escape in under at least three months. She was already four weeks long; she cannot stay here. Jocelyn shuddered to think of what they might do to her if they found out about her… situation.The door opened, and it instantly made her sit up with her body tensed. Naomi, as Jocelyn could recall her name, walked into the room with neatly folded clothes in her arms. She gently placed them on the bed, but Jocelyn retreated farther on the mattress as the woman came closer.The young woman only stared with her gentle brown eyes. Jocelyn stared at the clothes and says nothing. However, she observed Jocelyn for a moment before reaching into her own pocket. Naomi pulled out a small piece of paper before giving it to her.Jocelyn’s gulped, eyes stinging with tears as she clutched the small letter in her hands. She unfolded it and saw how the handwriting is still intact.She looked up at her with genuinely grateful eyes. “Thank you.”Naomi nodded once. “Mr. Moran is waiting for you upstairs, Miss. He’d like for you to join him for breakfast.”Jocelyn just traced her fingers on the letter, saying nothing. Naomi politely told nodded before walking out of the room.Jocelyn let out a breath, but allowed herself to crack a smile as she touched the paper. She contemplated changing into new clothes, but the thought of being watched made her feel sick. So, she chose to wear her uncomfortable hospital clothes.Jocelyn exited the room, and saw Naomi patiently waiting for her.The other woman appeared surprised that she did not change clothing, but Jocelyn swore that she saw a small smile from her. Naomi gestured towards the staircase and she began to walk towards a staircase. She walked up the stairs with Naomi behind her, and as soon as she emerged on the first floor, she gaped at what greets her.The floor she entered is filled with golden objects. The ceiling was adorned with chandeliers and the walls were decorated with classical paintings. Naomi led her to a hallway. With hesitation, she followed. There were multiple people that passed her, and they appeared to be wearing chef uniforms. Naomi entered the room and stood by the door, waiting for her to walk inside as well.Jocelyn followed and looks around the wide dining area. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she observed the amount of food on the long table. Her mouth nearly gaped at how great each plate of food appeared; it was as if she was joining a feast.“Good morning, Jocelyn,” at the far end of the table, she saw Laurie sitting on his chair. “Please, have a seat.”Jocelyn stayed frozen in her place, just letting her eyes scan every inch of the wide room. Everything was either golden or brown, or dark red and white. Naomi walks towards the chair to Laurie’s left, pulling it before glancing at Jocelyn. Jocelyn quietly sat down and watched as a few people placed food onto her plate.“Did you not like the clothes?”“I’m fine,” she curtly replied. “Why is there so much food here?”“Like I said, you are our guest here, Jocelyn.”“You told me yesterday that you kidnapped me.”“And I’m here trying my best not to make this feel that way. Naomi, give her some bourbon, for God’s sake,” his voice was light and playful.Naomi just approached her side with a bottle of bourbon, pouring some onto her glass.Jocelyn blankly stared at it. “How long are you going to keep me here?”“As long as I need to. It depends.”“On what?”“How soon you give me what I want. Until then, I think I should explain a few things to you, as I promised yesterday. I feel like you want some answers. What would you like to know first?”“Where am I?”“New Zealand. Next?” She reeled back, and he smiles. “Too obvious? Well, I had to take you somewhere no one will look for you. New Zealand is the calmest and safest one. By your standards, of course.”By her standards? “What is this place?”“You are currently in one of the main bases of Moriarty’s network.”“This is a criminal network base?”“Yes. I find it quite amusing that Sherlock Holmes never found this. He would’ve done a quicker job with dismantling things. Which goes to show that the detective doesn’t know everything.”At the mention of his name, Jocelyn visibly faltered.“Although, up until he came back to London, I always thought he was dead. Maybe your detective is clever after all. Maybe Jim’s right.”“How do you know Moriarty?”“Well, we’ve known each other since we were children. He lived with his mother, and he was quite different back then. Much more resilient, calm. Sane.”Jocelyn was surprised by this, not expecting that. “Can’t imagine Moriarty as a kid.”“There have been hints of his madness from the beginning, but I always brushed them off and told no one.”“How did you realize he was mad?”A small smile appeared on his face, shrugging. “I think it would have been evident when I caught him breaking a rabbit’s neck without so much as a flinch. Or it could be when he cut his knee open, solely because he found it interesting to see how it would feel.”“And then what? He leveled up and decided to drown a boy in a swimming pool?” She sarcastically remarked.“Then, his mother died.”She fell silent, turning her head to him.“She was murdered by a few criminals in the neighborhood. They killed her for no reason. Collateral damage. You can imagine how a mother’s death can impact a human, can’t you?”Jocelyn remained quiet in her seat, barely touching her food. Somehow, his words made her think of the time she was in New York; learning her own mother’s death through a phone call with her aunt.“I remember him saying that Carl Powers was the first to make fun of him for it and, well… you know how the story goes. Apparently, dying is what people do.” Laurie frowned.“Is this supposed to make me feel bad for him? Poor Jim, his mother died, and he became a fucking murderous serial killer.” She scoffed.“I am only trying to make you understand—”“My mother died, too. You don’t see me murdering people left and right.”“Really? I seem to remember that people have died because of you.”She wavered, and he truly hit a nerve. “Either way, Moriarty is a murderer and a criminal—”“He’ll take that as a compliment, I’m sure.”“—and he does not deserve my sympathy,” she shook her head and stood abruptly, nose flaring in anger.“Sit down, Jocelyn.”“You won’t hurt me. You need me alive.”“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”“Something we have in common, I can reassure you.”His eyes burning through her. “Sit. Down.”“Or what? Whatever it is you want from me, I know that you won’t get it if I’m dead.”“You know what I’ve learned after spending three years in your presence, Jocelyn?”“Enlighten me.”“Your ability to care for someone you barely know.” His eyes darted behind her.Jocelyn furrowed her brows at him before following his gaze. Her blood runs cold the moment she saw the same scar-eyed man, who held Irene Adler hostage, press a sharp knife against Naomi’s throat.She gaped, watching as the younger woman kept herself calm. The man, or Silas, stared intently at Jocelyn as he held the knife against the woman’s pale throat.She flinched the moment blood was drawn. “Alright, that’s enough!”“Sit down.”Jocelyn’s eye twitched, but she complied. Laurie nodded towards his brother and Naomi is released. Without even so much as a sound, Naomi simply wiped her neck with a clean handkerchief.Silas made his way to the opposite side of the table, taking his seat to Laurie’s right and put his feet up. He shot Jocelyn a glare, which made her more uncomfortable than Laurie ever had.“People with principles are the easiest targets. They’d even protect the people they’ve never met before.”Jocelyn clenched her jaw and drank her water, suddenly feeling drained of energy. “Why do you really want me here?”“You have something I want,” he pointed his knife towards her. “The key code, where is it? What have you done with it?”“Key code? What the hell are you talking about?”“Don’t play naïve with me, Jocelyn. The key code that Moriarty gave you, where is it?”“I… don’t know what that is.”“You are acting coy now, Jocelyn.”“Laurie, I don’t know.”“Come on, Sebastian. This is useless. She’s useless, we can do this on our own. I say that we throw her back into her cell and cut her up into tiny little pieces.” He offered her a smile, making a theatrical gesture with his fingers.Jocelyn furrowed her brows at the man, already feeling the deep hatred he had for her. What the hell has she ever done to him?“I should tell you, Jocelyn, that if you continue to deceive me, I won’t kill you. But there are many other ways to make you talk.”Silas sent his brother a daggered glare. “I’ve said it before that this is a waste of time, we should just—”“No. Moriarty gave it to her. He said so himself.”“When has that bastard ever been honest in his life?”“He would not lie about this, Silas. That, I know,” he slowly realizes something. “He planted it on her…”Silas just rolled his eyes. “That will take ages to find! It’s been three years since they last saw each other!”Laurie held up his hand to silence his brother. “Have you ever been informed of a key code, Jocelyn?”She thought long and hard, but recalled Sherlock telling her about it. “Are you talking about… the key code that Moriarty used to break into the Tower of London?”“Oh, so you are aware of it.”“Yes, and I also know that it doesn’t exist. It never did.”Silas let out a short mocking chuckle. “She is funny. Isn’t she funny? Why is she being funny?”“Quiet, Silas.”“This is a waste of time. She’s clearly useless!”“I said be quiet,” he shot him a look and that silenced the man, slumping back into his seat. Laurie looked back at Jocelyn with gentler eyes. “Excuse my brother’s behavior. He’s bitter over how you bested him with a pen.”“Stop this nonsense, Sebastian. I can save a lot of our time and just—”Before Jocelyn could even flinch, she felt a swift breeze sweep past the side of her head and a loud thump against the wall. She gasped and widened her eyes, turning her head after a few seconds. Then, she saw one of the knives he was sharpening—and its sharp tip is buried into the wooden clock right behind her.“Silas!” Laurie’s eyes were wide, standing to grab his wrist.The two brothers shared a gaze, and Jocelyn watched the resentment between them. Although, she could barely focus since a moment ago, she could have had a knife buried in her skull if she moved even the slightest bit to the side.Without looking away from his brother, Laurie spoke. “Naomi, will you please take Dr. Grant outside for some fresh air? A walk in the garden might suit her.”Jocelyn scoffed. “But—”“If you have more questions, Naomi will answer them for you. She never lies.”The scientist gave them one last look before following behind Naomi as she led her away.Silas gritted his teeth. “You’re letting her to go outside, now? Where she can escape at any time?”“She won’t leave. She knows better.”“You better be sure she does. Else, I would’ve strangled the Woman with my bare hands and sent that detective to his death quicker.”“No one lays a finger on Sherlock Holmes. And you’d do well to stay away from Jocelyn. No one hurts her.”As Jocelyn walked alongside Naomi, she asked, “Does anyone else know about Laurie?”“What do you mean, Miss?”“Did Irene Adler know?”“Yes, she did. Originally, she worked under Moriarty, and Moran afterwards. However, she decided to leave.”“Oh… and Mary Morstan?”“Anastasia Galyana Rosamund Aslanov was Moriarty’s most trusted assassin. Of course, she knows about Moran.”“…who?”“Her real name. Aslanov was a Russian spy, one of the best,” she nodded, smiling a bit. “She could shoot down a person four thousand meters away. She once killed France’s most powerful—”“Yeah, okay, got it,” Jocelyn cleared her throat. “Do they really think that the key code exists? It was nothing more than a… fairytale Moriarty used to trick the world.”“The key code exists. Sebastian believes that Moriarty planted it on you.”“We met like three times. If he planted it on me, it would either be in my house, apartment or anywhere else I live.”“Sebastian already searched through all your homes.”Of course, he did. “And he found nothing?”“No key.”“What does it do?”“Moriarty made the world believe that it can unlock any door in the world. But actually, it unlocks only one. Moriarty’s data system.”Jocelyn frowns. “What’s that?”“It is sort of an inventory, filled with information.”“What kind of information?”“I don’t know. None of us do.”“Then, why do they all want to have it so badly?”“Moriarty kept it locked for a reason. Whatever’s in it must be important. Moriarty was gone before he gave it to anyone else.”“So, it’s true, then? He’s really dead?”Naomi averts her eyes. “No one has seen Moriarty since his meeting with Sherlock Holmes in the rooftop of St. Bartholomew’s. Not even us.”“Is… is it possible that he’s alive, then?”“Entirely possible.”Jocelyn gulps. “What did Laurie mean when he said that I’ve been under his protection?”“Since Moriarty’s absence, Mr. Moran has ensured your safety. No criminal would dare to harm you while Sebastian is nearby. Only Magnussen tried, so, Sebastian had to strike a deal.”--“You’re clearly desperate, since you actually reached out to me,” her voice fills the room the moment she walks in.“Mrs. Hudson made some tea. Help yourself.”“What’s this about, Mr. Holmes?” Irene looks around the neat flat. “I was in Russia.”“Sit down. I have a few questions.”“You sure we shouldn’t have chosen a more… secluded area to talk?” Irene crosses her legs and arms, staring at Sherlock’s lean back. “Well? What am I doing here?”He finally turns and points his bow towards her with an intense stare. “When you first came to Jocelyn a year ago, how did you find the wiretaps?”“What?”“The wiretaps. How did you find them?”“I told you before. I worked for Moran for a while. I always knew they were there.”“Hm. No, you didn’t know.”“Mr. Holmes, what am I doing here?”Sherlock takes his seat in front of her. “You’re hiding something.”“I’ve told you everything!”“No, I don’t think you knew about the wiretaps. You didn’t find them. You stumbled upon them, because you were looking for something else inside of Jocelyn’s house.”Irene tilts her chin up, staying silent again as she stares back at him.“What was it?”Irene glowers at him. “I warned Jocelyn about you, and you betrayed her.”“I betrayed her?” Sherlock does not miss a beat with asking.Neither did Irene. “By going after Magnussen on your own, you ruined everything! I heard that Dr. Watson’s wife could’ve killed that vile human without any problems. You wouldn’t have been exiled, and Jocelyn wouldn’t have been taken.”Sherlock sharply inhales. “What were you looking for?”Irene gives him a sly smile. “Why should I tell you?”“Jocelyn is alive. We spoke yesterday. Now, I will ask again. What were you looking for?”She remains quiet, but still hesitating.Sherlock lets out a long exhale, impatient. “Miss Adler, the only thing stopping Jocelyn from coming home is this object you were looking for. I have reason to believe that Moran is also looking for this object that seems to be in Jocelyn’s possession.”“Mr. Holmes…”“Now, she refused to come home solely because she would like to find and understand it. Are you going to talk?”Irene looks away from him, reluctant and frigid. It was obvious that she cares about Jocelyn, considering that she basically showed her more kindness than anyone ever had.“You talked to her?”“Yes.”“Is she alright?”“Yes.”“What did she say?”“I believe I was supposed to ask questions.”Irene rolls her eyes. “Forgive me for being concerned.”“I don’t need your concern. I only need your answers.” Sherlock hastily replies with his deep voice. “The pieces are still there, just scattered. And she happens to have the center piece,” he slowly narrates her previous words. “The center piece… you did not mean that in a metaphorical sense, did you?”Irene’s silence served great as an answer.Sherlock uncrosses his legs. “What were you looking for?”Irene hesitates but ultimately sighs. “When Moriarty… left, he sent me a message. He gave Jocelyn the key code.”“The key code,” he repeats, unimpressed.“I know. It’s not supposed to exist, but apparently, it does. Moriarty made everyone think it can open any door, but it just opens one. His data system.”“What information does it contain?”“No one knows.”“How convenient.”“It’s true, no one knows what’s in it. Or what it does. Sebastian just wants to have it really badly.”“Why do you want the code?”“The same reason the government wanted my phone three years ago. The information in that system might be useful.” A smirk forms on her face. “There’s nothing new under the sun.”Sherlock averts his eyes, staying silent now as he concentrates.“If what you’re saying is true. About Jocelyn not coming home. Chances are, she’s looking for the code herself.”“Why would she do that?”“You’re the smart one, I’m sure you know already.”Sherlock clenches his jaw. Of course. Jocelyn would not want the code to fall in the wrong hands, especially Moran’s. For once, Sherlock resents the fact that Jocelyn refuses to turn her back on things.“Sebastian Moran is much more dangerous than you think. I’m surprised Jocelyn managed to escape,” she pauses at her own words. “How did she escape?”Sherlock pulls himself on his feet. “Alright. You have answered all of my questions. That will be all.”“No, no, wait. How did she get out?” Irene widens her eyes in confusion. “Sebastian is the most paranoid man I’ve ever met. It’s impossible for her to just escape.”“Evidently not. Good morning.”Irene makes her way towards the door. “If Jocelyn is looking for the code, there’s a reason why she didn’t tell you she was.”“And what would that be?”“Because you are stupid enough to look for it yourself.”“Clearly, you do not know who I am, Miss Adler.”“Maybe. But she does.”“Is this sentiment?”She lets out a humorless scoff. “For you? No.” Irene steps forward until only a few meters separated them.***Hours later, John gets home, and he finds a parcel at their doorstep. He cocks his head to the side in confusion as he approaches it. He sees a tag on it.
For Sherlock, I am sorry for your loss.
John glances around the street. He holds up the box, feeling the weight of it. Could be a bomb, but as he shakes it, whatever is inside is definitely not a device. He hesitates, but brings it along with him inside.“Sherlock?”“Heard the doorbell, but no one came up.” Sherlock is typing on his laptop.“Uh, you got, erm… a package.”“Hm. Might be one of those condolences gifts again. Keep receiving them every hour, it gets quite boring now,” Sherlock waves him off, gesturing to the various other boxes with gifts and flowers. “How was Mycroft? How’s his team?”“Er, it’s fine. Going well. No trace of her, though.”“Ugh. Dull, boring. His team is useless.”“Well, they’re out there right now, unlike us. Which, by the way, why are we still here?”“We might run into Moran’s people, it’ll prove fatal if we encounter them by chance. We can’t exactly find Jocelyn if we’re dead, now, can we?”John makes a sound of acknowledgement and begins to cut open the top of the box.“How’s Mary?”“Still adjusting in Mycroft’s house. Enjoying the food there, though.”“Her cravings are beginning to worsen. Awful side effect of pregnancy. But, then again, pregnant women do need their sustenance. Otherwise, the infant might die.”John grimaces at him but hums in acknowledgement again as he pries open the box.The first thing he sees in a folded piece of paper, placed on top of what seems to be a paper wrap. John takes the paper and opens it.
To Mr. Sherlock Holmes, our deepest condolences.
Assuming it is what Sherlock says it is, John reaches inside to uncover whatever is underneath the wrapper.And then, he freezes.Sherlock continues to type away on his laptop. Finding it suspicious that his companion has not uttered a word in a while, he glances to his right and sees John standing in the same spot, mouth slowly gaping at whatever is in the box.“What is it? What’s wrong?”John closes the box. “Sherlock…”“What?”The doctor gives him a look, and Sherlock can see the way his friend’s face is paling.Sherlock slowly tilts his head. He slowly stands and begins to walk towards the kitchen.John feels his own skin crawl, blocking Sherlock’s way. “Sherlock, I think you shouldn’t…”“Shouldn’t what?” Sherlock’s voice is tight.John gives him a look, and no words needed to be exchanged. The detective continues walking into the kitchen, but John grabs his arm. “Sherlock.”“John, I am giving you a few seconds to free me.”“You don’t need to see it.”“I think I have every right to know what you are talking about.” Sherlock snaps with his deep voice.John clenches his jaw, fighting the sting in his own eyes. After a few moments, he loosens his grip around his arm and lets him go. Sherlock sends him a glare, but it fades away the moment his gaze falls on the box.Sherlock carefully lifts his arms to raise the lid of the box, slowly peeking inside of it. John watches him the entire time, taking in his reaction. He watches the way Sherlock swallows tightly, taking his time to have a long and hard look into what the box contains.The whole flat is quiet, and nothing moves. It was as if time stopped, freezing around everything until the whole universe narrows down into the four corners of the kitchen.John wanted to ask if it really is her, but by the look on Sherlock’s face, he can draw his own answer.After what seemed like hours, Sherlock slowly closes the box. Not a single tear is present, but John can see the way his fingers are shaking.Sherlock blinks multiple times. “John, would… will you give me a moment?” His voice comes with ease, and for anyone who does not know Sherlock, it would seem as if he was unaffected by this.But John knew him. He knew that this will break him, and John is not prepared to witness that. The army doctor hesitates, not wanting to leave Sherlock alone during this moment, but it feels as though Sherlock is under so much pressure and ready to burst.John nods once, looking at him for one final moment before he slips out of the room. As he goes down the stairs, he hears the doors clicking close.Then, there was a beat of silence.Inside the flat, Sherlock clenches his fists, ducking his head down and gripping the edge of the table. He screws his eyes shut and lets out a shaky breath. He goes to view the head again, sighing as he sees the clear resemblance. Of course, the face was obviously modified and enhanced, but John was convinced. It takes greater lengths to convince Mycroft, though.He lets out a long sigh and closes the box again, taking the note with him. Surely now, John is assuming that he is having a breakdown over this.He puts down the note and presses his palms together in deep thought. Step two.
***
Night finally comes, and John still has not come home. This is why it is the perfect opportunity to invite someone into the flat to talk.She steps into the flat, hand over her bulging stomach. He was facing the mirror above the fireplace, with his arms behind his back.She takes a seat. “Where’s John?”“I asked him to leave. He will come back tomorrow morning. For now, we are alone.”“Why?”Sherlock turns to look at the woman on the chair. “Mary, I think I’m going to die.”“What?”He grits his teeth and strides across the room, with Mary’s eyes following him. “Jocelyn spoke to me yesterday, and revealed something quite big.”“Sorry, what? You saw Jocelyn?” Mary stares at him with a look of surprise. “Why isn’t she with you?”“She asked me to leave because she would like to stay away for a while longer.”“Why?”“She didn’t say. All I know is that she is very adamant not to come home.”“How did she even get out? Moran is bloody topnotch with security.”“Does the name ‘Naomi’ mean anything to you?”At the mention of that name, her facial features soften. “Naomi’s with her?”“Yes. Jocelyn told me she helped her escape.”“In that case, Jocelyn is much safer than any of us combined.”Sherlock furrows his brows in a questioning manner.“Naomi is just like me, but better. She started much earlier than I did.” Mary looks confused. “But… I don’t see why she would help Jocelyn.”“How do you mean?”“Naomi is very loyal to Moriarty. She would… do anything for him. And now she’s helping the woman Moriarty is looking for? It doesn’t make sense.”His whole body grows cold. “How loyal is she to Moriarty?”“Well, when Moriarty died, I took it as an opportunity to get away. Start over. I asked her to come with me, but she refused. She said something about staying until the end. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”Sherlock knots his brows together. Does Jocelyn know about this? Will this Naomi person lead her to Moriarty?What is happening? What does any of this mean? He asks himself this as he palms his face in frustration.Mary continues to watch him almost be at the verge of losing his mind. “Sherlock, what am I doing here?”“I need your help.”“Can’t John do it?” Mary asks, and they share a look. “Does John even know?”“No. Jocelyn requested my silence about this.”“Then, why are you telling me all of this?”“You’re the only person who can help me,” he sits down and braces himself. “I need to convince my brother that Jocelyn is truly dead. I could show him the head, but he will see through it in less than a second.”“A head?!”“Oh. Right. Yes, Jocelyn sent a head from a morgue that is similar to hers. John was easily convinced.”“Jesus, Sherlock,” Mary widens her eyes. “Do you have a plan?”“Yes. And it is something John would not be able to stomach.”“But I can?”“Evidently.”“What are you planning to do?”“I am going to rewrite my memories of seeing her yesterday. It would seem as though it never happened to me.”“You can do that?”“Efficiently.”Sherlock has done it before, and for a much long time. This should not feel different. Five years was incredibly long. This will not take years… would it?“What do you want me to do?”“Once I remove my memories, I will be in the state of mind where I believe Jocelyn is dead. I’m… not entirely sure what I will do. I need you to make sure that I do not go too far. I cannot take it too far, Mary.” Sherlock states calmly and assertively, and Mary realizes the gravity of his request.“Alright, um, how do I know it’s going too far?”“If I’m at the verge of death, you need to stop me.”“H-How do I…”Sherlock passes her a small sheet of paper. “I’ve written a trigger phrase. You can recite those words to me, and I will stop what I am doing. However, I will also remember the memories I’ve suppressed. I aim for that not to happen, so, you can only use this phrase once.”She reads the written phrase with her eyes, shaking her head. “Sherlock, this is insane.”“John can never do this to me. He would use the code the moment I hit even the surface of rock-bottom. I’d rather spare him the pain.”“Why me?”“You shot me once. You are not afraid of putting me in harm’s way for your benefit. I trust that you do want Jocelyn to come home.” Sherlock states objectively. “No one else can do this. You are the only one who can be my failsafe.”She digests his words. “You… you really think you could die from this?”Sherlock appears reluctant. “Frankly, I do not know what will happen, or what I will do. Nonetheless, do not stop me unless it is absolutely necessary. Can I rely on you with that?”Mary still looks at him with slight hesitation before she nods.“Good.” he glances down at her bulging stomach. “Are you prepared for one last façade, Mary?”“Yes.”
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Laurie was not wrong when he said that Naomi never lies. She was very upfront about everything whenever Jocelyn asked her about something. Just the other day, Jocelyn asked Naomi if there were any cameras or wiretaps in the mansion, and Naomi did not hesitate with answering yes. She even revealed where each camera is located, and how there weren’t any blind spots.Of course, after that, Jocelyn grew even more uncomfortable whenever she got dressed, or took baths or showers. It always felt like someone was watching her. Every part of her soul felt violated.Naomi was always an arm’s reach from her. It was almost as if she was acting as Jocelyn’s maid. It was very strange.Right now, Jocelyn sat by the garden. She wondered about her friends back home, how they were. It was difficult not to think about Sherlock and how this might be affecting him.It has been a week since she was taken, and quite honestly, she does not feel like she was kidnapped. She was given proper clothes, food, a room, and even items for hygiene. It was almost as if she was staying in a hotel.Or a prison. There was a fine line there.There were times where she would daydream that she was home, instead of here. Sherlock would be making her some tea while she flipped through the television. She would be laughing at some ridiculous fact that he would tell her about some food she has to eat.In her mind, she thought about what would happen if Irene and Silas never arrived in Baker Street together. Jocelyn imagined her reunion with Sherlock. She would laugh and kiss him until he couldn’t say another word.It seemed bloody cliché and unrealistic, but she would rather have that than this living nightmare.She stayed quiet now, just sipping her tea. Naomi kept stealing glances from her for the next twenty minutes.As far as Jocelyn knows, Naomi was tasked to watch over Jocelyn. Of course, Jocelyn is not dumb enough to underestimate Naomi. Who knows what she is capable of if ever Jocelyn tries to run away?Besides, Jocelyn would not risk hurting herself. She is carrying her child inside her, after all.“It has been a week, yet you never asked about your friends back home.” Naomi finally spoke in the silence.“I don’t think you’d answer.”“You ask, I answer.”She has not had any contact to the world beyond the gardens of this land, and she finds herself thinking of whatever it is that may be happening on the other side of the world. There were no televisions, or radios in the mansion. Not even a bloody newspaper.“Is my aunt okay?”“She is perfectly safe in Milton Keynes.”Jocelyn breathed in relief. “My friends?”“Harry Watson is still in New York. Mycroft Holmes is currently talking to the British prime minister. John Watson still resides in Baker Street, along with Martha Louise Hudson and Sherlock Holmes.”The sound of his name made the hair on Jocelyn’s body rise.“Irene Adler is in Russia.”Jocelyn snapped her head towards Naomi, who casually drinks her tea. “She’s not my friend, and I don’t care where she is.”Naomi raised her brows at her, but said nothing.“And Sherlock?”“He has not left Baker Street for days. Until yesterday.”“You mean, he finally went out?”“Yes, and to visit Dr. Hooper in the morgue.”“He’s solving cases?” While she’s missing?“No, Miss Jocelyn. He came to the morgue to verify the body they found under the bridge in London. Your body.”“My… what?”Naomi calmly nodded. “Your body. It is important for the whole world to believe that you are dead.”She widened her eyes, hand nearly dropping the hot tea into her lap. “They think… they think I’m dead?”“Yes.”“But… why did… why?”“To make sure none of them is idiotic enough to come looking for you. That would be a suicide mission. That way, they won’t be harmed.” “You underestimate him.”“Or maybe you expect too much from him. It’s for the best, Miss. Trust me. It’s an act of kindness to them.”“Jesus, what’s the matter with all of you?” Jocelyn sputtered out. Everyone thinks she is dead. How is she supposed to react to that? Why is Naomi so calm about this? “Do you really think you could fool Sherlock Holmes? He won’t believe I’m dead.”The only thing that can convince him, ironically, is his own stupid bloody mind.“It isn’t difficult to find a corpse that is very similar to your body structure. I doubt even Sherlock Holmes could see past it.”“Kind? You think giving my fake corpse to my friends is kind?”“Better than to spend a ridiculous amount of time and energy looking for you. Why do you think Sherlock Holmes never revealed his being alive during his two years being deceased? He didn’t want you to look for him. Which I’m certain you would have.”“At least I’m not delusional. All of you are acting like Moriarty is some sort of king to worship.”“Moriarty began a criminal network from scraps. He built all of this from nothing. Do you want to know how he did that?”“I feel like you’d tell me anyway, if I say no.”“It was because he had a certain determination in him. From that, people followed. Soon enough, every single criminal wanted an opportunity to work for him. Once you work for Moriarty, you become untouchable.”“No one is untouchable.”“But you are. You are one of us.” Naomi continued to sip her tea.“I… am not one of you.” Jocelyn nearly fumed.“Aren’t you, though?” She tilted her head almost innocently. “You withheld evidence that could solve the murders of many doctors and nurses. As well as the deaths of a mother and her son. Solely because you wanted a clean record for a career.”Jocelyn gripped her tea from her usual bluntness. This woman had no filter at all. Her insensitive words were quite provoking, but Jocelyn kept herself calm.“You should not deny your identity. You are just as much of a criminal as any of us.” Jocelyn chose to stay quiet, in fear that she might say something she’ll regret. “And there must be something special in you for Moriarty to choose you as the receiver of the code.”“He chose me to get to Sherlock. It’s part of their silly game.”“Perhaps, but until the key code is found, you remain here with us. In the silly game.”Her anxiety grew. She will not be able to prevent her body from changing, adapting to its new state. They will find out and take this away from her.“What if he never finds it?”“Then, he’ll have someone else find it for him. Maybe a certain consulting detective from central London.”Jocelyn couldn’t help but glare. “He’ll never help any of you.”“As long as you are here, the Morans can make him do anything. That is how leverage works. The Morans have you, then they have the Holmes brothers.”“What are you even, a servant girl?”“I am here to serve Moriarty’s network.”“…why?”“We all have a purpose.”“And yours is to serve a crime web?”“Just because this is a different purpose from yours, does not mean it matters any less.”Jocelyn leaned back on her seat, unsure how to respond to that. Naomi seemed pleased by her silence.“You’re on the side of the angels, Miss Jocelyn. Welcome to the opposing side.”--“Ah, John. Good morning. Anything to report to me?”John had a deeply concerned look on his face, mixed with complete grief and despair. In his hand, he held a piece of paper.Mycroft notices his expression. “Has my brother done something drastic? Surely, it wouldn’t be a surprise to me.”“Mycroft… there’s something… there’s something you should know.”The eldest Holmes watches the army doctor carefully, before his eyes move downwards and onto the paper he was holding. Mycroft looks upon John’s face again, only this time, his expression turns sour.“It’s from Sherlock.”Mycroft furrows his brows at him. “Well? What would he like to pass onto me?”“It’s not, uh… it’s not for you. It’s for me.” John holds up the folded paper. “I came to see him today, but he’s not in Baker Street. This was on the table.”John holds back a sigh as he buries his face into his palms in distress. Mycroft eyes him in suspicion as he opens the folded paper, only to see Sherlock’s handwriting with the short message
Tell Mycroft what I cannot.
The eldest Holmes only stares at John with a questioning look. “Tell me what?” The soldier is clearly hesitant, and Mycroft grew even more impatient and bemused. “John, what has happened?”“Jocelyn, she…” John closes his eyes. “She’s dead.”Mycroft stares at him blankly before scoffing out a short laugh. “Dr. Watson, pull yourself together and tell Sherlock to get back to work.”“Mycroft…”“We are at the verge of finding her. Any time wasted is a second of her in danger.”“Mycroft,” he shakes his head. Mycroft stares with an expecting look, and John had no idea how to break it to him. “There was a package left on our doorstep two days ago.”“Two days.” Mycroft coldly repeats. “Two… days.”“I thought Sherlock would have wanted to tell you himself, but,” he looks at the paper in Mycroft’s hand, not continuing his words.The government official blinks, but John sees the fear flash in his eyes. “And what did this package contain?”“It was a head.”Before John could finish his sentence, Mycroft averts his eyes from him and turns to walk towards his table. There was silence between them for a moment, with Mycroft’s back facing John so casually.After a while, Mycroft’s glass of whiskey is now empty. “And you are sure that it’s her?”“I… well, yeah. Sherlock, he…” John could not find the words, noticing how calm Mycroft’s voice seems. “He saw it himself.”“Hm. I see,” his voice is quiet.John frowns, looking down at his lap. Now, he is unsure if he should leave so he waited for Mycroft to tell him to. However, it does not come.Mycroft continues to sip his drink, eyeing the night view of the streets outside. He can feel his chest twisting, and pain settling in his stomach. Away from John’s eyes, Mycroft swallows hard and closes his eyes, feeling the sting under his eyelids.Then suddenly, Mycroft turns to John with bewilderment. “You mentioned earlier that Sherlock is not in Baker Street.”“Yeah, the note was on the table. The flat was empty.”For the first time in John’s life, he sees the panic flash across Mycroft’s face, and he drops the glass of whiskey. Before John could even flinch, the glass shatters on the floor as Mycroft hurriedly takes the telephone on his desk, pressing a few buttons.“Hello. Yes, I would like a team to sweep up every den in the city. Every single corner. Level fifteen, active. Effective immediately.”“What is—what’s going on?”Mycroft ignores the question. Instead, he puts down the phone and grabs his coat, taking out his personal phone from the pockets. John watches Mycroft dial a number as he shrugs his coat on.“Kensington Palace.” He says into the phone before he hangs up.“What’s happening? Kensington Palace?” John runs up beside him.“Gregory knows what it means. Sherlock is a danger to himself. We must locate him. NOW!” Mycroft harshly shouts, losing his calm aura.***They did not find Sherlock for weeks. It has always been a fact that the only person who can outsmart Mycroft was his own brother, and now, that could not be truer. They searched the flat, and the so-called head was missing as well. It was as if Sherlock disappeared in thin air.Mary felt horrible. She would sometimes see John in the middle of the night, unable to sleep at the thought of his best friend being in danger. A danger to himself. There were nights when Mary would be awake, listening to John silently sob next to her.Some time flies, John had difficulty with focusing because at this moment, Mary was in labor. As Mary squeezes his hand and yells in pain, John was under stress over his best friend who might be elsewhere, putting his life in danger.Even as John held his daughter for the first time with such happiness, the worry he felt for his missing best friend did not disappear.On the other hand, Mycroft is gripping his glass tightly as the shattered voices of his parents begin to fade around him. He had just come home from a failed search, only to see his parents appear furious. They do not know the gravity of the situation since they’ve always thought that Jocelyn is dead.Mycroft can barely hear them telling him that he has not watched his brother closely enough. It was the year 2002 again. Only now, the numbness that Mycroft had felt could not be compared to before.He barely even notices his parents leaving, being escorted outside by his secretary. Then, he is alone in his home, glancing at the empty whiskey bottles on the table. Mycroft clenches his jaw, disliking the way his emotions are beginning to get the best of him.He has always been capable of holding them back, suppressing them to present a calm face for governance. No one likes an emotional government official, and Mycroft realized that way before he entered politics.Still, it was strange to know that Jocelyn is dead. Even the thought seems strange. For some reason, Mycroft feels as though Jocelyn is just away somewhere. On some sort of vacation, which seems ridiculous now that he thinks about it. He could not imagine her being beheaded, it felt unreal to him.In a way, Mycroft always saw her as something more than human. Someone that cannot be harmed nor killed. No matter how much her life was in danger, Mycroft never imagined her death could be possible. It was as if she was this un-killable thing.As Mycroft thinks, it is ridiculous of him to imagine that. All humans die. It is the one thing they can be relied upon to do.Mycroft frowns to himself, feeling his eyes sting with painful tears. The last time he has cried was in 2005, when he found his brother being grasped by Death’s fingertips in a doss house. Death nearly succeeded that night. It was odd to think that the current events felt so similar to the past situation.Mycroft turns around and walks towards his bedside drawer. He a small stack of folded papers in it, unties the ribbon holding them all together and opens one of the oldest.
Dear Queen Elizabeth II,
Rhett Butler called and said he wants his suits back, if you even know who Rhett Butler is. On that note, I should bring you some old films. I think you might like them. You seem to be the Noir type of guy. I’ll give them to Shirley Temple to give it to you when you meet for lunch. Talk soon?
Love,
Cotton Candy
Mycroft presses his lips together, almost too harshly as he goes through some of the letters. He and Jocelyn liked exchanging letters, even before she left for New York. Some of the recent letters were from when they kept each other updated about Magnussen and Irene Adler.When they were younger, Mycroft insisted on using pen names, and Jocelyn was very annoyed, but amused enough to use the Queen’s name for Mycroft, and Shirley Temple for Sherlock. Cotton Candy for herself. Admittedly, it did make Mycroft grin when Jocelyn began using those nicknames again for their latest letters.He almost smiles at the memory, but he stops. He hated just remembering memories about her now. He does not want to do that. Once he does, that would bring him to the reality that she is gone.Mycroft swallows and immediately ties the ribbon back around the stack of letters, hiding it back into his drawer.His phone vibrates in his jacket pocket. Mycroft pulls out his phone and the screen luminates his face. His heart drops and he sprints out of the door.He was driven to a darkened and abandoned building, along with John. The moment the car stops, Mycroft wastes no time with exiting and running inside to immediately look for his brother.Lestrade was the first to find him. He was in the darkest room, surrounded by candles and empty plastic bags that may have been filled of various substances not even Dr. Watson could name.The usually calm and collected detective now lies in a raggedy cloth that serves as a mattress, curled up in pain with different marks on his forearm. He was shaking as if he was freezing in the summer heat, and his face was white as a sheet. He was unrecognizable, blending in with the others in the area with his dirty clothes and sweat matting his curls into his forehead.John gapes at the scene and could not move. Mycroft was the first to step forward, taking off his coat to wrap it around his shaking baby brother. He sits next to him, not even minding the dirty and wet floor as he holds Sherlock to his chest. Mycroft holds him tight as the youngest Holmes shook in his embrace, still dazed of what is happening around him.If John listens closely, he can hear Sherlock slurring out incoherent words under his breath. Words that sound remarkably close to a familiar name belonging to a woman. John’s chest caves in.***The next day, Mycroft sits by Sherlock’s bedside as the detective sleeps. Mycroft is reading the newspaper, frowning at how quick the papers spotted his brother being rushed to the hospital. He lets out a long sigh, folding the newspaper.“I saw her…”Mycroft snaps his head to his brother, whose eyes are half-lidded and voice slurring. There was a dazed smile on Sherlock’s face as Mycroft turns his body to face his younger brother.“Saw who?”“Jocelyn,” the detective mutters quietly, a weak yet fond smile forming. “I saw her...”Mycroft stares. “Where?”“In… in Musgrave Hall. The flat. Home.”“Sherlock…”“She was there. She was… she was playing the piano,”“You should keep sleeping, brother mine.”“I need to go home…”Mycroft’s voice is shaky, still trying to maintain his authoritative demeanor. “You nearly died, Sherlock.”The detective looks at his brother for a moment and looks away. He had no idea what to say to Mycroft. He could not face him, not after what happened. She is gone, all because Sherlock was too late.
How is he supposed to face Mycroft?
Sherlock swallows. “I do not want you to see me this way.”“Brother mine, I believe I have told you countless of times that I will always be there for you.”Sherlock does not grimace this time. Instead, he looks at Mycroft with his watery eyes. He fights it, though. Still trying to look his best. Still making himself seem cold and unfeeling.“I failed her.”Mycroft visibly wavers at that, reaching out to place his hand on his brother’s arm. “She would not wish for you to think that way.”“You loved her.”“Brother mine…”“You’ve always treated her as family since the moment you’ve met, and now she is gone because of me.” His voice gets caught in his throat at the end.“This is not because of you.”“Yes, it is.” Sherlock closes his eyes. “You are only too noble to admit it. My… my noble brother.”“Sherlock, we have been through everything together. I will stand by you no matter what.”“I killed the first person you have truly loved other than me.”Mycroft briefly shuts his eyes, not wanting to think about it. “Sherlock…”“The only person who saw through us both and still accepted us as family.”“I know what you are doing. You’d like me to blame you, why?”“I deserve it.”Before Mycroft could answer, there was a knock on the door. He immediately glances at the sound. Sherlock follows his gaze and relaxes upon seeing John opening the door. Sherlock avoids his eyes and listens to John approach him. Mycroft leaves the room, and the two men were left alone.“How are you feeling?”“I’m undergoing detoxification. I thought you were a doctor. Can’t you figure it out?” Sherlock half-slurs.John sighs, already aware that Sherlock is deflecting from his actual problems. He slowly occupies the seat that Mycroft took earlier, staring at Sherlock.“And congratulations, by the way.”John does not reply and continues to watch him, unsure of what to say.“How is Mary and the newborn?”“Mary’s great, yeah. The baby, she’s beautiful. Really beautiful.”“I’m sure you are over the moon.” Sherlock mutters, almost sounding happy for him. “Have you thought of a name?”“We’re still working on it.”“Hm.”Silence fills the space between them, with only Sherlock’s heart rate monitor beeping to remind John that he has not lost his sense of hearing. He gulps and looks down at his hands on his lap. “Sherlock…”“Please, John. Your baby has just been born. You should be with your wife.”“Mary is at home, so is the baby. And I wanted to see my best friend.”Sherlock finally looks at him, eyes flickering with an emotions John could not describe. He does not say anything, and it was like the words got lost between them.John has never seen Sherlock this lost. As if he had no clue as what to do next. The detective seemed like he so desperately needed a fix, despite his current situation. Or maybe, because of his current situation.“Sherlock, I… I’m so sorry. Even after a month, I really thought we—” he screws his eyes shut and shakes his head once. “I thought we had a chance.”Sherlock had no reply to that, aching to hold another syringe to plunge into his forearm. He could not bear to think about anything else other than her. At the same time, he hated to think of her.If Sherlock were clean and thinking clearly, he would be able to imagine John’s situation; just having a baby, and around the same time, finding his friend shaking and dying from the things he took.He frowns and tenses his jaw. Sherlock watches John, yet all he can think of is feeling that surging energy he always experiences once the needle enters his vein.“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” Yes, you do. You cannot stop thinking about it. You want a needle right now. You want to stop thinking. “I keep picturing her, John. I… cannot stop conjuring the image of her…” on her knees, begging for her life as someone wields an axe and forcibly swinging it down the back of her neck, severing her head from her shoulders—Sherlock screws his eyes shut and shifts in his bed, clearly in pain.“I… I couldn’t even tell Mycroft myself,” from that sentence, Sherlock’s voice breaks. “That I killed the only friend he ever had.”Mycroft’s relationship with Jocelyn was different. It was unlike Sherlock and Jocelyn’s, or Mycroft and Greg’s. Maybe it was close to Sherlock and John’s, but there was something different.There was something boundless between Jocelyn and Mycroft. Sherlock has always known it, and he knew that Mycroft treasured it more than anything.“You didn’t kill anyone.”“She never should have came back to London. I… never should have let her stay with us. I should’ve let her go after the freezer incident.” Sherlock’s hands begin to shake as his face fills with terror. “I could have prevented all of this.”“No one could have known that any of this would happen, Sherlock.” John tries his best to comfort him. “We can’t predict the future.”Thank God we can’t predict the future, or else, we would never choose to wake up every morning. Her voice echoes in the back of his head, making him grimace and look away from John.John fears that he may have said the wrong thing, and immediately appears guilty.Sherlock stays quiet for a moment before speaking. “Isn’t it strange? Living in a world where she is not living. It all feels… odd. Somehow, it feels like she is just on some other side of the world, or something. Just… just another side.”It was nothing compared to when she left a decade ago. At the back of Sherlock’s mind, he knew she was alive in New York. He knew she was out there somewhere, living her own life.Now, he cannot comprehend what he is feeling. Is it grief? Is this what grief felt like? A complete loss of sense with regards to every aspect in the world?John frowns and sighs quietly, reaching over to place his hand on his best friend’s bruised arm. Somehow, that action barely comforted Sherlock. He wanted to pull away, not wanting to take the sympathy, but he does not move.“Your brother says you should live with him for a while, after you get out.”Sherlock makes a sound of distaste. “Living with him would be a nightmare.”“Sherlock, I agree with him. I think it’s safer if you stay with him.”“Safer…” he tests the word on his tongue. “Nowhere is safe anymore, John. We could all die tomorrow and not see it coming.”“At the rate you’ve been using, you could have weeks.”“You seem stressed about it.”“I’m stressed, you’re dying.”“Yes, well, I’m ahead of you. Stress can ruin every day of your life while dying only ruins one.”“Sherlock, you can’t go on like this. I’m serious. You were gone for weeks. We were all frightened. And Mycroft was more terrified than he lets on.”“It’ll pass. Just like any other emotion.”“You have to stay with your brother.”“Why?”“Because I don’t want anyone else to die, okay? I can’t… I won’t be able to take it. Please, just listen to your brother.” John’s voice quivers a bit, making Sherlock frown. “It’ll be safer if you stay there.”Sherlock just stares at John in silence. “What are your plans with Mary?”“Mary?”“Yes, Mary. And your child. What are your plans?”“But Sherlock…”“Please. Just talk to me about anything else. Please, John,” Sherlock’s voice breaks at the end, and his eyes begin to fill with tears. He closes his eyes, trying to remain composed and calm. “I keep thinking of her, and I don’t want to. John, just… talk to me about your family.”John does as he says.--“Enjoying yourself?”Jocelyn turned around with alarm, only to see Laurie in his full tuxedo, leaning his shoulder against the wide doorless frame with an amused smile. In his hand, he held a single green apple, and he tossed it to her.She instinctively catches it. “Going somewhere?”“Meeting in South Korea. You’ll get bored.”Jocelyn faked a laugh. “As if you’d let me out of this house. How long are you planning to keep me here?”“That’s the fourth time you asked me that.”“And the fourth time you’ll say the same thing.”Laurie smiles. “Then, we’ll keep you here until, somehow, your memory gets refreshed.”“Laurie, you have to believe me that I have no idea about this bloody code.”“If Moriarty planted it on you, then it’ll be in your mind. Just like what he did to Sherlock Holmes three years ago.”“If you’re relying entirely on my memory, don’t get your hopes too high since I’m not Sherlock. I don’t memorize everything, and I don’t have a bloody mind palace!”“We know.”“Then you can see how pointless this is, right? You don’t need me here!”“Yes, we do.” Laurie stares at her for a moment. “You should go to the gardens again. Fresh air would do you good.” He turned around to walk away.Her face twisted with anger. “I’ve been through every single inch of that endless garden, every inch of this mansion—”“And you can make another round.”“Laurie, please, just… it’s been a week. I’m going to lose my mind if you insist keeping me here. Just give me something to do. I can’t not do anything.”“Don’t worry. I’ll give you something to do tomorrow.” He told her before he walked away.“But—” Jocelyn barely got a word in as she watched Laurie leave.She huffed to herself, rolling her eyes. If they’re trying to extract the code from Jocelyn’s mind, then aren’t they supposed to be talking to her? The two brothers ignored her for most of the time.Jocelyn looked back at the painting on the wall. She sighed, thinking back to the last time she saw paintings. It would be at that museum in Edinburgh.Sherlock was walking right beside her, and he was explaining every single brushstroke he knew. Sherlock was deeply passionate about it all, too. The way he explained things he was interested in; it was quite the sight. She remembered just smiling at him throughout the explanations.Sherlock noticed her just staring at him and questioned if she was listening to him at all. Jocelyn remembered just laughing at him before grabbing his arm and pulling him to the next painting to ask more questions.Jocelyn smiled at the memory. That trip to Edinburgh was something she held close to her heart. The first time Sherlock kissed her after a decade. Jocelyn let out a shaky sigh, looked down before turning to the left and walking to the next room she had seen for the tenth time.As Jocelyn walked back to her room after looking at the paintings, she jumped upon seeing Naomi folding clothes on her Queen-sized bed.“I thought you were going to leave me alone for the rest of the day.”Naomi glanced at the wall clock. “You requested that twenty-four hours ago.”“Oh, great.” Jocelyn sarcastically remarked.“Is there anything else that you might require? Books, clothing, items for hygiene, perhaps?”She needed to keep up with the ruse, and it would be a good way to hide. “Oh, actually, could you maybe get me some tampons I could use? third week of the month is coming,” she chuckled as if she were embarrassed and nervous.Without looking back at her, Naomi calmly responded. “Why would you need tampons, Miss? You’re pregnant.”Jocelyn’s whole body froze as she watched Naomi’s back while the young woman fixed her bed for her. Her breath hitched in her throat, completely caught off-guard. “What?”“No need to play pretend, Miss Jocelyn. It’ll be a waste of our time. I know you are pregnant.” Naomi gently said.“I… h-how did…”“I know what pregnant women look like. Clearly, the Moran brothers don’t.”“They don’t know?”“No.”“Why didn’t you tell them? Isn’t that your job?”Naomi appeared amused. “My job, as Mr. Sebastian Moran clarified, is to make you as comfortable as possible.”“…right.”“Would it make you comfortable if I tell Sebastian that you are currently expecting?”“Well... no—”“Then, it is that simple. I will not tell him unless you are comfortable.”For the first time since Jocelyn got here, an intrigued smile appeared on Jocelyn’s face. It’s… very interesting to see how one of Sebastian’s own employees somehow found a loophole in his own command.It made Jocelyn wonder. “Which side are you on?”“The opposing side.”With that, Naomi left the room, and Jocelyn stood there watching her go, dumbfounded.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I do not need a babysitter.”“This is not babysitting, dear. This is me being a mother.”“Of a thirty-two-year-old man.”“Of a thirty-two-year-old man who is grieving,” she frowns at him as she stirs his coffee.Sherlock grimaces and turns away from her, lowering himself back on the hospital bed.Mrs. Holmes sits on the chair beside his bed. “Sherlock, it’s alright to feel this way. You lost someone very special to you.”“You say that as if she passed away from natural causes. She was murdered mercilessly.”Mrs. Holmes stares at him, shocked by his bluntness. As a mother to two sons who have separated themselves from society, to see them connect with others was something any mother would hope. In a way, Jocelyn served as that connection. Something that rooted them to humanity.Jocelyn was the first person that Mrs. Holmes has ever seen Sherlock look at with so much genuine respect and admiration in his eyes, and now she’s gone.Sherlock takes the coffee mug from his mother’s hands and quietly thanks her. Mrs. Holmes almost smiles, knowing that his habit of showing gratitude was clearly something he got from Jocelyn.“Your brother is insisting for you to live with him.”“The last time I lived with Mycroft, he criticized everything I do. I’m not about to give him another chance.”“He’s only trying to help you, dear.”“Yes, well, I don’t need it.”“Sherlock, darling.” She takes his hand, only to make it twitch away. “I know that Jocelyn meant—”“Please, don’t.” Sherlock cuts her off. “Don’t say her name.”She frowns. “I know that she meant a great deal to you. That’s why we are worried. Let us help you, darling.”“I can take care of myself.”She sighs. “Will you at least visit John and Mary once you leave the hospital? You’ll get to meet their little girl.”Sherlock averts his eyes from her. “I’m not sure if they’d like me to come near their daughter.”“John and Mary love you, Sherlock. Of course, they want you to see their daughter.”“Look at me. I’m no view for a newborn child.” He says, just staring at her with this saddened look she was not used to.Sherlock’s eyes begin to shift to the left, only to see the blurry figure of a familiar brunette woman wearing a white dress. She was looking at him with such worry before cracking a hesitant smile.Sherlock screws his eyes and plops his head back to the pillow. “Please go.”Mrs. Holmes inhales sharply, her eyes welling with tears. She shakily stands and grabs her bag, leaning down to kiss her son on his forehead before exiting the room.Sometime later, John is currently eating in the cafeteria of St. Barts, sitting at one of the tables.He lifts his head to look at the man in front of him before lowering his utensils. “So, er… Kensington Palace?”That snaps Mycroft out from his deep thoughts. “Gregory and I have codes set between us, as per our agreement.”“Agreement?”Mycroft’s voice sounded tired. “Years ago, my brother’s addictions were out of control. During that time, he seemed to have trusted Gregory, which therefore, earned mine. So, we formed an arrangement. In exchange for my connections to British government, Lestrade will look after my brother.”“Right…” John shifts in his seat, looking down. “So, the codes?”“If the Royal Family have bridges as codes. We have Royal residences. Kensington Palace is for when Sherlock is a danger to himself.”“What else?”“Clarence House, if you are the one in danger.” John leans back in surprise from the revelation. “Highgrove House if it’s, um…”John immediately knows who it is, not needing Mycroft to say a name.“Chelsea Manor, if he is in danger in someone else’s hands, and… Balmoral Castle and Windsor Castle are…” he lets out a deep sigh, struggling to speak. “For the deaths of Sherlock and Jocelyn. Respectively.”John slows down his movements, averting his eyes. Mycroft blinks, grabbing his glass of water to drink it to the brink.He tries to think of what he can say to lighten the subject. “Have you got one for my death?”“Barnwell Manor.”John chuckles. “Can Lestrade actually remember all of that? I think I forgot already.”“You’d be surprised of what Gregory is capable of.”“Did you make an innuendo or were you telling the truth?”Mycroft rolls his eyes. “You need to stop being friends with my brother.”“Tell me how to, and I’ll stop.”They share a quiet laugh again, and they both knew it was just a brief distraction from the world on fire around them.--It had been a few weeks since Jocelyn was forced to live in New Zealand and be nowhere else, but at this moment, Laurie took Jocelyn elsewhere on a helicopter.They drove for a while, and the streets felt so familiar. Jocelyn could not exactly point out why, but they just are. For the first time in weeks, she saw ordinary people walking on the pavement. Ordinary houses, ordinary things, ordinary life.After a few minutes, the car pulled over at a sidewalk, and he looked at Jocelyn. “We’ll walk from here.”Jocelyn pressed her lips together, but followed. They walk out in the open, and she glanced at a few people that they walked past. They all seemed to ignore her, but honestly, she and Laurie looked very normal.She wanted to scream for help, and her eyes were subtly scouring the area to see what she can do in order to get away from here. However, deep down, she knew that Laurie would come after the innocents. As much as Jocelyn wanted to get away, she knew better.Laurie stopped walking, and they ended by the side of a house.“What are we doing here?”“White picket fences never looked appealing to me.” He gestured around. “Middle-class people. You always have them at any country.”Jocelyn looked at the house again, unsure why there was a growing dread in the pit of her stomach.“For my whole life, I’ve wanted my brother and I to have this type of life. The whole suburban dream,” his warm smile disappeared. “That life was never meant for me. Not for any of us.”The door to the house opened, and Jocelyn snapped her head to the sound. Her blood ran cold once a man stepped out of the house, being followed by two children and a woman.Jocelyn’s breath hitched in her throat as she backed away, but Laurie immediately grasped her arm. “Walk away, and I’ll break your arm right here and kill whoever will hear you scream.”Jocelyn watched the man, her father, walk to his car. The children were giggling happily, and the woman was smiling at her children. They all appeared as if they were going to the beach. Even her father was smiling.“I want you to look at them.”“Laurie…”“I want you to look at him.” Laurie leaned down to whisper into her ear. “I want you to think about how this is what he’s doing days after you were announced missing.”Jocelyn stared at her father, seeing the way he was watching his children. A tear escaped her eye.“I want you to focus. Think about how angry you are that you never got this life with your father. Your mother never got the life this woman got.”“Don’t bring my mother into this,” she snapped, keeping her voice quiet.The corner of his lips curled into a menacing smile. “I can feel you shaking in anger, Jocelyn. You don’t need to hide it.”They share a look for a minute before the sound of a car starting. They drove away and Jocelyn finally breathed in relief, turning to Laurie.Laurie began walking. “Come on.”Jocelyn watched him, and the dread came back into her once she realized that Laurie was making his way to the gate. Laurie walked to the porch and easily unlocked the door, grinning to himself.Before he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder to meet her eyes. Jocelyn wrapped her arms around herself and followed.--Sherlock opens the door to his flat and makes his way to the mantelpiece, lifting the skull displayed on it. He groans in frustration. Damn John for taking his secret supply of cigarettes. He had the urge to throw the skull to the wall with immense force, it shatters loudly. He steadies his breath and puts it back on the mantelpiece.Then, he hears footsteps behind himself. Sherlock closes his eyes in exasperation, but looks at the mirror.
“Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.”
“Then, probably my answer has crossed yours.”He turns to look at the figure, and there was something different about him. He is smiling at Sherlock with a relaxed look on his face. Victory was clearly shown in his eyes.Moriarty stares at him with amusement, wearing the same Westwood suit he had on by that pool.“Miss me?”Sherlock feels a low growl at the back of his throat. “What are you doing here?”“I could ask you the same thing.”“You chose to come here.”“That’s not true, you know that’s not true.”“You’re dead.”“Not in your mind. I’ll never die there.”Sherlock bitterly laughs, shaking his head.Moriarty smiles as he twists a syringe between his fingers. “How does it feel? To know that at the end… I won.”“I don’t need this right now.”“You know what’ll make me go away, Sherlock. Just go down the street. Maybe Vicodin will be enough. Heroin nearly did it.” Moriarty singsongs.Sherlock’s hands are shaking, and he buries his face into them. “For once in your life, leave me alone.”Moriarty snickers. “Are you going to beg? Say pretty please?”The detective slowly lowers himself on the ground and crouches in pain, screwing his eyes shut. “Go away, leave me alone.”Moriarty’s laugh echoes in his head and Sherlock groans out, trying his best to block it all out.It wasn’t until he felt hands on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Sherlock flinches back and aggressively pushes them away.Mycroft widens his own eyes from the force. “It’s only me, brother mine.”Sherlock’s blue eyes are wild with rage and fear. Once he sees that his brother and John are both standing in his living room, Sherlock relaxes and takes a step back, seeing that it is only the three of them in the flat.Sherlock immediately looks away from them and gestures to the flat. “You cleaned it up.”“Yes, our mother was here.”“Of course, she was.” He bitterly mutters.“Brother mine, we have something to ask you—”“The head isn’t here. I buried it.”Mycroft is taken aback. “Where?”Sherlock pushes past both of them. “What’s it matter? It’s a head.”John watches Sherlock go to the fridge and start looking for something to eat. “Sherlock…”“Can you put the kettle on? I’d like some coffee.” Sherlock announces while opening the fridge.Mycroft frowns. “It’s seven in the evening.”“Coffee. Now.”John gives Mycroft a look before he goes to the kitchen to heat some water. Mycroft watches his brother munch on some cookies and slump into his chair.“Brother mine, you have to tell us where you put her.”“It.”“Sorry?”“Where I put it.”Mycroft’s blood boils. “Sherlock—”John immediately walks in the living room to place an empty cup on the table.Mycroft composes himself. “Sherlock, you have to tell us where.”“No.”John grimaces. “Sherlock…”“The answer is no. Stop pestering me.”Mycroft palms his face and John pours him coffee. Sherlock immediately takes the cup from John, almost making the doctor drop it in the first place. Not even caring about how hot it is, Sherlock begins to drink it.Mycroft opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself. Sherlock downs the coffee in one go, exhaling obnoxiously loud afterwards. He pushes the cup to John’s chest, and John immediately holds the hot mug with a shocked face.Sherlock walks to the mantelpiece, stabbing a knife through a piece of paper into the wood. “Can you tell Lestrade to email me new cases? In light of recent events, I’m now free to work cases again. He has not responded to me.”“You’re not going to work any cases for some time.”Sherlock turns to them with a questioning look. “Why not?”John looks away. “Sherlock.”“Oh, don’t tell me this is because Jocelyn is dead.”Mycroft widens his eyes, appalled. “Sherlock!”“Is her death going to suddenly put everything else on hold? Tell Lestrade to contact me as soon as possible.”“Gregory will not.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Right. So, not only do you get to control the British government and your own brother, but you are also going to control your boyfriend. How utterly convenient.”John steps forward and warningly puts up a hand. “Sherlock, that’s enough.”“No, no, I think my brother has something to say to me.”“Guys, let’s not do this right now.”“You know what, brother mine? Maybe I do have something to say to you.”“Enough.” John grits his teeth.“Go on then, brother mine. Say your piece.” Sherlock challenges him.“You are selfish, and uncaring, and you disregard everyone despite everything they do for you without asking for any gratitude in return.” Mycroft walks up to Sherlock’s face. “You’ve barely let anyone else grieve the death of our beloved friend because of your selfishness and arrogance. None of us had time to soak in the very fact that she has been murdered in a blink of an eye despite our efforts of tracking her down. You are not the only person who cared for her, brother mine. You always seem to forget that.”Sherlock blinks, but says nothing.Mycroft takes a step back and fixes his blazer. “I’ve said my piece. Now, I leave you. I am done, Sherlock.”Sherlock is unfazed as Mycroft walks away to leave Baker Street. John shuts his eyes in frustration.“You need to tell us where you put it—her.” John grimaces as he corrects himself.“Why?”“Mycroft just wants to visit. That’s it.”Sherlock turns to John, frowning. John is almost hopeful that Sherlock will give in. “Just visiting? He’s not going to… dig it out?”“Just visiting, and he’ll be on his way. I can promise you that.”The detective leans against the door of the kitchen. They watch one another for a moment before Sherlock relaxes. “Edinburgh. A cemetery. I'll give you coordinates to locate it.”John softens in relief, but he watches Sherlock’s hands shake. “Jocelyn wouldn’t want—”“Don’t.”“Sorry. I’m sorry.” John immediately says, gulping. “I just mean…”“I know what you mean. I just don’t want to hear it just yet. Please, do not use her against me.”“Okay.”“Good.”--Laurie kept walking until he rounded one corner. Jocelyn watched him for a second before she moved towards the opened letters on top of a drawer. She carefully slid open the drawer, almost sighing in relief once she saw a letter opener. Her father never strayed away from old habits.She tucked the knife into her shoe and the pictures on the wall caught her eye. Jocelyn watched the happy smiles on their faces. Her heart was pounding with so much anger she felt for her father.She never had this. Pictures on walls. Ballet lessons. Drawings on refrigerators. She never had that life because of her father, and now he was giving it to his other children?She jumped when she heard a crash from the other room. Jocelyn ran towards the room with alarm in her eyes, only to see Laurie holding a paddle. The vase was shattered to pieces on the floor.“What are you doing?” Jocelyn’s green eyes are wide with surprise.He didn’t answer. Instead, he just swung the paddle into the perfectly sculpted statues.Jocelyn flinched back as he broke things in what looks like the woman’s sculpting area. “Laurie, stop!”“Do you really want me to stop?” he breathed heavily. “This woman wrecked your parents’ marriage. She and your dad go way back, I did some research.”Jocelyn gritted her teeth, fists clenching at the thought of him intruding her personal life.“You’ve always known it, didn’t you? You just didn’t want to think about the fact your dad married his mistress.”“Stop it.”“Or what? You’re going to cut me with that knife in your boot?”Jocelyn clenched her fists. She wanted to hurt this family as much as they hurt her and her mother. She wanted them to feel even just a bit of her pain for the last two decades.She wondered what Sherlock might think of her. Would he hate her having an impulse of mirroring Laurie’s actions? Would Sherlock recoil at the sight of her screaming while she swung the bat into the wall with countless of pictures of this perfect little family?What really damaged her was the fact that he was enjoying his time while she was evidently missing. Does he even know his daughter was gone?She took in a deep breath and tried her best not to flinch from the noise of the loud smashing from the other room.Laurie came out of the room breathing heavily with a satisfied smile. “Oh, come on, Jocelyn. Stop being the woman you act like in Cambridge. Be the girl I read about in the University’s archive.” He egged her on, making her glare at him. “The girl who didn’t care about anything,”Jocelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “What are we, teenagers? You brought me here to thrash my father’s house?”“The house he shares with his new family.”“And?”“I thought you’d like this little trip.”“Maybe I would have, if I was still the angry teenager I was.”Laurie clicked his tongue and dropped the paddle to the ground. He fixed his suit and began to make his way in front of Jocelyn. They share a long gaze before Laurie held out his palm.Jocelyn inhaled sharply and reached into her boot. She took the knife and pushed it to his palm.“Letter opener. Smart. Although, I don’t look like a letter, do I?”She stepped forward to speak directly to his face. “Screw you,” she lowered her voice.“Ah… feisty.” Laurie huffed a laugh. “Come on. We’re not done with this house.”In the dining area, Jocelyn sat across from Laurie with her arms folded over her chest. The entire house was wrecked. Shattered glass surrounded the floor, bookshelves were toppled over and so many items were scattered on the ground. Save for her father’s liquor cupboard.There were two wine glasses on the table in front of her, and Laurie began to fill them with bourbon, pushing a glass towards her. “So, you saw your arsehole father again. How did that feel?”“Do you want me to tell you that my heart is broken?”“Oh, come on, Jocelyn. Cut the confidence act already.”Jocelyn was unfazed. “I can’t give you what you want, Laurie. If you can’t find the code, what makes you think I can?”“He gave it to you, didn’t he?”“I’ve told you everything I know. Moriarty and I met three times. First time was at a lab. Second time was at a street and he kidnaps me. Third time is at my old flat. That’s it, he didn’t say anything to me at all.”Laurie stared at her untouched drink. “That’s the third time you refused to drink.”“I don’t really feel comfortable not being sober around my kidnapper.”“But I’ve seen you drink. One glass would barely affect you, let alone five.”“I don’t trust any of you.”“Hm. Neither do I.” Laurie looked at her drink again, and Jocelyn could feel her heart pounding. “So, about your dad. He left you to die in New York. Why wouldn’t you want him to die?”“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not going to work.”“I want you to give in to your anger. Detach yourself from that horrible human being.”“I already have.”“No, you haven’t. You still have his last name.”“What do you want me to do? Change my name?” She sarcastically asks.Laurie grinned. “Precisely. Delete that part of your identity that still leads back to him...” he trails off. “Jocelyn Melrose.”“That’s my middle name.”“Also your mother’s maiden name.” Laurie shrugged. “At least you don’t hate her.”“Fine. Change my name. Can I go back to my cell now?”“We’re not done here yet. I need to test a theory.” Laurie stared at her intently. “Stand up.”“What?”“I said, stand up.”Jocelyn glared at him before she complied. She stood and stared at him in a bored way, but her knees are shaking a bit.“Take off your dress.”Jocelyn’s blood ran cold, and goosebumps covered her skin. She blinked a few times and took a step back. “What?”“Do I need to repeat myself? Take off your dress.”“Laurie—”“Do it, or I will serve you your father’s head on silver platter.” Laurie’s face remained unchanged as he stared back at her.Jocelyn gritted her teeth with a glare. Without taking her angered eyes away from his, she reached behind herself and unzipped the dress she is wearing. Jocelyn slipped it off her shoulders and drops the clothing on the floor with force. She stood before him, wearing only a thin brassiere and underwear as she stared at him with so much anger.The humiliation she felt once Laurie sighed at the sight of her was something she will never forget feeling. Jocelyn’s heart almost leapt out of her chest once Laurie stood up and slowly made his way behind her.Laurie stands behind her, and his chest was almost pressing against her back. Jocelyn felt his hand creep against her stomach, pressing into her skin. His hot breath was hitting the back of her neck.She couldn’t hold back the slight wobble of her chin from how scared she is, recoiling from his touch. Jocelyn wanted to vomit as she imagines what Laurie might do to her.Suddenly, his hand disappears from her skin and he steps back from her.“Jesus, Jocelyn.”She turned around to look at him, and there were tears in her eyes. Laurie was staring at her with confusion, lifting a finger towards her. Laurie looked appalled, and Jocelyn’s chest caved in.“You’re pregnant.”She swallowed tightly and lowered her eyes to the ground, realizing that he did all this just to feel the smallest bump of her bare stomach.Laurie covered his mouth in frustration. “I was right.” He took a step forward, and as instinct, she stepped back. Laurie didn’t mind, and he just crouched down to take her dress, slipping it back on her. Jocelyn jerked away from him and immediately zipped herself back up. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”“Oh, so I was just going to reveal to my kidnapper that I’m pregnant?” Jocelyn furiously shot back.“This complicates everything.”Jocelyn’s fury was evident in her face. “You come between me and this child, and I will show you no mercy once I’m out of here.”Laurie grabbed her arm, leading her back outside. “I need to know what state you’re in.”Soon after, they go back to New Zealand. It was silent in the ride, and it was also silent when they reached the mansion. Hours passed and Naomi is now assisting Jocelyn before she slept.Naomi was brushing Jocelyn’s hair in front of the mirror, and Jocelyn was trying to keep herself calm. “Don’t be afraid, Sebastian has a strict rule around here. You’re likely to fall under it.”“What rule is that?”“No children are harmed.”Jocelyn looked at Naomi through the mirror with shock.“Sebastian is against anything that harms children. He never involves children in any scheme they have.” Naomi gently positioned Jocelyn’s head back to face the mirror. “Your pregnancy complicates their interrogation for you.”“So… w-what happens to me?”“This establishment is no place for a child. Since no one can know that you are alive, the baby will not be given to blood relatives in London. The child will be given away.”A sob leaves Jocelyn’s throat, and tears flowed down her cheeks. Naomi just stayed quiet and continued to brush her hair. Jocelyn sniffled and stared back at her reflection in the mirror. She had never felt this violated.Numbly, she asked Naomi, “Is this the network you serve? One that would take someone’s child away from them?”“Moran does not harm children.”“Did Moriarty?”Naomi was quiet for several seconds. “Children are the easiest people to manipulate. Everyone is equal in Moriarty’s eyes. No matter the age. Of course he has recruited children before. It is one of the things that makes Sebastian different from him.”Jocelyn stared at Naomi through the mirror. “I want you to know that I’m not going to let you take my child away from me.” She quietly said.“I’m not going to take your child, Miss Jocelyn. They are.”“You’re part of this cult. It includes you, too.”“I’m only here for Moriarty.”“Moriarty is dead.” Jocelyn snapped and turned to her with a glare. “He put a pistol in his mouth and blew his brains out. He is not coming back. He is never coming back.”For the first time in a month, Naomi showed a flash of emotion. Pain, it was so familiar to Jocelyn, and it was easy to recognize.Naomi averted her eyes and cleared her throat. “You should rest, Miss Jocelyn. I will bring you medicine tomorrow morning for your pregnancy. Anything you require.”Jocelyn just stared after her as Naomi left the room. After that, Jocelyn drew herself a bath and scrubbed her skin until she reddened.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sherlock sits on the floor with his eyes closed. It has been almost a week, and he has spent most of them alone. John visits some days when he is not busy being a parent, but he’d just end up sleeping on the sofa from how tired he is. Sherlock lets him.Lestrade has been ignoring his emails asking for a new case to take. It was as if everyone is punishing him. Work is the only thing that could distract him from everything.“Well, it’s not the only thing.”Sherlock exhales in frustration, opening his eyes to see Moriarty in the middle of his living room. Moriarty is casually walking around, observing the room with his wide brown eyes as he smiles, holding up a spoon and a candle.“Go on, Sherlock. You know you want to.” He dangles the objects in front of his face.
“Oh, shut up, will you?”
The other voice makes Sherlock snap his head to the right, only to see Jocelyn sitting on his chair with an annoyed expression. She spares a moment to smile at him before glaring at Moriarty again.“Dr. Josie. Long time no see!”The figure of Jocelyn only rolls her eyes. “You literally just saw me an hour ago.”Sherlock frowns at the two figments of his imagination. Moriarty gleefully plops down on John’s chair as if he were a sentient being. “Well, this is still a nice reunion.”Jocelyn glares. “You are welcome to just shut up.”“It’s not my fault that our Sherlock likes imagining dead people in his spare time.”Sherlock visibly flinches and keeps his face blank as he closes his eyes again, trying his best to tune them both out.“What’s he doing?” He hears Moriarty whisper to Jocelyn.“Probably blocking you out because you’re annoying him.”“You’re annoying him. You died for no reason.” Moriarty scrunches his nose.Jocelyn lets out a mocking scoff. “And you did?”“Ooh, low blow, Dr. Grant.”Sherlock’s eyes shoot open, and he clenches his jaw. He stands and walks to the kitchen without another word.Moriarty follows behind him with a permanent smile. “You are so ordinary, Sherlock. Hallucinating a dead loved one? Brilliant.”“Can you go back to the cell you came from?” Jocelyn harshly snaps at Moriarty.“Sherlock opened the door. He let me out.” Moriarty chuckles. “Don’t blame him. I’m much more fun than you.”The figure of Jocelyn frowns and looks at Sherlock, who just stays quiet as he makes coffee.“Sherlock, put him back.”Moriarty only smirks and says nothing.Jocelyn glares at him and turns to Sherlock again. “Sherlock.”“I can’t.” His voice weakly comes out.“Yes, you can. You’ve done it before.”“No. I… I can’t.”Moriarty whistles. “Do you ever wonder who’s going to die next? Might be fun for us to turn into a trio.”“Jesus.” Jocelyn groans out. “I liked you better when you were in that padded cell.”“And I liked you better when you were in that freezer.”“Watch it, Jim.”“Try me, Josie.”“Enough!” Sherlock bellows out, having enough of them. Moriarty looks surprised by his outburst, but Jocelyn just frowns. “Both of you. Leave me alone.”“Oh, you know what you can do.” Moriarty singsongs, conjuring a little syringe and a bottle of pills in his hands.“I frightened John. I am not doing that to him again.”“Come on, you know this is the only way to shut us out. And you want us to go away.”“Jim. He said no. Leave him alone.”“‘No’ is a myth. You know Sherlock wants it. You want it, too.” He points a finger to her.“We have to consider the sentiments of others.” Jocelyn reminds him. “John and Mycroft were frightened.”“I do not care about Mycroft.” Sherlock immediately says.“Yes, you do. You think you killed me and ruined Mycroft’s life. Don’t try to trick me. I’m you.” She scoffs and turns to Moriarty. “And you, go back to your cell. I won’t ask again.”Moriarty frowns, but he scoffs just before he disappears from Sherlock’s line of sight. Sherlock almost widens his eyes at his disappearance.Jocelyn just smiles to herself. “See? Wasn’t so hard.”“How did you—”“The strength always overpowers the weakness, Sherlock.”Sherlock looks away from her and tries his best to make her disappear, but then, she places her hand on his shoulder. Sherlock takes her hand, frowning at it.Jocelyn gives him a sympathetic smile. “You’re forgetting.”“No, I’m not.” He croaks out. “I can’t.”“You can’t feel my hand.”“My mind is just… clouded at the moment. I cannot focus, but I’m not forgetting. I can’t afford to.”She gives him a thin-lipped smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, but Sherlock does not feel anything. It almost sends him to panic, and his heart is pounding in his chest. “I have an idea what you can do for now.”“What?”Jocelyn smiles and leans down to his ear, whispering instructions to him. As she pulls away, his eyes are wide in surprise.Meanwhile, Mycroft is in Edinburgh. He stands before the small burial site that his brother set up. There was a single sunflower on top of it, which Mycroft can deduce to be from Sherlock. Mycroft only stares at the ground, seeing how it seems recently dug. He did not want to think about his brother digging the ground himself and burying her alone.He exhales and lowers himself to the ground, placing his own sunflower next to his brother’s. Mycroft pulls out a keychain, which embodies a cartoon light blue cotton candy. Mycroft rolls the item between his fingers for a moment. He frowns before putting it on the ground as well. Mycroft stands back up and looks at the grave one last time before he turns and leaves.Hours pass, and Sherlock waits patiently in front of the door, but the more he waits, the more he regrets coming here. He sighs and turns around to leave, but the door swings open.He looks at the woman by the door and hesitantly offers a smile.Mrs. Forbes reels back in surprise. “Sherlock.”“Hello. Um…” he clears his throat. “I, um… I thought I should visit to, er…” he awkwardly sways. “To see how you are.”Mrs. Forbes only smiles at him and nods. “Do you want to come in?”Sherlock finally relaxes and nods. The older woman steps aside and lets him in. Sherlock takes off his coat and hangs it behind the door. He follows her to the living room and sits down on the sofa. He waits for her to finish making coffee and sit with him.He hesitates. “I am very sorry for not visiting earlier.”“All is forgiven, Sherlock. None of it was your fault. My niece was just in the wrong place during the wrong time.”“It was my home, and I sent her to it.”Mrs. Forbes stares at him for a moment. “Yes, you did, but none of us knew any of this will happen.”Sherlock says nothing, and just cradled his cup of coffee in his hands.She reaches over and held his wrist, squeezing affectionately. “Don’t take this as me using her against you, but she wouldn’t want you to be like this.” Mrs. Forbes tilts her head. “Well, honestly speaking, she would want you to be sad for a few weeks, but that’s it.”Sherlock lets out a soft chuckle and nods. It felt nice to talk to someone who lost even more than he did.He looks at her again, but catches a glimpse of the photographs on the walls. Most of them were of Jocelyn and her mother when Jocelyn was younger. Sherlock is almost relieved that there are no recent photographs of Jocelyn, or he might be unable to move.Mrs. Forbes follows his gaze. “Do you want to see more pictures?”“You have more?”“Oh, I have a whole box.” She tries to chuckle and stands to walk to a room. “Her mother loved taking pictures of her back then.”Sherlock stands as well and follows her. The room she walked into seemed to be Jocelyn’s whenever she spends the night in Milton Keynes. He stayed by the door, almost as if these were sacred grounds.However, Mrs. Forbes waves him in and sits on the bed. Sherlock hesitates, but still sits next to her. She opens a big photo album, and he was immediately met by a young girl, not older than four, wearing pigtails and a colorful dress.“She always liked bright colored dresses.”“Oh, I know.” Sherlock snorts, thinking back to the countless of dresses Jocelyn wore that could blind anyone.Mrs. Forbes flips through the album and the more pages they pass, the more she grows up. There were a lot of funny pictures that Jocelyn would have been embarrassed of, and there were lovely ones that should be framed.Sherlock watches as she picks up one of the photos tucked inside. He glances over and softens. Mrs. Forbes smiles, but her lips are quivering. “This was from my sister’s last performance. Jocelyn was so excited that day. She even wore her own tutu.”The little girl was smiling brightly and curtsying with her tutu skirt. Sherlock smiles a bit.“It was a horrible day for her. She was seven, and saw her mother’s accident firsthand.” She frowns, staring at the photograph. “But she looked so happy here.”Sherlock did not want to picture a young child looking frightened upon witnessing her mother’s accident.She passes the photo to Sherlock, and he stares at it. He never really thought he’d be looking at baby pictures of Jocelyn, but for the first time, his mind is silent. There were no figures hovering around, and all he can focus on are Jocelyn’s old photos.Sherlock steadies his breath once they reach a photo wherein her hair is finally blue. Mrs. Forbes noticed, but she continues to look through the photographs.“Her hair was a bit much.” She tries to lighten the atmosphere. “But she always tried to defend herself by saying that it’s a life unlived—”“—if you do not regret a single hairstyle.” Sherlock weakly says, still staring at her photo.She let out a tearful chuckle once she comes across one picture of Jocelyn at their school-based orchestra, looking out of place with her blue hair among musicians wearing formal attire. She passes the photo to Sherlock again and he allows himself a small smile. This was months before Sherlock and Jocelyn met. Jocelyn looked so happy.He frowns and lowers the picture, and Mrs. Forbes sees him. “What’s wrong?”Sherlock blinks. “Do you think Jocelyn would still be alive… if she hadn’t met me?”She lets out a deep sigh. “Sherlock…”“Do you?”She pauses. “Maybe.”Sherlock looks away and lowers his head, nodding to agree.“But she wouldn’t have been as happy as she was when she met you.”Her words make him look at her again. This time, his eyes are glassy, and he is ready to break.“And you know her. She would rather have you and die young, than not and live longer.”Sherlock’s chest caves in, looking back at the photograph of Jocelyn smiling widely with her blue hair framing her face. Mrs. Forbes leaves the room to give him space as she cooks dinner for them, and Sherlock allows himself to be vulnerable as he sobs quietly, whispering how sorry he was to nobody in particular.Sherlock closes his eyes and slowly leans back to lie down on the bed. He furrows his brows and turns over, even lowering his head onto the pillow. He frowns, holding the pillow in his hands and burying his face into it to inhale. Sherlock pulls away and he has a wistful smile on his face.“It… it still smells like her.”Somewhere beside him, the mind palace figure only hums. “I thought you were forgetting.”Sherlock puts the pillow back before sitting up. “I’m not.”She just smiles, walking to him and cupping his face, but he feels nothing. Sherlock frowns at her, but she continues to grin.“See what I mean?”Sherlock pulls away. “I just need more time. It’ll come back to me eventually.” Sherlock stands and walks around the room, but he tenses up the moment he sees a phone on the nightstand. Sherlock stares at it for a moment before walking to it, taking it into his hand.It seems that Mrs. Forbes charges Jocelyn’s phone regularly, and from how it looks, Mrs. Forbes listens to Jocelyn’s voice sometimes. Sherlock does not need to, since he hears her all the time, but maybe once would not hurt.Sherlock opens the gallery and averts his eyes almost immediately once he sees her face. She barely took photos of herself, but whenever she does, she always looks so…He shakes his head, reminding himself that his purpose is not to stare at her old photographs. Sherlock goes through the videos and frowns when he sees that there are only a few. Most of them were of her students’ experiments during their classes, but there is one that catches his eye.It is video of Jocelyn celebrating her birthday in her classroom. Her students brought her cake and even sang to her, something students never usually do for their other professors.Sherlock watches as Jocelyn grins widely, hiding her red face with her hands as everyone sings her a happy birthday. All of them cheer loudly after Jocelyn blows out the candles.He barely notices himself smiling, and the camera zooms closer to Jocelyn’s smile.During that birthday, Sherlock was missing, and Irene showed up at her house with a gun—all of that started all of this. Sherlock wants to throw the phone into the wall, but he holds himself back. Mrs. Forbes will not be pleased if he destroys this.Sherlock stares at the phone again and turns it on again, only this time, he goes through the messages. Would this be an invasion of privacy? Sherlock needs to see something, anything that would tell him about Moran’s whereabouts. It was a reach, but he needs to try.Sherlock scrolls through the messages, only seeing a few. His name is there, and he grimaces while skipping over himself. There are voice messages from John, recent ones too. Sherlock ignores them, not wanting to invade John’s privacy. There is only one number he did not recognize, and he opens it. A message received a week after she was taken.
Hello, Miss Grant! This is Dr. Lahey from MKUH. You were supposed to return for another checkup yesterday morning. Give us a ring if you want to move your appointment!
Sherlock frowns as he reads the unopened text, but before he could dwell on his thoughts, there was a knock on the door. He turns and politely smiles at Mrs. Forbes, and she motions him over for dinner.Sherlock puts down the phone and follows behind her, leaving the phone behind.***“So, what changed your mind?”Sherlock lowers his utensils, hesitating before shrugging. “John and Mary just had a baby. A daughter.”She smiles. “Ah, that’s lovely.”“Yes, er… John and Mary are ecstatic about this infant. I want to see what the fuss has been about.” He tries to casually say, but the smile grows on her face. “They must’ve named their child by now. Might be nice to pop by and make fun of John about it.”Mrs. Forbes chuckles and continues to eat.Sherlock clears his throat. “I also came to tell you that the investigation is still ongoing…” he trails off when her smile fades a bit. “I came here mostly to see how you were.”“Well, I’m fine, Sherlock.” She weakly smiles. “The job’s good, the restaurant is up and running. Everything is fine.”Sherlock nods, pleased to hear that. Jocelyn would be happy to know that. “Do you have plans for this week?”“I’m going to see Jocelyn’s doctor. He asked to see me.”“Why?”“I’m not sure. He’s coming to visit by the end of the week.”“I can come here when he does.” Sherlock offers, but she shakes her head.“No, it’s alright. I’m sure Dr. Lahey is just coming to pay his respects. News must have reached him.” She gives him a sad smile.Sherlock slowly nods, remembering that there are still a lot of people who are just finding out about it. He just offers another polite smile and continues to eat.By the end of dinner, Sherlock helps her with the dishes and before he leaves, he asks for another moment inside Jocelyn’s room. She tells him to take all the time he needs.Sherlock goes back to the room and takes the phone, going back to the gallery to play the video he was previously watching.Jocelyn smiles at the camera, and the video ends, freezing the frame where she is just smiling at him. Sherlock swallows and turns the phone off again. Sherlock and Jocelyn never celebrated each other’s birthday, but now he wishes that he had at least one chance to make her birthday a good day.Mrs. Forbes and Sherlock step out together and Sherlock gives her a warm embrace, promising to come see her again soon. She cups his cheek and gives him a smile, and it reminds him of Jocelyn’s. A dull ache appears in his chest.“You’re welcome to come here again. I’ll be more prepared and make your favorite meal next time.”Sherlock wasn’t even sure what his favorite meal was, but he just smiles politely. “Looking forward to it.” He genuinely tells her before turning around.“Sherlock?”He turns back to Mrs. Forbes, who reluctantly goes back to the house. Sherlock stands there in confusion, but she comes back, carrying a photograph. Sherlock feels his chest sink again, already deducing what it might be.She hands him the photograph, and he relaxes. It was a photo of a Jocelyn during the Christmas celebration held at her house. She was smiling and holding a glass of champagne.Sherlock remembers that day. He gave her three tapes as a Christmas gift.“That’s my favorite one,” she smiles. “You should have it.”“If it is your favorite, then I shouldn’t—”“Please.”Sherlock stares at her before looking back at the photo. “Thank you.”“I’m sorry, I don’t have a photograph of the two of you.”“It’s… it’s fine. This is… thank you.”Sherlock almost says that it does not matter to him since they are only photographs, and his mind is much more capable than cameras, but somehow, it would feel like lying.The next day, Sherlock shows up at another doorstep. The person greeting him is the familiar short blonde woman, who looks incredibly surprised. “Sherlock?”“Mary.” A confused smile grows on her face. She motions for him to come inside and he complies just after wiping his shoes on the doormat.“John? Look who’s here!”Sherlock nervously waits in the living room, and John emerges from what looks to be the nursery.“Sherlock.” John’s eyes widen.“John.”“Hey, is everything okay?”“Oh, yes. Everything is fine. I’m… fine.”“That’s good.” John looks genuinely pleased. “Coffee?”“Um… yes.”“Great! Good, let me just—”“I’ll do it.” Mary immediately walks to the kitchen.John and Sherlock stand awkwardly together before John gestures to the sofa. They both sit and turn to one another. “I was just on my way to Baker Street. Didn’t know you were coming.”“Apologies for the lack of warning, I only—”“No, no, it’s fine, Sherlock. Really. You can come here whenever you want.” He chuckles off.Sherlock gives him a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes wander to the baby toys on the coffee table.John grins. “She’s a handful.”“Hm. A bit young for toys.”“Well, we came prepared. Your brother sent a ton of gifts.”“My brother?”“Oh, yeah. He’s been very helpful. Even came by yesterday. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. The whole nursery was practically his doing.”“Sorry, my brother came here to assist you?” John nods. Sherlock stares off, wondering why his brother had a sudden… oh.“Loneliness fits Mycroft like a glove, but he doesn’t have to wear it all the time.” Sherlock practically hears her familiar soft voice whisper in his ear.Mary walks in with their coffee, and Sherlock thanks her before sipping his own. She sits with them, observing him for any injuries as if she were ready to release the code from her mouth to make him remember. Sherlock gives her an odd look, but she just smiles warmly at.“I went to see Mrs. Forbes yesterday.”“That’s nice. How was she?”“She’s been good. Not just her words, but my observation, too. She’s hurting, but knows that she can’t bring back, um… sh-she can’t change what happened.”John and Mary slowly nod at that before sharing a brief look. “And what about you?” Mary asks.The whole room feels as if it was shifting. It seems like this whole room is the only place in the world that exists. Sherlock is inside of it, just feeling so… lonely.“I don’t know.” The words come out as a breath from his lips. “I want to shrivel like paper. I’m burning up.” Sherlock mutters while staring off. “My mind is decaying.”John frowns with worry, unsure of what to do, but he stays quiet.“I’m beginning to forget things. Things I do not want to forget. This is affecting my way of thinking. It is clouding my senses, following me everywhere.” Sherlock whispers. “I’ve dealt with countless of murders, witnessed many deaths, but nothing has come so close to…” he couldn’t even say her name.Sherlock almost panicked at the thought of forgetting even her name, but he relaxes as soon as he recalled it. Jocelyn, Jocelyn, Jocelyn. Jocelyn Melrose Grant.He swallows and lowers his head while nodding. “I just need to know what happened. I need to know why. I need…” to watch the life drain from Moran’s eyes the same way he watched hers. Sherlock shakes off the thought from his mind. “I need a sense of life.”As if on cue, the infant cries from the other room. Mary is immediately on her feet, giving Sherlock an apologetic expression as she goes to the nursery.Sherlock curiously follows her with his eyes, and John notices. John smiles at Sherlock. “Do you want to see her?”Sherlock’s lips part in surprise, but he nods. John motions him over and Sherlock follows. They both enter the nursery and Sherlock looks around, immediately noticing everything that hints his brother.Although, his eyes immediately land on the cooing baby in Mary’s arms. Mary begins to talk about how the baby is supposed to still be sleeping, but Sherlock just stares at the child as Mary rocks her back and forth.Mary smiles. “Want to hold her?”Sherlock stammers, suddenly feeling conscious. “I’m not particularly good with children.”“Oh, come on. If you can diffuse a bomb, you can hold a baby.”“Diffusing the Parliament bomb wasn’t a hardship since it had an off-switch—”“Just hold the damn baby, Sherlock.”He hesitates, but reaches over to take the baby, cradling her carefully in his arms. Sherlock stares down at the infant’s eyes and he feels an ache in his chest.John is smiling at him. “The slot for Godfather is still vacant.”Sherlock barely hears him, and he just continues to hold the baby. Slowly, his instincts push him to begin rocking her back and forth and hushing her once she coos at him. He smiles at the baby, and there is a warmth that spreads through him. He looks at John and Mary, only to see the idiotic grins on their faces.Sherlock’s smile fades and he clears his throat as his cheeks redden. “She looks progressively advanced than normal infants.”“If that’s your way if saying she’s beautiful, good job.”Sherlock chuckles. “She is. As babies go.”Mary coos. “Hear that, Rosie? You’re the first girl Sherlock Holmes has ever called beautiful!” She speaks in this ridiculous baby voice that almost made Sherlock wince.“Rosie?”“It’s short for Rosamund.”“Ah.”“What, you don’t like it?”“No comment.”John lets out a playful scoff as Sherlock happily looks down at the baby again, but for some reason, Sherlock feels a slight burn in his heart.Jocelyn will never get to feel how wonderful it is to hold John and Mary’s baby. The irony of having one life begin, while another ends.***The last door Sherlock faced was not exactly a normal door. He had to go through many security checks, passed a lot of gates, verified his identity with many people until he reached the doorstep.He rings the doorbell, almost rolling his eyes since he did not need to announce his arrival. Having to go through all of that, the person on the other side of the door must have known he was here already.Still, Sherlock feels unprepared even when the door swings open and reveals the one person who shut him out a week ago.Mycroft doesn’t say anything. He just stands there in silence, looking surprised to see him but keeps it well hidden.“I’m burning up.”Mycroft frowns.“I crave every single drug you can possibly name. Every single minute that passes, I picture myself holding a syringe in my hand. Not to hurt myself, and not because I want to see her up here,” he gestures to his head. “But because I don’t want to see her. I don’t want a daily reminder that she is no longer living.”The two brothers stand in silence with a fer meters between them. Sherlock’s hands begin to shake, but he desperately kept himself together.“I am not entirely sure how I will survive this, but I know that I do not want to be this way right now. Not with Moran and Moriarty still out there.” Sherlock swallows, averting his eyes. “I need to bring her to justice, and I can’t do that if I rot this way.”Mycroft just stays quiet as he watches his brother be on the verge of panicking on his doorstep.“I barely trust anyone. Not even myself, but… I trust you.” Sherlock clenches his jaw. “Which is why I’m…” his breaths turn heavy, finding it difficult to speak. “Which is why I am here to ask for help, brother mine. I need your help.”Mycroft looks reluctant, and Sherlock cannot exactly blame him. Sherlock knew how difficult he has been the past months—Hell, for the past decade—and he knew that her death only snapped the incredibly thin line Mycroft had for Sherlock.Sherlock stares at Mycroft, almost pleading him with restraint. The silence between them was deafening Sherlock to the point where the tears fill his eyes to blur his vision. “Help me.” His voice cracks.Suddenly, in Mycroft’s eyes, Sherlock is twelve years old again. All small and vulnerable.It wasn’t until Mycroft steps forward and wraps his arms around Sherlock. The simple action makes Sherlock’s chest break out a sob. The two brothers have never embraced each other since they were children. Or at least, this is the first time Sherlock was clean enough to experience it.Sherlock sinks into his brother’s embrace, almost shaking like a leaf as he hugs him back tightly. Mycroft rubs his back affectionately and comforts him. They stay that way for a long time, probably making the most out of it because they both knew this will never happen again in the near future.Resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder, Sherlock momentarily opens his eyes, and he sees the mind palace figure of Jocelyn smiling fondly at him with proud eyes. She reaches out and places her hand on his cheek, and he sighs in relief, feeling the memory of her warmth on his skin. He is not forgetting. Not today.As the brothers pull away, Sherlock sniffles and wipes his eyes. Sherlock freezes for a moment before cringing away and putting some distance between them again while scrunching his nose in disgust.Mycroft rolls his eyes and steps aside to let his brother inside his home. Sherlock wordlessly complies, and his composure is straight again as if nothing happened. Away from Sherlock’s view, Mycroft smiles warmly to himself and closes the door.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“No. I refuse. I am not doing that.”“It’s either that or no cases for a whole year, and you won’t be involved in locating Moriarty and Moran. Your choice.”“When I asked for help, I didn’t mean to put me in self-help group therapy!”“When you asked me for help, you should have known where I’ll go from there.” Mycroft sternly tells him with raised eyebrows. “Go for a week, and we will discuss involving you in criminal cases again.”Sherlock huffs. “Fine.”“You are free to choose your own group and type. AA, Narcotics—”“Grief group?” Sherlock reads through Mycroft’s prepared list. “You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”“When one gets a frantic phone call from a worried aunt, and a panicked army doctor, one tends to be prepared. They all asked me if you were doing alright.”“What did you say?”“I said you will be. Soon.”Sherlock observes the way his brother is too casual about the situation. After all, it is Jocelyn. Mycroft does not even have a hint of grief on his face. He hides it rather well.Deep down, Sherlock felt guilty. It was no doubt that his brother is keeping up this façade to be a proper big brother to Sherlock.“You were right, you know.”Mycroft looks surprised. “About what?”“About me not letting you all have a moment to grieve.” Sherlock avoids his brother’s eyes. “I seemed to have forgotten that I am not the only person to have her in their lives.”“Yes, but it is understandable, brother mine. You and Miss Grant had, what we might say, a special relationship.”“Jocelyn and I were never in a relationship.”“I meant—God, never mind. Decide which group you’re going to, and I will let you know of their schedule. The more meetings you attend, the more days Gregory will allot you for cases. Sounds like a deal that is right up your area.” Mycroft grimaces. “I was. Why am I looking at this?”Sherlock looks at the phone in his brother’s hand. “That’s her. John and Mary’s baby.”“Oh, I see. Looks very… fully-functioning.”“Is that really the best you can do?”“Sorry. Never been good with them.”“Babies?”“I don’t see the point of procreating or raising a child. The world is already worse enough as it is.”“Can we focus, please? Have you pinpointed Moran’s location? He has not set foot in Cambridge for weeks now.”“As I have said repeatedly, even under close security, he still managed to slip out. He’s very careful and knows when to pick his time. Finding him is not impossible, but it will take time.”Sherlock should be out there looking for Moran, not stuck in a house and waiting for time to pass just so he could attend a group therapy.“But I can reassure you, brother mine, we will find him. And make him suffer greatly.”The moment Sherlock leaves, Mycroft lets out a deep sigh and briefly closes his eyes. He waits for a moment before taking out an envelope from his jacket and unfolding it, rereading an old letter with a familiar handwriting. ‘Dear Queen Elizabeth II—’***Sherlock sits uncomfortably on one of the chairs. He glances around the small circle formed by other attendees. It was quite easy to tune them out. Sherlock only needs to get through a few of these, and he can go back to solving cases and properly distract himself.“Mr. Holmes?”Sherlock blinks. “Sorry?”“We urge newcomers to speak on their first day.” The young woman offers him a smile, but not a false one. It makes him even more uncomfortable.Sherlock eyes the other people, and they are all patiently watching him. “What do I say?”He probably hinted to all of them that he has not been listening, but none of them seemed bothered by it. The woman, who must be the leader, just smiles. “Tell us why you’re here, introduce yourself.”“I think all of you know who I am.”Unlike the others who stared at him in confusion and offense, the young woman only appears amused. “Most of us don’t.”Sherlock sighs. “I am Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective. I am here today because, in exchange of receiving time slots for various criminal cases, I am required to attend multiple sessions of group psychotherapy. Since I have already attended AA and Narcotics once or twice before in my lifetime, I chose Grief because it is the only one I have not attended before.”The others glance at one another in silence, and Sherlock backtracks to analyze what he said wrong.“Oh, and my good friend was brutally murdered a few months ago.” Sherlock gives them a tight smile.Now, Sherlock is sure that he wiped the amusement off the leader’s face as she leans back into her seat. Everyone looks uncomfortable now.The session ends, and Sherlock puts his coat back on. In his mind, he crosses off a day on his calendar and counts for two more this week. Three for next week. Sherlock rolls his eyes.The woman from earlier approaches him. “Very blunt today, Mr. Holmes.”“Death is always blunt. No use in hiding it.”“No, you’re right. Sugarcoating death is not a way to accept it.”“You should tell your group that.”“I’ll be sure to.”Sherlock looks at her, and she seems to look concerned. “I did not lie. I’m only here to fulfill a deal.”“I believe you, but maybe you should, you know… try it out? Go along for the ride, since you’re here already. Maybe you’ll find something useful.”“Useful from other people whose dead person died from natural causes and accidents?” Sherlock dubiously tilts his head. “I don’t think so.”She doesn’t seem offended. “Our group speak less of the reason for the person’s death, and focuses more on the aftermath of it.”“I don’t think I can ignore the fact that my friend died because she was kidnapped and murdered.” Sherlock gives her a tight smile. “Good day.”The next time Sherlock goes to the group, he learned the name of the leader. Camille Lavalle. She is a petite young woman with jaw-length dark hair and wore cardigans and patterned blouses. Sherlock deduced from a shirt she wore that the person she lost is an older brother. Although, Sherlock cannot deduce how he died.Before the third time Sherlock comes to the self-help group, he goes to John and Mary’s first. Mary is asleep from exhaustion, but John is awake and rocking his child in the crib. Sherlock is sorting the baby’s necessities by order of importance.“How’s the, er… grief group?”“Dull. Boring. Lestrade’s case better be interesting, for this to be worth it.”“Do you talk during it?”“No. I just sit and wait for the hour to end.”“Why not? You’re already there.”Sherlock huffs as he folds some blankets. “That’s what Miss Lavalle advised.”“Lavalle?”“Camille Lavalle. She leads the self-help group.”“Lavalle… I think I heard of that name before.”“Her brother died.” Sherlock casually adds.“Yeah… I think he had a check-up in the clinic I work at. Got diagnosed there. Pneumonia, took over him just a few years back.”Sherlock has a sullen look on his face. “Why do you remember that? You have a hundred patients each day.”“He got married a few weeks before coming to see me. Difficult to forget someone like that, since I was planning to ask Mary to get married.”Sherlock raises his brows. “He was married?”“Yeah.”The detective pauses for a moment and thinks to himself. Miss Lavalle seemed too cheery for a person whose newlywedded brother just died.Once Sherlock arrives at the group therapy building, he realizes that he is a few minutes early for the session. He sees Camille by the tables, setting the coffee and pastries in place. Sherlock hesitates, but approaches her side.Camille turns with surprise. “Mr. Holmes.”“Miss Lavalle.”“You’re early.”“Or perhaps everyone is late.”She smiles. “Are you ready to share today? Or are you going to remain as blunt as possible to scare the others?” She asks, but there is amusement in her words.“My best friend was the first doctor your brother went to see.”Her smile fades a bit. “I know.”Sherlock watches her for a moment and has nothing else to say. Just in time, the others walk inside the room and sit in their chairs. Sherlock does the same.Camille asks the group for the first speaker. Sherlock looks around and sees a young man sheepishly raise his hand. For some reason, he decides not to tune this out.“The last thing my mum said to me is that I shouldn’t be sad.” He smiles weakly. “I don’t know why she said that. I’m her son, and… she was dying. How can you not be sad or angry?”Sherlock tenses up.“I just wish that she told me that it’s alright to be sad, because now, I feel guilty doing something she didn’t want me to do. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want my son to be sad if I died, but… I just can’t help it.”Camille offers a saddened smile. “No two sides can actually be satisfied when it comes to death. The only thing we can do now is to let ourselves feel whatever we feel, because eventually, it’ll pass. One day, all of you will look back at this day and realize that you are all strong enough to get through this.”Sherlock’s lips part in surprise, and Camille looks at him.“Would you like to share to us now, Mr. Holmes?”He blinks, hesitating. Sherlock looks to his left and sees the mind palace figure of Jocelyn. She just tilts her head towards Camille and urges him to speak.Sherlock takes a deep breath. “Someone very close to me was murdered months ago. A great loss, not only to me, but to the whole oblivious world. She was a brilliant scientist, an incredible one. Although initially, she wanted to be a professional pianist.” He tightly smiles. “It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I say that I wouldn’t have solved more than half my cases if she wasn’t working on the forensics for each scene.”The mind palace figure pulls an amused face and puts her hand on her chest as if she is touched by his words.“It was my… career path that drove her into dangerous situations, and eventually led to her death. I feel responsible for what happened to my—” he stammers and blinks rapidly. “Er, to her.” Sherlock lowers his head. “I once vowed to her mother that I would always be there for her. That I would always protect her. It was particularly important to me, because her mother, who had not spoken in a decade, spoke to me to say that I should be there for her daughter.”Sherlock looks at Camille, and she finally has a frown on her face.“I am free from a vow, but entered a prison. A place that I know I will never break free from.”It was odd, yet strangely comfortable because none of them looked at him in pity. Instead, they all appear as though they knew what he felt, and that they feel it too.A smile grows on Camille’s face. “You are not alone in this prison. No matter how dark it is in there, you are never alone. Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”He politely nods and somehow, a small weight lifts from his chest. He breathes easily now. After the group session, Camille approaches him outside while he waits for a cab.“That was good.”“Was it? Sounded a bit depressing.”“Well, this is the place for that.” Camille smiles sarcastically.“So, you know Dr. Watson, therefore, you know me. Which also means you know Jocelyn Grant.”“I do.”He looks directly at her, and she does the same. A cab pulls over in front of Sherlock and he nods at her. “Miss Lavalle.”“You know you can call me Camille, right?”He pauses. “Camille.”“Bye, Sherlock. See you next week.” She smiles before walking back into the building.Sherlock watches her with a frown for a moment before getting into the cab and go to John’s.When he gets there, a baby is immediately shoved into his arms and Mary thanks him profusely. Sherlock only widens his eyes and holds the infant in his large hands. John weakly chuckles and pats Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock sighs and lets the married couple get some rest.Sherlock sits in a rocking chair with the baby in his arms. Piano music is playing from the radio.Little Rosie squirms a bit in his arms and Sherlock shushes her, carefully holding her up before delicately rocking her on his lap.“You’re a lot of hard work, Watson. You should let your parents sleep every once in a while. I cannot be here every hour.” He mutters as if he is complaining, but the small fond smile on his face suggests otherwise. Sherlock looks down at the child in his arms. “Your aunt Jocelyn would have liked you.” He mutters in his normal voice, contrasting Mary and John’s annoying ‘baby’ voice.Rosie’s eyes are closed and stays asleep, completely ignoring him.“If piano music truly does relax you, your godmother would have been a wonderful stress reliever you’d ever have.” He sighs. “How unfortunate you are that you never got to meet her.”Rosie keeps sleeping, and her breaths are small and her face is tiny and flushed.Sherlock reaches over to touch her tiny mittened hands. “And you’re not even aware of your loss. I’m torn between pitying you and envying you.”***Sherlock is now cooking dinner when John walks in while stretching his arms.“Slept good?’“First time in fourteen hours. Best two hours of my life, thanks.” John sighs and pats Sherlock’s back before going to drink some water. “So, how was group today?”“Surprisingly alright. I finally spoke.”John smiles. “That’s good.”“Hm. Camille was very considerate.”“Is she nice?”“As humans tend to be.” Sherlock turns the stove on to make them soup.“Right.” John curiously watches Sherlock.“I can sense you formulating a question. What is it?”“It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.” John raises both his hands.Sherlock scoffs and rolls his eyes. John leaves him alone to go to Mary, and Sherlock continues to cook.“You know what he was going to ask, right?”Sherlock looks to his right and sees the mind palace figure of Jocelyn leaned against the counter.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sherlock doesn’t even look away from the stove.“The French girl.” Jocelyn coos with a smile.“Oh, yes. A man and a woman interacting should always be perceived as romantic. How heartwarming.”“She’s pretty.”“Beauty is based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models.”“Yeah, but… come on. You have to admit that she’s cute!”“I have never used the word cute in my entire life.”She giggles. “You keep forgetting, I’m you.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “You’re forcing me to see something that isn’t there.”“You should try asking her if she’d like to grab coffee, or something.”He scrunches his nose in disgust. “Why would I do that?”“Because she’s pretty? She’s nice?”“That does not necessarily mean I would like their company. And I don’t care about physical aspects of human beings.”“I was pretty and nice. You wanted my company.”“That’s because Jocelyn wasn’t just pretty and… nice.”“And how would you know if Camille is more than that if you don’t get to know her?”Sherlock huffs. “I refuse to believe that my mind is somehow trying to convince me to replace Jocelyn.”“Not replace, Sherlock. Move on from.”He lets out a dry laugh. “And you think a fellow grief group member is the best choice for that?”“Just try it. What have you got to lose?”Her image vanishes and Sherlock looks at the fire burn in the fireplace.He frowns and thinks to himself. He couldn’t lie to himself and say that he is fine with being alone. Sherlock wants stability, he wants warmth, he needs someone. Sherlock wants everything.And the one person he wanted that with is gone.***After their meal, Sherlock washes the dishes, and Mary pulls John to the privacy of their bedroom.“What is it?”Mary crosses her arms. “Camille Lavalle?”“What about her?”“I saw that look on your face. You think Sherlock likes her.”“Sherlock never talks about anyone, but he talks about her. I don’t think anything’s wrong with it.”Mary gives him a disappointed look. “It’s only been two months, John, since she was killed. Three months since she was taken. Can you tone it down a notch?”John mirrors her frown. “He’s trying to move on. Meeting new people can be good for him.”“It’s too early, especially for someone as closed off as him.” Mary insists. “He just lost Jocelyn, someone he killed for, and is killing himself for—” she stops herself from revealing anything.John takes her hands. “This is probably just Sherlock’s way of coping. Maybe he needs someone, that isn’t us, to be there for him. Nothing has to be happening.”“Do you know what he’s doing?” Mary points to the direction of their kitchen. “This is like when he tried replacing you with Molly. He’s looking for someone to fill Jocelyn’s spot in his life, and it doesn’t matter who it is.”“It was different with me. You know how much Jocelyn means to him.”“And you know that he’d do anything to get her back. That includes trying to replace her.” Mary insists. “Please, just… watch over him. Don’t make him do anything stupid. He’s going to hurt people, including himself.”John sighs before he pulls her in for a hug, kissing her forehead to comfort her. The moment her face is unseen, worry fills Mary even more.The next time Sherlock sees Camille, she is alone in the self-help venue, just cleaning the place. Sherlock furrows his brows as he walks in. Camille sighs in exhaustion while she scrubs the windows.Once she sees Sherlock, she looks confused. “Hey?”“Hello.” Sherlock stares at the folded chairs.Camille eyes him for a moment and laughs. “Didn’t I announce yesterday that today is a free day?”“Free day?”“No meetings today, Sherlock.”“Oh.”“Yeah, well, good to see you.” Camille turns back to cleaning.Sherlock looks around the room. “You own this establishment.”“Yep.”“But your brother died a few years ago. How do you own a building for self-help groups?”Camille stops wiping, and he immediately realizes what he said. However, before he could apologize, she just continues wiping. “I didn’t handle self-help groups. Not until after he died.”Sherlock remains standing by the doorway.Camille looks back at him. “There isn’t a meeting today.”“Hm. My brother does not need to know that.”Camile nods in amusement. “Right. Every session gives you more time for cases. Now I get it. I’ll sign your waiver. What’s in it for me?”Sherlock looks around the room before he takes off his coat and picks up a broom from the floor. Camille smiles before resuming to wipe the windows.They clean the room together, occasionally passing cleaning materials to one another. Two hours later, Sherlock’s sleeves are now pulled to his elbows and Camille’s hair is tied. Sherlock wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He is quite proud of himself. He never does this to his own flat.Camille passes a water bottle to him when she finds him standing by the window to observe the busy London streets. Sherlock stares at the bottle, but takes it and drinks. Camille stands next to him and looks out to the busy street of London.“How come you are alone with handling this building?” Sherlock asks with curiosity.“Aren’t you the famous detective? Can’t you just work it out?” Sherlock hesitates, but says nothing. Camille shrugs. “Well, truthfully, I like it that way.”“No friends or family?”“I don’t like involving them in my work.”“So, you owned this building after your brother died. Why?”“I’ve owned this building even before he died, I just turned it into a self-help group after it happened.”“What was this before?”“Believe it or not, this place used to be a tutorial center.”“You fired the other tutees and closed the tutorial center, for a self-help meeting place?”“All the other teachers were referred to another center. The students’ parents were given refunds. It was fine for them. And for me.”“You don’t get paid for self-help groups.”She chuckles. “You shouldn’t pay for help. Not for grief, anyway.”“But what about you?”Camille turns her head to look at him with curiosity. “I read Dr. Watson’s blog, you know? He said that you can tell someone’s whole life story from one glance. So… how come you’re asking me these questions if you already know?”Sherlock glances at his watch. “I should be home by now.” He begins to stand.Camille frowns and reaches over to grab his arm gently. Appalled, Sherlock immediately snaps his head towards where she was touching him.She draws her hand back. “Sorry.”Sherlock stares at her for a moment before unfolding his sleeves and putting his jacket on again. He gives Camille the waiver and she signs it. He takes his coat and nods at her before leaving the building.***“Why didn’t you tell her?”Sherlock sighs in exasperation. “Dear Lord, I wish I had heroin at arm’s reach.”“Why didn’t you tell her?”“Tell her what?”“The reason why you—”“Because it is none of her business.”“Ooh, so was it also your business asking her about her personal life?”“Professional curiosity.”“But you’re not on a case, much less involving her.”Sherlock huffs and looks at her in a bored way, but once he sees her face, he sees the face he found inside the box two months ago—only this time, blood is dripping from a straight cut across her neck.He gasps quietly and looks away, blinking a few times and steadying his breath. Sherlock lifts his head slowly, and turns back to look at her. Jocelyn’s cheeks are now flushed with life, and she is staring at him in confusion.Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes, covering his face with his palms for a moment. Heroin. Morphine. Amphetamine. Vicodin. Sherlock screws his eyes shut and leans forward, pressing his fingers hard against his temple.Sherlock grimaces and snaps his head away. “I need her. I need her to be here with me. I cannot… I don’t want to be alone.”“But you’re not alone.”“You don’t count as company.”“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about John. Mycroft, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly,” She pauses. “Camille.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Dear Lord.”“You won’t lose anything, just ask her.”“Oh, God, this again. I do not feel any sort of attraction or infatuation towards Miss Lavalle.” Sherlock frowns, raising his voice now.She only smirks. “But I’m you. Why do you want to ask her so badly?”Sherlock softens and he stares back at the mind palace figure, having the face of Jocelyn. He pauses before reaching over to place his palm against her cheek. She barely flinches, and just looks directly to his eyes.“Three months since I lost you.”“I’m not her. I’m in your head.”Sherlock cups her face with both hands. “I wish to pretend for a moment.”As he leans down to press their foreheads together, her image vanishes quicker than before. Sherlock clenches his jaw and takes his cigarette again to have another drag.Sherlock sees Camille in every self-help session. He finds her staring at him from time to time, and it confuses him. She always comes out of the building just to say goodbye to him, and he politely returns the gesture. Sherlock finally sees the signs; Camille is infatuated with him.Once he figures that out, he goes to the Elementary school where Camille works. During the students’ lunch, Sherlock manages to catch her in her classroom just placing books on each desk.Camille looks up and sees Sherlock by the door. She seems surprised to see him, and quite honestly, Sherlock is surprised, too.“Hello.” He stiffly greets her.“Sherlock.” Camille puts down a book before approaching him. “How did you know I worked here?”“My explanation will bore you.”She gives him a confused smile. “Right, then… is there something I can do for you?”“Yes, actually. Do you have any fixed events to attend to tonight?”“Well, not really. Why do you ask?”“I’d like to invite you to have dinner with me.”Camille stares blankly at him. “Dinner?”“Yes.”“So… a date?”“So to speak.”“Sorry—are you asking me on a date?”“Yes. Isn’t… isn’t that what dinner means? Am I mistaken?” Sherlock furrows his brows in mild confusion. Surely, the Woman was asking him on a date when she harassed him with text messages, wasn’t she? Or did dinner mean something else entirely?A small smile grows on Camille’s face. “Um… you’re not mistaken, no. I’m just… are you sure?”“Why wouldn’t I be?”“It’s just that, um… you just…”Sherlock waits for her, as if anticipating her to mention the woman that brought the two of them to meet in the first place.But Camille never does. She just smiles and nods. “Okay.”***Sherlock comes back at the exact minute Camille is walking through the doors. Sherlock waits for her to approach him and they begin to walk alongside one another. Neither of them speaks for the first five minutes.“So, which restaurant are you taking me tonight?”“We’re not going to a dreadful restaurant. Restaurants repulse me. We’re having fish and chips.”“…Oh.”“Problem?”“No, no problem at all! It’s just, you know… you always wear expensive suits. I thought you were like… high-maintenance?”Sherlock allows himself to smile. “Far from it. Although, I do have high standards for everything else.”“Is that a compliment?”Sherlock blinks. “Perhaps.”Camille chuckles. Sherlock looks at her and feels pleased. They go to a fish and chips shop to order and sit on one of the empty tables. Camille didn’t mind the location or their food, and she was happy to go with it.“So, why do they repulse you?”“Sorry?”“Restaurants. You said that they repulse you.”Sherlock frowns to himself. “I know a person that had terrible experiences with restaurants. From it, I get bothered by them. Unless I am with John.”“Oh, well. They’re not missing out. Most of their fancy meals occupy a fourth of a plate.”Sherlock hums.“How did you know I was single?”“Your makeup. You’re obviously unconsciously trying to attract people.”Camille raises her brows. “You think I’m trying to attract you?”“Yes.”“That I’m… desperate?”“…No—no!” Sherlock immediately says. “I meant… you are trying to attract people in general.”She looks amused. “Is it working for you?”“Physical beauty does not attract me. It is always the mind that I find exhilarating. Anything physical is always developed much later on. In my case.”She tilts her head. “Why did you ask me here tonight?”Sherlock opens his mouth, unsure of what to respond. Then, he blinks. “I find your company comforting, in a way. As if I know you somewhere.”Camille smiles. “Well, I like your company, too.”From that, Sherlock genuinely smiles.Afterwards, Sherlock isn’t sure how it happened, but now they are walking down the street and Camille is laughing.“So, you just came up to him with a fake moustache and a bottle of wine? While he was proposing to his girlfriend?”“Yes. Then, he threw me on the floor in front of everyone.”“Oh, God. Poor Dr. Watson!”“Everything turned out fine in the end. Now, John and Mary are happily married with a daughter. A happy life.”Camille nods in agreement. Sherlock glances at her as he walks. Camille is nice, he cannot deny that. She is very much tolerable than most.Eventually, they find a bench to sit on and just watched the river. Camille sighs in relaxation while Sherlock views the wavy reflection of the moon on the water.“You know, my brother used to tell me that I should always be true to myself.” She softly says. “And yet, I sit in a circle with people, telling them to move on, when I couldn’t do it myself.”Sherlock listens to her voice while staring ahead of them.“His… wife and I had a fight over his stuff a few days ago. She told me that I don’t know what it feels like to be a widow.” Camille shakes her head. “But I know that one day, she’ll find someone else, and get married again.” She lets out a sad chuckle. “She can find another husband, but I can’t just find another brother.”In all the times he went to therapy, he now realized that Camille never shared her own grief. She was much too focused on helping the others cope.He has an expressionless face as he stares ahead of himself. “I can’t deduce things anymore.”Camille looks at him, in surprise of his revelation.“I can still do basic ones, but… there is a wall that is preventing me to go any further.” Sherlock frowns. “I believe that my mind is slowly decaying and… I have a theory that it might be related to her death.” He swallows thickly. “This never happened to me before.”Camille’s eyes fill with tears, and it was as if she was sharing his pain.“I need your sessions so I can finally receive a case. I might go back to normal once I do.”She offers him a smile and wraps her arm around his before leaning her head on his shoulder. Sherlock is surprised, but lets her. Tears roll down her cheeks, and onto his coat. Sherlock didn’t mind.An hour passes with them just sitting in comfortable silence, and Sherlock politely walks her home. Once they reach the door, Camille turns to him with a smile.“I had a lovely night, Sherlock.”“As did I.”“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She reaches for her keys in her pocket.“Camille.”“Yeah?”“May I kiss you?”She slowly tilts her head to look at him in confusion. “What?”“I asked if I may kiss you.”“I heard you, but… Sherlock—”“What?”Camille sighs and places her hands on his shoulders while looking into his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, and let me tell you, it’s not going to end well for you.”“What do you mean?”“You’re trying to force yourself to move on. You’re trying to speed things up, and get them over with. No one can do that.”Sherlock frowns. “You don’t want to kiss me? You’ve been unconsciously showing signs of attraction the whole night.”She ultimately grimaces at him. “It’s not the matter of whether I want to kiss you or not. It’s the matter if you do.”“I don’t understand.”Camille patiently sighs. “Look, Sherlock. You’re wonderful, you’re a good listener and you know how to treat a woman. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to rush things.” She speaks while looking into his eyes. “Take it slowly.”“But… I like your company.” He cluelessly says.Camille grins and goes to unlock her door. “What’s not to like?” She enters her flat. “Good night, Sherlock.”The door closes and Sherlock is left alone to stand cluelessly at her doorstep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“What do you do if a woman rejects your offer of engaging in a kiss?”“Jesus!” John clutches his chest in shock, turning to Sherlock. “What the hell are you doing here?”It has been hours since his night with Camille. Sherlock is in the middle of his kitchen, standing in the dark while John gets a glass of water in the middle of the night.“I asked a question.”“You asked a qu—how did you get in?”He holds up a key and John sighs.“I asked a question.”“Why are you asking me?”“Well, you are the expert in women, and you have experienced being rejected before. Countless of times.”“Thanks, Sherlock.” He glares before freezing. “Hang on… you were going to kiss someone?” John widens his eyes.“Do keep up, John.”John balances himself on the table from shock. “Who?”“Camille.”“Camille?” John gives him a confused look before his face washes with realization. “The self-help group leader?”“Yes.”“Why… when… how—”“Never mind that! Answer my question.”John is still trying to process. “If a woman rejects you, that usually means they don’t like you.”Sherlock narrows his eyes into slits. “Interesting. What if the woman does like you, and still rejects your proposition?”“Well, that either means they want to take it slowly?”“And what does that mean?”“It means, don’t rush into things. Maybe do it after a few dates.”“Hm…”“Can we rewind? What the bloody hell are you doing, kissing Camille?”“Well, she likes me. We went on a date. Engaging in a kiss seemed to be the logical conclusion.” Sherlock gives him a puzzled look. As Sherlock speaks, John’s face contorts in more confusion.“You… you went on a date.”“Yes.”John tilts his head and mentally calculates. “It’s only been a week since you met.”“I am aware.”“And you asked her on a date and tried to kiss her.”“Yes, I was there.” Sherlock briefly widens his eyes in frustration. “Are you quite well, John?”“Are you quite well?! It’s only been two months since—” John stops himself from raising his voice. “Sherlock, you need to tell me what’s going on with you. I want to help you.”“What could you possibly offer me?” Sherlock frowns cluelessly.“What do you want?”Sherlock is taken aback by the question. He thinks for a moment. “I… I want Jocelyn back.”The army doctor quiets down. Silence fills the kitchen as the two men face one another.The detective stares blankly ahead of himself before shaking his head and blinking to snap himself out of his daze. “I should find a cab. Goodnight, John.”“Sherlock, wait…” he begins, but Sherlock is already out the door. Dear, Lord, he needs a cigarette.He goes down the steps when the door opens, and a female voice calls out to him. Sherlock turns and sees Mary looking distressed.Sherlock watches her with concern. “Mary?”She grabs his wrist and pulls him to the porch, astonishing him. “I don’t know what you want me to do. Should I say the phrase? Because this situation isn’t as serious as you laid out to me. You’re… not exactly in danger, but this whole thing with…” Mary sighs in frustration. “Just tell me what to do.”Sherlock turns his head slightly to the right with utter puzzlement. “I’m… sorry?”“Tell me how to fix this, and I’ll fix it. I don’t know what you’re trying to do now and it kind of scares me. You didn’t really warn me about her.” Mary nervously laughs. “What can I do, Sherlock?”“I… don’t understand.”Mary stares at him and realization washes her face. “You really can do it.”“Do… do what? What are you trying to tell me?”“Nothing, it’s… sorry, I’m just sleepy. I haven’t been sleeping good in a while.”Sherlock stares at her in suspicion. “Mary.”“Be safe on the way home, Sherlock.” Sherlock is about to say something, but Mary smiles at him before going back inside the house.Sherlock stands there, puzzled. He mentally curses himself for not being able to deduce what Mary meant. He hesitates, but eventually decides to go home.Mary’s words threaten to cloud his mind. She’s hiding something, and it is making Sherlock dread that maybe this secret will hurt the family she and John formed.His phone vibrates inside his pocket, and he pulls it out to check. Sherlock frowns at the screen, but his face softens.
You’ve been distracted lately. JM
He glances around the dark street in alarm while gripping his phone. He sees no sign of anyone. Sherlock grits his teeth and types his own message.Sherlock squints his eyes at the message and continues walking while typing.
You’ve been quiet for weeks. SH
Or maybe you stopped listening. JM
Sherlock scoffs.
I never liked riddles. SH
No reply comes after that. Sherlock clenches his jaw and goes home.***Sherlock babysits for John and Mary while they are at work. Only this time, he is with Rosie’s godmother, Molly. It was one of the rare times that Molly is on a break from nonstop work.Molly is carrying Rosie while Sherlock is making sure the milk bottle is properly heated. She smiles at Sherlock. “You know, you’re pretty good at this.”Sherlock makes a vague hum while measuring the temperature of the milk.Molly smiles at Rosie. “Have your, er… ever thought of having some?”Sherlock almost drops the milk bottle.Molly immediately realizes how wrong her question sounded. “Oh, no! No, I meant, uh… I meant if you wondered having—never mind.”Sherlock softens, not wanting Molly to be uncomfortable around him. “I’m not entirely sure how to answer your question.”“You don’t have to. I’m just trying to talk to you.” Molly gives him a sad smile. “We haven’t spoken since the… funeral.”“Oh. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “I heard about you and Tom.”“Yeah, we postponed the wedding.”Sherlock gives her a thin-lipped smile. “I think you should continue the wedding. Might be nice to have something good to look forward to.”“We’ll think about it. How have you been this past week?”“I’m still alive. Still breathing.”Molly smiles apologetically. “Sorry if I haven’t reached out. I heard what happened, and I should’ve visited you in the hospital.”“It’s fine, Molly.”“No, seriously, Sherlock. You’re my friend and I love you, and I wish to be there for you when you need me.”“You… you love me?”Molly looks surprised. “Of course, Sherlock. We’re friends, you and I.”“But you love me.”“Not like that, you git. At least, not anymore.” She amusedly laughs.“Yes…” he thoughtfully trails off. “Molly, am I allowed to ask you a question?”“Sure, what is it?” Molly smiles at Rosie and coos at her.“What did you do when you realized I would never reciprocate your feelings?”“Hm, let’s see. I dressed in my pajamas, ate my sorrows and went to parties every night—”“Skipping the unnecessary parts.”“Right. Well, I just accepted it, I guess. Not everything is meant to be.”Sherlock hesitates. “What do I do if I do want to… return someone’s, er… feelings?” The foreign words leave his mouth.Molly steps back in surprise. “What?”“What should I do to make myself reciprocate another’s feelings?”“Um… well, you can’t force yourself to like someone, Sherlock.”Sherlock visibly scowls at himself. “But what if the person is quite nice and we happen to be compatible? Surely, the biological aspects of one’s mind would begin to feel attraction. Does that hint a specific defect in my brain chemistry? Would it prove fatal if—”“Whoa, slow down, Sherlock.” Molly nervously chuckles. “You seem quite bothered by this.”“I am.”“Are you saying you met someone?”“Broadly speaking.”“And you like them romantically?”“No. But I would like to.”“That’s not really something you can control, Sherlock. It comes naturally.”“Does that mean it is unnatural if it hasn’t?”“No, dummy, it means you and this person aren’t meant to be. Nothing unnatural about that.” She shrugs, but she feels strange knowing that Sherlock is… dating again, and it has only been a few months. And he’s Sherlock—human interaction is abhorrent to him.“So, you are saying that I cannot develop romantic feelings for anyone else?”“No, I’m saying is that you can’t force yourself to like someone just because they like you.”“Should I look elsewhere, then? A different person? Someone who does not initially… like me?”Molly stares at him while rocking the baby in her arms. “Sherlock, is there something wrong?”“There has been something wrong for months now, Molly. I only need to remedy things.”“You can’t remedy things by replacing her, Sherlock.” Molly gives him an empathetic look, and he softens. “But you know that, don’t you?”Sherlock is rendered speechless. “I wish to skip the grief and go back to my normal self.”Molly looks at Sherlock with so much sadness. It was as if Sherlock radiated pain, and Molly can feel it around him. But Molly does not even know half of it. Pain is the first thing that greets Sherlock the moment he opens his eyes in the morning if he does sleep.He is aware that Camille is a nice person—as nice goes—but on the other, he does not feel any sort of romantic inclination for her.He never feels the rush he felt whenever he catches Jocelyn staring at him from across the room. Nor did he feel his heart pounding at the sight of Camille. She could be doing anything, it would not live up to a fourth of what Sherlock felt upon seeing Jocelyn doing the most mediocre of things. Sherlock looks at Camille and he just feels… nothing whatsoever.It confuses him quite a lot. Sherlock knew that ‘moving on’ would require him exerting all his willpower, however, he did not deem it to be this difficult.Later that afternoon, Sherlock arrives early and sees Camille. She is speaking to her phone, frustrated. Sherlock knot his brows together in confusion as he looks at Camille. Although, he softens once he sees that she looks upset as she hangs up.Sherlock walks inside and approaches her, but Camille just sighs. “You’re a bit early.”“Who were you speaking to?”Camille dryly laughs. “My… sister-in-law. Apparently, I took the wrong belongings of my brother.” Camille sighs. “She’s the wife. I can’t argue with a bloody widow.”“You cannot let her treat you this way.”“Really, it’s fine.” Camille begins unfolding the chairs. “So, are we going to talk about how we ended our date? Or do you prefer we keep it under wraps?”“I believe I should prefer my embarrassment to be kept under wraps.”Camille chuckles. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think I should be the embarrassed one.”“Why?”“Because I rejected a kiss from the world’s only consulting detective.” She smirks.Sherlock raises his brows, and a smile forms on his face. It almost angers him whenever he thinks of his inability to form any sort of romantic infatuation towards her.Sherlock watches her. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”“Me either.”“I’m not sure if I would like to know.”She smiles sadly. “Me either.”Sherlock hesitates. “I’d like for you to know that I cannot give you what you want.”Camille purses her lips. “Me either.”Sherlock and Camille share a meaningful glance. It was as if they have an understanding, and he somehow appreciates that. Camille smiles at him before proceeding to their respective chairs.This will be his last session, and tomorrow, he will meet with Lestrade to take a case and open his website again. Things will go back to normal.“It’s Mr. Holmes’ last day today. Have you anything to share?” Camille talks formally as if to mock him.Amusement forms on his face and he lazily shrugs. “One day, we will look back to this day and realize that we are strong enough to overcome it.” He tries to sarcastically say, but it comes off genuine.Camille looks pleased to hear that, and the others smile at him. Unexpectedly, one of them begins to applaud Sherlock, making him turn with astonishment. The others soon join, and applause fills the room. Sherlock hesitantly smiles, and nods awkwardly.The session ends, and as Sherlock walks down the darkening street by himself, his phone vibrates. Sherlock stops walking to check the message once the screen luminates.
Auntie got herself in trouble :) Come to MK quickly! JM
His heart drops, and his eyes widen. Before Sherlock knew it, he was running across the street yelling for a cab while simultaneously messaging a code word to his brother.Sherlock arrives in Milton Keynes after three agonizing hours, and he sprints with his heart pounding. He finds an ambulance and several police cars outside of her home, and Sherlock’s eyes are wide with fear. He does not even notice Lestrade putting his hand on his shoulder, so he flinches back.“Sherlock, it’s me. It’s okay. She’s fine, she’s in the hospital now.”He lets out a deep sigh of relief and buries his face into his palms to calm himself down. “What happened?”“Someone broke inside her home and knocked her out. Stabbed her while she’s out. She lost a lot of blood, but she’s going to pull through.”He barely hears him. Sherlock’s fists are shaking in anger as he pulls out his phone and walks away. With no hesitation, he does something he has never done before; he dials Moriarty’s number.And he hears a click. He answered.“Why?”Nothing. Only static.Sherlock’s breaths turn heavy, eyes wild with fury. “Why?”Still nothing.His nose flares and his upper lip curls with anger. “Bringing other players in would be too crowded. I want you to remember this, if I so much as see a hint of you among any of my family again, I will bring you back out into the light. I will give you a war.” He hisses with a death grip around the phone.Sherlock hangs up and continues to walk down the street to find a cab going to the hospital. He climbs into a cab, and just in time, his phone beeps. Sherlock looks down at it and his face softens with astonishment.“Where to, sir?”He breathes slowly. “Baker Street, first. And then Bristol South. The swimming pool.”***Sherlock enters the swimming area, only this time, he is holding his pistol tight in his hand readies his aim. Here he was again, back from where it all started.His head snaps to the left the moment he sees the door open, where John once emerged from all those years ago.This is it. He will finally face Moriarty for the first time again, and he will not waste an opportunity.Sherlock approaches the side of the door and aligns the gun to eye-level. He readies himself. Whoever walks through will immediately receive a bullet through their temple.For a split second, his heart began racing, anticipating Moriarty’s appearance. He is ready to kill him on sight, wanting to end this all just as he should have done the moment Moriarty stepped into the pool area. Sherlock and Moriarty were meant to die together here all those years ago.Then, a figure slides out of the room so swiftly, already facing him and making Sherlock take a step back. His breath hitches in his throat and his vision almost whitens as his heartbeat stops.In front of him stood her, with a pistol aiming towards him.Sherlock’s eyes widen and everything was blurring. He stares back at her with utter shock, unsure of how to react.
No, this cannot be real. She is not alive. Wake up. This is not real.
The two of them had their weapons pointed specifically towards each other, and their hands are steady.Her lips part in surprise. “Sherlock.”Sherlock swallows, still watching her with wide eyes as his hands begin to lower. “Jocelyn…”However, her gun is still steadily aimed towards his chest. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”“You’re alive…”Jocelyn furrows her brows in confusion. “Of course, I’m alive. We saw each other two months ago.”Sherlock’s whole body grows cold as he stares, blinking in response as he takes a step back. “I…”He does not recall seeing her two months ago, other than receiving her severed head inside a parcel.
Until it struck him.
At an instant, Sherlock’s mind unlocks itself and all the memories come rushing back in. Sherlock remembers impulsively kissing her the moment he saw her. He remembers embracing her, feeling her alive in his arms. Everything. He sees himself holding her hand, drinking a glass of bourbon as they spoke. He remembers her laughs, her cries, her pleas. He remembers every single word, exchanged between the two of them.
Even the key code Irene told him about.
While the chaos happens in Sherlock’s mind palace, in the real world, he only blinks once at Jocelyn.“You were gone for three months, what progress have you made?” He carefully asks, slowly taking in the fact that she is, indeed, alive.Nothing else mattered to him. On this moment, he forgot everything that happened to him while Jocelyn was gone.A wave of emotion struck Sherlock as his face softens. He lowers his head, still locking their eyes together. “Jocelyn, put the gun down.”She cocks her gun. “You shouldn’t be here.”Sherlock observes her for a moment before he takes a step forward. He sees the way her hand slightly flinches at his movement, clutching her gun. Sherlock takes another step, and her face remains neutral.“Don’t come any closer.”Sherlock continues to walk towards her. Jocelyn firmly stands her ground, still aiming the gun at him. She neither steps back nor forward and only stays in her place. It wasn’t until Sherlock was right in front of her, and he comes closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against his chest.Expressionlessly, Sherlock tells her, “Do it.”“You don’t think I will?”“Oh, I know you might.”“Then, why are you still here?”His eyes soften. “Because if I were to die, I’d prefer it to be on my terms, by my own hand… but to die by yours would be an honor.”Jocelyn wavers finally, and it was visible as well. Her eyes blink multiple times as if to hold back the tears. She closes her eyes, and a tear slips down her cheek as she lowers her gun.Sherlock does not breathe in relief. Instead, he just stares at her with an unreadable expression.With the weapon still in her hand, she wipes her cheek. “You should go now, Sherlock. I’m serious.”“I’m not leaving you.”“You are so eager to die.”His lips twitch into a brief smirk. “You know me so well.”She glares at him, but there was a hint of nervousness behind her eyes.“Jocelyn, your aunt…” He carefully begins, but she turns away.“Why are you here, Sherlock?”“I was told that I was going to meet with Moriarty here.”Her whole body freezes, and her face pales. Sherlock gives her a worried look.Jocelyn sharply inhales. “Sherlock… I didn’t…”“What a sweet moment!” The loud voice fills the hall of the swimming pool. Jocelyn does not turn around, only tensing her shoulders.Sherlock glances far behind her and sees the door open with a creak. He widens his eyes and looks back at Jocelyn, who looks terrified.Into the scene, steps Moran, wearing a crisp suit that he would usually wear in campus. He walks out of the same doorway that Moriarty once did years ago.Sherlock lifts his gun and aims it towards him, watching the man carefully as Moran walks across the side of the pool. “I was told that I am to meet Moriarty tonight. Not his impostor.”“Glad to see you, too, Sherlock. It’s been a long time.”Sherlock does not change his expression, but he looks around the area for any sign of another person.“Lighten up. Jim won’t be meeting you today. Only did that to get your attention.” He holds his arms out. “Hopefully, you like our venue. It’s a nice touch, the place where you met Moriarty for the first time,” he looks at Jocelyn with a smile. “Isn’t that interesting, Josie?”Jocelyn glares at him.“I have to say that it’s really great to see you both in one place again together. How long has it been. Three months? You do keep count, don’t you, Jocelyn?”“Laurie…”“No, no. Let me guess. Three months since both of you talked? Or two?”Jocelyn hesitates, avoiding Sherlock’s gaze as he stares at her with concern.Moran gives her a stern look. “I warned you about getting into contact with him, but did you listen?”Sherlock watches the way she lowers her head, almost shamefully from his tone. It disgusts Sherlock, just thinking about everything Moran must have done to her for Jocelyn to act this way.“I’ll let this one slide. We’ve all been emotional. And I’m not going to hurt you as long as you’re pregnant. Policy against hurting children. Pregnant women are kind of included,” he chuckles, settling his arms behind his back.Sherlock’s body goes frigid.
What?
He narrows his eyes, brows furrowed in puzzlement as he blinks a few times. Jocelyn’s eyes flash with shock, and she stiffly looks at Sherlock.The detective wavers and it shows from the way he shifts the gun in his hands, and the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other. Silence washes over them as Sherlock grasps the situation.He could not explain the type of emotion he had felt. The mixture of horror, anxiety, anger, and confusion was simply too much to comprehend. Sherlock’s immediately travels to the darkest corners of his mind, and he somehow terrified himself of the scenarios he imagined.Laurie soon realizes, and his mouth forms a circle as if to gasp. “Oh, he doesn’t know, does he?” He has an amused glint in his eyes.Sherlock falters yet again, looking back and forth between them as his heart pounds in his chest. He watches as tears begin to fill Jocelyn’s eyes with no words to say.“Ooh, that is interesting. I see why Jim enjoys this type of things,” he smacks his palms together and rubs them, smiling. “Right. I should clear up any confusion.”“Laurie…” she closes her eyes.“Jocelyn, here, is four months pregnant,” he bluntly tells Sherlock, and a shocked tear escapes her left eye. “Impressively, I didn’t notice when we first took her, but I suppose… Jocelyn is quite the clever little sheep.”Sherlock swallows, and tries his best to keep his gun steady, but it was difficult to keep his cold demeanor. Four months. That would be before she was kidnapped. She was not violated by anyone.A wave of shock and relief, mixed with terror and confusion courses through his body, rendering him unable to articulate what he just felt.“Don’t worry, it’s yours. I’m not a monster.” Moran purses his mouth.Jocelyn’s green eyes shines with fresh tears, she was too focused watching the twisting expression on Sherlock’s face.“I’ve given you warnings, Sherlock. Countless of warnings not to interfere.” Moran deeply sighs. “And you still keep coming and chasing and bothering and intervening.”“So, now what? You will tell me to back off? Like your precious Moriarty did?” Sherlock’s deep voice comes out calm.Moran only smiles as he walks until he is right next to Jocelyn. She stands completely still, almost frozen at the thought of what Moran might do to her. Every single movement Moran makes, it results to Sherlock flinching slightly, darting his eyes between her and the new consulting criminal as he aims the gun towards him.“You underestimate me, Mr. Holmes.”“Or maybe you overestimate yourself.”Moran chuckles. “Now, I do see the appeal of you, Mr. Holmes. You do love provoking self-proclaimed psychopaths,” he holds Jocelyn’s gaze. “Moriarty always loved a little challenge.”Jocelyn’s eye twitches, Sherlock notices.“I’m not dense, Sherlock. I know you’ve been looking for Jocelyn. I know that your brother had teams searching for her, too. I know that you wouldn’t rest until you found her. Not while you knew she was alive.” Moran tilts his head. “Although, I’m not sure why you all stopped looking. Maybe you’re not so important after all, Jocelyn…”Sherlock’s blood runs colder. “What do you want?”“I asked you here to finally put your interference to good use.”“And how, pray tell, would I be able to do that?”The corner of Moran’s lip quirks into a smirk. With one breath, he says, “Kneel.”“I’m sorry?”“I said, kneel.”Silence fills the space around them. Jocelyn watches Sherlock with genuine concern, and once he meets her eyes, she shakes her head no.“Why?” Sherlock’s face is expressionless.“I find pleasure in seeing Moriarty’s plaything kneel before me. Now that… will be a sight.”“Sherlock, don’t.” Jocelyn takes a step forward, but Moran swiftly pulls out a scalpel from his jacket and pressing it into her lower stomach, even before she takes another step.Sherlock flinches in alert, eyes wide as he watches the sharp scalpel press against the thin cloth of her shirt. Her coat parts, and Sherlock sees the bump of her stomach. It makes his own drop. She stops moving, and stops breathing, just as Sherlock freezes with wide eyes.“Tick tock, Mr. Holmes.” Moran’s menacing voice echoes in the swimming area.“Sherlock—”“If I hear one more word from you,” Moran cranes his neck to speak into Jocelyn’s ear, and she struggles between glaring at him in anger or shaking in fear. “I will slit his throat and make you watch.”Sherlock grits his teeth, still staring at them. He longingly eyes her stomach for a moment and loses all sense of logic. Sherlock closes his eyes briefly before he begins to lower himself onto the ground, until he was on his knee and looks up at him with a glower.“Both knees.”Sherlock’s nose almost flares with fury, but he gathers all his courage and swallows his pride, lowering his other knee to the floor.Jocelyn has a look of guilt and despair. The sight was enough for Sherlock to crumble, but he forces himself to keep his head up high.A smile appears on Moran’s face. “I’ve listened to Jim go on and on about you being the most powerful person he has ever met… and now look at you. Kneeling before me. This has been grander than I imagined it to be.” Moran says in amusement. “Beg for her life.”“Laurie…”Sherlock’s upper lip curls with anger upon hearing the fear in her voice. No word slips past his mouth as he continues to watch in silence.Moran stares expectantly. “Go on, beg for it. Beg for her life. Beg me for the life of your child’s mother.”Sherlock grits his teeth, but wavers once Jocelyn begins to breathe heavily, most likely because the scalpel is pressing down into her skin.He draws in a breath and forces an exhale. “Please.”“Please what? Go on.”Sherlock feels absolutely powerless and filled with rage, a horrible combination as he struggles to remain composed. “If you want blood, take mine.” His voice is slightly shaking.“Oh… an exchange? Interesting.” With that, he withdraws the scalpel and takes out a handkerchief.Even from this distance, Sherlock can see the tiny fresh bloodstain on the front of her white shirt. Jocelyn sighs in relief, closing her eyes but refuses to move a muscle.Moran wipes the scalpel clean with the handkerchief before slipping it back into his jacket. He clasps his hands together and smiles at Sherlock. “Now that you’ve offered yourself, I have a job for you.”“What is it?”“Ask politely, Sherlock.”The detective felt sick to his stomach. “What would you like me to do?”Moran’s smile widens and he glances at Jocelyn as if to show off what he reduced the great detective into. “I want you to find the key code for me.”“How?”“Oh, well. That is not exactly my problem now, is it?” Moran grimaces. “You have one week, Sherlock.”“A week to search for a code you have been trying to locate for almost four years? Hardly logical.”“From your reputation, a week is being generous already,” he leans forward. “And if in one week, you don’t find the key code, I can promise you one thing. I’ll send you something of Jocelyn’s. Every day after your deadline.”The thought makes Sherlock’s skin crawl, glaring at the new consulting criminal.“You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock.” Moran releases Jocelyn and turns around to walk back where he came from.Jocelyn stares at Sherlock with her mouth gaping and eyes blurring with tears. Sherlock holds her gaze for a moment before looking away, unable to accept how this is the life they are living now. Once he did, Jocelyn helplessly chokes back a sob.“Josie, come along.” Moran calls out to her as he steps out.“Sherlock… I’m… I…” Jocelyn mutters under her breath, but he still could not look at her, almost ashamed that she had to see him this way—on his knees and completely powerless to stop this.
“Jocelyn!”
She flinches at the booming voice before she follows behind, still glancing over her shoulder to see Sherlock remain in his position. Once she closes the door behind her, they leave Sherlock alone by the pool.The detective lets out heavy breaths, eyes wide as his knees give in, sending him on the floor. He takes a moment to comprehend what has happened. It takes him minutes to understand everything just before he lets out a deep bellowing scream that echoes through the darkened swimming pool.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sherlock arrives in Baker Street, still unable to feel as if he is in his body. He steps into his flat, greeted by a worried John Watson by the door and an angry brother by the window.“We have been looking all over for you. Gregory said you’d be in the hospital with Mrs. Forbes!”“Sherlock, where were you?” John gives him a concerned look.He stares blankly before shaking his head and walking past them to make his way towards the mantelpiece. The two other men watch him with curiosity as Sherlock stands before them.Sherlock takes a deep breath, then he looks at his brother. “Jocelyn is alive.”Mycroft’s face softens as the astonishment sinks into his eyes. He stops breathing, staring at his younger brother.“I kept this information from you both because I had to. I did not know how to go about convincing you. So, I rewrote my memories, and everything that happened to me, they were real. I just found out today.”His older brother shuts his eyes, palming his forehead.“Jesus, Sherlock.” John hisses under his breath, shock and anger written all over his face.“I saw her in New Orleans. She escaped Moran, and went there. She asked me not to tell anyone, and convince you both that she is dead—for us to stop searching for her.”John closes his eyes to contain his anger. “Where did you go?”“The pool, where we first met Moriarty as who he was.” Sherlock watches his brother’s stress level increasing. “She was there, with Moran.”John cups his own face. “We have to get her.”“No. We have to find the key code.” Sherlock asserts, making John widen his eyes. “Yes, it exists. It does not open any door in the world. That was a trick. It only opens one. Moriarty’s data system.”“What’s that?”“Not sure, but it’s something important. He will not hurt Jocelyn if we give him the key code.”“What, we’re just going to hand over something we don’t know? This is Moriarty we’re talking about! What if this thing, whatever it is, kills people?”“We are not going to find this key code for him.” Mycroft declares, finally speaking out loud.Sherlock gives him a pleading look that made Mycroft falter. “We have to. We do not have a choice.”“We cannot risk other people’s lives, Sherlock. This isn’t who we are, and Jocelyn would agree with me. We can look for another way.” John sternly states.“Please, he’s… he will hurt her.” Sherlock lowers his weakening voice. “He will hurt her if we do not comply, and…”Mycroft waits for him to finish, but words fail Sherlock. “And what?”Sherlock unevenly lets out a breath and clenches his fists to stop them from shaking. “Jocelyn is carrying my child.”From those words, Mycroft almost felt his whole body weaken, he needed to sit down. John doubles over and palms his face.Sherlock glimpses between them with clear desperation in his eyes. “She is pregnant, brother mine. Four months. Moran has displayed to me earlier that he is not afraid to hurt her.”The others remain voiceless, clearly battling with their own principles. Sherlock understood, he spent almost an hour contemplating that nearby a pool.“We don’t have a choice, Mycroft.”“Yes, we do. We take her back.” Mycroft insists.“We can’t do that if we don’t know where he would have taken her.”“Well, we need to think faster!”
“Or smarter.”
All three of them snap their heads to the doorway to see where the new voice came from.Entering the flat is a young Korean woman, wearing a leather jacket. John stands in alarm, his hand immediately goes to the gun on his hip, swiftly taking it and aiming it towards the unknown woman. She raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.Mycroft furrows his brows. “Who are you?”Sherlock steps forward. “Naomi. Where is Jocelyn?”Before she could answer, another person emerges into the doorframe and flashes a hesitant smile.John widens his eyes, lowering his gun. “Mary.”Naomi scrunches her nose. “Mary?” She repeats the name is if it was ridiculous. Mary shrugs.“Naomi.” Sherlock repeats.She was about respond again when footsteps arrive up the staircase again, and in comes a familiar woman with her hair done elegantly.Sherlock reels back in surprise. “Miss… Adler?”Irene grins. “Ah. Hello, boys.”“What is going on?” Mycroft looks around the room with bewilderment. “And who is she?”“This is Naomi. Moriarty’s PA.” Irene casually introduces her.“I am not Moriarty’s PA.” Naomi glares at Irene. “I am Moriarty’s personal assassin.”Irene rolls her eyes. “That was what I meant.”Mycroft scoffs in disbelief, turning away with a roll of his eyes. The past few minutes were too much to handle, apparently, even for him.Sherlock walks towards Naomi. “Where is Jocelyn?”“New Zealand. Moriarty’s mansion.”“Doesn’t matter if we know where this keycode is or not. Bottomline, we’re not giving Sebastian the key code.” Mary glances at the other men, who slowly tense up in realization of the situation.“Jocelyn went to Sebastian as her sacrifice for all of us. We’re not going to let her.” Irene nods.“We?” Mycroft raises his brows.“Yes. We.” Naomi shoots back a glare.Sherlock digests the information he received before slowly nodding. “Alright. All three of you know Moran better than all of us. What is our plan?”The three women share a look for a moment before they turn back to the three men. A smirk slowly forms on Irene’s face, and she shrugs. “Save Jocelyn.”***John dryly laughs at Mary and Sherlock. “Oh, hell. You two are definitely the duo.”Sherlock sighs. “John…”“No, you know what this’ll do to Mycroft, right? You know what Jocelyn’s death did to him. Your own brother, Sherlock!”Sherlock reluctantly meets John’s eyes. “Jocelyn asked me to.”“You shouldn’t have listened to her!”“Oh, and what was I supposed to do?!”“You were supposed to not hide things from us!”“I had to keep her safe!”“How wonderfully did it turn out, then?” John nods, and Sherlock wavers. “You know, I actually made myself believe that you’re never going to lie to me again. Sure, hide a couple things because you’re scared of being judged, but lying? About this?!”While the yelling ensues in the kitchen, Mycroft sits in silence in front of Naomi and Irene at the living room.“John, just calm down.” Mary sighs.“No, this is just it! If you told us about this whole shit with Jocelyn, we could’ve come up with a plan earlier and got her out of that mess sooner.” John has a murderous smile on his face. “You left Jocelyn out there on her own!”“I… I didn’t know she was pregnant until today in that pool.”“It doesn’t matter whether she was pregnant or not, you shouldn’t have left her alone!”“Don’t tell me what I should have done, John!”“Maybe if I told you much earlier, we could’ve avoided this stupid bloody game!”“Boys, please. Calm down.”John turns to his wife with a humorless smile. “What have I done for you to lie to my face like that again? Hm? Every night I break down over him, and our dead friend. And every night, you do nothing.”Mary appears regretful.“I’m sorry. I’m saying it now. I’m sorry, Sherlock, that I can’t comfort you about your situation.” John holds his hands up. “I’ll be with Rosie downstairs, since I’m of no use here, anyway.”Sherlock frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but John leaves the flat immediately.He looks at Mary. “Are you alright?”“I will be. You?”Sherlock glances towards the living room and Mary notices the suspicion on his face.“You can trust Naomi. She cares about Jocelyn and would do anything to save her.”“You said that she’s loyal to Moriarty.”“That changed.”“How convenient.”“She was the one who helped Jocelyn escape.”“Doesn’t make her a saint.”“Sherlock, none of us in this flat are saints.”Later, Naomi explains everything that happened to Jocelyn in New Zealand. How they kept her inside the mansion, Silas mentally torturing her (although, Naomi couldn’t say how, since she didn’t know as well), Sebastian taking Jocelyn to her father’s house, how she helped Jocelyn escape once she realized Jocelyn was pregnant, and how they’ve been hiding in New Orleans ever since. Naomi also told them that the only reason why Jocelyn came back to Sebastian was because he attacked her aunt, which shows that he will hurt anyone she loved if she doesn’t return to him. So, Jocelyn complied. Right now, she’s captive in the mansion again.Naomi also made it a point that since psychological torture barely worked for Jocelyn, they might resort into physical torture.Then, a sudden rush of anger boils through Sherlock’s blood. “How do we get her back?”“We storm the mansion. We can take you there.”Mycroft looks unconvinced.“Sebastian is always prepared, and he’ll be prepared for this. We need to catch him off guard. Send your most trusted team of officers to distract his people. Mary and I can go inside and look for her.”Sherlock frowns. “Mary will do no such thing.”Mary sighs. “If you say something like I’m a woman with a husband and daughter, don’t.”“Mary—”“I can handle myself. More than any of the guys you’ll send in.”Naomi holds back an amused smile, but says nothing. It should also be acknowledged that Mary admitted into being Naomi’s partner during assassination missions. They were always on either side of Moriarty. Things are different now, though.Mycroft stares at Naomi. “May I ask, why are you doing this for Jocelyn? Your true boss is the late Jim Moriarty, someone who went through great lengths to hurt her.”“Miss Jocelyn saved me. I would like to return the gesture.”Sherlock wants to press on the subject, but he just stands. “Both of you are staying here. I’d like to keep an eye on you.”Irene scoffs. “Absolutely not.”“It’s fine, Irene.” Naomi lowly tells her before glancing at Sherlock. “We’ll do anything.”Irene scoffs in disapproval, but doesn’t fight it. Sherlock nods at them and proceeds to his bedroom to catch his breath.Soon after, Sherlock is sitting on his chair holding his violin. Naomi is asleep on the sofa, and he can see Irene in the kitchen making tea.As soon as Mycroft got the chance to leave, he left. No doubt to be alone and dwell on the fact that Jocelyn is alive, and Sherlock kept it from him. As for John, he left with Mary to discuss her going with Naomi. John and Mary will no doubt have an argument, and would rather not do it in front of everyone.For a self-proclaimed family, they all do tend to keep many secrets from one another.Irene, who is now wearing his blue dressing gown after her shower, approaches him to offer a cup of tea. Sherlock stares at her before looking away.Irene sighs. “Mr. Holmes, I’m only doing this for Naomi, so if you could please cooperate.”Sherlock looks at her again before taking the cup of tea. Irene breathes out a sarcastic thanks before sitting on John’s chair.Sherlock sips his cup of tea, tasting how it is too sweet for his liking. It was with no doubt that he knew of this as Irene’s small acts of revenge.“Has anyone ever asked you yet?”“Ask me what?”“How you feel about becoming a father.”Sherlock’s whole body tenses up, and he subtly covers it by sipping his tea. “What about it?”Irene slowly smirks. “My only takeaway from this is that your little nickname is no longer accurate.”Sherlock audibly sighs.“Are you upset? That she hid it from you?”“I don’t think those are any of your business.”“Ooh… you are upset.”Sherlock glares at her. “My opinion does not matter. It is her body, therefore, her choice on keeping the child.”“Yes, and her choice will make you a permanent father.”Her words are slowly getting to Sherlock. “I’m aware that you are trying to get under my skin, Miss Adler, for forcing you both to stay here. It is not going to work.”“You know, she had two shots to tell you, right? But she didn’t. Maybe she knew you’d be against it.”“I’m not against it.”“But you’re not for it either.”“I will support her.”“And then what? You’re going to marry her? Live in a house with a picket fence? Go to ballet recitals? Football games? Not really your scene, Mr. Holmes.”Sherlock does not respond and only sips his tea.“Once we get her back here, you’re not allowed to turn your back on her.”“I would never think that even for a second.”“With an unplanned child on the way, I’d say you’d run the moment you see her. Not to mention the little schoolteacher that got you distracted along the way. You know what they say, you lose the one, you latch on to the next best thing.” She mocks.“What is your mission here? To get me to kick you out? Because it’s working.”“Our mission is to bring her home. Just because I like Jocelyn doesn’t mean that you and I are friends.”“For the first time in my life, I agree with you.”“It’s kind of funny, though. You and Jocelyn both faked your deaths. You two are the most unusual couple I know.”“We are not a couple. And her death was unwillingly faked.”“Still funny.” She watches him with a small smile. “Do you remember what I said to you here? Three years ago?”He stares back at her before lowering his cup of tea. “We all feel love at one point of our lives. The only conflict is when we do not reach for it in time.”As he speaks, Irene briefly glances at the sleeping woman on the sofa to her right.Sherlock follows her gaze for a moment, and realizes. “She’s the one you’ve been trying to protect.”“Magnussen had to die. He was aiming to take Moriarty’s empire. Which means Naomi would go to him, like he was some sort of substitute for Moriarty. When Magnussen died, Naomi went to Sebastian, and pledged her loyalty to him.” Irene quietly says. “Moriarty wasn’t good for her. Jocelyn must have made her realize that. Something I couldn’t do for years… and Jocelyn did it in just a few weeks.” She weakly chuckles. “After you told me Jocelyn is alive, it got me questioning how she escaped. She couldn’t do that alone, so…” Irene trails off quietly.Sherlock softens. “You care about her, don’t you?”“Don’t get too full of yourself. The only reason I was ever attracted to you was because you reminded me of her.”Sherlock smacks his lips together. “I reminded you of an A-list assassin.”“You reminded me of her intelligence. Her little quips.” She raises her brows. “Her love for brunettes.”Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Oh, Lord.”“You should be honored. It takes a lot to get my attention.”“An assassin and a junkie detective. Brilliant.”“They’re both quite attractive if you think about it. Dr. Watson might relate.”He huffs softly, almost a rendition of amusement, but he was still bothered by their situation. It was strange to think that just a few hours ago, Sherlock’s biggest worry was wishing to reciprocate Camille’s feelings. Now, he is not even sure if any of it was real.“Why did Naomi help Jocelyn?”“Sherlock, she’s pregnant.”“She works for Moriarty. Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that she would drop everything to save a pregnant woman that her boss harassed and kidnapped.”“She doesn’t work for Moriarty anymore.”“I do hope you understand my reluctance on taking your word for it.”“Believe me, I’m finding it hard to believe myself, too.”Sherlock observes her, and realizes that there is a far deeper history between Irene and Naomi. Sherlock is not sure if he cares enough to find out, although, the longer he stares at Irene, his lips part in realization.Irene shrugs. “But on a lighter note, I think you’ll be very much at home with a child running around the place.”
Child.
Sherlock blinks a few times, and the thought does not feel heavy at all. In fact, a warm feeling spreads throughout his chest.Irene notices the look on his face and smiles. “I never pegged you as the fatherly type, Mr. Holmes.”“And I never took you for a settling-down type, either.”“Does that make us even?”“Quite so.” Sherlock’s lips twitch into a small smile.Irene gives him a look. “I wasn’t in love with you, Sherlock.”“I realize that now, Irene.” He pauses. “You lose the one, you latch on to the next best thing.”She playfully rolls her eyes. “And the passcode was just for fun.”“You still lost.”“Made you look. You must admit, I was your most interesting nemesis since Moriarty.”“Now, let’s not go that far.”They share a laugh, and it was strangely comfortable. It was as if they were two old friends discussing old tales.Irene smiles a bit. “My opinion doesn’t matter, but I still want you to know.” She begins, and he raises a curious brow at her. “I think you’ll be a great father.”Sherlock relaxes before he looks back at his violin. “Let’s hope Jocelyn will think the same thing.”Irene grows a bit uncertain now. “Sherlock.”“Hm?”“I have to warn you about something.”“Warn me about what?”“Silas is a violent man, and Sebastian can find ways to get into people’s heads.”Sherlock’s eyes harden. “What are you trying to tell me?”“I mean… I just want you to prepare yourself. Jocelyn… she won’t be the same. Not after months of being with them.”“Are you saying that Jocelyn is weak enough to give in to whatever they put her through?”“I’m saying that we shouldn’t underestimate Sebastian and Silas.”Sherlock leans back into his seat with an unreadable expression.“You need to face it, Sherlock. Jocelyn won’t be the same. Just like you were when you came home. Liberty always comes with a price.”Sherlock felt goosebumps all over his body, remembering all the torture he went through in Serbia.Irene notices the sudden shift of the atmosphere, and stands. “Just be prepared. It’ll be fine.”“Do you know what they could be doing to her at this moment?”“The question you should be asking is what are they not doing to her. Saves you more time.” She quietly says and makes Sherlock waver. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”Sherlock watches her walk towards Naomi’s sleeping body and slotting herself into her arms carefully. Naomi automatically wraps her arms around Irene in her sleep, and the Woman burrows her nose into Naomi’s neck.Sherlock takes that as his cue to leave and proceed to his bedroom.***“How are you?”Mrs. Forbes weakly chuckles. “Never better.”Sherlock offers a small smile. “You’ll be fine here.” He turns to look at the older woman and she appears saddened. “What’s wrong?”“Remember when I told you about Jocelyn’s doctor coming by?”“Yes.”“He told me something. I don’t think I should keep it from you, and you deserve to know.” Sherlock knows where this is going, but he doesn’t know what to do. “Jocelyn, she was… she was pregnant. That day we went to the hospital, she didn’t tell me.”Sherlock softens in silence.“I’m sorry if you had to find out like this.” Her eyes begin to get teary.“Mrs. Forbes… there’s something you should know.”She tilts her head in confusion and Sherlock takes a deep breath.***Sherlock never thought he would ever see himself huddled along with Irene Adler and the two assassins from the pool, his godchild, along with his brother and best friend—all in the same room.“The mansion is like a fortress. Five floors, two basement levels. Sebastian is likely to keep Jocelyn in the first basement level. She has a room there, with a two-way mirror. Not difficult to spot.”“The second basement level, what’s in there?” John asks.“I’m afraid that I don’t know.”Mycroft scoffs.“It’s true, I don’t know what they keep in there. They never let anyone down there.”“Alright. Say we do believe you. What’s stopping you from luring us into this home and killing us?” John frowns.Irene looks at Naomi, who just nods at her. “I’ll stay behind.”John raises his brows. “You’re asking us to hold you hostage while Kill Bill over here leads people inside?”“I wouldn’t be doing this for anyone else.” Irene sternly says.“What do you get out of this?” asks Sherlock.“We help you save Jocelyn, you’ll never hear from us again.” Irene slowly nods.Mycroft and Sherlock share a glance before he sighs. “Brother mine, a word?” He sternly says as he looks down at the plans scribbled on the board.Sherlock nods at the others. John, Mary, Rosie, Naomi and Irene leave the room.“This is insane.”“I see how this situation may seem, but Miss Adler and Naomi’s—”“Not only them, brother mine. This. Everything.” Mycroft harshly whispers. “How could you not have told me?”“Our search led Moran to Jocelyn. He knew everything. The minute we stopped, he lost track of her. The only reason why she is with him right now is because she chose to be there. I needed to convince you to stop looking for her. The only way I can do that is to convince myself.”Mycroft shuts his eyes in frustration. “You made me believe that she is gone.”“Both of us thought she was gone.”“But you had a choice, brother mine.”Sherlock has no reply to that, because Mycroft is right.“We don’t even know if Jocelyn truly is in this location.”“Jocelyn trusted Naomi. I am putting my faith in Jocelyn.”“Faith is an illusion casted for false comfort.”“Maybe, but faith is all I have as of now.”The eldest Holmes gives him a disappointed look. “Once we take her back, this will break the world, brother mine. Not only is Miss Grant alive, she has also witnessed the world’s biggest criminal network firsthand. All while carrying your child for four months.”Sherlock wavers at the mention of his child. Just the thought of Jocelyn being in such danger, it nearly breaks him.Mycroft palms his forehead. “I have a setup for when she comes home. She won’t be safe anywhere else, especially not in London.” He hesitates. “Although, I’m not sure if you are prepared for this.”Sherlock’s interests are piqued. “I’m listening.”***Five days later, Jocelyn is sitting on the chair. Her face is pale and her body is weak. Sebastian is sat opposite her, and slides a glass of water in front of her.Jocelyn’s bandaged hand snatches it from the table and forcefully throws the glass to the wall with a scream, shattering the glass with an ear-piercing sound.Sebastian does not flinch, but sighs. “That was crystal.”Jocelyn leans in, her eyes wild with pain and exhaustion, and she lowers her voice. “Screw you, and your brother. I hope both of you will die slowly.”“Careful. You’re beginning to sound like him.”Jocelyn eyes soften, and Sebastian sees that he hit a nerve.“Did you enjoy the show earlier?”“You’re sick.” Jocelyn shakes her head, eyes unhinged and narrow.“Happens to the best of us.”She places her free hand on her stomach, and her whole body is tired. She wants to beg them to kill her, but she couldn’t. Not with her baby still depending on her being alive.“Jocelyn, you are alone. Your pet left you the moment The Woman got in the picture. Sherlock is out there running around trying to look for that code. He doesn’t even know what you’ve become.” Sebastian sighs. “And now, look at you. You’re selfish enough to bring a child into this world.”Jocelyn shakily breathes out and closes her eyes, trying to shut him out of her head. “Just stop, just—”The lights turn off.Jocelyn opens her eyes and is greeted by darkness. A few seconds later, they turn back on, only this time, the lights are dim and blue. It sends a cold shiver down her spine.Sebastian looks around in confusion before reaching for the transceiver. “What’s with the emergency lights?”No one responds, and Jocelyn is beginning to feel uneasy. Her eyes dart around the room, and she begins to tug on the handcuff around her wrist.Sebastian continues to wait for any response through the transceiver, until it clicks. Immediately, alarms begin to blare loudly through the speakers around them. Jocelyn’s eyes are wide, and she immediately assumes they are under attack.He clenches his jaw and puts down his transceiver before taking out the key to her handcuffs. He leans over and releases her. At an instant, she yells and tries to swing her fist at him, but ultimately had the disadvantage of having a weakened body. Sebastian grabs her arms, and she thrashes around.Jocelyn groans and tries to pull of his arm off her. Sebastian pulls her with him. “Let go of me!” She shouts while trying to swing her legs.“The glass is unbreakable! That door is automated, it won’t open after the emergency lights turned on, Mr. Holmes.”Jocelyn looks to the mirror, wishing she could see through it. Her heartbeat quickens, and blood rushes through her veins. “Sherlock!”“Shut up, Jocelyn.”“Let me go!”“I don’t think so,” he pulls out a scalpel from his pocket and presses the blade against her neck.She sucks in a breath and pulls her head back, trying to create more space between her neck and the blade.“Sorry, little sheep. I think you’ve outlived your usefulness.” Sebastian whispers into her ear.From the other side of the mirror, Sherlock stands with his eyes wide. His breaths turn heavier the moment the scalpel presses against her neck. “Jocelyn, no.”Sherlock’s breath hitches in his throat, and his hand grips the door, but it would not open. All he can do is stare at the scene through the one-way mirror.“So, what’s more important for you, Mr. Holmes? Capturing me, or saving Jocelyn?”His eyes widen as he inhales sharply, yelling out a deep, “No!”Then, Sebastian’s hand swiftly pushes across Jocelyn’s neck. Her eyes bulge out of its sockets, and he finally let her go. Jocelyn’s hand immediately goes to her neck, and the metallic scent of blood fills her nose.She grips her own neck as blood pours from the long slit. Blood spreads through the bandages around her palms. Jocelyn gurgles and chokes before she collapses to the ground.Sherlock’s heart dropped as he begins to yell until his throat is sore, slamming his fists against yet another stubborn metal door separating him from her. After a few seconds, it slides open, and he runs inside without a second thought. Sebastian was nowhere to be found, but Sherlock did not care.He kneels right next to Jocelyn, and watches as the blood continues to pour from her neck and pooling around her head.“Oh, God,” he frantically covers her neck with his scarf to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. She would not be able to breathe if he continues to press down.Jocelyn continues to choke and stare at him with wide green eyes. Her blood was spilling all over their clothes, and he could not look away. Sherlock’s eyes shine with tears. “No, no, no. Stay with me, Jocelyn. Please.”“Sherl…” she gurgles out blood. “B… basement.”He hears rapid footsteps approaching the door. Sherlock looks up to see John with frightened eyes and a loaded gun in his hand. “Paramedics.” Sherlock hurriedly commands with a shaky voice. “Now!” He brokenly yells.John barely wraps his mind around the scene of Jocelyn actually being alive, but forces himself to run back out to yell for help.Sherlock turns back to Jocelyn, who was shaking and bleeding out. Sherlock was panting, pressing his hands against her neck. “Shh, shh. John’s getting help. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” Sherlock forces himself to speak, trying to smile at her. “I’m going to keep you alive. I swear, Jocelyn. You’ll be alright.”Despite her incessant gurgling noises, she still manages to reach up her bloodied hand to his cheek, not even realizing she is smearing some of her blood on his pale skin.“Just focus on my voice, Jocelyn. Listen to me, stay awake. Please, I’m begging you. Just hold on just for a little longer. Please,” his shaky voice is slowly fading away in her ears. “Stay awake. No, no, no, no, no—”His voice is the last she heard before her eyes grow weary. Her body slowly weakens the more blood seeps out of her neck. Her lips twitch into a small smile at the briefest sight of him, just before her vision fades to black and she goes limp in his arms.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Over the course of Sherlock’s life, grief has been a constant thematic experience.He first experienced it when he was eight years old, and for a helpless animal he learned to call Redbeard.He was an Irish Setter, and his fur was as soft as Sherlock’s young curls. Sherlock can still remember the day Mycroft brought the puppy home. Mycroft knew that Sherlock always wanted a dog.He lost Redbeard when the dog was sick and could not be saved. Sherlock remembers how he cried for days. He never cried again for the next eleven years.The next time he felt grief was with his Uncle Rudy.Sherlock remembers his first deductions, and how the rapid thoughts overwhelmed his mind until he collapsed to the floor in broad daylight. Sherlock was five years old, and he was so scared. He could not understand what was happening to him.Uncle Rudy was his mother’s older brother, and he was just like Sherlock and Mycroft.Mummy and Daddy are, fortunately, as ordinary as they come. Sherlock loved them that way, but they did not understand what it was like to be Sherlock or Mycroft. Uncle Rudy was the one who taught the boys how there was nothing to fear about their intellect. They only needed to learn how to control it.Mycroft always believed that Uncle Rudy was too hard on Sherlock, but Sherlock never remembered it that way.Sherlock was fifteen when Uncle Rudy died of lung cancer. Uncle Rudy’s husband always warned him of smoking, but he never listened.When Sherlock first found out about his uncle’s death, he just stared at how his mother began weeping. Sherlock hugged her, mostly to comfort her, but also to hide the fact that he wasn’t crying.Although, a year after his uncle’s death, Sherlock found himself resorting to illegal substances, solely because he was tired of controlling his mind all the time. It went as a secret, his parents were none the wiser, and Mycroft was studying elsewhere.Mycroft came home one night, and one glance around Sherlock’s bedroom told him everything about his recent activities. Mycroft confronted Sherlock, and they screamed hurtful words to one another that night. Words that Sherlock still repeats in his mind from time to time.Then, they reached an agreement. The list.Mycroft has a collection, and each are different in size, shape, ink and texture. All of them are sorted inside a box he keeps in his bedside drawer. Mycroft was twenty-six when he thought that he will never add another list into that box, and he was twenty-six when he was proven wrong.His parents finally found out, and they directed their anger to Mycroft for not doing enough.Sherlock is forced to go to a public university, but for him to comply, he needed to be part of the school-based orchestral group and study Chemistry.Mycroft complied.On the first day of Uni, he was seen. He meets a girl at a coffee shop, where she almost spilled two cups of burning coffee on him. He thought nothing of her, and orders his own drink as a dull substitute for getting high.He meets her again, and this time, he sees her for who she truly is.He recalls cringing away from the sight of her bright blue hair, and extroverted personality and yet… Sherlock was curious about her. She radiated an aura of joy and life, but there was an underlying layer of sadness and loneliness beneath it all that only Sherlock noticed, only because he felt it as well.There was something about the way her fingers glided across the piano keys that captured him. He knew he found someone who was as passionate with music as he was.He never felt so alive as when he was with her. He wanted to know everything about her. It overwhelmed him.The third time he felt grief was when she left. He did not grieve her, he grieved himself. The self he knew felt as if it died and was replaced by this cold-hearted monster everyone hated.For years, he believed that it was her that made him like this… but he has always been this way. Her presence only softened him in ways he could not imagine, and not necessarily in a bad way. She balanced him.She was his equal. Staring into her eyes felt as though he was facing clear water.Two years after he was pronounced deceased, he stared back into the same eyes of the woman that once looked at him with admiration and respect… and in her eyes, were the unimaginable amount of rage and betrayal.That was the fourth time he experienced grief.The fifth time he felt grief was now.Everything was quiet, to the point where it didn’t feel right. The air is light and cold, yet somehow… warm and comforting.The light greets her. She lays still as her eyes adjust to the brown wooden ceiling above her. She reaches for her neck and begins to choke out her breaths, struggling with the burning pain that shocks her the moment she regains consciousness. Her eyes are wild with panic as she touches the bandage wrapped around her neck.She cries out in pain, but no sound leaves her throat. Tears fill her eyes, and the door opens. She flinches back and shakes her head urgently. Her vision is blurry, but she feels a pair of gentle hands grabbing her shoulders.“Jocelyn. Look at me.”Her eyes are blurred with fear, still trying to pry off the bandage around her throat, struggling with the pain. For a moment, the hands on her shoulders disappear. After a few seconds, the pain dissipates from her neck and tears stream down her face once her body is calm.Her vision slowly regains its quality, and she recognizes the familiar curls and sharp cheekbones paired with those icy blue eyes. She watches him, flinching backwards with alarm once seeing the empty syringe in his hand.“No, no, it’s okay. It was just morphine.” Sherlock holds up his hands and puts away the syringe. “You’re safe.”Her chin shakes along with her hands, and she cautiously glances around the room. She doesn’t look like she is in the hospital. More like a house. A comfortable one, judging from the pile of books on one table and a couple of papers scattered on another.She looks back at him with wide green eyes of disbelief. Sherlock stares back with a worried look. She reaches for the bandage around her neck again and tries to talk, but no sound comes out.“Your vocal cords are damaged. It’ll take about a few weeks until you’re fully healed.” Sherlock carefully words out for her, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket.Jocelyn just stares at him with her wide eyes as Sherlock gently wipes the tears and sweat on her face with the cloth.She slowly observes the way he is wearing a comfortable t-shirt, paired with pajamas and socks. The dark circles under his eyes suggest he’s been up all night.Slowly, her breaths even out the longer she watches him. Her eyes soften to mirror his, and she relaxes. Reluctantly, she lifts her hand and lightly touches his cheek. Her fingertips are soft and cold yet familiar against his skin. Sherlock watches the way her lip trembles as her eyes sting with tears.Sherlock offers a smile. “It’s me.” His voice comes out as a whisper.Jocelyn pulls her hand back and hovers her palms over her neck, but the pain is gone. Sherlock sees the vertical scar on each back of her hands. He knows how she got them, and his heart grows heavy.“Do you… do you remember what happened?”Jocelyn appears clueless, and she just stares at him blankly, almost as if she is still in disbelief that he is here.“What’s the last thing you remember?” Sherlock reaches for the notepad and pen on the side table, handing it to her.She flinches slightly, but reaches to take it. Jocelyn hesitates, still looking around cautiously while clutching the notepad.Jocelyn doesn’t write anything on it, and just stays frozen on her bed.“You’re safe here, Jocelyn.”Jocelyn frowns and looks momentarily terrified, before her hand flies down to her stomach. She lets out a shaky breath of relief once she feels the small bump. A smile appears on her face, and she sniffles before sobbing soundlessly in so much relief.Sherlock isn’t sure how to handle this, but he scoots over and wraps his arms around her.However, she pulls away from him. Sherlock freezes and draws his arms back. He nods, swallowing the tinge of hurt he felt.She pulls herself together and tries writing on the notepad. Sherlock can see the way her hand is shaking. She holds it up for him to read.
Moran?
Sherlock only stands from the bed. “You should have lunch first. You must be hungry. I’ll be right back.” Sherlock gently tells her before leaving the room.Jocelyn stares after him and looks down at the wires attached to her body. She can easily figure out that the IV has been keeping her alive. She even noticed how she is wearing a white hospital gown with undergarments underneath.Sherlock comes back with a tray of food. Jocelyn’s pupils dilate from the scent of baked macaroni and cheese. Sherlock places a small folding table on her bed before serving her a plate and she stares at it for a few seconds.Jocelyn swallows nervously, but picks up the fork and digs in. Sherlock watches her have her first bite, and how she closes her eyes at the delicious taste.Then, he leans back in surprise once she begins to eat with fervor. Jocelyn finishes her plate and appears to want more. Soon enough, Sherlock has served her seven servings, and she still looked hungry.He continues to give her food. The thought of her being starved… makes the anger boil through his veins.Jocelyn averts her eyes and Sherlock realizes that he has been staring at her intently for the past few minutes. He appears apologetic. Sherlock reaches for the notepad on the bed and slides it across to her.She takes the notepad, but doesn’t write on it. Instead, she shows him an old message.
Moran?
Sherlock deeply sighs. “It’s only been twenty minutes since you woke up, you would like to do this now?”His tone only made her frown, but she nods.“Sebastian got away. But we have his brother. Silas Moran. He’s in the custody of MI6 now. Most likely speaking to Mycroft.”She shakes her head before writing down on her notebook again.
He won’t talk.
Sherlock parts his lips as he reads with his eyes. Jocelyn frowns and is clearly frustrated by the fact she cannot speak. She takes the notepad again, writing down her words before holding it up to show him.
Where are we?
“We’re in Sussex. A cottage.” Sherlock glances around the area. “It’s off the records, we’re safe here.”She gives him a confused look and writes something down again.
Why here?
Sherlock purses his lips. “Mycroft thought it best to isolate you first as he makes certain preparations for when you come back.”Jocelyn shakes her head in puzzlement.“You are a witness. No one is sure who else with high positions in government are involved. You could be in danger. We stay here until Mycroft says otherwise.”She writes down on the sheet again, holding it up afterwards.
I want to go home.
“It’s not safe for you to be in London. Moran is still out there.”Jocelyn glares at him and writes on the notepad again, but she only scribbles two lines underneath the word ‘home.’Sherlock leans forward. “Jocelyn, it’s not safe. I know you want to go home, but we can’t yet. I need to keep you safe. I urge you to comply.”Jocelyn frowns, and he leans back to give her space.“Let me clean this up. You need to rest.”She instinctively wraps her arm around her stomach and watches Sherlock gather the tray. While Sherlock is busy, Jocelyn watches him with an unreadable gaze.--“Christ, this is a horrible idea.” John muttered into his headphones mic as he looked down at his riot gear.“Oh, come on. This is a brilliant idea. Family bonding time.” Mary scoffed.“Should’ve brought Rosie, then.” John is trying to wrap his mind around the very fact that he is on a helicopter, sat between two assassins—both of which tried to kill him and Sherlock four years ago. One of them, John married.“Yeah, we should give her guns as her first birthday present from her assassin mommy and army doctor daddy.” Mary snorted.“We are about to land near a criminal network base filled with armed killers and sadistic psychopaths, and this is what we’re discussing?” Sherlock loudly interrupted from the front, as he controls the helicopter they were on.Naomi cocked her gun. “I will be going after Silas.”Mary frowned. “No, we’re supposed to stick together and look for Jocelyn, while the military breaks in.”“We will cover more ground that way.”“That wasn’t what we discussed.” John interjected.Naomi sent John a blank stare. “I am going to rip his throat out with his own knives, and hang him for all their people to see.”John blinked.“Look, we need both brothers alive for questioning. MI6 will arrest you if you kill him now.” Mary reasoned.“They have to catch me first.”Sherlock clenched his jaw. “No killing. Only incapacitating. They are going to answer to Mycroft directly.”“He shouldn’t be alive.”“Now I see what Irene saw in you.” Mary sarcastically remarked.“I seem to recall the two of us against the rest of the world, wiping the world of its scum every single day, Nova.” Naomi sneered at her.“Nova?” John tilted his head in confusion, but Mary only wavered.“Everyone. Calm down.” Sherlock sternly announced.“I will be once I see Silas’ corpse.”“Naomi.” Mary sighed exasperatedly.“Once we find out whatever he has been doing to Jocelyn these past five days, you will all want him to suffer as well.”Sherlock tightened his grip around the controller until his knuckles turned white.John glanced between Mary and Naomi. “Our mission here is to bring back Jocelyn, alright? This whole revenge agenda can wait. Think of Irene.” John saw her eyes soften, but it was not enough. “Jocelyn should come first.”Naomi relaxed, and looked away. She thought about it for a moment before giving a reluctant nod. “I cannot promise that I won’t hurt him if I see him.”John breathed in relief. Mary offers an apologetic smile to her husband, but he barely looked at her. She sighed in defeat.--He leads her to a bathroom, with a wide bathtub and shower stall. Sherlock sits on the rim of the tub and runs the water. She finds herself staring at how beautiful he is. A warmth spreads through her the longer she watches him.Jocelyn reaches down to begin taking off her gown. Sherlock averts his eyes, and his face flushes before he reaches into the water to make sure it is in the right temperature. Before she knew it, the bathtub is filled with bubbles.Sherlock keeps his eyes averted even as he helps her inside the bathtub. Although, Sherlock’s chest clenched upon seeing a burn mark on her lower back, the shape of an X.He takes a chair and sits next to the tub, as she sinks into the water. Sherlock takes a hairtie from his pocket and offers to tie her shoulder length hair. She lets him.Jocelyn closes her eyes at the feeling of his hands running through her hair, pulling it back to tie it into a short ponytail behind her head. Sherlock holds himself back from leaning forward to inhale the scent of her hair.He watches her begin to scrub her skin. He goes to stand up, but her eyes widen, and she instinctively grabs his arm.He blinks in surprise. “I only wanted to give you privacy.”Her grip around his arm tightens.“Would you like me to stay?”She nods, and he sits back down on the chair. She pulls her hand away, and continues to scrub her skin.Sherlock eyes the visible skin above the water. “John and Mary had their baby two months ago.” Sherlock smiles, and her eyes light up. “Her name is Rosamund. We all call her Rosie. According to various opinions, she is a beautiful baby.”She smiles gently, and traces an invisible square in the air with her fingers.“A picture? Uh… I do not have a photograph of her. Apologies.”She tilts her head in confusion, and he immediately knows what she is asking.“There are no mobile phones here. Signals could give away our location. But you have nothing to worry about. We don’t need phones here.”She still appears slightly puzzled, so Sherlock sighs.“We found, um… evidence in the mansion that your mobile phone has been wired.”She looks confused for a moment before she realizes what he meant. Jocelyn pales and looks away from him, almost in shame. She was aware of the phone.“We’re just taking precaution, and we wiped everything from the mansion, pertaining to your phone. Fortunately, those were the only copies.”Anxiety grows on her face, and her chin shakes. Sherlock worriedly watches the way her eyes fill with painful tears. Without her voice, she only mouths, “Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry. So sorry.”“Jocelyn… none of it is your fault.”She shakes her head and covers her face with her wet shaky hands. Sherlock has another full view of the scar on each back of her hands.Sherlock frowns and lowers his head for a moment. He never wanted her to feel pain here. Especially right after enduring the biggest one yet.Jocelyn looks at him again, and the shame was clear on her face. Sherlock knows now that she remembers everything to the point where she passed out from blood loss.Now, she looks horrified of what Sherlock might have seen. Surely, all of them thought of checking the security cameras from the house. She shudders at the thought and closes her eyes.“Jocelyn, I need you to tell me what happened to you the past few months.”She furrows her brows in astonishment, and that small move alone already asked a question.“I would never watch those footages without your permission.” Sherlock confesses.He sees the way her shoulders relaxed, and the relief on her face is evident, which only concerned Sherlock even more. What does she not want me to see?Jocelyn gives an amused smile at that. She bites her lip in contemplation before handing him the loofah. Puzzled, Sherlock takes it from her. Jocelyn turns a bit and slides her stray hair to the side.He realizes what she asked for, and begins to scrub her back. The bubbly water conceals her lower back, and prevents him from seeing the burn mark. However, he knows it is there.Sherlock gently scrubs her back, and he slows down for a moment. Sherlock’s hands delicately touch her back, and the droplets of water on her skin spread over his fingers.Jocelyn turns her head a bit to glance at him over her shoulder, and they share a look for a long moment, and he barely notices himself stop scrubbing.Sherlock looks away and hands her back the loofah. He rises from the chair and wipes his hands. “I will give you a moment while I prepare your bed for an afternoon nap.”Sherlock leaves the bathroom, and closes the door behind himself. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a breath, wiping the sweat from above his brow. His face is flustered and he clears his throat, walking away.Inside the bathroom, Jocelyn sits frozen in the bathtub, wondering if she did something wrong.An hour later, Jocelyn emerges from the bathroom, wearing only a silk dressing gown he left her. She walks back to her bedroom and sees Sherlock tidying the table in her room.Jocelyn leans her shoulder against the doorframe and watches him with his back towards her. He was humming absentmindedly, too. It warms her whole body.He finally realizes she’s right behind him, and stands up straight. “Hello. You should get some rest.”She stares at the bed for a moment and looks at him again. Jocelyn glances at the window and points towards it.“You want to go outside?” She nods at him and he hesitates. “Are you sure? You only woke up a few hours ago. I don’t want you to overwork yourself—”She tilts her head and crosses her arms, an unimpressed look on her face.He stops talking, and a slow smile grows on his face. “Alright. Your clothes are in the closet. I will wait for you.”--Naomi kicked down the door and immediately threw herself onto the shoulders of the guard running towards her, grunting as she knocked them out easily. Mary dodged a few bullets and kicked the shin of another guard attacking her.She looked over her shoulder and saw Naomi aiming her gun towards the guard. Mary marched towards her and pushed the gun away, kicking the guard on the face instead. “Are you insane?! Sherlock said no killing!”“Since when do you listen to men?” Naomi hissed.“Since I met two that actually have moral compasses.”“No man has a moral compass.”“Isn’t Mr. Holmes going to help you and Irene settle down somewhere?”They both walked down the hallway, and Naomi yelled while kicking down two men, who shouted in pain while she twisted his arm and slammed their heads on the floor.Naomi sighed before walking down the hallway next to her. “Only because he wants something in return. Men are all the same.”“Even Jim?”“Moriarty is more than a man.”“And yet he’s dead.”Naomi rose her brows at her. “Is he?”Mary gave her a look and followed her to the next room, only to see Silas sitting on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of playing cards.Naomi and Mary stood by the door just watching him, and he just smiled while continuing to stack the cards. “Team Naova, back together again.”“It’s over, Silas. Just come with us, and no one has to die.” Mary sighed.“Hundreds of people in this mansion alone, and you both took them out one by one all by yourselves.” Silas tsked. “Oh, Nova… you should have thought twice about quitting.”“No more talking.” Naomi sneered, but Silas shows a knife in both hands, only for Mary to immediately aim her gun towards him.“Drop them. Now.”“Go on. I won’t fight. But…” Silas looked directly at Mary. “No one can escape the network, Nova. You should remember that.”“Drop the knives.”“You know, you were always Jim’s favorite,” said Silas. Naomi flinched, while Mary’s face hardened. “He was a bit betrayed when you left.”“He died before I left.”Silas chuckled, and it slowly grew into a louder laugh that echoed through the room. Silas looked at Naomi with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you want to tell her? Or shall I?”Naomi clenched her jaw, while Mary glanced at her in confusion.Mary snapped out of it. “Enough. Just surrender, Silas. The whole area is surrounded. It’s over.”“Come with us, or die/ I assume you have a preference.” Naomi stated.Silas snickered. “You think I care if I live or die? It doesn’t matter if I die because we all know that you two can never be able to escape this network. It will haunt the very shadow of your daily lives until you suffo—”He barely finished his sentence when Naomi shot him with a tranquilizer on the neck. Silas froze and slowly slumped down onto the floor. Mary glanced at Naomi, shocked.Naomi glared. “I don’t have time for a speech.”Mary snorted and rolled her eyes, looking back at Silas’ unconscious body.It wasn’t until they heard yelling from outside, and immediately realized that the military outside has opened fire. Mary took Silas’ body and dragged him out of the room. Naomi walked to the control room and shut down the electricity, which immediately set off the alarm. Mary saw Sherlock and John enter the building, and Sherlock was the only one without a gear.Sherlock saw Silas, and his own eyes burned with so much hatred and rage, but he held himself together.Mary widened her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to wait until we cleared the whole place!”Sherlock glared. “I cannot just sit and wait. Where is the basement?”Naomi points down the hallway. “It’s—”Sherlock immediately ran off and John trailed behind him. Naomi and Mary shared a look before they started to drag Silas’ body outside, all while knocking out the men who tried attacking them, distracting them from Sherlock and John.Meanwhile, Sherlock and John frantically search down the basement, but there were barely any lights on.“Right. Go look for Jocelyn, I’ll take the second level!” John yells over the alarms.Sherlock frowned. “No, we stay together. We aren’t sure what lies among the darkness.”“We’ll find her quicker. I know you can do it.” John told him. Sherlock stammered and John grabbed his shoulders. “Listen to me. You can find her, you can. Go on.”He swallowed anxiously. “Be careful.”John nodded and they went their separate ways. John went down the second basement level and it was completely blacked out. John took out his flashlight and turned it on, shining over fifty doors down a long hallway. John walked towards the first door and tried opening it, but it was locked.John frowned, and braced himself before kicking the door down repeatedly, but it never budged. He sighed and looked around again, checking each door. No one else was there, and each door was locked.He reached the end of the hallway and found another pathway, and he walked.John entered, a sudden horrible stench filled his nose and he immediately covered his face with his arm. He searched the walls for any light switch, and sighed in relief once he found one. The lights were not normally lit, but they were dim blue. John turned to look at the room and his eyes widened.“Oh, Jesus…”Rows of beds with people on it stretched out to the far end of the room, and he gaped at the sight. Every person was attached to IV wires, and none of them were conscious. A cold feeling took over John’s body. He looked at some of them, and the people appeared drained and deceased, but the heart monitors told John they were all alive.--Sherlock stays true to his word, and she finds him standing by the window in her bedroom.He turns to see her, and softens. Sherlock observes the way she chose a comfortable dress, and a cardigan. She smiles at the sight of him wearing one of his usual crisp suits again, and he leads her outside the room. Jocelyn’s eyes rake around the cottage, seeing how cozy and comfortable it is.They reach the front door and Jocelyn watches him fish out a few keys from his jacket, and unlocks the various locks on the front door before opening it.She is greeted by the sun, miles of vibrant green grass fields and fresh air. She steps outside and stands on the porch, closing her eyes while inhaling the sweet air. Sherlock steps out as well and waits.She opens her eyes and sees Sherlock offer his arm for her to take. She smiles and wraps her arm around his, and they begin to walk.Jocelyn glances around the field, and sees the way the cottage is the only cottage her eyes can see. Everything else is either grass and trees. Sherlock was not lying when he said that they were isolated completely.They walk together, with her arms wrapped around his and the heat of the sun on their faces. Sherlock briefly glances down at her and smiles to himself.“I came here only once when I was twenty. There was a beehive problem, just right above the kitchen. I had it fixed, and never came back.”Jocelyn glances at him with a questioning look.He swallows. “I bought this place as a… retirement plan.” She smiles and holds back a chuckle, and Sherlock playfully rolls his eyes. “Yes. I planned decades early.”Sherlock feels her gently squeeze his arm.“This place was only for in the case I live up to sixty. Mycroft predicted I would lose my mind during that decade. Brother of the year.” Sherlock snorts. “Although, I did wrongfully predict him to pass away years ago.”Her smile widens and she glances back towards the field around them. Her eyes catch bushes of roses. She scrunches her nose and they both share a look, before chuckling together. Sherlock watches how she laughs without her voice, and it still takes the same effect on him the way it always has.They walk together and Sherlock continues to tell her about the cottage, and she listens to his voice. She cannot explain just how much she missed listening to him.“Do you like the cottage? I’ve arranged it the way you’d prefer it to be. I have all your favorite films and music. All in your room.” Sherlock informs her with a grin, and she just smiles.Jocelyn isn’t sure how to tell him that he is more than enough.She palms her pockets and frowns when she couldn’t feel the bulge of a notepad. Sherlock sighs. “Do you find it difficult to write your thoughts?”She suppresses a grin and nods.“Would you prefer to sign, instead? You practiced with Mycroft at the Diogenes, yes?”She thinks about it for a moment before smiling, nodding.He offers a smile. “Alright. Tell me something.”She pauses and looks towards the wide field. Jocelyn thinks for a moment before lifting her hands to slowly gesture and sign, “Why here?”He smiles once she signed. “I told you.”She shakes her head and moves her hands brokenly again. “No. Why did… you pick… this?”“Well, I feel at peace. A change from the busy streets of London can be good.”
“You never… told me… of this.”
Sherlock reluctantly glances at her. “You might have fled the country before I did.”The smile fades from her face and she lowers her hands.Sherlock shakes his head. “It’s alright. We’ve gone past that, remember?” Jocelyn glances at him with an apologetic look, and he takes her arm, wrapping it around his. “We’re alright.”They walk back to the cottage, and she realizes that they have a full view of the sunset from the porch. The look on her face was enough for Sherlock remain standing next to her, and watch the view together.Jocelyn sighs in content as she leans her head on his shoulder. Sherlock feels all his worries leave his body.The sun goes down and it was time for them to go back inside. Jocelyn makes her way to the bedroom once her tiredness kicks in. Sherlock allows her, and stays in the kitchen to prepare their dinner.Jocelyn stands before the window, looking out into the field of grass. She glances at the small table to pick up a few VHS tapes of her favorite films. She smiles to herself and puts them down.The door opens and Sherlock walks in, and in his hand, is a green apple with a candle slotted into a slit cut by a knife. Jocelyn grins and gives him a questioning look as he approaches her.“Happy birthday.”Jocelyn soundlessly chuckles and takes the apple while nodding.“Two months late, but, er…”She waves her hands, as if to say the thought counts. Jocelyn smiles and Sherlock watches her with gentle eyes. She blows the candle and takes it out of the apple, before biting into the fruit. Sherlock watches the satisfaction appear on her face.Jocelyn just holds the apple and smiles at him. It was evident how it has been a long time since she had one.She looks up and sees the way he was watching her. They share a look, just before her smile fades. A concerned expression takes over her face and she put down the apple. She looks up at him, slowly reaching up to cup his cheek.Goosebumps appeared over his skin and he sighs. Her hands are cold, yet she feels so familiar.Sherlock looks into her bright green eyes, and his chest feels heavier. He swallows tightly. “I miss your voice.”Jocelyn musters a small sad smile.“I miss your laugh.” Sherlock watches her, and feels both of her hands on his cheeks. He holds her elbows, not wanting her to let him go. “I missed you.” He whispers and his eyes fill with tears.For the whole day, he held himself together from breaking down in disbelief that she is alive. Sherlock can feel his throat tighten and she looks more worried.He lowers himself and leans his forehead on her shoulder. Jocelyn wraps her arms around him, with her fingers through his soft hair. Jocelyn is shocked by the way Sherlock begins to cry silently into her neck while holding her.Her heart clenches. She has never seen him cry this way before. A few tears, maybe, but never sobbing. Jocelyn pulls away and looks at him with worry, cupping his face and seeing the tears down his face. She wipes them with her thumbs.He appeared embarrassed, but from how gently she held her, he relaxed. “My apologies.”She looks concerned, and he just leans forward to press a kiss on her forehead. And then, he does something she never expected.Sherlock slowly lowers himself to kneel on the ground in front of her, still looking into her eyes. Jocelyn is astonished to see him look at her stomach and lean forward to kiss her bump through her dress. Sherlock closes his eyes and presses a few kisses on her stomach, and it makes the tears fill her green eyes.Sherlock wraps his arms around her waist, gently leaning his forehead against her stomach, where their child resides. She curls down to embrace him, her chin resting on the top of his curls.--“Come on, Jocelyn. Do not do this. Not now.” He muttered under his breath, watching her unconscious body through the glass as they performed surgery.Sherlock never let her out of his sight. It took sixteen hours for them to repair the damages, but once he was informed that she was alive, as well as the baby—it consumed him with so much relief.Although, the doctor sighed his sympathy. “We tried fixing the wound on her neck, but the cut was too deep. She could face a few weeks or even months of difficulty in speaking. Permanent damage could be possible, but we don’t know yet.”Sherlock frowned and he nodded at the doctor. He leaves Sherlock and John outside of Jocelyn’s hospital room.John glanced at Sherlock. “I just got back from the mansion. Those people in that basement, Sherlock. They were being experimented on.”Sherlock sighed. “What does any of this mean? Nothing is clear anymore.” He heavily breathed. “And I cannot even take Jocelyn back home yet, in case anyone in our country does not want her alive. And not while the other Moran is on the loose.” His eyes close. “She left New York to have a normal life, and this is what I gave her.”“This wasn’t your fault, Sherlock.”He dryly chuckled. “Jocelyn is in a hospital after her throat has been slit, while she is pregnant with my child, which I found out five days ago after learning that she was alive and kept alive for a godforsaken keycode that no one can seem to find. All deeply rooted from my deceased rival, of whom I provoked years ago to satiate my need to overcome my boredom.”John seemed to be unable to argue.“I put her in harm’s way, John. Now, she might never be able to speak again.”They quiet down after that statement and Sherlock lowers his head, burying his face into his palms.“Distract me. Tell me what the experiments were.”John frowned, but complied. “No one’s sure. Their IV had a weird substance in it, not even your brother’s best paramedics can figure out what it is. You should take a look, if you got time.”“What was it doing to them?”“The substance was draining their energy, burning off their cells from the inside. Boiling their blood. It was killing them, Sherlock.”Sherlock looks alarmed. “Can the doctors save them?”John hesitates. “Seventeen of them are already dead. The other fifty-eight look like they’re about to, too.”He furrowed his brows. “What?”“The doctor said something crazy, too. The thing inside them, Sherlock… their bodies need it to stay alive.”Sherlock furrowed his brows. “But it was killing them?”“Yeah.” John sighed. “That’s what surprised everyone. They don’t know how it’s happening.”Sherlock analyzed each word John uttered, and he drew a conclusion. “A substance that is killing a body, but also forcing the body to become dependent upon it.” He glanced back towards Jocelyn through the glass window. “John… you said there were two vacant rooms in that basement level.”John blinked. “Is it like a drug? Have you seen anything like it?”There weren’t any unusual chemicals found in her system, nor did she show symptoms similar to the people from the basement.“No. Not enough data. I need answers.” Sherlock stood up and stared at Jocelyn’s unconscious body, and he whispered, “Jocelyn, what have you done?”--They eat dinner in comfortable silence, and Sherlock steals a glance from time to time. The radio is playing music quietly near Jocelyn. She stares at their dinner and continues to eat.Her hand is wrapped around the spoon, and Sherlock eyes the scar on the back of it. He makes no comment.The only sound in the air is the gentle music from the radio, one of her favorite songs. Jocelyn blinks and grips her spoon tightly. Sherlock slows down with his eating when he notices the sudden heavy breaths she emits.Jocelyn stares ahead of herself, but not directly at Sherlock. He furrows his brows, unfamiliar of the blankness of her face.The radio continues to play a song. “I could promise you things like big diamond rings, but you don’t find roses growing on stalks of clover.”Sherlock stills, but he eyes the way her grip around her spoon tightens, and her hand shakes with the spoon.
“If sweettalking you could make it come true, I would give you the world right now on a silver platter.”
The lively country song plays quietly from the radio, and Sherlock observes the slight twitch of her eye. “Jocelyn…” Her knuckles turn white, and her nails dig so deep into her palm. Sherlock is alarmed to see blood being drawn. “Jocelyn.”
“Along with the sunshine, there's got to be a little rain sometime. I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.”
She snaps.Sherlock watches Jocelyn slams her utensils on the table and stands, grabbing the radio before forcefully throwing it across the room. It shatters against the wall and distorting the music.He sits frozen in his seat, staring at Jocelyn with bewilderment. Jocelyn stalks over to the broken radio, and stomps her bare feet into it. Sherlock stands, and flinches every time she brings her foot down. He goes over to pull her away before she hurts herself.She is soundlessly sobbing, and her knees give in as she drops to the ground, still in his arms as she covers her ears.“Jocelyn, it’s me, it’s alright. You’re safe.” He smooths his palm over her hair.She squirms in his arms and her face twists in pain. Sherlock is confused, but he grabs her tense arms and pulls her back on her feet, sitting her down on her chair. He looks across the room to glance at the broken radio.He meets her eyes, and they are filled with unfathomable pain and fear. Sherlock cups her face and shushes her quietly. She whimpers through her breaths, and he wraps his arms around her. Jocelyn holds rightly onto him and shakes like a leaf.Jocelyn pulls away and hurriedly walks off to her room. Sherlock stares watches her leave in astonishment, flinching once the door slams shut. Sherlock sits in silence, staring at the unfinished dinner on the table.Maybe grief was better than being helplessly unable to take someone’s pain away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’ve been standing here for hours. You have to eat.”“I’m not hungry.”Mycroft reached a paper bag towards him. “This is not a request.”Sherlock did not have the energy to argue, so he took the paper bag and reached inside, only to find some fish and chips. He began eating, but remained in his place.Before they went to the cottage, the two brothers stared at the unconscious body of Jocelyn on the hospital bed.Jocelyn is in the same place where Sherlock and Mycroft retreated in, when Mycroft saved him in Serbia. The last time Sherlock was here, he was so excited to come home. Now, he was dreading to do so.“We tried identifying the substance inside the seventy-five patients.”“And?”“To no avail. I’m afraid this is way beyond even my knowledge. I was hoping you could examine it yourself. We both know whose work it is.”“We don’t know that yet.”“Yes, we do. Jocelyn created the drug. There is no one else more capable of doing so. We both read her research.”“She told me chemicals like these are still theoretical.”“Maybe not anymore.” Mycroft stared at the woman. “This chemical can wreak havoc across the globe, should it fall into the wrong hands.”“Jocelyn must have the antidote.”“It’ll be too late for that now. The seventy-five patients are already dead.”Sherlock closed his eyes briefly. “If this was her, then she was forced into this, Mycroft. She wouldn’t hand over this chemical for nothing. We both know that.”“And we also know Miss Adler’s warning about Miss Grant’s change in personality.”Sherlock lost his appetite and folded the paper bag closed. “You’d rather take The Woman’s word over mine?”“I’d rather take precaution.”“Have you truly lost trust in Jocelyn?”“I’m afraid there is a shortage on trust these days.”Sherlock didn’t reply. He couldn’t, not after everything Sherlock has done to Mycroft. So, Mycroft tells him that they found out how Jocelyn’s phone has been tampered with, and all her actions have been monitored with a hidden microphone.Sherlock finally took interest. “Why would they need to do that? Jocelyn is no spy, or an important figure in the criminal world. She is a professor and scientist.”“Do you have to ask such a question?” Mycroft frowned. “This is about you.”“No. Moran is different from Moriarty. He isn’t doing any of this because he’s bored and wants to play games with me.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes“There are various recordings from her phone, stretching to hours. We also have security footages.”“No one will watch those tapes without her permission.”“We need to know everything that has—”“Mycroft.” Sherlock gave him the deadliest pair of blue eyes.The eldest Holmes appeared annoyed yet worried from his tone. He said nothing, but the agreement hung in the air.“Did you find it?” Sherlock asked calmly.“Yes.”Sherlock opened his palm towards his brother. Mycroft sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, placing the items on his brother’s hand. Sherlock slipped the items into his own pocket and continued to stare through the glass.“Goodnight, brother mine.”Sherlock listened to Mycroft’s footsteps when he walked away. Once he was alone, he took out the pen and paper Mycroft retrieved for him. He held up the fountain pen to his eye-level. Then, he glanced back at the letter he wrote months ago, before looking at the sleeping woman and speaks under his breath.“However long it takes.”--Sherlock replays the earlier scene in his head. The way Jocelyn threw the radio in anger, breaking it beyond recognition. He has never seen her display such violence before. Jocelyn never broke things to show her anger, she usually did it through her eyes or words.Inside Jocelyn’s bedroom, she is sat on the bed. Jocelyn stares at her lap while listening to his footsteps fade.She glances at the door for a moment before looking at her cardigan sleeve, pulling out a steel knife from the kitchen. She frowns before slipping it under the mattress.Meanwhile, Sherlock looks down at the mess in the kitchen. Sherlock cleans the whole kitchen and washes the dishes. Afterwards, he settles in the living room.Sherlock glances at the telephone, hesitating a bit but pushes himself to pick it up and press only button on it. Then, he waits.The other line beeps. “Sherlock.”“She had a breakdown.”
“She’s awake?”
“Woke up just before lunch.”
“What happened?”
“Everything was fine, until she heard a song on the radio. She destroyed the radio in front of me in a fit of rage. She won’t come out of her room now.”
“Monitor her. If Miss Adler was correct, I do wonder what else she is right about.”
Sherlock clenches his teeth. “She needs to come home. We cannot break her out of a prison, only to put her somewhere similar like this one.”
“The cottage is not a prison, so long as you’re there.”
“Even so, she needs to go home and see her aunt.”
“I am working on it, brother mine. For now, your primary job is safeguarding her.”
Sherlock glares. “It would not hurt you to visit her.”
“If I do, who will handle all the legwork here? Save your worries for when she does come home. You’ll be needing it.”
Sherlock sighs and puts the telephone down, a bit stressed now. Although, he hears light footsteps from behind him, and he turns to see Jocelyn. She is now wearing the dressing gown she wore earlier, and she has an ashamed look on her face.He softens. “Hello. Are you alright?”She swallows, but mouths the words to him, “I’m sorry.”“There’s no need for apologies.”She gives him a hesitant look, eyeing the telephone near him.“Oh. That is a special telephone. It connects us directly to Mycroft’s home. I can only call during emergencies. He will call once we are allowed to go home.”Her eyes fill with hope, and Sherlock reluctantly presses his lips together. After the whole situation with Jocelyn being presumed dead, Mycroft has been very distant.Sherlock is not sure how to explain to Jocelyn that Mycroft was not in the mood to speak to her.He carefully takes a step forward. “I’d like to check the soles of your feet, in case of any injuries. Will you let me?”Jocelyn still looks ashamed of her display earlier, but nods. Sherlock gestures to the sofa and she sits, with Sherlock kneeling before her. He takes her ankle and raises it, inspecting the sole of her foot, repeating the action for the other.“It seems that you’re fine.”Jocelyn is confused by his kindness, but immediately remembers that this is Sherlock—of course he’d act this way. She never once did she picture herself to be in a lovely cottage and having foot massages. All with Sherlock, too.After a while, he remained kneeled in front of her. She grows nervous again as she stares back at him.“Jocelyn, I’d like for you to tell me what happened earlier.”She presses her lips together and begins to sign to him. “Song. He… sang it to me before.”“Who?”She traces letters on his palm. “JM.” Sherlock’s blood runs cold, and she offers another apologetic smile. “Sorry. I disturbed you.”“I wasn’t. Right now, I’m worried about you.”Jocelyn watches him with a soft pair of eyes. Her thumb caressing his cheek slowly lowers to the outline of his lips. As much as this called for a good distraction, he takes her hand and sighs.“Jocelyn, you have to tell me—” She shakes her head, as if to say she didn’t want to talk about it. Sherlock sees the way she is hopeful for him to take her request. He nods. “You must be tired.”She sadly frowns, but agrees. Sherlock offers his hand, and she takes it to help herself on her feet.Sherlock lets go of her hand and he escorts her to her room. Jocelyn enters the bedroom and makes her way to the bed, slipping off her shoes.He goes to one corner of the room and turns on the oil lamp. Sherlock slides the windows close to keep the room warm. Jocelyn slips under the sheets and waits for him, but Sherlock simply smiles at her before he turns to walk to the door.She sits up in alarm and Sherlock turns to face her. “What’s wrong?”Jocelyn stares at him in confusion, gesturing to the space next to her.“You want me to sleep next to you?”She nods with a hesitant smile.Sherlock walks towards her and toes off his shoes as well. He takes off his jacket and hangs it over the chair before they lie down to face each other. The light from the lamp shone dimly over their faces.This is a different turn from their dinner earlier, now it feels peaceful. Although, he begins to worry since his first thought is how long this peace will last.“Are you cold?”She scoots closer and he feels their legs tangle, making his face heat up for a moment as her arms slide over his chest. He lightly chuckles.She smiles, and mouths, “Thank you.”“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“You’ve taken care of me.”
“That isn’t something you should thank me for.”Her hand trails down from his hair to his collarbones peeking out from his shirt. Sherlock watches her carefully, and he feels how cold her fingertips are. Cold with reluctance and fear. It added weight on his chest.He swallows and allows his lips to part. She pulls her hand away, pinching the space in front of her eye to sign. “Sleep.”He watches her close her eyes and tuck her palm under her cheek. Sherlock sighs in content, feeling her warm body near his. He listens to her quiet breaths, and the exhaustion finally takes over him. It might be a while since he had slept in peace since everything happened.Hours later, she opens her eyes. Jocelyn is met by the sideview of Sherlock lying on his back, a peaceful look on his face as he sleeps. She watches the way his chest rises and falls calmly, and she slowly sits up. Jocelyn slips her hand underneath the mattress, pulling out the knife she took from the kitchen.She tenses and glances at Sherlock when he shifts in his sleep. Jocelyn relaxes when he remains asleep. She grips the knife tightly in her hand as she faces Sherlock for a moment, glancing between the sharp knife in her hand. She scoots closer and brushes her hand against his curls, caressing his hair in his sleep.Jocelyn swallows before getting up from the bed, grabbing the lamp before carefully slipping out of the room.She begins to search for Sherlock’s room, which was quite easy since there were only two bedrooms in the whole cottage. Jocelyn goes to the nightstand, before using the steel metal to pry open the locked drawer. She couldn’t find a paper clip, so this will have to do.Jocelyn hisses out when the sharp steel lashes across her already scarred palm, but she pays no attention to it. She quietly opens the drawer, and immediately goes through the files inside. Most of them were useless like casefiles and lists of items, but she was looking for something specific.Sherlock always keeps these types of things inside his drawers, and she needed to find out where they really are.Jocelyn frowns once she sees the deed to the cottage, seeing Sherlock’s name and signature dating back from the year 2003, which only confirmed his story earlier. Jocelyn squints at the address, and she relaxes. They truly are in South Downs, Sussex.She slumps down on the floor, still anxious and suspicious over this place. Something is not right.Either that or she is being paranoid. Whatever it is, she cannot stay here. If she stays here longer than another day, Jocelyn is so sure she will lose her mind.“Jocelyn?”She tenses once the door creaks open, and light fills the room. Jocelyn was so incredibly lost in her own self-doubt that she barely noticed the approaching footsteps outside. So, she gently turns to meet Sherlock’s eyes.He stares in horror as he takes in the sight of scattered paperwork on his bedroom floor, along with the knife in her hand.Jocelyn pulls herself on her feet and held the knife tightly, her face paling with fright. Blood drips down the handle of the knife, and Sherlock could not look away from the weapon in her hand. His jaw clenches, and he has an intense look on his face.“What are you doing?”She swallows anxiously, unsure how to explain herself. However, Sherlock calmly walks towards her and bends down to take the paper she was inspecting earlier. He seems unfazed by the knife and only scans the page.“Why are you looking at the deed?” He asks before grabbing the lamp, turning the light off until only the moonlight from outside shone the room.Jocelyn avoided his eyes, and he felt quite horrible. It was as if she was waiting for him to yell at her out of anger.Sherlock softens. “You don’t believe me.”She still doesn’t reply, even when she could sign words to him.“Jocelyn… you are safe here. Sebastian and Silas will no longer hurt you. This place is real.” Sherlock steps forward and places his hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “I’m real.”She loosens her grip around the knife, and it drops to the floor with a thud. Jocelyn’s eyes flutter shut, and she lowers her head, only for Sherlock to step forward and engulf her in an embrace, not even caring that she is smearing blood across his white shirt. Jocelyn rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.“Is that what they did to you? Convinced you that nothing close to peace will ever become real?” Sherlock whispers into her ear.He feels her trembling slightly. Sherlock feels her frail fingers trailing up his back to hold him tightly.Sherlock pulls away and cups both of her cheeks, already noticing the way her eyes are red from trying to hold herself back from crying again. “I know this is difficult for you. Being in another confined space, but this time, you aren’t alone. I’m here with you.”He looks at her and she looked so vulnerable. The fiercest woman he ever knew, looking frightened… as if she were the ceramic doll that already cracked from falling multiple time, and finally reached her breaking point.Sherlock tilts his head and observes every inch of her face. “Mycroft is wrong.” He whispers. “You didn’t change. You never did. You’re still… you’re still you. You’re just… in so much pain.”Her throat tightens, as if the morphine had finally worn off. She couldn’t breathe, and pain seeps through her bones the more she realizes that everything that has happened to her was real.Sherlock gives her a stern yet gentle look. “I will fix this, Jocelyn. We’ll go home soon, and everything will be alright again. I promise—”Jocelyn sighs and covers his mouth, silencing him completely. Sherlock is surprised, and he can feel her thumb against his chin. She raises her other hand and signs to him, “No promises. No more vows.”Sherlock watches her for a moment, analyzing every speck in her eyes. After a few seconds, he slowly nods.She sighs in relief, and pulls her hand away. Sherlock wipes her cheek once a tear slipped from her waterline.Then, she pushes herself on her tiptoes and presses her lips against his, with utter desperation. Sherlock is taken off guard, but he closes his eyes and responds, kissing her gently.He could melt in the feeling of her lips again. It was no surprise that his knees go weak from just one taste. Sherlock feels her lips move languidly yet carefully. Her hands trail upwards his chest, and Sherlock almost shudders.She is so beautiful, and Sherlock has no idea how to tell her that.Before they could go any further, Sherlock takes her hand and pulls her towards the bed. He retrieves a first aid kit and wraps her injured hand, all while Jocelyn watches him with such vehemence and regret in her eyes.But as time passed, they found themselves tangled into their own desperate touches, and with Sherlock tasting every inch of her. Jocelyn’s legs shook around his head and she grips onto his curls, making him groan out in pleasure as he laps his tongue against her.She digs her shoulders into the mattress, the pain from her neck and the pleasure between her legs are molding together until she was numb with ecstasy. Sherlock slides his finger inside of her, tonguing the bud hidden between her legs to make her toes curl.Sherlock is moaning against her, as if this act also brings pleasure to him. After all, Jocelyn is the only person he will ever let himself be seen this way.The terrifying feeling of being incomplete without her, and the addicting notion of being one with her once again… these feelings are coexisting inside of him. It could overwhelm even the great Sherlock Holmes.She shivers once she orgasms with a voiceless cry, tears of pleasure streaming down her temples. He pulls out his fingers and sucks them both into his mouth, desperate for the sweet taste of her.His knees almost gave in. Sherlock is reminded of how exhilarating it is to be intimate with her. The divinity of her whole being can overshadow any type of pleasure Sherlock has ever felt in his whole life.Jocelyn wraps her legs around his waist, positioning him into her. He moans, while she opens her mouth with a quiet gasp once they press into one another. Sherlock tries his best to balance himself above her using his arms, but the way she is rubbing herself against him is making his body shake in pleasure.Once he begins to press inside, neither of them could make a sound. Jocelyn holds tightly onto his shoulder the deeper he went, screwing her eyes shut in bliss.“Look at me,” he begs her and lowering his lips on her cheek, before pressing their foreheads together.Jocelyn forces her eyes open as Sherlock completely fills her up, burying himself into her tight walls. He lets out a sharp breath once he is completely inside of her.“Jocelyn…” he moans, pupils dilated to its maximum capacity as they locked gazes.Sherlock begins to move his hips into her, and her mouth parts in a euphoric haze, but she was determined to never look away from his beautiful face.She pulls him down to kiss him, while he snaps his hips into her with delicious friction. Her legs are crumbling around his hips, the sounds of their heavy breaths and skins slapping obscenely filled the room.Sherlock’s head is filled with filthy thoughts daring to come out of his mouth, but he is too focused on her eyes. He was so determined to convince her all of the pain is over, and he will remain by her side until the very end. He needed her to feel that this peace is not an illusion anymore. They are both real.--“She’s okay, then?”“Yes, she is perfectly fine. She’s been asleep for two days, but she is safe. She will wake soon.”“So, when can I see her?”Days before he took Jocelyn to the cottage, Sherlock sat next to the hospital bed, giving Mrs. Forbes an apologetic look. “I am very sorry, Mrs. Forbes, but she cannot come home to London just yet.”Anger filled the older woman’s eyes.“This is for her own safety, as much as it pains us all to do so. The public is the most dangerous place she could be, especially with her captors still in the streets.” Sherlock carefully explained. “We only want to protect her.”“If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t need protecting at all.”Sherlock frowned, but didn’t try to argue. He knew she was right. He reached into the pocket of his jacket to take the photograph. “I believe this should be yours.”She softened, but took the photograph she gave him. Mrs. Forbes stared at the smile on her niece’s face before her eyes stung with tears. “Keep it. It’s yours.”Sherlock offered a grateful smile, and he bows quietly. “Thank you.”“But you will give her everything she could ever want, do you understand me? Her, and your child together.” Mrs. Forbes sternly told him, and his heart warmed. “You will protect them with your life. You will be there for them, am I making myself clear?”Sherlock blinked in surprise, but his expression melted into a softer one once he realizes how familiar the words were. So, Sherlock took a deep breath.“I vow to be there for them. I will not let you down.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You would die for me?”
Everything is quiet, and she is floating in a dark abyss. She closes her eyes and lets herself relax. Familiar voices echo around her, surrounding her in captivity.
“Yes.”
“You would kill for me?”
“Without hesitation.”
“Why?”
A pause.
“I… owe… you.”
She screams until her throat feels like bleeding. In a blink of an eye, she sits on a chair inside four walls. Her wrists are tied into the chair, and her weak body is limp.
“I think you two will get along rather splendidly.” Sebastian whispers into her ear. “Yes, he looks vibrant, doesn’t he?”
She stares at the man in front of her. “What… no, you’re dead. You… you shot yourself.”
“Oh, Josie. Death is such a bore.” She can feel fingers gently trace her hair. “Staying alive is much more interesting.”
Jocelyn jolts awake and she pants heavily while widening her eyes. All she can see are the same four grey walls closing in on her, and she tries pushing away the next pair of arms trying to grab her.“Jocelyn. Jocelyn!” Sherlock takes her wrists and stops her from swinging her fists in defense. “It’s me, it’s alright. Look at me.”Fear is written in her eyes as she did. She relaxes once she sees the sunlight shining on his face. He appears worried and she just crumples like paper, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, sobbing into his neck.Sherlock’s chest caves in, feeling the way her body is shaking in his arms.Jocelyn pulls away and presses her lips into his. Sherlock can taste the salty tears from the corner of her mouth. Before he could even say anything, she reaches between them and wraps a hand around him, earning her a groan from him.Sexual arousal can be one of the results when fear is stimulated, Sherlock read that during a research. He never thought he’d be in a situation where he will be the subject of that theory.She climbs over his lap and positions herself before sinking herself down on him, her mouth gaping right before his. Sherlock moans and briefly closes his eyes, grabbing her waist gently.She obscenely rolls her hips into him, her breasts pressing against his firm chest as they both pant into each other’s mouths and move languidly. After a moment, she freezes and reaches her peak, with him doing the same as well. Jocelyn shudders and leans in to kiss him.Her short hair tickles his face, and she withdraws. Still recovering, Sherlock lies backdown and pants on the bed. She locks their eyes, tracing her fingertips against his bare chest.Sherlock did not want to ruin the moment, but he needed to know. “A nightmare, I assume?”Jocelyn nods.“What was it about?”She finally averts her eyes and shrugs, as if to say it wasn’t important.He did not want to push her. “Alright. Are you hungry?” He asks, and she nods. “What would you like to have?”She just smiles mischievously and climbs on top of him. His eyes widen while his pupils dilate once she begins kissing down his chest, making her way downwards. Oh, Christ.***An hour later, Sherlock fetches the first aid kit and rummages through them, finding a cotton and some new bandages.They sit in front of each other, and Sherlock carefully reaches out to begin unwrapping the bandage around her neck. Sherlock looks at the scar and begins cleaning around the stitches.“I’ll be taking them off after two more days. I hope you can bear the discomfort until then.”Jocelyn grabs the mirror nearby and inspects her neck. Her breath hitches for a moment, and he frowns with worry.She stares in horror of the ugly wound on her neck, which will leave quite the scar. Jocelyn reaches up to touch it, and she can feel it burn.Sherlock gently takes her hand and puts down the mirror, and she lets him, but the blankness on her face returned. Sherlock ties her hair for her again. He gives her a shot of morphine, and quietly wraps a new bandage around her neck.He walks off, and Jocelyn can see the faint scars on his back, through his thin white shirt. She softens, glancing back at her hands, viewing the back-to-back scar on each one. She has six scars on her body—incomparable to the number on Sherlock’s back.She stands and follows him to the kitchen, and shakes her head slowly. Jocelyn lifts her hands to sign, mouthing to him, “Why are you not angry?”“Angry? About last night? Jocelyn, I—”“No,” she gestures helplessly to her stomach, and he gives her an appalled look.“Why would I be angry at you for being pregnant?”Jocelyn widens her eyes flails her arms. “I know you have questions.”Sherlock clenched his jaw. “Are you even ready to answer them? Because I only have seven questions.”She gestures towards him and leans herself against the edge of the counter, crossing her arms.“Did you find the keycode?”She shakes her head no.Sherlock nods, analyzing her face. “The experiments in the basement. Was that you?”Jocelyn softens and frowns, but nods in agreement. Sherlock’s chest tightens.“When?”
“What day is it?”
“It’s been two days since we got you out. Today’s a Sunday.”She musters a smile and holds up three fingers.He stares at her in shock. Jocelyn made this poison the day before they rescued her. “Why did you make it for them?”She hesitates, but it seems that she was only hesitating because she has no idea how to explain it through sign, not because she didn’t want to tell him. Jocelyn sighs, frustratedly settling for fingerspelling. “Bomb or poison. They made me choose.”Sherlock leans back in surprise. Bombs would prove fatal for cities and countries. A simple drug would be much slower and could buy her more time to save lives with an antidote, than take them instantly with a bomb.Sherlock offers her a whiteboard and marker. “Mycroft cannot figure out what your chemical is composed of. Will you explain it to me?”Then, Jocelyn goes to work. Sherlock sits down on the sofa, watching Jocelyn write chemical formulas, components, oxidation states, correct dosages, and others. The more she fills the board, the more Sherlock’s mouth opens in complete astonishment.Sherlock realizes that not only did Jocelyn create a drug based on her research, but she also developed what could be the deadliest poison in the world.When she finishes, Jocelyn stands aside and lets him check everything. Sherlock’s eyes are wide, in a state of shock.“Jocelyn… you did all of this by yourself.” She stiffens, but shrugs in agreement. Sherlock stares back at the board and opens his mouth, speechless. “You said it was impossible.”Jocelyn writes on the board, underlining it twice. “Theoretical.” She corrected him.He faces her. “Not anymore. Your drug is by far the most dangerous poison I have ever encountered. You managed to make a poison capable of making the body reliant upon it. Once injected, the body is instantly drawn to its components, despite being slowly killed by it.”Jocelyn stares at the way his fingers trace over the ink on the whiteboard.“It’s… it’s brilliant.” Sherlock breathlessly announces. Sherlock has a gentle smile on his face.She frowns and looks away, and Sherlock immediately realizes how wrong his words sounded. Jocelyn has a regretful look on her face, not quite feeling as proud as Sherlock is feeling. He realizes this, and looks apologetic for his behavior.Jocelyn meets his eyes and signs, “Are the patients dead?”Sherlock gives her a look, and she got her answer. Jocelyn closes her eyes, and suppresses the tears threatening to escape.“Do you have an antidote?”She swallows nervously, shaking her head no.He steps forward and wraps his arms around her. “We didn’t know that detaching them from the drug would kill them, too. It wasn’t your fault.”From the last few words, she pulls away and shakes her head. It was as if Sherlock didn’t want her to take accountability for her actions. Of course, this was her fault. He is being terribly biased.Jocelyn stares at him, almost as if she knows what he was thinking. “Your last question?”He looks disheartened. “At the tarmac, why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”She chews the inside of her cheek, lowering her eyes. Then, she takes the notebook and pen from the table, writing words down. Once she holds it up, his face turns dejected.
I thought you were going to die.
Sherlock softens, watching how she lowers her head and sits down. He takes a deep breath. “I thought I was going to die as well.”She meets his eyes reluctantly, but she averts immediately.“But you had two opportunities to tell me.”She begins to write again, her hand shaking a bit.
You wouldn’t have left.
Of course, he wouldn’t have. If Sherlock knew she was carrying his child, leaving New Orleans never would’ve been an option.She stays motionless and quiet, staring at him with wide green eyes. He realizes what she must be thinking, and his face softens. Sherlock’s lips curl into a hesitant smile before he shakes his head. “Of course, nothing about how I feel has changed. Why would you think the opposite?”With a frown of disbelief she signs, “Three months.”“We’ve been apart for longer.”His words make her let out a surprised and soundless chuckle. He gently smiles.Silence overcomes them, and he takes this moment to watch her carefully. Then, with a small whisper, he voices her name. “Jocelyn.”She watches him carefully and anticipates his next words while tilting her head.He redirects his gaze downwards for a moment. After a few seconds, he meets her gaze again. “I don’t want you to ever think that I never wanted this.” He eyes her stomach. “Once I found out, it occurred to me just how much I wanted something like this. A family.”She was in a state of shock from his gentle words, it fills her with immense warmth as she gazes upon him.“I am incredibly lucky to be able to share this with you. If you’ll have me, I’d be honored to raise our child together.”If only she had a voice, she would be sobbing greatly right now. Since she does not, she settles with quiet tears.Jocelyn surprises him by wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into the crook of his neck. She ignores the pain in her throat and only lets herself be held by him. This is the safest she has ever felt in the past few months, and she feels at home.--“What did I tell you?! No one is to view these tapes!” Sherlock yelled across the room, and the others stood frozen under his fury.Mycroft had a sullen look on his face. “Brother mine, I think you would prefer to know about this.”“I don’t care what you have found. I stand by my word. These tapes and audios are off-limits.”None of the other men in the room could look Sherlock in the eyes, and it is beginning to annoy him even more.Mycroft kept his calm demeanor. “It appears that Miss Grant’s mobile phone has been compromised. Our esteemed professor sent a text through her device, and allowed him access to its microphone and other information she may have passed along—”“I am warning you, Mycroft.”“Brother mine, they have recorded many… moments from Baker Street that you will find… unsettling. I think perhaps once you’ve listened to them, you’d prefer us to take action immediately.”Sherlock still had a furious look on his face. “If I listened to them, I expect that you will lock everything away until Jocelyn permits us to view anything.”“Indeed, brother mine.” Mycroft nodded at the other people in the room, and they exited.Sherlock suspiciously watched them leave. “What is going on?”“I believe you should just listen.”Sherlock glared at him and snatched the headset, putting them on his ears. Mycroft played the first audio and Sherlock sat to listen.He could hear the quiet yet familiar sound of water splashing around, and it makes him furrow his brows. Then, he heard her voice.
“I can’t lose you.”
Sherlock immediately recalled the words. It was the time when he sent Irene Adler away, and ultimately angered Jocelyn. Although, he was not sure why his brother is making him listen to this. Sherlock glanced at his brother in suspicion, but continued listening.“I know that you’re trying to protect us, but I want to be sure that you’re safe, too... I’ve lost you for so many years, and I don’t want that to happen again.” Her voice wrenched through Sherlock’s chest.Sherlock then heard the water splash around and he realizes. His eyes widened and he looked at his brother, who did not meet his eyes. Sherlock’s body freezes once the moans filled his headset.He took off the headset and grimaced, pushing the device on the table in shock. Sherlock panted with his wide eyes, and his mind began racing. His face heated with humiliation, looking at his brother.“Did… did you listen to this?”Mycroft painted a humorless smile, blinking. “My agents tried their best to describe the recordings instead.”Sherlock’s stomach twisted. “There are more?”“A considerable amount, I’ve been told.”Sherlock closed his eyes and palmed his forehead, already imagining scenarios where the person who bugged Jocelyn’s phone listened to all of these. And now, including Mycroft’s agents.Their private and intimate moments did not belong to them anymore, and it genuinely makes Sherlock sick to the stomach. He has never been in a position where his body is forcing himself to physically vomit.Sherlock had no problem with being provoked, or challenged, but once Jocelyn is involved, it is no longer a game.Mycroft could feel the rage and humiliation radiate from his little brother, it was as if his dark shadow was looming all across the room.“I’ve had my agents trace if they were duplicated. It seems that these are the original and only copies.”“Destroy them. All of them.”“Should we not wait for Miss Grant’s approval? You said—”“Oh, hell… that is what this is about, isn’t it?” Sherlock dryly laughed and palmed his forehead. “So, you forced me to leave the hospital and brought me here to listen to—” he barely finished the sentence as he glared at his brother. “You are manipulating me into invading her privacy!”Mycroft widened his eyes. “I will never do such a thing.”“You are doing it right now!”“Brother mine, if we wait any longer, who knows what Moran could be planning. The only answers we can get are on those tapes.”“Have I not made myself clear enough? We will not watch anything without her permission.”“Have you not heard the recordings? They’re worse than the wiretaps from her house. The Morans have been preying on Jocelyn even before she was taken! Violating her, every chance they get. We need to know immediately how to handle her once she wakes!”Sherlock clenched his jaw, refusing to conjure up images of her being violated in any way. Now, Sherlock began to fear what those tapes might hold.He slowly shook his head. “No.”“Sherlock…”“We wait for her.” Sherlock calmly stated.“Brother mine.” Mycroft sternly warned.“Destroy the audios. What do I care?”“Sher—” Sherlock pushed past him and left the room after slamming the door. Mycroft sighed and watched him leave.--They couldn’t keep their hands off each other for the next few days.Sometimes, they’d be watching a film together and Jocelyn would crawl on top of him. They would kiss for hours, and Sherlock wouldn’t complain. They couldn’t last an hour without touching each other, and Sherlock is slowly getting used to it.There are times where both lay naked on their bed, with Sherlock’s cheek against the mattress, his nose touching her hip as she runs her fingers through his curls. He would stare at the small bump of her stomach, and affection would fill his eyes.“Do you think it is a boy or a girl?” He whispers quietly, fingers tracing her skin.She smiles and shrugs, as if to say it didn’t matter. Sherlock agrees. No matter their child could be, Sherlock would still spoil them rotten.“How do you think we should name them?”Jocelyn smirks and points at him, and he widens his eyes.“Absolutely not.”She playfully pouts.“We are not naming our child in that pattern. They’ll already be bullied enough for having Mycroft as an uncle.”Crinkles appear on the corner of Jocelyn’s eyes as she voicelessly laughs, and she tugs on his arm, making him playfully roll his eyes.“Do you truly want our child’s name to conform to the same pattern as mine and Mycroft?”She nods happily, but Sherlock grimaces.“How unfortunate for our child, then.”Our child. It feels too perfect to roll off his tongue.Jocelyn nods, grinning brightly at him as he crawls back up to kiss her, chuckling into her lips.He never thought he could be happy this way. He always believed that working cases would be the one to keep him afloat. However, that may have changed when Jocelyn stayed in his life. He gradually accepted that people could make him happy.One afternoon, Sherlock sees Jocelyn by the window. She seems to be writing something down on her notebook, surrounded by a few colored pens.When they are in their own spaces, Sherlock would see Jocelyn writing into her notebook. It pleases him to see that she’s comfortable and writing. Although, he never gets to see what she’s writing. Sherlock likes to think that she’s writing letters, like she always does to Mycroft.She grins and gestures to her stomach, signing to him.Sherlock’s eyes light up. “Already?” He makes his way towards her and kneels in front of her, placing his hand on her bump.They wait for a moment and Sherlock’s eyes are focused on her swelling stomach. Then, it happens. Sherlock lets out a short gasp, and her green eyes brighten. They share a look before Sherlock starts chuckling.“Our child a natural fighter.” Sherlock smiles widely. “Although, I’m not surprised. They have you as a mother.”Jocelyn reaches over to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles against her touch. Sherlock leans in to place a gentle kiss on her stomach, before standing up and informing her that he’ll be outside to gather more firewood.She smiles and watches him leave. Once he is gone, her smile fades and she opens her notebook again to continue writing.***Sherlock would show her charts regarding her pregnancy, and each of them are accurate. Jocelyn just looks amused the entire time as he explains everything she should and shouldn’t do. He even managed to predict her due date.Jocelyn clearly thought of this scenario, using it to cope with all the pain she was put through for the past months. She remembers thinking that she will never experience this, but now, here she is.Everyday, they would go on walks together. Sometimes, they would stay in the garden and Sherlock would pick apples for her.Whenever they go to sleep, Jocelyn would always feel his hand gently caressing her stomach. Her back would be against his chest, and he wouldn’t be aware that she was awake—and yet, she always feels his arm wrap securely around her, with his hand resting on her bump, and his nose burrowing into the back of her neck to breathe her in.Jocelyn’s nightmares gradually stopped.One night, Sherlock takes her hand. They stand in the middle of the living room, and he places her other hand on his shoulder, before putting his own on her hip.“Forgive the lack of music. I only brought one radio.” He smiles at the way she flusters, and they begin swaying to imaginary music. Jocelyn’s heart could almost burst as she dances slowly with him. They smile at one another, and nothing else mattered.Sherlock has never felt so ordinary. No cases, no danger, no mystery, no criminals, no deaths or anything. He felt ordinary, but he was never bored. In fact, he was happy. If an outsider could look in the cottage, they would assume he was an ordinary man living happily with his pregnant partner.And he realizes… he doesn’t mind the idea.So, when Jocelyn is waiting for him in the bedroom later that night, Sherlock dreads the next words coming from the telephone in his hand.
“You can both come home, brother mine.”
Sherlock couldn’t speak, and he only tightens his hold around the telephone.
“I’ll send a car tomorrow morning—”
“She doesn’t want to come home yet.”A pause. “Is it her who does not wish to come home, or is it you?”He closes his eyes. “Mycroft…”
“I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell if you are being dishonest.”
Sherlock pinches the skin between his brows, distressed. “We’ve only begun to mend things. I cannot send her back to chaos. Not after having only peace the past week here in this cottage.”
“You wanted her to come home as soon as possible, did you not?”
“I did. Now, I’m uncertain if we should.”
“Brother mine, I should remind you of the promise you made to Mrs. Forbes.”
Sherlock’s heart wrenches. “Give me one more week, Mycroft. Please.”
“I’ve not known you to beg me for something before.”
“Another week, Mycroft.”
“Does Miss Grant know of your request?”
He swallows. “No.”
“Then, I’m afraid I cannot concede to this. I expect you to be prepared tomorrow morning. Mrs. Forbes has already been informed of the matter. She will be waiting in my office tomorrow. Goodnight, brother mine.”
“Mycroft—”The line disconnects.Sherlock slams the telephone down and buries his face into his palms. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jocelyn peeking at him from the door entrance. He composes himself and faces her.She gives him a look of disapproval, and Sherlock sighs. “We can stay here. We don’t have to go back to all of that mess.”She frowns, sternly signing to him, “That mess… is our home.”“This could be our new home.”She looks defeated, dropping her shoulders.“The past week with you has opened my eyes, Jocelyn.” He takes her hand and squeezes. “Stay with me. We have everything we need here. I want to have a normal life with you.”She lifts her head and meets his eyes. Jocelyn smiles sadly, seeing the hopeful look in his eyes. Those words were all she wanted to hear from him for as long as she could remember.From the moment she came home from New York, all she wanted was a normal life, and to hear that that is what he wants, too… it makes her heart flutter. However, she shakes her head in regretful disagreement and writes down her words.
We were not meant for a normal life.
“Why not?”
Because you and I will never be in content.
As much as he does not want to admit it, his crave for the thrill of a chase will never cease. He will always seek it out one way or another. And she will never be happy being cramped up in limited space.Both wanted to raise their child back home, and not here. As lovely as this little cottage may be, it is a fantasy. Something they can never have. Sooner or later, their own lives will catch up to them, and this cottage would be short-lived.Sherlock refused to admit that he wanted to go home as well.He sighs and pulls her close, kissing her forehead. “We’ll go home.”Jocelyn gives him an apologetic smile, signing, “We’ll come back here one day.”He gives her a hesitant smile.The next day, they wait for the car Mycroft had sent. While Sherlock is keeping everything tidied up, Jocelyn catches a glimpse of a notebook on top of the violin case he is bringing with him.Jocelyn opens it to the first page, only to see a short list of names. She cracks a small smile, wondering why Sherlock even needed such a list while having a brilliant mind. Her eyes lower down the list, seeing the names of their friends.Her brows furrow once she comes across a name, and she lifts the notebook to her face. Camille Lavalle.She traces her finger against the ink of the name, frowning.Her concentration is broken once she hears a car pull over nearby the cottage, and she puts down the notebook to go outside.She sees Sherlock on the porch, watching the car. Their driver emerges, and Jocelyn’s heart almost stops.Sherlock frowns. “What are you doing here?”“I’ve come to pick you up.”Sherlock steps down the porch while Jocelyn remains frozen and stares at the newcomer. “I thought you were sending a car. Not yourself along with it.”“I thought as much myself, until I’ve changed my mind last minute.”“Changing minds rather impulsively isn’t like you.”“Yes. Perhaps legwork has gotten the best of me.” Mycroft glances at the young woman by the door. His eyes flicker down to her stomach, and his mouth parts in surprise for a short moment. Mycroft reverts to his usual self. “Good morning, Miss Grant. I trust that you slept well?”Jocelyn swallows nervously as her body tenses with unease.Sherlock glances at her, nodding. She hesitantly complies and approaches the car. Mycroft’s face shows no emotion, and he appears formal for business as usual. Sherlock goes back into the cottage to get his things, while Jocelyn and Mycroft share a brief look.Unseen by the other, both could feel their own stomachs twisting.Mycroft looks away. “Now, then. There is a lot to discuss, and I prefer to finish them during the car ride. We have a busy day ahead of us, don’t we?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“So, Miss Grant, still unable to speak, then? Seems convenient to me, as I have many things to say that requires no interruption.”“Mycroft,” warns Sherlock.“Sherlock has been withholding the security tapes from the New Zealand base of Moriarty’s network until you’ve given your verbal consent, which I find quite ironic due to your current condition.”Jocelyn looks at Sherlock with a frown, who only glares at his brother.“Mrs. Forbes is in my office waiting for your arrival. Tomorrow morning, the investigators involved in your murder case will hold a press conference, announcing your status of being alive. From that, I can conclude that people would need proof, and you will make your public appearance.”Jocelyn realizes how busy Mycroft has been during the past week while she was relaxing inside a bloody cottage.“Any update on Sebastian Moran?” asks Sherlock.“None, at the moment, but you can rest assured that he will never be anywhere near Miss Grant during the appointments ahead.”“How about our inmate?”“He refuses to speak.”“Is Harry Watson in England now?”“Yes. She has field work to attend to. In central London.”Sherlock gives him an unimpressed look. “How convenient.”“Are you complaining, brother mine? I got her to leave New York at a moment’s notice. Surely you can find a bone in your body to be grateful.”“I’ll show you gratefulness once hell freezes over.”“I’m sure you can arrange that.”Jocelyn taps on the back of their seats, glaring at them as if to scold them.Mycroft glances at her through the mirror again. “Are you ready, Miss Grant? What you are about to experience is the same thing Sherlock has undergone, only with your situation, things will be much worse.”“Mycroft.” Sherlock sternly warns him again.He ignores him. “Firstly, we will go to my office, where you will see your aunt again. I will give you the whole morning to be acquainted with her again. This afternoon, you will be visiting all your persons of interest one by one. Sherlock gathered that, in doing so, would cause less hysteria.”Sherlock looks over her shoulder to give her an assuring look, but feels relieved to see that Jocelyn appears calm and even gives him a smile.“Tonight, I’ve arranged a dinner party. I thought it would be much appropriate, just between your… friends.” Mycroft cringes, and Jocelyn had to hold back a small grin. “Sherlock will accompany you while greeting everyone.”She frowns and shakes her head, tapping on Sherlock’s shoulder to show him something she wrote on the notepad.
Alone.
Sherlock appears surprised. “You… want to go alone?”“That is absurd!” screeches Mycroft.Jocelyn shows Sherlock the note again, with more force. He sighs. “Alright.”Mycroft widens his eyes, almost jerking the wheel he is controlling. “Do not tell me you are agreeing to this, brother mine.”“She’s not a child, Mycroft.”“Yes, well, she is carrying a child. Your child. Does this not concern you?”Sherlock looks at her again. “Are you sure you can handle yourself?”She gives off an unimpressed look, and Sherlock suppresses a smile.“That’s settled, then.”“You have lost your minds.”The rest of the car ride is quiet, although she can feel Mycroft’s eyes through the mirror. His scrutinizing gaze makes her feel smaller somehow, and she wonders what he must be thinking of.To ease herself, she continues to write on her notebook.And then, they drove through urbanized cities, and she stares in awe. She has spent most of her time surrounded by green fields and trees. To see buildings and houses again feels a bit strange now.They reach London hours later, and Mycroft pulls over nearby the Diogenes Club. The first person Jocelyn sees is Anthea, who offers a smile to Jocelyn, and she returns it.They all stand before the door leading to Mycroft’s office, and Jocelyn exhales carefully. Sherlock gives Mycroft a look, and he understands immediately.Sherlock and Jocelyn are left alone in the hallway, and he faces her. “It’ll be alright.”She still appears nervous, and her hand rests on her stomach. Despite her anxiousness, she reaches for the doorknob and opens the door.She pushes it open and sees a woman standing by the window. Jocelyn’s heart clenches, and the woman turns to face her.Her aunt covers her own mouth in shock. They stay frozen for a moment before walking to each other and engulfing the other in a tight hug.Sherlock watches them with a small smile.Mrs. Forbes sputters as she cries. “Oh, my darling girl. You’re here.”Jocelyn embraces her tightly and feels her own eyes sting with tears. They pull away and grin at each other, her aunt cups her reddening cheeks and stares at her. She is in complete disbelief that she is alive. After only knowing that her niece has been dead for three months, having to hold her now feels surreal.Mrs. Forbes looks towards Sherlock with a softer expression now. She mouths to him, “Thank you.”Sherlock nods politely. Jocelyn smiles, wiping her own tears. Mrs. Forbes gives her a notepad. It seems that she already knows that Jocelyn cannot speak yet.“I will leave you two.” Sherlock says, and the smile fades on her face. “It’s fine, the place is secure. You’re safe here.”“Where will you be?” Mrs. Forbes asks.“I have my own errands. Don’t worry, I’ll see you before lunch. For now, you two have much to discuss.”Jocelyn watches him exit the room and close the door. She pauses for a moment before turning to her aunt again with a bigger smile as they sit together.Mrs. Forbes offers her some tea. “Mr. Holmes explained a lot of things to me, but I still want to know from you.”Jocelyn offers an apologetic smile before writing down on the notepad. She explains everything Sherlock know, and reaches to where she returned to Sebastian because he hurt Mrs. Forbes.“You didn’t have done that, Jo.”She just shrugs and looks down at the ground and fiddles with her thumbs.Mrs. Forbes frowns and gently grabs her chin, turning her head to face her. “I know that look.”Jocelyn swallows, tilting her head away from her aunt.“You look sad.”She becomes much more aware of her slow heartbeat, and Jocelyn faces her aunt again, only this time, her eyes filled with tears.“Did Sherlock upset you—”Jocelyn cuts her off by shaking her head and grimacing. Her face falls, and she begins to write on her notepad again. She holds it up for her aunt to read.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
Mrs. Forbes watches Jocelyn bury her face into her own palms, breathing heavily. Her aunt wraps an arm around her and Jocelyn leans into it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”Jocelyn looks up at her aunt and tears slide down her cheeks. She looks down at her lap and shakily writes down on her notepad again. Her aunt is startled by the next words she reads.
Sherlock will hate me.
***Sherlock walks inside the house through the window, cautious and careful. He glances around to make sure he is alone and goes through the desk drawers. He needed to know who she is.He finds a few photographs on the walls, depicting a mother with two children. Sherlock frowns and stares at the youngest child on the picture before he moves on to the next drawer. Sherlock stops when he hears a quiet thud from the other room. He stands upright again and slowly walks towards the next room.Although, as he walks, another person emerges from the other room, and yells while swinging a weapon at him. Sherlock swivels back and dodges the hit, and the next, and then the next, before reaching over to roughly take their wrist, squeezing. They widen their eyes and drop the frying pan.
“Sherlock?!”
He narrows his eyes at her, letting her wrist go. “Miss Lavalle.”“What the hell are you doing in my house?!”Sherlock gives her an intense look, charging towards her and sends her to walk backwards in confusion. “Who are you?”“Who am I? You’re the who broke in!” Camille hits the wall and Sherlock boxes her in place with his arms.“You work for Sebastian Moran.” Sherlock sneers to her face.“What?”“You were sent to distract me. Those are his words. You distracted me from protecting the ones close to me.” Sherlock’s face inched forward, filled with rage.Camille appears confused. “You disappear for weeks… and then come back by breaking into my house and accusing me about things I don’t know about?”Sherlock evens his breaths, but as he looks into her eyes, she does not seem to be lying. Still, he is unconvinced. There have been many instances before that Sherlock could not have a full read of anyone.“What is your connection to Moriarty?”“M-Moriarty?”“I’m not one to play games, Miss Lavalle. Tell me if he hired you, or I will be taking extra measures.”“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”“Do not lie to me.” Sherlock seethes.There must be a reason why she stood out against the rest. There must be a reason why Sherlock noticed her. Sherlock doesn’t just notice anyone, there must be something about her that is connected with this mess.“I’m not lying to you, Sherlock! I don’t work for any of them.”Sherlock narrows his eyes again, waiting for a moment before backing away from her. She sighs in relief and fixes her cardigan, and her cheeks flush from how close he was to her. She clears her throat and looks away from him.Sherlock is still deep in his mind palace, calculating her motives and connection. However, there were none. Camille is perfectly normal. Ordinary.He frowns in disappointment, adjusting his jacket around himself. He meets her eyes again and sees how her cheeks are flushed. Sherlock sighs. “Apologies for my lack of tact. I tend to be aggressive when any of the ones important to me has been hurt.”“Hurt? Who?”Sherlock presses his lips together. “I hope you accept my apology.” He picks up the frying pan from the ground, handing it to her.Camille glares at him and snatches the pan. “I would’ve recognized you if you wore that bloody coat. If I did, I wouldn’t have tried to hit you.”“I recommend changing weapons. A pan can hardly do anything.”“You could’ve knocked!” She flails her arms. “Whoever you’re talking about, he didn’t send me.”Sherlock softens and stares at her for a moment. “In the next few days, you will be hearing a lot of things about my family. I trust that you will not listen to the media if they say anything negative.”“You think I’ll believe the media?”“Most people tend to do so.”“I’m not like most people.”Sherlock watches her and grows curious. “No. You aren’t. I’ll see you soon, Miss Lavalle.” He turns to exit, but stops and turns to look at her again. “Oh, and do lock your windows. High-functioning sociopaths could break in and begin interrogating you.”Camille scoffs in amusement before Sherlock leaves. Once he’s gone, Camille pulls out her phone and dials a number, pressing the phone into her ear. When the call is accepted, she immediately speaks while palming her forehead tiredly. “Hey, it’s me. You won’t believe what just happened.”***Sherlock arrives in the Diogenes Club, and he sees Jocelyn and Mrs. Forbes having tea while chuckling together. He offers a smile and takes his own seat, feeling a bit tired now. Jocelyn looks at him in curiosity, but her aunt speaks.Sherlock picks up his own tea. “Jocelyn will be visiting our friends later. It would be appropriate, considering how she will be announced alive tomorrow.”Jocelyn nods and Mrs. Forbes smiles. “Mycroft told me that there’s a dinner party tonight at his house. I insisted on cooking for you all.”Sherlock hides his smile behind his cup. An hour later, Jocelyn and Mrs. Forbes embrace again before her aunt is taken to Mycroft’s house to prepare for dinner. Sherlock and Jocelyn are alone in the office, and she approaches him.Jocelyn traces words on his chest. Where were you?“Making sure there were no loose ends.”She looks up at him in worry, tracing words on his chest again. Are there?Sherlock tiredly smiles. “Yes. Quite a long loose thread, Jocelyn. But nothing I can’t pull.”She gives him a curious look.“It’s nothing to worry about. I think you have a few people to go see.” Sherlock teases a smile, and she rests her arms on his shoulders.She pushes herself on the tip of her toes to press a soft kiss into his mouth. Although, Sherlock pulls back.Jocelyn heart freezes for a moment as she stares at him with nervous wide eyes, thinking he rejected her. However, Sherlock’s eyes darts to the side, and she follows his gaze.At the top corner of a room, a security camera flashes a red light. Jocelyn relaxes and Sherlock chuckles lightly, leaning down to her ear. “Big brother is watching. No need to give him an eyeful.”She shakes her head in amusement before pulling away. She takes a hanger and picks up the piece of clothing. Sherlock laughs a bit as she removes the hanger and opens the coat.He slides his arms into the sleeves, turning to face her again. “How do I look?” Jocelyn gives him a softer look, pleased to see him in his favorite coat again. “Now, then. Where to first?”She smiles brightly at him and he already knows the answer.***“Are you sure you can do this on your own?” Sherlock asks for the tenth time as they pull over in front of the building.And for the tenth time, she glares at him.Sherlock suppresses a smile. “Alright, I’ll come by in a while. Might need some new body parts.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes and exits the car. He drives away and Jocelyn looks up at the tall building. She inhales and goes to the entrance. Having short jet-black hair gives her a simple disguise, so she easily walks past people.It feels odd to be back here, but it gives her a comforting feeling. Which is odd, considering that she is in a hospital.Jocelyn approaches the lab where she knew she would be, and opens the door. No one is in the room, but she smiles at how things did not change. Jocelyn remembers the time she used this lab, and the times Sherlock did. His home away from home will always be St. Barts.The door opens from behind her and Jocelyn turns, only to see the pathologist gaping at her.Molly stares at her with wide eyes. “Oh, God.”Jocelyn gives her a hesitant smile, waving awkwardly.Molly closes the door and approaches her with shock on her face. “What—you… oh, my God, Jocelyn. You’re… you’re alive!”Jocelyn opens her arms, Molly tearfully laughs and embraces her. Jocelyn closes her eyes at the feeling of holding her friend.Molly sniffles. “When Mycroft invited me for dinner tonight, I should’ve suspected something was up. I-I can’t believe Sherlock was right! Well, he’s always right, but I didn’t think… I mean, I couldn’t—” Molly stammers, looking at her again. “Where have you been?”Jocelyn takes out the notepad her aunt gave her, and showed her the previous explanations, but only leaving out a few messages. She only tells Molly that she was kidnapped, her death was faked against her will, she can’t speak, and Sherlock saved her before taking her to a cottage. Jocelyn spares her the other details, and hides her stomach with her coat.As if on cue, the door swings open and Sherlock walks through the doors. “Molly, I’m going to need a few bags of toes, I know you have a whole refrigerato—oomph!”Molly attacks him with a hug. “Sherlock, it’s been weeks since I saw you! I was starting to hate you!”Sherlock is startled by the hug, but awkwardly returns it anyway. “Yes, well, now we’re home and we are all expecting everyone to treat us normally.” He emphasizes the last part.Molly nods. “Right. You’re right.” She glances between Jocelyn and Sherlock as she stays quiet for a moment. Molly isn’t sure how to treat them both normally since Jocelyn is back, after she has been dead for three months.Molly gives Sherlock a teasing look and tells him to follow her to some room if he does need the toes. She leaves after gathering what she came for, and Sherlock sighs. “How did that go?”Jocelyn smiles and shrugs. She gives him a look of suspicion, but still amused. Sherlock faces her and his palm touches her stomach. Jocelyn watches the relief form on his face.Her next destination is a bit harder to enter since she used to be employed there. So, Jocelyn carefully observes everyone walking in and out of the building. Finding her timing, she enters the building while wrapping her coat around herself, turning the collar up to hide her neck bandage.There’s only so far a civilian can go when entering Scotland Yard, and Jocelyn knew that. However, since she used to work here, she knew the people who knew her, and also the ones who didn’t.This will be fun.Jocelyn approaches a man and writes down into her notepad to show him with a smile. “I’m here to see Inspector Lestrade?”He stammers for a moment, picks up a telephone and begins to dial. “Yeah, there’s a woman asking for you… her name? Uh,” he turns to her, “He’s asking for your name.”Jocelyn writes down on her notepad, feeling quite cheeky for now. She holds it up and smiles at the man.He reads what she wrote with a slight hesitation. “Her name is… Cotton Candy.”She holds in a snort and waits by his desk, and he stares at her as if he’s trying to place her face. After a while, she hears heavy footsteps approaching the room in a hurried manner. Jocelyn turns to the door and sees Lestrade who has wide eyes.He swallows. “Uh, you can leave us. Take a break or whatever.”“Yes, sir.” The other man still stared at Jocelyn and wonders where he has seen her, but still left.“Christ… Sherlock was bloody right.” He approaches her and gives her tight hug. “I’m so glad he was.” Jocelyn hugs him back and he chuckles. “How are you here? H-How is this any of this possible? Actually, don’t answer that. It’s Mycroft and Sherlock, isn’t it? Those bastards.”Jocelyn smirks and writes down on her paper. “Liked the name?”Lestrade eyes the notepad, unsure why she’s using it, until he sees the bandage peeking from her scarf. “I’ll admit, it took me a while to get it, but from Mycroft’s stories, I knew it was you.”She makes a gesture to her throat and shakes her head, making Lestrade frown sadly.“Is it permanent?”She shrugs, signing. “So far.”Lestrade blinks. “What?”Jocelyn grins in amusement and embraces him again.***Meanwhile, somewhere hidden in London, Mycroft walks next to Sherlock, looking through the glass window, too. “How long has he been like that?”“Ten days.”“And he said nothing?”“Not a single word.” Mycroft sighs. “We tried to force him, but he just sits there. Taking it.”The situation feels familiar, it makes Sherlock sick. “We’ll never be able to find Sebastian if Silas refuses to talk.”Mycroft reaches over to take his brother’s arm, pulling him to walk with him. Sherlock complies. “We’ve gathered everything we know about Silas and Sebastian Moran. Sebastian had military training, but he took up engineering afterwards. He truly is a Cambridge professor, under the name Lawrence Carter. He’s been teaching for years.”“Why did he change his name, then?”“I’m not entirely sure, but he fled New Zealand and took up a whole new identity. I assume it is to escape something. Or someone.” Mycroft briefly glances at him. “Where is she now?”“On her way to Speedy’s. She’s going to the Watsons next.”“Hm. Putting the best for last, is she?” Mycroft mutters.“You can talk to her, too, Mycroft.”“What is the point in that? She has no problems with withholding information from me, and certainly not with letting you forget her.”Sherlock stays silent and it makes Mycroft glance at him.The eldest Holmes softens. “She doesn’t know, does she?”“I am trying to find the right time to tell her.”“The right time to tell Miss Grant that you rewrote your memories? Believed she was truly murdered? Grieved for two months? Went missing for three weeks after relapsing?” Mycroft glares at him. “I swear, this whole secretive aspect between this godforsaken family will become the death of us all.”Sherlock briefly glances at his brother and turns back to the man through the glass. He clenches his jaw.“You think Sebastian was running from Moriarty?” Sherlock furrows his brows.“There was no other reason for him to leave. On how I see it, Sebastian Moran left Moriarty. Must be why there is bad blood between them.”“Why would Sebastian do that? He wants the network, why would he abandon Moriarty?” He pauses. “And why come back now?”“It wouldn’t be entertaining if we knew the answers.”Sherlock sighs. “But he was there with Moriarty when Jocelyn was put in a freezer. He came back to him… possibly for a reconciliation?” Sherlock puzzledly asks no one in particular. “Tell me about Silas.”“He is an A-list assassin, but he’s been inactive for years, and has only worked for James Moriarty. Miss Naomi emphasized his skills with knives. He prefers to be closer to his victims.”“There’s a rank list, I believe?”Mycroft passes a folder to Sherlock. “The full list of recorded assassins all across the world from the years 1990 to 2014.”Sherlock opens the folder and sees the list of names next to other columns. He reads the first name at the very top of the list and furrows his brows. “Anastasia Aslanov?”“That’s Mrs. Watson’s real name.”Sherlock softens. “AGRA.”“Alias is Nova. Age thirty-eight. The world’s deadliest assassin. Over five hundred kills.” Mycroft humorlessly smiles. “And she’s singing nursery rhymes inside of John Watson’s home.”Sherlock frowns at him and goes back to the list, reading the second rank. “Mary is the only one without a photograph.”“No one has ever seen the face of Nova. In fact, I was surprised to find out that Mrs. Watson and Nova were the same person. She has many significant kills, including France’s—”“No, stop. John wouldn’t want me to know any of this.” Sherlock cuts him off, focusing on the third rank. “Naomi’s name is incomplete.”“Her name is just Naomi. There is no record of a surname. Age thirty-one. She originated from South Korea, where she was trained from an early age.” Mycroft mutters. “Before you met Moriarty, he remained anonymous. He was only a powerful idea. The consulting criminal that can make any request come true.”Sherlock flips through the pages, viewing the other names.“For those requests to happen, Moriarty needed his own voice. That’s where Naomi comes in. When a person needs to contact Moriarty, they are brought face-to-face with Naomi for a formal meeting.” Mycroft tells his brother. “She is what the criminal underground knows as Moriarty’s eyes and ears. Whatever information gets to Moriarty, it goes through her first.”“How did they meet?”“Moriarty found a facility that trained kidnapped children to become assassins, a place called Nocte Domum, or dramatically, the House of Night.” He gives Sherlock a photograph of a building that resembles a school. “It was set on fire in the year 2002.”“Were there any other survivors?”“Yes. Only one. She’s married to your blogger right now.”Sherlock looks up at him in shock. “Mary? What was she doing there?”“I told you. They trained kidnapped children into becoming assassins. When the building burned down, and as of then, their best worker.”Sherlock softens in realization, looking back down on the files in his hands.Mycroft gives him another humorless smile. “Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? While you and Miss Grant were performing for Cambridge University and living happily together, James Moriarty was burning people alive. Recruiting those who’ve been trafficked since childbirth.”Sherlock appears surprised to hear this, but focuses on the task at hand.“Mary left Moriarty shortly after the whole pool incident.” Mycroft looks at Sherlock. “She came back when Naomi met Irene Adler, which put Naomi in danger, but Mary said that Naomi turned her away, and she still chose Moriarty over Miss Adler. Ultimately, Naomi left Irene. The Woman has been searching for her ever since.”“Moriarty earned Naomi’s loyalty by killing the people who abused her.”“It appears so.”“So, why help Jocelyn? Naomi helped her escape the Morans, people who were close to Moriarty—the person who she dedicated her life to.”***
“Who the hell are you? Who sent you?!”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
She briefly closes her eyes, hearing a gunshot echo in her head. Jocelyn shakily sighs and shakes her head. She forces herself to walk and approaches 221A. Before she could knock, the door immediately opens and reveals the old woman. She gasps and stares at Jocelyn in shock.Jocelyn tries mustering a small smile, watching the tears fill Mrs. Hudson’s eyes as she wails and steps forward to engulf her in a hug.Sherlock finally comes home, sighing at the sight of 221B on the door. He enters the building and hears laughter erupt from the first flat he sees. He walks to it and finds Jocelyn sitting in front of the table with a full meal in front of her.Mrs. Hudson is laughing loudly while Jocelyn eats with a smile. Her eyes brighten upon seeing him by the door, making Mrs. Hudson turn around.“Oh, Sherlock, darling!” Mrs. Hudson stands and kisses Sherlock’s cheek, making him grimace a bit. “I am so sorry for not believing you. I just can’t believe it!” She grins happily.“Yes, well, we were expecting everyone to treat us normally…” Sherlock clears his throat awkwardly.“Are you mad? Me, treating you normally? Well, I can fairly say that this day has not been normal to me at all!” Mrs. Hudson laughs in delight, turning to look at Jocelyn again. “My dear is alive and back home.”Jocelyn offers a smile of gratitude, placing her hand on her own chest. Sherlock softens at the sight of her looking so happy. Sherlock can see his landlady appear so overjoyed by the news, and he cannot wait to tell them another later this evening.She leaves Baker Street afterwards, and Sherlock stays in 221B, where he goes to his flat and begins to pack his things. Mrs. Hudson watches him with a frown. “You’re not staying?”“Jocelyn is staying at my brother’s home.” Sherlock sighs and gives her an apologetic look.“Well, when are you two coming back here?”Sherlock briefly smiles. “Why, tomorrow, of course. I can’t very well leave 221B behind.”Mrs. Hudson stares at Sherlock with a grin. “It looks good on you, Sherlock.”“The coat?”“Happiness.”Sherlock relaxes, moving towards her to give her a warm hug. The more he thinks about it, it does feel nice to be happy.***An hour later, Jocelyn arrives at the Watson’s. However, she remains standing in front of the door. She cannot bring herself to ring the doorbell since anyone could answer it.Jocelyn’s hand hovers over the doorbell, but she pulls back and grimaces. She knows why she is hesitating. She knows what she did to Harry when she was apparently dead. The guilt Harry must have felt. Harry must have thought she wasn’t there for Jocelyn, similar to what Jocelyn felt when Sherlock left.She sighs and rings the doorbell before she changes her mind. Jocelyn waits for a moment and hears footsteps, only for the door to open.A smile appears on her face when a familiar man reveals himself, and he widens his eyes. “J-Jocelyn.”She immediately wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him. John laughs into her neck and hugs her tightly. John pulls her into his home and closes the door. “I knew you were going to come back today, I just… wow, seeing you awake…” John stares at her in disbelief. “Can you talk?”Jocelyn shakes her head and smiles a bit. She shakily writes on her notebook and shows him. “Harry?”John is about to respond when footsteps emerge from the kitchen.“John, who are you talking to?” Harry Watson walks into the living room, holding a tray of food for watching telly. She was smiling and her hair is tied neatly behind her head.However, as soon as she walked in the room, her smile disappears, and it sinks into her.John steps aside to give her a full view of Jocelyn, who appears nervous to face his older sister.Harry’s mouth opens and her hands begin shaking, putting the tray out of balance, making her yelp when each glass hits the floor. “Bloody—fuck!”Jocelyn jumps as well, but begins chuckling, covering her face with her palms. Harry stares at her in horror, but an amused smile appears on her face as much as she tries to hide it.“You…” Harry tries to speak but is cut off by her own laugh. John grins at them both. Harry runs to Jocelyn and wraps her arms around her best friend. Harry begins wailing into her shoulder and Jocelyn smiles, her eyes filling with tears.Jocelyn pulls away and Harry cups her cheek, wiping the tears. The two women are trying their best to stay composed, but end up looking like a whole mess. Harry lets out another uncontrollable laugh, mixed with sobs as she hugs her again.They pull away and she writes down on her notepad, holding it up for Harry to read. I think both of us are quite literally speechless.John musters an amused grin. Jocelyn looks at John for a moment, who only nods at her. Jocelyn takes Harry’s hand and sits down with her.John dramatically sighs, looking down at the mess on the floor. “So, I’ll just clean this up, then, shall I?”***“That’s got to be the craziest shit I have ever heard.”“We know how it sounds, but you have to believe it.” John shrugs.“So… let me get this straight. The person who kidnapped you is your ex-boyfriend, Laurie, who is actually named Sebastian Moran, and he’s the best friend of Moriarty the psychopath…”Jocelyn casually nods.“And you’re saying that… Laurie faked your death so no one would try to find you…”John and Jocelyn share a look and nod again.“Sherlock and John tried looking for you… and Sherlock eventually did, and you told him to leave you and convince everyone that you’re dead?”“Don’t forget the part where Jocelyn sent a head to Baker Street.” John sips his orange juice.“Right. Let’s not forget about the head in the box.” Harry dryly remarks. “And you spent your time looking for this… keycode.”Jocelyn nods.“But you came back to Laurie because he went after your aunt.” Harry frowns. “And Sherlock found you at the swimming pool in Bristol, and Laurie was there to force Sherlock to look for the keycode…”“Yep.” John agrees.“But you all went to save Jocelyn… where Laurie, uh… slit your throat and made you pass out.”“Uh-huh.” John nods again.“Irene Adler’s dating an assassin, whose also your wife’s co-worker.” Harry points at her brother.“Ex co-worker.” John corrects.Harry gives him a sarcastic look. “Oh, yeah. My mistake. Ex co-worker. Let’s focus on that, other than the fact that you just told me your bloody wife is a fucking assassin.”Now that Harry knows everything and felt the need to summarize, Jocelyn can definitely say that a lot of crazy things has happened.Harry clutches her head. “That’s a lot of information to digest in under ten minutes.”John looks at Jocelyn before eyeing her stomach, and he cocks his head towards his sister as if to ask. Jocelyn smirks and shakes her head.John rolls his eyes playfully and pats his sister’s back. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll feel ten times worse tonight than you do now.”Jocelyn chucks a pillow towards John and he walks off laughing. Harry furrows her brows. “Why? What’s tonight?”“Dinner at Mycroft’s. Everyone’s going to be there.” A new voice emerges from upstairs and makes Jocelyn look up, only to see Mary walk down while carrying a baby.Jocelyn’s eyes light up at the sight of Rosie, and she offers a polite smile to Mary.Mary smiles back at her. “Hey, Jocelyn.”She nods at her, and looks at the baby in her arms.John can feel the tension between the two women. He knew that it would take a while for Jocelyn to warm up to Mary, considering how Mary did shoot Sherlock with the intention of killing him. It was difficult for John to see past that, so he can’t imagine what Jocelyn must be feeling.Mary hands Rosie to John, who coos at his daughter. Harry smiles at her baby niece and looks at Jocelyn. “Let her hold her, come on. She’s her godmother, after all.”Jocelyn’s heart flutters as John approaches her with the baby. She slowly takes her into her arms, staring into the child’s big eyes. Her whole body fills with warmth and she smiles at Rosie.John and Mary smiles at the sight, knowing that Jocelyn is excited to experience this with her own. Since Harry still doesn’t know, she just sits next to Jocelyn and kisses her cheek. “Welcome home, Jo.”Jocelyn grins widely, and a tear slips down her cheek. Welcome home, indeed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Not that dress.”Jocelyn slumps her shoulders, and Harry just laughs.“Oh, lighten up. It’s a dinner party! You should look your best. And besides, it’s you that we’re celebrating.”She walks back into the closet again, pretending as if she isn’t having fun with her best friend. Harry watches her with a smile, still in disbelief that she’s here but still trying to treat her normally.“Why are you picking all these baggy dresses? You should wear the tight and sexy ones, you know… to make Mr. Detective’s eyes go gaga.” Harry wriggles her brows at her.Jocelyn rolls her eyes again, shaking her head.“Oh, come on! Sherlock looked for you all over the world. That’s the most romantic thing anyone could do!” Harry smirks. “Why not wear a sexy dress?” Harry whines. “You know Sherlock will drool.”Jocelyn playfully rolls her eyes and writes down on her notepad. “He isn’t like that.”Harry scoffs. “Like hell he isn’t! He may be different, but he’s still a man. Trust me, he’s going to lose his mind if he sees you in dresses like these!”Jocelyn walks back into the room, wearing another baggy dress and making Harry grimace.“Are you kidding me? Wear something like this!” Harry grabs a tight black dress with a slit and holds it up. “Or this.” She grabs a short red one. “You look like a grandma.”Jocelyn poses and enthusiastically signs to her, “A really hot grandma.”“No idea what you just said, but I know that I’m not agreeing with it.”Currently, they are inside a fitting room. Harry made a scene about having the room all to themselves just so she can give Jocelyn the best afternoon with her. Now, Jocelyn is trying on dresses to choose which to wear for tonight’s dinner. Mycroft and his stupid fancy dinners with stupid fancy dress codes, Jocelyn thought to herself.Meanwhile, Sherlock hugs John as a greeting. John pats his back. “How was the vacation? Don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft.”Sherlock snorts. “As if that could ever be possible. And it was fine.” He smiles and waves at Rosie, who is crawling on the living room floor. “It was peaceful. Completely the opposite of London.”“Liked it there, then?”“Hm. Hated it. Couldn’t even bear another second of it.” Sherlock sarcastically says.John snickers. “Missed the chaos?”“Of course. Hopefully, the chaos missed me as well.” Sherlock grins at Rosie when she starts gurgling incoherent words. “Didn’t you, My dear Watson?”John picks her up and she giggles. “Can’t live without her madman of a godfather.”Sherlock holds Rosie’s hand. “To think I’ll have a child, too, in a few months.” He mutters under his breath.John grins widely, still unable to comprehend how things changed in a span of a week. “Wonder what that would look like.” John glances at Sherlock. “It terrifies you, doesn’t it? Fatherhood?”“As much as I hate to admit… it does. More than anything.” Sherlock mumbles quietly. “Raising her child would be a big responsibility, and it doesn’t help that I have an irrational fear of disappointing Jocelyn.”“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure Jocelyn is just as terrified as you are.”“How comforting, John.”“No, wait. My point is that you two have each other to figure things out along the way. No one’s born a parent.” John shrugs. “And I think you forgot something. It’s not her child. It’s both of yours.”Sherlock softens and looks back at Rosie. “You’ll help me, won’t you? I’m… not entirely educated about being a father. I don’t think books shall help.”“Just do what your dad would do. At least you have a good one.”“Oh, yes. And look how Mycroft and I turned out.”“Hm… you’ve got a point.”They share a laugh as Rosie stares between them with her wide eyes.Sherlock thinks about it, but still cannot decide what his preference would be. He briefly wonders if Jocelyn has a preference.“In any case, I would be fine with either. I will still teach them the fundamentals of everything.” Sherlock grins. “My child will be phenomenal. You shall see, John.”“Yeah, well, kid’s going to be half you and half Jocelyn. Wouldn’t be surprised if your kid turns out to be some kind of a genius.”“Hm. If they truly are a mixture of Jocelyn and I, the world should prepare itself.”“The world will never be ready for a mini-Sherlock. Or a mini-Jocelyn.”They chuckle together again and Sherlock sighs, enjoying the fact that he is home. Then, he begins to wonder what a “mini-Jocelyn” would look like. Deep down, he wishes that their child would have her eyes.***Not long after, a few people have arrived at Mycroft’s home. It was lovely to see all their friends coming together for a special occasion, and in Mycroft’s house of all places. It is one of the rare moments where Sherlock is expressively grateful of Mycroft. Sherlock knows that his brother doesn’t do nonwork-related social events.Sherlock is in a room inside Mycroft’s home. He looks at his own reflection in the mirror, grimacing at the tie around his neck. Mycroft insisted for him to wear one, but Sherlock detests ties.It wasn’t until another pair of hands reach up for his tie, startling him for a moment, only to look down at see Jocelyn with a smirk on her face. He relaxes and lets her do his tie, all while glancing down at her baggy pink dress, most likely to cover up her bump.“Hm. Smart.”Jocelyn shakes her head in amusement as her fingers work on his tie. Once she’s finished, she smiles and admires her work.“Do you think they’ll throw a fit? Be too shocked?” Jocelyn doesn’t hesitate with nodding. Sherlock sighs, but he has a smile on his face. “Well, I don’t think anything else can shock them on this day. We’ll just be normal about it.”Jocelyn raises her brows at him in a questioning manner, and Sherlock reluctantly tilts his head.“…Yes, maybe nothing about this is normal.”Jocelyn breathily laughs and nods in agreement. Sherlock chuckles and he leans down to kiss her, but before he can, the door opens. Sherlock immediately steps away and looks at his reflection again once John walks in the room. Jocelyn moves towards the chair to get her purse.John looks delighted, but looks between them in a confused manner.“As ever, John, you have impeccable timing.” Sherlock looks at him through the mirror.John snorts. “Mycroft’s looking for you two. He says that your parents are here.”“We’re not teenagers. We can handle ourselves.”“Come on. Rosie’s missing her uncle.”Sherlock turns around and grabs his jacket. “Well, better not keep a lady waiting.” He follows John to the door, but notices that Jocelyn is still in her place. “Coming?”Jocelyn waves him off, as if to say she’ll be right behind them. John pats Sherlock’s back and keeps walking, but Sherlock expresses his concern and walks back into the room.“What is it?”She gives him a calm smile and shakes her head, signing, “Bathroom.”He gives her one last nod before he walks out of the room.Jocelyn frowns to herself once the door is closed, walking towards the bedside lamp. She unscrews the top and pulls out a wire with a red light flashing on top. Jocelyn glares at the object, dropping it to the floor and crushing the bulb with her heel. She picks up the wire and slips it into her bag.She briefly passes the mirror, and stops to see the cold look on her face. Jocelyn clenches her jaw, but forces her features to soften and grow a smile. Once she is satisfied, she leaves the room.Meanwhile downstairs, Sherlock and John walk into the dining room and had to pause for a moment upon seeing the amount of food laid out on the wide table. Everyone is grinning at him, and a strange warmth fills his chest. All his friends are here. Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Forbes, Harry. Even Mary, who is cradling Rosie in her lap.He sees Mycroft walk inside the room as well, who pulls a restrained smile at people as they go about their own conversations with each other.His mother approaches him with teary eyes, hugging him tightly until he couldn’t breathe. Sherlock grimaces once she lets go of him, only to be engulfed by another hug from his father. Mrs. Holmes dabs her eyes and nose with a tissue, and Mycroft rolls his eyes in the background. Sherlock offers a smile to his parents and awkwardly pats his mother’s back.“I should remind you, Mummy, that Jocelyn prefers to be treated as normally as possible. As though nothing happened.”“Oh, yes. Right, of course, darling.” She pats his cheek. “Anything for your lady.” Mrs. Holmes smiles at him and goes back to talking to Mycroft.However, Sherlock’s face heats up and he widens his eyes, appalled. “M-My what?”Harry comes up to him and pats his back with force, making him huff in surprise, but he smiles. Although, once she is near his ear, she whispers quietly. “Thank you.”“Nothing to thank me for.”“Oh, shut up. I have a million reasons to thank you for.” Harry grins at him, but looks over his shoulder and her eyes brighten. “There’s the first one.”Sherlock looks behind him and sees Jocelyn with her smiling vibrant self, approaching the dinner table with a wave. Her short black hair compliments the dress she’s wearing, making her look so gentle.Sherlock can feel something tug at his chest at the sight of her being embraced by his parents.The others are overjoyed to see her, and Sherlock could have sworn that he saw tears in Mrs. Hudson’s eyes. Everyone was so happy to see her alive and well.Jocelyn hides her smile and takes her seat, while Sherlock sits opposite her. They all sit in silence for a moment before John breaks the ice.“Well, this has got to be the weirdest dinner, isn’t it?”Everyone laughs, apart from the two Holmes brothers—Sherlock limits himself to a quiet smile while Mycroft keeps a neutral expression. If they look around, this odd little family was glued together by Jocelyn and Sherlock.Sherlock stands. “I would like to propose a toast.” He grabs his champagne glass, and the others do the same.Harry reaches for her glass of fruit punch, and Jocelyn mirrors her.Sherlock’s eyes fall onto Jocelyn. “I know that I speak for everyone in this room when I say that we are all incredibly happy that you are home.”Everyone exchanges grins and looks at Jocelyn, who only had eyes on Sherlock.“Whatever lies ahead, whatever comes, it would do you well to keep in mind that we are all here for you, just as we know that you are always here for us all.” Sherlock smiles and raises his glass. “To Jocelyn.”
“To Jocelyn!”
“Hear, hear!”
Everyone clinks their glasses together and Sherlock sits back down, sharing a quick look with Jocelyn before they all begin to pass food bowls between one another to start eating.Everyone is having fun, the table is filled with laughter and lively conversation, but Jocelyn notices how Mycroft appears uncomfortable sitting between his mother and Lestrade. It makes Jocelyn falter for a moment, but she keeps a smile on her face as she eats.Molly asks Jocelyn about her plans after all this, and they were all surprised to hear that she will be applying to Scotland Yard as a forensic scientist again. Mycroft was the only one with a frown on his face upon hearing that, everyone else was—“Thrilled! That’s is one word for it.” Harry points at her brother. “News like this breaks the internet, you know? You should write about her on your blog!”Jocelyn grimaces, signs slowly.Harry stares at her. “What’s she saying?”Sherlock frowns at Jocelyn. “She said that she’s not a big deal and people will forget after a while.”“Forget?” Harry scrunches her nose. “Are we acting like you weren’t on the news for a whole bloody month?”Jocelyn waves her off.“You think too little of yourself, Miss Grant. At the very least, your name has been quite popular over the past years. I doubt anyone could forget the announcement of you being alive.” Says Mycroft, and it makes Jocelyn’s gaze linger on him. “Or better yet, forget your name, for that matter.” Their eyes refuse to break contact with one another.Sherlock looks between them in a questioning manner. “I think we should save this discussion for tomorrow. For now, we’re normal people having dinner.”“Nothing is normal about this.” Mycroft mutters to his brother, and everyone is beginning to look uncomfortable.“Mycroft,” Greg looks at him with a stern look. “Sherlock’s right. Let’s save the business talk for tomorrow. Right now, this is family.”Jocelyn looks away from Mycroft and tries to focus on her food instead. Sherlock watches her with concern. Mycroft exhales deeply and puts on a humorless smile before he continues to eat, and everyone relaxes as they go back to one another’s discussions.Harry leans over to Jocelyn. “You okay?”She nods with a smile, waving her off to say not to worry about her.“You know I’m going to be there with you tomorrow, right?” Harry reaches over to place her hand on Jocelyn’s. “I’m not leaving you to be alone. Not this time.”Jocelyn stares at her with soft eyes, and Harry kisses her hand before hugging her. Sherlock smiles a bit and continues to eat.The entire table is alive again, even Mycroft cracks a smile when Greg talks about his work. It was a lovely dinner, and everyone enjoyed. Jocelyn is so happy and content as she looks around, seeing the happy faces on her friends’ faces while they share food with each other, and she even watches Rosie gurgle on John’s lap, and the others coo as she tries laughing.After a while, most of the bowls of food are empty. Everyone is sipping their champagne while telling Jocelyn about everything she missed while she was gone. Although, the next one is something that surprises Jocelyn.Molly asks Jocelyn to be one of her bridesmaids, for the wedding next week.Jocelyn gasps and clutches her chest, nodding immediately. Everyone cheers for them.“I also have something to announce.” Lestrade glances at Mycroft, who groans and hides his own face with his palm. “Oh, come on. Let me one up Molly!”Sherlock snickers at the sight of his brother appearing flustered.“Mycroft and I are moving in together. I’ll be living here by tomorrow.” Greg grins, raising his glass.Mr. and Mrs. Holmes gasp in surprise and Mrs. Holmes goes to smooch Mycroft’s cheek, making him grimace and pull away.“I don’t see why anyone is making a big deal over two people living under a roof together.” Mycroft huffs.Greg chuckles. “Well, it’s a big deal if the other half is a Holmes.”Everyone laughs, while Sherlock and Mycroft frown in confusion. Sherlock looks at Jocelyn, who shrugs as if to say, “It’s funny because it’s true.”Sherlock playfully glares at her before turning to Greg. “What about your daughter?”“She’ll be living here, too. We talked it over, it’s all sorted. She likes Mycroft.”Sherlock snorts. “I highly doubt that—”Jocelyn kicks him under the table.“I mean… that is wonderful news.” Sherlock corrected. “We also have some news to share.”Jocelyn widens her eyes when Sherlock gestures to her as if she should say it. She begins to sign to him, and no one else knows what she’s saying other than Mycroft and Sherlock. The others just cluelessly stare at the pair.Me? You’re the one who can speak! Sherlock can practically see the words flash across her eyes.“I’m not going to say it!”I’m not either, because I literally can’t. He reads that from the way she sassily crossed her arms.“For God’s sake.” Mycroft sighs. “Sherlock just tell them.”Sherlock huffs and musters a smile at everyone, who are staring at them in confusion. “Before our mission to find Jocelyn, we believed we were only looking for one person. As it turns out, this was not a one-person rescue mission, but rather, two.” Sherlock flashes a soft smile at them.Greg tilts his head. “What does that mean?”Harry stares at Jocelyn, and it sinks into her. She gasps and covers her mouth. Jocelyn’s eyes fill with tears as she grins widely.“Jocelyn… oh, my God!” Molly hugs her with a laugh.Mrs. Forbes and Mrs. Hudson share a soft look as they smile. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes exclaim loudly and goes to embrace their youngest son, who cringes at the affection.Lestrade stares in confusion and glances at Mycroft. “What’s happening?”“It means Jocelyn is pregnant, Gregory. With my brother’s child.”“Right.” Lestrade nods and it takes a moment before it hits him. “Oh!”Mycroft rolls his eyes and hides a happy smile by drinking his glass of wine.“Oh, my! Grandparents! I never thought I’d ever see this day!” Mrs. Holmes tearfully announces and turns to Mycroft. “And you’re going to be an uncle!”Mycroft freezes at the thought, and stares at his brother with wide eyes once the realization dawns on him as well. For the first time in a while, Sherlock gives him a genuine smile that reaches his blue eyes. Mycroft softens at the sight of his baby brother looking truly happy.“Jesus, a smaller Sherlock. Who would’ve thought?” Lestrade chuckles.Harry just stares at Jocelyn. “How long have you been pregnant?”“Almost five months,” Sherlock answers for her, grinning.“Well, that explains the big dress…” Harry tries chuckling, but she watches Jocelyn with an uncertain gaze.Jocelyn glances at her best friend and just happily smiles at her.***After their dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes retire to their rooms. Mrs. Hudson and Jocelyn’s aunt both go home right after embracing Jocelyn. Mycroft retires to his room as well. The rest of them go to the living room sofas surrounded by bottles of wine and orange juice while talking to one another.Harry enters the kitchen where Jocelyn is putting away her empty dish. The eldest Watson gives her a stern look and crosses her arms. “Jocelyn.” She meets Harry’s gaze with reluctance. “Pregnant? Really?” Harry softly asks with a concerned frown.She slowly nods and proceeds to drink her juice.“But, Jocelyn, your body—”Jocelyn shakes her head and cuts her off, pulling out a notepad and writing down as fast as she could, “I’m happy.”Harry worriedly takes her wrist. “Your body won’t be able to take it.”Jocelyn frowns at her, writing again. “Five months, and nothing has happened.”“Yet. Nothing has happened yet.” Harry expresses her concern. “Does Sherlock know?”Jocelyn clenches her jaw.“You have to tell him, Jocelyn. This is serious.”She screws her eyes shut for a moment before writing on her notepad. She tears the page and pushes it into Harry’s hand, glaring as she leaves the room. Harry watches her leave before unfolding the sheet of paper.
I can take care of myself.
Harry sighs, palming her forehead.In the living room, everyone is sat on the floor. Greg, John and Sherlock’s fancy suits are now missing their ties and jackets, which were laid out of the chair nearby. It appears that they were all sharing a laugh just before Jocelyn walks in and sit next to Molly.“You know what just occurred to me?” John asks.“What’s that?” Molly asks as she fills Greg’s glass with wine while Sherlock drinks his own.“I’ve never seen Sherlock and Jocelyn kiss.”Sherlock coughs and pulls his glass of wine away from his lips. Jocelyn suppresses a laugh, but her smile fades a bit once Harry walks back to the living room. They share a brief look before Harry sits on the ground next to her brother.“It concerns me that you even spared a thought about that.” Sherlock stares at John with a disgusted expression.“No, seriously, you’ve seen Mary and I kiss a lot now, but I’ve never even seen you do anything close like that with Jocelyn.” John teases, making Jocelyn roll her eyes in amusement.“Don’t be ridiculous, John.”“Everyone in this room has thought about it!” John interjects, and the others chuckle.“You are all being incredibly inappropriate.” Sherlock scrunches his nose in distaste, but there is a slight flush on his cheeks.Jocelyn sips her orange juice with amusement. They all continue talking about tonight’s dinner and everything funny that happened. After a while, the laughter dies down.John sighs. “Tomorrow’s going to be stressful, hm?”Greg nods in agreement. “Yeah. The press is going to have a field day. I’m sure about it. Not only are we going to announce Jocelyn’s alive, we’re going to tell everyone that Moriarty could be, too. It wasn’t easy to convince everyone that the whole TV screen thing with Moriarty was just someone messing around.”Molly nervously fiddles with her thumbs. “Is Jim really alive?”“We don’t know exactly.” Sherlock glances at Jocelyn, who is just thoughtfully caressing her bump. “We just know that Moriarty’s network is active again. The sooner people know about Jocelyn, the safer she can be by being close to the public eye. None of Moran’s people can get to her without risking exposing themselves.”Everyone had determined looks on their faces, but when Sherlock looks at Jocelyn, she appears to be deep in thought.After a while, the rest of them go home. Jocelyn kisses Rosie goodbye, and hugs John, Molly and Lestrade.Harry embraces her warmly and whispers to her ear. “Take care of yourself.”Jocelyn smiles weakly and watches their cars drive away.Sherlock walks up to her. “Alright?”She nods and turns around to look at him. They share a look just before she pushes up on her toes to press their lips together, right in the middle of Mycroft’s porch. She pulls away slowly and has a smile on her face while Sherlock appears startled.Jocelyn writes on her notepad, holding it up for him to read.
You think I wouldn’t kiss you in front of our friends?
Sherlock softens. “It’s not like that.”Jocelyn tilts her head in a questioning yet teasing way.He caves, sighing. “This side of me is reserved solely for you. I would never allow anyone else see me in such a way.”Jocelyn’s amusement melts into another emotion. Something raw, and it burns through him as well. She steps forward and kisses him again, but this time, in a slower and deeper way. Something Sherlock is not entirely used to yet, but he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. Jocelyn smiles into him and he chuckles before pulling her back inside to keep her warm.***Jocelyn stares up at the sky, relaxing under the stars as she inhales the fresh air of night. She changed into some pajamas with a dressing gown over it. Sherlock is downstairs, already busying himself with some toes he got from Molly. It amused Jocelyn to see Sherlock giddily coming back to his odd experiments. His subtle smile could be the equivalent of him energetically prancing around in excitement.Tomorrow, she will be at Scotland Yard with Lestrade, where it will be announced that she is alive and confirm that Moriarty is active.Still deep in her own thoughts, the door behind her opens. She turns and sees Mycroft.“I was told by someone that you used to come to the balcony during events that overwhelmed you.”Jocelyn looks up at the stars again.Mycroft stares at her for a moment, coming to her side. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”She shrugs cluelessly as if to say she has no idea what to feel.“Everyone of importance will know about you. It’s a big risk, revealing yourself.” Mycroft carefully words. “Who knows who might come after you and not care about being discovered. Are you prepared for that?”Still, Jocelyn continues to smile as she lets out a contented sigh.Although, Mycroft only exhales, looking up at the sky as well. “You can cut the innocent act, Jocelyn.”She pauses to blink, but keeps her eyes on the night sky.“I know it works perfectly well with my brother, but you cannot fool me. As the American saying goes, never bullshit a bullshitter.” Mycroft states without moving a muscle.Then, the smile on her face fades away. For a moment, she stays still before turning her head. Their eyes meet, and the light in hers are gone—only to be replaced by an intense disconcertment.“Unlike my brother, I don’t hold myself back from picking up a few deductions here and there. You’d be amazed what I’ve read off you.” Mycroft calmly informs.Jocelyn stares at Mycroft in silence, and her expression slowly morphs into a blanker one.“I know what you’ve done.”She straightens up and turns her body to fully face him, and she crosses her arms.“But you can trust me, Miss Grant.”Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him before opening her bag and pulling out the wire with a broken bulb. Mycroft sighs as she holds it up with a humorless smile, signing to him, “Trust?”“That was just for precaution.”Jocelyn shakes her head, holding his gaze for a long minute.Mycroft’s eyes turn cold. “My only concern now is the safety of my brother and the child you carry. You no longer matter to me.” Mycroft calmly words.She gives a small smile and steps forward, signing, “This is not what you think.”“Oh? Then, why haven’t you told Sherlock? You had a whole week to tell him.”She looks away from him, and he huffs.“As expected, you are hiding secrets again.” Mycroft briefly closes his eyes. “Do the two of you expect to become good parents if neither of you are truthful to one another?” Mycroft grits his teeth, taking a step forward to inch his face closer to hers. “Please remember that all of this… I did not do for you. I did this for my brother, and this child.”A flash of hurt appears in her eyes for a split second, but she forces herself to recover.“You are going to tell Sherlock everything soon, or I will.”Jocelyn pulls a restrained smile, signing. “Is that a threat?”“No, of course not. I cannot threaten the mother of my future niece or nephew.” Mycroft steps back, offering one of his humorless smiles. “Though, I prefer not to reach a situation where I do have to threaten you.”Anger appears across her face, but she says nothing. Instead, the corner of her lips briefly twitch into a hint of a smirk, almost as if she is amazed by how Mycroft is talking to her.“Good. I think we have an understanding. If Sherlock doesn’t know soon, I will tell him myself. It doesn’t matter if he believes me or not, at least he will think about it and possibly confront you.” Mycroft briefly glances at his watch. “Good night, Miss Grant. I hope that tonight’s dinner was to your liking.”He turns and calmly leaves. Jocelyn watches him go, and as soon as the doors are closed, her confident demeanor disappears and is replaced by an anxious one. She shakily gasps and covers her mouth, eyes closing in distress as she grips the marble railing of the balcony with her twitchy hands, and she tries steadying her breath.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Disoriented. That was the only word Jocelyn can think of as she is driven to Scotland Yard. She can see many journalists lining up outside the building, waiting to be allowed inside to witness the big announcement. It suddenly occurs to Jocelyn just how big of a deal this is.While she sits in the backseat, Sherlock glances at her. “It’ll be fine.”“Yeah, everyone is just going to find out you’re alive, and you were kidnapped by an evil professor and he’s best friends with his—” Harry looks at Sherlock from next to Jocelyn. “—evil nemesis, who’s most likely alive.”“That… that doesn’t make things better, actually.” John blinks at his sister from the passenger’s seat, while Sherlock forms a face of horror.At the conference, everyone looked curious over why the officers all look pale. It wasn’t until Lestrade finally unveils the truth; Jocelyn’s body was wrongfully identified, and that she is alive.Then, the crowd begins to go wild and yelling individual questions while Lestrade grimaces a bit from the flashing lights of their cameras. In the other room, all the phones belonging to Sherlock, Harry and John begin to ring rapidly.Sherlock checks his and sees his emails being spammed by various people informing him of the matter.“The media is a scary place. They say one thing, and everyone laps it up.” John mutters.Harry gives him a look. “Don’t you have a blog? Aren’t you on media?”Jocelyn snorts while Sherlock chuckles. John frowns. “In my defense, I’m quite honest on my blog.”In the conference room, it takes a while until the journalists calmed down a bit and Lestrade continues to speak. “We can confirm that Dr. Jocelyn Grant is alive, and her kidnapper is Sebastian Moran, under the alias of Professor Lawrence Carter of Cambridge University.”At the mention of Laurie’s name, Jocelyn steadies her breath and watches the way how everyone seems to be confused.“Professor Carter worked alongside Dr. Grant, without knowing of his real identity and involvement with James Moriarty.” Lestrade says. “We can confirm that Moriarty’s network is active and is being controlled by Sebastian Moran.”The crowd erupts in murmurings again before many of them raised their hands for a question, asking where Dr. Grant could be.“She is safe. She’s in the other room as we speak.” Lestrade casually adds in. “There was a rescue operation for her a week ago, and she was safely taken her home.”In the other room, Sherlock leans over to Jocelyn. “Taking credit for something he didn’t do.” He whispers, and makes Jocelyn grin and roll her eyes.Without any fear in her eyes, Jocelyn stands and leaves the room. Sherlock blinks a few times after being frozen in his seat and he glances at John, who is trying his best not to grin. Sherlock clears his throat and stands as well before following her outside.Jocelyn adjusts the scarf around her neck and walks into the room, listening to the rapid shutter noise from different cameras.Sherlock stands nearby, shielded by the wall. He watches as Jocelyn is brought out to the table, and the cameras flash while the crowd murmurs in utter disbelief.He watches as a smile grows on her face, making him furrow his brows a bit. She seems entirely calm and casual about it all, as if she had been ready all this time.Jocelyn cranes her neck to meet his eyes and she smiles and turns back to the crowd. Now, the whole country knows she’s alive.***Sherlock pulls her inside an empty room and before their lips could touch, his phone rings loudly in his jacket pocket. Sherlock sighs and pulls it out, only to see his brother’s name on the screen. They share an amused look as Sherlock answers the phone, and Jocelyn steps back to adjust the scarf around her neck again.“You cannot even provide ten minutes?”“Apologies, brother mine. While I’d be more than willing to let you… have a break,” Mycroft’s tone makes Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Jocelyn is quite needed at the Cabinet Office.”Sherlock frowns. “Cabinet? What does your government want with her?”
“I suggest that both of you should come at once. You can leave the conference now.”
Mycroft hangs up and Sherlock gives Jocelyn an apologetic look. “It seems that the entire cabinet wants to speak with you.” Jocelyn gives him a puzzled look and he sighs. “Mycroft said everything is alright, we just need to show up at places he says we should go to.”Jocelyn leans back into the wall with a sigh, her fingers caressing the hair on his nape.“Don’t worry. I’ll be by your side the entire time.”***“It’s best if we question her alone.” Mycroft glances back at the room where Lady Smallwood and the others are.“Absolutely not.” Sherlock repeats as he glares at his brother.“They are going to interrogate her. This is unacceptable!”“You don’t have jurisdiction over the case, Sherlock.”“So, then provide it to me! You have jurisdiction over who is allowed inside. Now, you choose strangers over someone she knows?” Sherlock gives him an appalled look. “This is not what we agreed upon.”“Brother mine, Jocelyn is the sole witness of James Moriarty’s network. The only witness with no motive to join it, which means that she can willingly provide information that will help us track all of them down. We need to know everything she knows to be able to find Sebastian Moran.”Sherlock huffs and shakes his head. “You aren’t allowed to interrogate her alone and without a lawyer.”“Does she need a lawyer?” Mycroft raises his brows.“Contrary to popular belief, brother mine, I’m not entirely clueless about how the government can act as vultures. You will not involve Jocelyn in that.”They both feel taps on their arm, and they turn to see Jocelyn glaring at both of them. She gestures to herself as if to say she is standing right there. She follows behind Mycroft into the room, but Sherlock gently pulls her back. “You don’t have to do this.”She waves him off, as if to say she will be fine.Sherlock hesitantly lets her go. Jocelyn enters the office and sits down in front of the three other people. Lady Smallwood, Sir Erwin and Mycroft.Lady Smallwood has a neutral expression, and she looks at Mycroft, who stands beside Jocelyn. “May I present Dr. Jocelyn Grant. She cannot speak verbally, however, she is able to sign averagely. And I will translate.”“Very well, Mr. Holmes.” Lady Smallwood nods.Mycroft goes to his own seat and gives Jocelyn an encouraging look.“So, Dr. Grant, will you tell us about your connections to Sebastian Moran?”Jocelyn sighs and signs to Mycroft, ending it with a shrug.“She says she doesn’t have any connections to him other than the fact that she used to know him as Lawrence Carter, her co-professor. He was her friend, until he kidnapped and tortured her.” Mycroft barely looks away from her, analyzing her blunt words.“Were there any instances where Professor Carter hinted his alliance with James Moriarty during your friendship?”Jocelyn shakes her head.Lady Smallwood writes something down. “Why do you think he kidnapped you?”Mycroft audibly sighs. “We’ve discussed this. It is because Dr. Grant possesses—”“You’re right. We discussed this. I don’t recall Dr. Grant being part of that conversation.” Another man, Sir Edwin, cuts Mycroft off midsentence. “We should primarily discuss how much she knows about this network.”Mycroft holds back an annoyed expression. “We are getting to that.”Jocelyn glances between them with a cautious expression. Mycroft offers her a nod for her to continue. She begins to sign slowly while they wait impatiently.“She got kidnapped because Moriarty planted a keycode on her. It opens Moriarty’s data system. Its contents remain unknown, even to Moran.” Mycroft translates.“Did he extract it from you?”“It cannot be extracted from her if she never knew it existed.” Mycroft tetchily points out to them, and Jocelyn raises her brows at him. It’s almost as if Mycroft is protecting her from these people, which is somewhat a surprise considering their conversation from the night before.“Do you have any idea what the system contains?”Jocelyn signs to Mycroft and he leans back in surprise, his lips parting. The others expectantly stare at him.“Information that Sebastian Moran might use against the British government.”Lady Smallwood furrows her brows at her. “What sort of information?”Jocelyn stares at her for a moment. However, Mycroft softens when she slowly smiles at Lady Smallwood, and she eyes Mycroft.Mycroft leans back in his seat. “She’s not going to tell us.”“Dr. Grant, you are obligated by the Crown to answer our questions. Disobedience can count as treason.” Sir Erwin sternly warns her.Jocelyn shifts in her seat, furrowing her brows at them and signing calmly.Mycroft exhales and briefly closes his eyes. “She knows her rights. It is not treason, Sir Edwin.”“No, it is called leverage, which then leads to blackmail.”Jocelyn tilts her head and signs to Mycroft, which makes him sigh again. “It’s not blackmail if the government isn’t hiding anything either.”Lady Smallwood raises her brows. “You think we have anything to hide, Doctor?”She offers another kind smile towards them, but Mycroft knows better than assume it was meant to be kind. She meets Mycroft’s eyes and signs to him, making him widen his eyes. For the ones in the room that understood sign, they stand and begin to act defensive.“What is she saying?” Lady Smallwood quietly demands from Mycroft, who only stares at Jocelyn as she leans back in her seat and crosses her legs.“She…” Mycroft narrows his eyes at Jocelyn, who smiles at him, but in a more genuine way than she did with the others. As though she knows what she is doing. “She claims that she knows everyone in this building, and whether or not they’ve been involved with Moriarty’s business.”Mycroft and Jocelyn never broke their mutual gaze as s Sir Erwin begins to go on and on about how offensive it is to accuse powerful government officials of such a thing.Lady Smallwood stands and dismisses the whole room, which makes Mycroft follow and grab Jocelyn to lead her out of the room. “Are you out of your mind? How could you announce something like that so carelessly?” Mycroft scoffs.She shoots him a look before they enter his private office where Sherlock is waiting. As soon as they enter the room, Sherlock stands and appears relieved to see Jocelyn.Mycroft explains what happened, and makes it a point that from her actions, she might have earned a few enemies in the cabinet.Sherlock frowns. “I told you that this was a horrible idea. Sending Jocelyn inside a room full of politicians? She shouldn’t be dragged into this.”“It doesn’t matter if she wasn’t involved before. She is now.” Mycroft mutters as Jocelyn walks around the office to explore. “What information against the government does Moriarty have?”Jocelyn raises her brows at Mycroft, to which he sighs.“Do we have to force it out of you, Miss Grant? I hope it won’t come to that.”Sherlock walks up defensively to Jocelyn’s side. “I hope it won’t as well.”“I can offer you protection. Whatever you may ask for, we can grant you that. You don’t have to reveal the contents of Moriarty’s system. What I ask from you in return are names. People who are in high positions that have been involved with Moriarty.” Mycroft tells her.Jocelyn smiles, signing towards him. Mycroft sighs.Sherlock gives his brother a look. “She’s asking if you’ll put them to prison if she reveals who they are.”“I will do everything I can to give them the consequences they deserve.”Sherlock frowns. “But not imprisonment?”“From what I gather, involvement with Moriarty can taint names. However, I can only guess that the names Dr. Grant can cause a lot of fuss if imprisonment becomes the only solution.”“You’re saying that you can’t be certain that these people can go to prison?”“I’m saying that if they all go to prison, there won’t be any more people left. Countless of people consulted Moriarty.” Mycroft pointedly says.Sherlock scoffs. “Your job as government officials is to keep this country safe. People involved in Moriarty’s network should not be allowed jurisdiction in the cabinet, nor any political aspects in our country.”“Yes, I agree. However, we do need to keep them. A necessary evil, if you will.”“Of course. Because the last time you kept a necessary evil it all went well.” Sherlock snaps back.Mycroft silences and turns his head away.“These necessary evils you speak of is not a justification for giving political power to evil persons. If that is how this governing system works, then we do not want to be involved in it. Now, Jocelyn has been given a front row seat to the horrors of Moriarty’s network, which is why I would prefer spending the afternoon with her alone.” Sherlock says in a quickfire, and Jocelyn stares at him with astonishment. “If you need anything else, I recommend keeping it to yourself and leaving us be, because this is not her fight. Good morning.”Sherlock takes his coat and gently grabs Jocelyn’s arm, leading her outside the office. Mycroft frowns as he watches them go.***They arrive in Baker Street, and Jocelyn feels her whole chest fill with warmth upon the familiar flat.Now that everyone knows she’s alive, she can stay here again without worrying too much. She turns to meet Sherlock’s eyes, and she sees how happy he is to finally be able to take her here. To their home.“Welcome home.” Sherlock approaches her and his large hands slowly caresses the well-hidden bump of her stomach. “We should talk about it.”Jocelyn tilts her head in confusion.“You never mentioned to me that you knew who were involved with the network.”Her smile fades a bit, and she waves it off as if to say it was not important.“Not important? Jocelyn, the names you have can affect the entirety of Europe, which also impacts out continents. People would want to silence you from coming forward.” He frowns at her. “And now you’re saying that Moriarty is keeping more information that can make things worse?”Jocelyn lowers her head down at the wooden floor for a moment.Sherlock glances around the room for a moment. “Jocelyn, you have to tell me the important details. Is there anything else I should know before we go forward with… all these law things?”Jocelyn approaches him and places her hands on his shoulders. She offers a small smile, signing, “Don’t worry, I have everything under control.” Sherlock relaxes and he looks into her eyes, seeing the brightness of the green in them. They both smile a bit before leaning in. However, the doorbell from downstairs rings.Sherlock sighs but doesn’t step back from her. “Interrupted yet again. Is there something the universe would like to say to us?”She rolls her eyes in amusement, nudging him so he could answer the door. He watches her take her notebook and sit in his chair to write before he walks downstairs and answers the front door.He reels back in surprise to see Camille on his doorstep. She appears worried.“Miss Lavalle.”“I-I heard the news, I thought to come by and… I just, um…” she trails off. “Can we talk? Like just for a minute.”“Er, now is not exactly an appropriate time…” His eyes catches something on the floor. A white envelope with a wax seal. Sherlock furrows his brows and bends down to take it, seeing Jocelyn’s name written in cursive on the front. The envelope has a waxed seal, with the cursive letter ‘M’ on it.Sherlock tightens his clutch on the envelope, deep in thought. Sherlock hesitates, but finds himself asking what Jocelyn would do in this situation. “Did you see who left this here?”“Uh, no. No one was here when I rang.”“Hm. Well, how can I help you, Miss Lavalle?”Camille watches him carefully. “So… you break into my flat, and then the next day, your girlfriend is alive?”He briefly grimaces at the term. “I apologize, Miss Lavalle. I let my emotions get the best of me, which is why I wrongfully accused you of something.” Sherlock genuinely tells her. “Would you like to come in?”“No, it’s fine. I just… I just wanted to know if you knew about—”“I did not know Jocelyn was alive, no. So, please, do not feel guilty about spending the evening with me two weeks ago.” Sherlock musters a small smile of amusement.Camille lets out a chuckle. “I just didn’t want her to feel weird.”“Why must she?”“You know… I went out with you and stuff. Did she feel upset about it? I don’t want to make things weird between you two.”Sherlock furrows his brows in thought.Camille crosses her arms. “She doesn’t even know, does she?”“No, but it is not a big deal. It was one date, and we had an understanding afterwards, hadn’t we?”“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Camille offers a smile. “Alright, well, I just came by for a quick chat. Thanks, Sherlock.”“Of course. Thank you for visiting.”Camille waves at him goodbye and he briefly returns it before closing the door. Sherlock stares at the envelope thoughtfully.Upstairs, Jocelyn pushes the curtains aside and watches the other young woman cross the street and hail a cab. She could not make out her face, but she can assume that she is… ordinary. Oddly enough, it makes her heart sink for a moment.Sherlock emerges into the flat, holding an envelope. He holds it up to her view, so she can read her name scrawled neatly on it.Jocelyn takes the envelope in confusion, and immediately opens it. She pulls out a single sheet of paper, with a few words handwritten on it.She falters and swallows hard. Her eyes blink, but her body is calm and collected. Jocelyn slowly blows out a shaky breath through her mouth and hands the note to Sherlock before she walks to the window. He furrows his brows together and unfolds the letter, feeling a sudden chill through his body as he reads.
Miss me?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I strongly believe it’s Moriarty. Sebastian would not do anything, as long as we have his brother. Naomi made it a point that Sebastian is much more sentimental and emotional than Silas. He’ll stay in the shadows for a while.”Before Sherlock could continue explaining to John, Jocelyn walks out of the kitchen with tea. The two men offer a smile to greet her.“Good morning. Slept well?” Sherlock asks.Jocelyn takes the client’s chair and sits down, nodding at him. Sherlock looks back at John again. “We need to get Silas to talk. Maybe we can get something out of him and find Sebastian. End all this, once and for all.”“You say that like it’s easy. Silas hasn’t said a word since he got there.”Sherlock glances at Jocelyn. “Has he mentioned anything to you? Any weaknesses we can poke at?”Jocelyn slowly shakes her head apologetically. Sherlock sighs and stands; John does the same. “Well, for now, we should just stay low. We need to protect her.”Jocelyn frowns and walks over towards the sofa to lie down, her hands palming her stomach. When the boys look over at her, she puts on a smile.John pats Sherlock’s shoulder, glancing between them both. “It’s still so weird to see you both look happy together.”Those were John’s last words before he leaves, and after a beat of silence, Sherlock begins chuckling as Jocelyn smiles. Sherlock sits on the floor next to the sofa, fiddling with the letter as she watches him tenderly.His thumb touches the wax seal thoughtfully. “I never asked you something.”Jocelyn furrows her brows, but maintains her small smile.“While you were away, did you ever see Moriarty? Is he alive?”She stares at him for a moment before writing down on her halfway used notepad.
Jim killed himself in front of you.
“I know, but I just…” he sighs and shakes his head. “By the pricking of my thumbs… Shakespeare. Do you remember when you led the orchestra for that play?” He quietly says, reaching for her hand on his shoulder. “I remember how you did your hair, what lipstick you were wearing. What dress you had on. I remember just watching you lead people into your compositions.”Her smile widens.Sherlock briefly returns it. “By the pricking of my thumb… intuitions are difficult to ignore. I lack the arrogance to ignore details.” He looks down at the M on the wax seal. “I have this strange feeling. It’s as if Moriarty is nearby. He’s so close to me. Too close.”Jocelyn worriedly rubs his shoulder, and he offers a grateful glance. She watches him lift himself up to make his way to the kitchen to continue a small experiment. Jocelyn takes out her notebook and begins to write again.***“So, where is she now?”“Jocelyn is at John and Mary’s. She insisted on spending the day with her godchild.”“Practicing, then?”Sherlock sighs. “Why did you call me here?”“Silas spoke today.”Sherlock shifts in his seat with wide eyes. “What did you do?”“We asked him what it would take for him to talk.”“And?”“He only said one word.” Mycroft locks gazes with his brother. “Jocelyn.”Sherlock blinks and analyzes. Silas wants to talk to Jocelyn. “I am not allowing that psychopath in the same room as her, if that is why you summoned me here.”“I completely agree with you. However, the cabinet disagrees even more, which makes me wonder what more this government is covering up. I have feeling that they fear what Silas might say in Jocelyn’s presence.”“I’m not letting anyone use her for their agendas. My priority is her, not the government. Call me when something useful comes up. Keep me informed.” Sherlock stands to walk away.“She will never be safe as long as Sebastian is out there, and as long as the government is against her.” Mycroft’s words make Sherlock stop by the door. “If her accusation goes beyond these walls, we all know the lengths people will go to in order to sustain their title.”“As I said, Jocelyn is no longer the British government’s concern. She is her own person, she’s not ‘evidence’ for anyone to get rid of. If anyone tries to harm her, they go through me.”“Brother mine, I may work for the government, but my priority is your safety.”Sherlock scoffs and rolls his eyes.“I would like you to reconsider. Tell her what happened with Silas and let her decide on her own.”Sherlock glares at him. “You know she can never say no to you, which is why I have to do it myself. No.”Mycroft watches his brother leave, and he palms his face in frustration.Meanwhile, Jocelyn grins as Rosie crawls on the colorful mat while giggling. Mary is nearby, folding a few blankets as she watches her daughter and Jocelyn together.“She likes you.”Jocelyn meets Mary’s eyes, and Mary hesitantly smiles before turning back to the blankets.“She normally stays quiet around new people, but she’s being really loud now.” Mary hums.Jocelyn smiles down at Rosie and looks at Mary again. This time, her gaze lingers.Mary feels eyes on her and she turns to see Jocelyn staring at her. “Naomi told you a lot about me, didn’t she? Always the chatterbox, that woman. Never could bring herself to lie.” She snorts as she continues to fold. “She tried lying to someone once when we were younger, and it physically made her sick. She had to see the nurse.” Mary chuckles at the memory.Jocelyn musters a small smile and Rosie coos from the floor while playing with a stuffed animal.“Naomi and I grew up together in a school. Moriarty found the school, and he burned it to ash. Hundreds of people died that day. Moriarty found me, and asked me to join him. I wouldn’t go unless he took Naomi with him as well. He agreed. He gave us everything. In exchange for all of that, he wanted us to kill for him.” Mary reluctantly says. “We were loyal to him. We understood his goal. To ruin any person who abuses their power. We understood that. Hell, I even believed in it.” Mary sighs while shaking her head. “It wasn’t until he changed course. He started to make deals with people. Innocent people were being killed, being jailed, and that was something I didn’t want to take part in. I only kill people who deserve it. So, I left. Moriarty let me go without a fight.”Jocelyn gives her an uncertain look before writing down on a piece of paper and holding it up. “Why go back to Moriarty?”She cracks a small smile. “Naomi is the one that meets with Moriarty’s clients, not him. And Naomi met Irene Adler. Moriarty feared that Naomi would leave him for her. I only went back because I thought he would hurt Naomi or something.”Jocelyn softens, remembering the way Naomi talked about Irene as if she was the only person in the world.“That’s how I met Sebastian, around the same time Moriarty met Sherlock… and Sherlock changed everything. It was like he wanted Sherlock to catch him. He was obsessed.” Mary scoffs. “Irene made a deal with Moriarty. She’ll blackmail Mycroft, play a game with Sherlock, in exchange for Naomi’s freedom. Moriarty agreed. I think you remember how that failed.” Mary sighs. “It didn’t matter if Irene lost or won. Irene wins, and Mycroft is under Moriarty’s thumb. Irene loses, and he gets to keep Naomi. Moriarty would still win either way.”Rosie hums, and Jocelyn leans down to hand her another toy.Mary continues. “Naomi was loyal to Moriarty. When Moriarty died and Naomi was finally free, Irene went looking for her again, but she found out about Magnussen. Irene realizes that she can get Naomi back and live a normal life if she gets rid of Magnussen and Moran. So, Irene went to you. The rest is history.”Jocelyn exhales and leans back into the sofa, thinking about everything Mary just revealed to her.“Naomi and Irene do love each other, but Naomi just loved Moriarty more. She’s always going to pick Moriarty over anything.” Mary pauses with folding. “So, it makes me wonder why she would help you.”Jocelyn shrugs, practically saying she doesn’t know either.Mary sighs. “Well, thank God Moriarty’s dead.”Jocelyn watches her carefully before turning to Rosie, who is still so engrossed with her plush toys to even understand their conversation. It makes her smile a bit. The pure innocence of children, it is so fascinating to watch.John walks down the stairs. “Sorry, can’t find it.”“Oh, you’re useless. If I find the rattle, don’t think I’m not going to hold it against you.” Mary kisses John’s cheek on the way upstairs.John takes Mary’s place and folds the baby clothes. “So, what were you two talking about?”Jocelyn writes on the paper and shows him. “Naomi and Irene.”“Right. The lovebirds.” John sighs. “Mary still thinks that Naomi was coerced and manipulated by Moriarty. Leaving Irene to be Moriarty’s… slave? Doesn’t feel like it was a conscious decision. I mean, Irene is mad and all, but leaving her for an even bigger psychopath? Makes me wonder what goes through people’s minds.”Jocelyn frowns a bit. She writes down on her paper.
How was Sherlock when he was grieving me?
John meets her eyes in surprise. “You know?”Jocelyn nods, mouthing, “I figured it out.”He relaxes and purses his lips. John tells her about how Sherlock went missing for weeks, and they found him nearly dying in an abandoned warehouse. Jocelyn looks away and steadies her breath.“I’ve never seen Mycroft that terrified.” John presses his lips together. “When he got out of the hospital, Sherlock forced himself to be clean and meet Rosie. He didn’t want to meet her while looking his lowest.” John musters a smile, wanting to cheer her up at least.Jocelyn sniffles and sharply exhales, slowly picking up Rosie and place her on her lap.“You should’ve seen Sherlock’s face when he saw Rosie for the first time. For a moment, he was happy. It makes me wonder what he would look like once you two welcome yours into the world.”Jocelyn and John look at each other with a grateful smile. Jocelyn looks away and fiddles with her pen before writing down on the paper. John folds the blankets and waits for her to finish writing, he looks up when she shows him the paper.
Who’s Camille Lavalle?
John meets her eyes and shows a bit of reluctance. “Camille is the leader of a self-help grief group therapy. They met when Sherlock went to some meetings.”Jocelyn furrows her brows. Sherlock went to grief groups? Because he was grieving her? It feels like something she never thought could happen.She watches John carefully, and he appears to be withholding more information than he should. It makes her frown and write down. “And?”“Sherlock, he, um… he kind of, sort of… erm…”Jocelyn gives him a suspicious look before her face softens in realization.John grimaces. “But it was just one time. One date. Sherlock asked her just once.”He was the one who asked her? She swallows nervously and looks away, cradling the baby in her lap as she stares thoughtfully ahead of herself.Sherlock never asks anyone out. Hell, he never asked Jocelyn out properly until ten years later!John almost hesitates to look at her and it makes Jocelyn even more anxious. She writes down on her paper.
How did the date go?
“You know what? I think this should be a conversation between you and Sherlock. I don’t think he’d like it if I’m the one who—ow, ow, ow, alright! Fine!” He whines when she pouts and pinches his side. “Sherlock tried to, um… kiss her.”Jocelyn’s heart drops and her lips part in surprise.“But they didn’t! She didn’t allow it. He even broke in our home in the middle of the night to rant about it, too. It was kind of funny…” he trails off when he sees the worried look on Jocelyn’s face. “You have nothing to worry about. The moment he found out you were alive, Camille practically stopped existing.”That didn’t exactly make her feel better. If anything, it made her feel even worse, and she gently lowers Rosie back to the floor so she could play with her toys.Why would he go on a date with her? It was not for a case. Mycroft would not let him go near one, so that means, it was a genuine date with no ulterior motives. It makes Jocelyn’s stomach shrivel.Jocelyn musters a smile towards John, as if to tell him that she is fine. Harry comes back an hour later, and she spots Jocelyn sitting by the window. As soon as Harry arrives, Jocelyn stands to greet her with a hug. Harry chuckles and cups her cheeks. “You alright?”Jocelyn writes something down on a paper and shows it to Harry. The other woman smiles as she reads. However, her smile fades as she finishes reading and she glances back at Jocelyn with a surprised look.***Later that night, Sherlock gets home, and pours himself a glass of scotch. He stands by the window and observes the streets. Under his breath, he mutters to himself. “Nocte Domum.”A soft knock from behind him causes Sherlock to turn and see Jocelyn by the kitchen doorway. She is wearing an oversized shirt reaching her mid-thigh and her hand settles on her stomach. He softens at the sight of her, and instantly, his stress levels reduced.She flashes him a smile and approaches the decanter as well. He watches as she traces her fingers on the glass container.Sherlock suppresses a smirk. “You miss it. Drinking.”She scrunches her nose as if to say she doesn’t, but Sherlock knows better. So, she sighs and regrettably nods. A brief smile grows on his face, and she comes near him. Jocelyn takes his glass of scotch and puts it on the table, with Sherlock eyeing her curiously.She poorly signs to him, “I have… something to tell you.”Sherlock straightens his back. “I have something to tell you as well.”Jocelyn appears surprised for a moment, but she gestures towards him as if he should go first.“Oh, no. You came to me first. You should go first.” Sherlock nods, smiling a bit.Jocelyn slowly nods as well and fiddles with her fingers for a moment before signing, “I’m moving back to my house.”“Your… old house? Why?”Jocelyn nervously smiles, signing, “I miss being there.”“Right. Of course.” Sherlock pauses. “I will pack our things right away.”Jocelyn widens her eyes and shakes her head. “No. You can stay here, of course. You don’t have to come with me.”“You can’t live on your own, Jocelyn. You’re pregnant.”
“I won’t be alone. Harry’s going to stay with me.”
“Oh. I see…”Jocelyn keeps her smile and signs, “It would be fine. Harry will be there. She’s moving back to London.”“She never mentioned.” Sherlock could not hide the confusion appearing on his face.Jocelyn clasps her hands once and smiles at him again, gesturing towards him as if to say it’s his turn to talk, but Sherlock tilts his head.“Just out of curiosity… why the sudden decision to leave Baker Street?”Jocelyn pauses for a moment, but she signs to Sherlock, “I… miss Harry. I… want to spend… more time with her.”“You can’t spend time with her and come home to Baker Street once the day ends? Jocelyn, your life is still in danger.”She offers an apologetic expression, reaching up to cup his cheek. She signs to him, “I don’t want you to spend all your time protecting me.”“You are not a waste of my time, Jocelyn. Protecting you is my duty. Both as the father of the child you’re carrying, and your…” Sherlock trails off, unsure how to continue.She eyes him carefully, tilting her head downwards as if she’s unsure how to feel if he continues his sentence.He hesitates, but a sigh leaves his mouth. “I will let you move back to your house, but you have to let me take safety precautions before you go, alright?”Jocelyn nods.Sherlock presses his lips into a thin line. “Anyway, when you told me to convince John and Mycroft that you were truly dead, I had to convince myself as well. I… rewrote my memories about seeing you in New Orleans and made myself believe you were dead. I grieved you for two months. I relapsed, but forced myself to stay clean.”He sees the way her face turns expectantly, almost as if she’s urging him to say more. About a particular new person in his life, perhaps.“Say something.”Jocelyn relaxes upon realizing that that’s all he had to say. So, she lifts her shoulder for a shrug.Sherlock reels back. “You knew? Did Mycroft tell you? John?”She shakes her head, mouthing, “I figured it out.”“How?”She takes her notepad and writes.
You were too shocked to see me by the pool. Something was wrong.
Sherlock softens and he stares back at her. Their gazes burn through one another, but they keep their distance. Sherlock does not know what went wrong, but he can feel how thick the atmosphere between them has shifted.Jocelyn musters another smile before she rubs her bump and begins walking towards the bedroom. Sherlock stands frozen by the window, wondering what on earth just happened.As she enters the bedroom, Jocelyn exhales deeply in relief before sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks over to her suitcase and continues to pack the things she left in this flat.Her chest tightens, but she pushes herself to finish packing.A few minutes later, Sherlock opens the door and sees her packing. He frowns in disbelief. “Jocelyn. Tell me what’s wrong.” Sherlock takes a deep breath and sits next to her. He lifts his head and meets her gaze. It was strange because Sherlock has never been used to expressing his emotions, but he can actually feel as if the pain flashes across his own face. “Why the sudden decision to move? I… I don’t understand. Do you not like it here?”Jocelyn widens her eyes and shakes her head.“Do you not like… living with me?”Jocelyn softens and she reaches over to place her hand on his knee.“You could have your own space here. I don’t have to sleep next to you if that is what…”She forms a smile and puts her hand on his shoulder, so he stops talking. Sherlock’s concern is written all over his face. It almost seemed as if he feared being apart from her, and the thought terrifies him. Attachment was definitely not something he liked.“If you’d like me to be honest with you, I am… not entirely comfortable at the thought of living four hours away from you.” Sherlock awkwardly words, feeling his face flush so he looks away and hopes that she would not notice.When she leaves Baker Street, Sherlock will enter a cycle of constant worry over her wellbeing.Jocelyn appears amused and she holds up her phone as if to show him they exist. Sherlock softly snorts and stares back at her, his blue eyes glinting under the dim lighting of the room. “Alright.”She smiles gratefully and signs to him, “I know my name is on the lease, but it’s okay. I’ll still pay my share. I can talk to Mrs. Hudson.”Sherlock can feel his chest twist a little, but he offers a kind smile. “Of course. As you wish.”Jocelyn looks much more relaxed, and she leans in to kiss his cheek.Sherlock pauses for a moment before clearing his throat after a while. “Right, um… I’ll let you rest. Good night.”Jocelyn nods and watches him leave. As soon as he’s gone, her smile goes as well. She lets out a shaky breath and pulls out her laptop, immediately typing Camille Lavalle’s name.Camille doesn’t have any social media, but Jocelyn did find photos of her at an Elementary school teaching a class. A schoolteacher, huh?Jocelyn frowns and sees the way Camille is absolutely beautiful. She had this smile that would definitely stop any man from doing anything. Jocelyn briefly wonders if Sherlock liked Camille’s smile, and if he thought her smile is better than Jocelyn’s.Those thoughts immediately make Jocelyn grimace just from thinking them. She can’t be jealous over someone she has never met. The last time she was ever jealous over a woman in Sherlock’s life was with Irene… and Irene is strictly into women.However, right now, Jocelyn stares at the photo of a woman who is completely ordinary. Someone who’s biggest worry is probably about lesson plans or checking homework. No murderers on her trail trying to kill her, no politicians who will do anything to shut her mouth, no haunting past that ruins every good night sleep.As Jocelyn stares at the photo of Camille Lavalle, all she sees is an ordinary woman. Someone Jocelyn wished to be.***“She is going to what?!”“I know how it sounds, but I think it could be good for her.”“Have you forgotten how much her life is in danger? Her silence is quite valuable to many people right now, brother mine, and they will stop at nothing to keep her that way.” Mycroft stares at Sherlock with a look of disappointment. “You can’t keep saying yes to her every whim.”Sherlock silences for a moment, but he falters and avoids Mycroft’s eyes. “She wants to live in her own home and have her own space. Miss Watson is apparently moving back to London and I think their living arrangements can be made.”“I don’t think she understands the gravity of her being alive and surviving the duress she went through under the two most dangerous men in the world.”“Jocelyn thinks it’s safe.”“Then that should tell you how she doesn’t know everything!”“I am not saying I find the idea pleasing. I am saying that she should be allowed to make her own decisions. We brought her back to give her some semblance of a normal life, Mycroft. Being unable to make her own decisions is not normal, Mycroft.”“The answer is no. She remains in Baker Street. And don’t worry, brother dear, you can tell her that you did your best trying to convince me. I’d gladly take the blame for it all if it’ll keep Jocelyn and your child safe.” Mycroft humorlessly smiles.“We can’t keep living in fear forever.”“Fear is precisely what is keeping Jocelyn and the child carries alive.”“She’s not going to take this well.”“Let her come here, then. Once she is here, perhaps I can save you the trouble informing her about Silas Moran’s development.”Sherlock scowls. “I told you, I am not allowing that man anywhere near her.”“Well, from your horrid request for today, I think you believe that Jocelyn is capable of making decisions for herself.”“I’m warning you, Mycroft. If I am unable to say no to her, you’ll find that she’s unable to say no to you, too.”***When he comes home that morning, he finds Jocelyn writing in his notebook again as she sits nearby the window. She greets him with a smile, but upon seeing the look on his face, she immediately knew that Mycroft had done.They arrive at Mycroft’s office, after quite a number of stares from different people. It was strange to see Jocelyn walking around looking alive while Sherlock walks next to her.Jocelyn smiles at Anthea once she opens the door for her, and they all walk inside the office. Mycroft is speaking to his telephone, but lowers it after a moment upon seeing his new guests.“Ah, Miss Grant. What a pleasant surprise.” Mycroft smiles with restraint. “So, I say no to Sherlock and you brought Miss Grant before me, so I can say no for the second time? How exciting.”Jocelyn holds up her hand to stop him from talking, and she holds up a note saying,
I want to make a deal.
“Jocelyn.” Sherlock mutters in a warning tone.Mycroft quirks an interested brow. “Oh?”“She’s going to negotiate with letting her live in her house in exchange for speaking one-to-one with Silas. You are not doing that.” Sherlock sternly tells her.She glares at Sherlock and signs, “Don’t do that.”“Do what?”“Speak for me.” Jocelyn forcefully signs, and Sherlock’s expression softens.Mycroft’s brows knot together as if he is considering the offer. They all stay silent for a moment as they wait for him to reply. Sherlock already knows that Mycroft has made his decision.***“This is a mistake, and you know it.” Sherlock seethes as they make their way out of the office.Jocelyn is clearly bothered by how he is reacting. “It will be fine.”“No! No, it will not be fine. Jocelyn—” he stops talking once a few employees walk past them. They stand awkwardly together, and Sherlock waits until they are out of their earshot. “I can’t let you be in the same room as him.”
“He will be chained. Unarmed.”
“Jocelyn.” He takes both of her hands, tracing his thumbs over the twin scars on her palms and backhands. The four scars that he immediately noticed once he was close enough to see. The wounds that were wrapped in two bloody bandages when he held her on the basement floor the day they took her back.She softens, realizing what he is worried about and she lowers her head to avoid his eyes.Sherlock grits his teeth but tries to relax himself. “I know how you got these. I know why they are back-to-back. Not because I… tried to read you, but because John is an Army doctor and he recognized your wounds immediately upon seeing them. They impaled your hands with steel.”Jocelyn pulls her hands back and crosses her arms, tilting her head away from Sherlock.“I also know that you have a burn mark on the bottom-left of your back. From hot metal. An X shape. Like a brand. They branded you. He branded you.” Sherlock’s voice trembles as Jocelyn closes her eyes. “I can’t let you be in the same room as him.”Jocelyn meets his eyes and he sees the green in them, shining with tears. However, the curl on her lips only indicated her anger before she rushes past him to leave.Sherlock exhales slowly, turning his head for a moment to watch her walk away from him.***Jocelyn stands before the house, with Anthea next to her. Anthea is too engrossed on her phone, but she pays attention as Jocelyn starts to walk inside.She turns the lights on and lets out an itchy cough once she breathes in the dusty air. Her throat burns from the cough and she grimaces.Jocelyn turns to Anthea and takes out her notepad, but Anthea speaks without looking up from her phone. “No need for that, Miss Grant. You can sign. Or talk. Whichever you prefer.”Jocelyn blinks, but takes out her notepad nonetheless and writes down.
Cleaners?
“They’ll arrive shortly. I’m only here to assist you, as sir requested.”Jocelyn nods and looks around for a moment. Nothing changed at all in the living room. Although, everything is a bit dusty. She goes to the kitchen and sees the way an inch if dust appeared on counters and the sink. It only showed Jocelyn how this house was abandoned the day she supposedly died.She moves to the bedroom and Anthea follows behind her. When Jocelyn enters the bedroom, the air is cleaner. What surprises her is the lack of dust in this particular room.In the living room, every furniture was covered with a blanket. In her bedroom, however, the bed has been made. It looks like it’s been made every day.“Mr. Holmes regularly visits this home to clean this specific room himself.” Anthea says.The fear dissipates from Jocelyn’s chest at the thought of certain criminals breaking into her home. She walks over to the bed, seeing the way it is completely washed and clean with no dust littering on it as if Sherlock visited this room recently just to clean it for her.Anthea waits patiently by the door while on her phone. Jocelyn sits up and taps on her notepad to get her attention. Anthea looks up at her and waits.
When was the last time Sherlock was here?
At an instant, Anthea responds. “Mr. Sherlock’s last arrival in your home was two weeks ago.”Jocelyn tilts her head and glances around the room and writes down. ‘You said he came here regularly?’A flash of surprise appears on Anthea’s face, and she smiles. “I was not referring to Mr. Holmes the youngest.”Jocelyn stares at her in astonishment and redirects her gaze to the ground. Before she could respond, the doorbell rings and Anthea excuses herself to welcome the cleaners.***The cottage feels so long ago. It’s only been three days, but it feels like everything changed the moment they left Sussex. Sherlock cannot pinpoint the reason why everything feels different.Now in Baker Street, he and Jocelyn eat together in silence, all while Sherlock goes through his laptop. He’s reading John’s latest blog entry about Jocelyn. Jocelyn gave her consent for it yesterday. In fact, she encouraged it. John’s blog has a vast audience and deserves to know the truth about Moriarty’s network.Of course, John romanticizes a few parts, but when does he not?Sherlock can only be grateful that his friend chose to leave out some details that John knew would elicit some negative reactions from the audience and Sherlock himself.If it was ever revealed to the public that Silas Moran is with MI6, or that John’s wife is an assassin who helped save Jocelyn, or that Jocelyn is pregnant and has been pregnant during the whole duration of her captivity—the public will give hell.At least now, the whole world knows who Sebastian and Silas Moran are. It was no longer secret.Although, one thought keeps nagging Sherlock’s mind. A little detail that might not matter, but could: why is Jocelyn so determined not to live with Sherlock anymore?As if sensing his inner conflict, she glances at him with reluctance. Sherlock meets her eyes before looking away. “Jocelyn…” she sits up straight and watches Sherlock turn slightly towards her. “I apologize for earlier. I… I shouldn’t have brought those memories up. I understand if it encourages you to leave 221B sooner.”Jocelyn gives him a look that only hinted she is disappointed. It was upsetting that he would use those memories to convince her in backing out, but she understands why he wanted to convince her. So, she reaches over and takes his hand.Sherlock watches her with an ashamed expression. It only adds to her guilt, so she tries smiling and shaking her head to tell him he had done nothing wrong.“But something is wrong,” he softly says, pulling his hands away from hers. “You detest liars. I never thought you’d become one yourself.”A pang of guilt and pain shoots through her body as she looks at Sherlock.“I need you to tell me what’s going on with you. I cannot make assumptions, nor deductions because not only does it violate you, but it would be violating myself and my own principles because I…” he stops himself, almost freezing in place. “I… respect you. I feel uncomfortable with reading you with or without your consent.”Jocelyn’s eyes grow softer and she wonders to herself what gracious thing she did in her life that led her to having a child with this wonderful man. She momentarily wishes that their child would be more like their father than their mother.Sherlock observes the way she watches him in silence. He relaxes and lowers his head. “I want to help you, Jocelyn. I’ve been incredibly patient for two weeks. Would it kill you to just tell me the truth?”They gaze intensely into one another’s eyes, and neither would look away. Jocelyn sighs and places her hand on her stomach. Sherlock’s eyes follow her hand, observing the way her fingers gently caress her bump. He briefly pictures her hand caressing the top of a baby’s head.She swallows and looks down, signing to him without looking him in the eye. “Harry told me to tell you.”“Tell me what?”She meets his eyes and musters a small smile, signing, “Before working for the NYPD, everyone is required to have a medical. When I had mine, I…”Sherlock blinks slowly and watches her gesture towards the area below the waist. He furrows his brows in confusion and waits for her to continue.“My…” she pauses between the signed letters. “—uterus was an inhospitable host. The doctor said it was damaged and won’t be able to carry out a successful pregnancy.”Sherlock leans back in surprise, staring at her with his eyes filled with disbelief.Jocelyn shakes her head at herself, continuing. “I didn’t care at the time. I didn’t want kids then.,” she signs her sentence with hesitancy. “But as years passed, I just…” she doesn’t finish her sentence.Sherlock frowns and his chest tightens once he recalls events where he was present to witness Jocelyn around children. The longing stares, the saddened eyes. Sherlock always assumed it was because of the child she grew attached to during her college days in New York.A smile grows a bit on her face. “But then I found out I was pregnant. It was possible. I was so happy.”Something tugs at Sherlock’s chest just from seeing the clear happiness in her eyes, but the horror is sinking into him.“Why didn’t you tell me this?”Jocelyn bites her lip and looks back at her lap, shaking her head as if to say she didn’t know how to tell him.“You believed that you cannot get pregnant, that’s what you thought the doctor meant.” She nods before burying her face into her palms. “But… you are able to get pregnant. The actual problem is that it won’t be a successful pregnancy.” Sherlock mutters.Jocelyn turns her head to look him, signing words to him. This time, a chill went through Sherlock spine and his body tenses.“You could die from this. Is that… is that what you’re telling me?” His voice is straining to stay calm.She sighs and closes her eyes in brief frustration, standing up to distance herself. Sherlock’s eyes are wide from the revelation and he stands as well.“You’re just going to walk away?!”She stops by the kitchen and turns to face him, this time, her features are paler and her eyes shine with angry and sad tears.Sherlock’s chest heaving out heavy breaths. “You’ve been pregnant for five months. Five.” He words slowly, in disbelief of what he is hearing from his voice.Jocelyn steps forward, signing angrily, “Nothing has happened yet! I’m believe that the diagnosis was premature and incorrect.”“Oh, so a doctor would just give you a short medical examination, and just happened to mistaken a very distinct status of one part of your body?” Sherlock frowns. Jocelyn shakes her head at him. Sherlock softens. “We need to go to the hospital, right now.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes, flailing her hands.“Stop being stubborn for once in your life and follow me downstairs. We’re going to see a doctor.”She balls her fists, but makes no movement to indicate she wants to go with him.He frowns in defeat, nodding before reaching into his jacket for his phone. “Alright, fine.”Jocelyn blinks and watching him start typing into his phone and she wavers.Sherlock briefly glances at her before pressing one final button. “I texted Harry.”Jocelyn widens her eyes and makes a frustrated gesture.“You won’t listen to me, but I’m sure you’ll listen to her.” His phone dings a new message and he checks it. “And in about thirty minutes, you’re going to do a lot of listening.”Jocelyn glares at him and retreats to the bedroom. Sherlock sighs before pinching the skin between his brows to ease himself.Thirty minutes later, Harry comes trudging up the stairs with a nervous expression. “Where is she? Is she okay? Did something happen?”Sherlock stands to greet her. “Everything is fine. Jocelyn locked herself in the room, but she’s okay.”Harry palms her face. “God, I knew something like this was going to happen.”Sherlock gives her a curious look. “How did you find out? Did she tell you?”Harry sighs. “No. I was the doctor that examined her. It’s how we met.”***They find a competent doctor and they slather Jocelyn’s stomach with cold gel. Harry and Sherlock stand behind the glass window.After around two hours, the doctor comes out and smiles hesitantly at them. “So, are you the husband?”Sherlock glances at the ultrasound equipment. “I’m the father of her child.”Harry bites her lip with worry. “How is she?”“The baby is healthy and there’s no sign of any defect.”A breath is finally released from Sherlock’s lungs, and he looks at Harry with relief.There is hesitation on the doctor’s face. “However, Dr. Grant’s body shows clear signs of trauma and malnutrition. It could be possible that the baby is healthy because it is taking all the nutrients from her body in an alarming rate.”The relief on Sherlock and Harry’s faces disappear quicker than a breath of air.The doctor sighs. “Her body cannot keep up with the development of the child. Has she had history with various drug-intake?” Sherlock’s silence served as a sufficient answer and the doctor nods regretfully. “At this rate, she could have a fatal childbirth. Either both or one of them could survive. Or the complete opposite.”“You’re saying there’s a chance?” Harry says with hope. “There’s… there’s a chance where both of them could survive?” The doctor nods. Harry covers her mouth, and Sherlock stares blankly ahead of himself. He walks past the doctor and watches Jocelyn through the small glass window. The doctor goes back inside and Harry stands next to Sherlock.“The doctor was being too kind with his words. Either they both die, or only one of them could.” Sherlock coldly states with his strangely calm voice.“Weren’t you listening? There’s a chance both of them could survive.”Sherlock shakes his head. “He’s too hopeful.”“And you lack hope.”“Hope is all I have. I do not lack hope.” Sherlock appears distressed, and it was strange for Harry. She only ever saw him as his formal self.“She can do it. It could work. She’s a strong girl.”“Yes. That she is.” Sherlock pauses for a moment and backtracks to the conversation. Then, a warmth spreads through his chest as he looks at Harry with wide blue eyes. Then, something Harry never expected. Sherlock’s eyes fill with tears as a smile forms on his face.“What is it?” Harry asks in concern, watching Sherlock smile widely, almost in defeat but also in happiness.“When you asked the doctor how she is, he responded that the baby is fine.” Sherlock’s voice is laced with a bittersweet tone as he smiles at Harry. “Could be a slip of tongue, but…”“Oh, my God.” Harry breathlessly widens her eyes and smiles as well, making Sherlock chuckle tearfully. Harry laughs and wraps her arms around Sherlock’s neck to give him a tight hug. Sherlock half-sobs and half-laughs into Harry’s neck as he embraces her.***Jocelyn opens her eyes and is greeted by the empty ceiling. She glances to her right, only to see Sherlock reading a body. As Jocelyn observes, it is a book about child development.Sherlock notices her stir awake. “How are you feeling?”She doesn’t respond right away and tries to look around the room instead.“Harry went back to the John and Mary’s. The doctor just came by to give you some supplements to relax you enough to sleep. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”Jocelyn stares at him. She looks much calmer and relaxed. That makes him feel better at least.“I spoke to the doctor. The baby is healthy, but they’re draining all of your energy. Like a little vampire inside you,” he gives her half a smile to try lightening the mood.However, Jocelyn doesn’t smile. She simply signs, “He told you I could die, didn’t he?”Sherlock’s smile fades before nodding. Jocelyn swallows and slumps her head back into the pillow. The air thickens with tension.She shakes her head and signs, “I’m fine.”Sherlock gives her a frown. “The child is draining you of energy. Your body can’t keep up. What happens when you’re at your third trimester? You could be weak enough to be unable to stand or do basic bodily functions.”Jocelyn looks incredibly hurt. Sherlock thinks back to every single time Jocelyn used her energy too much. He wishes he noticed something whenever Jocelyn was tired. Sherlock feels as if he failed her.Then, she has a bittersweet smile on her face. She signs, “It’s funny.”“What is?”She takes her notepad and writes while Sherlock waits patiently.
I made a poison that kills a person, while needing it to stay alive. How ironic.
Sherlock’s features fill with dismay, and through Jocelyn’s smile, he can see the tremendous amount of pain she is feeling. The desperation in her eyes. All she wanted was this child, and now the universe is telling her no.“My opinion does not matter. It is your choice.” Sherlock slowly shakes his head. “Please, do not make me choose between you and our child. I cannot make such a decision.”Then, she lowers her hands and gives him her sincere eyes. And she moves her lips to mouth voicelessly, “I can do it. Tell me I can do this.”“I… can’t be the one to decide. I can’t, Jocelyn. Please, this is your decision to make. I apologize, but I can’t.” Sherlock’s voice breaks at the end and he immediately looks away to try composing himself.Jocelyn reaches for his hand and makes him look at her to read her lips. “Sherlock. I need this. Please, understand.”Sherlock stares at her for ages. Her face changed over the years. Of course, she is still very much youthful and aged quite wonderfully compared to others. But her eyes never changed. Some would say the light has gone dimmer over the decade, but the lovely green is still there.The same shade of green from the day he first met her. And he cannot imagine not looking into them anymore. He lived three months of that, and it tore him apart.So, Sherlock slowly draws in a breath. “I can’t lose you, Jocelyn.”Her heart sinks and she flashes him a tearful smile, reaching up to touch his cheek. Then, she lets him read her lips, “You won’t.”Sherlock lets out a dragged breath. He peers at her with his blue eyes, and nods slowly.Her smile widens and a tear slides down her temple. Sherlock wipes it away with his thumb.“The doctor said something else. Well, I don’t think he meant for it to slip.” Sherlock quietly whispers while Jocelyn gives him a look for confusion. He gives her a small smile. “It’s a girl.”There was nothing to describe Jocelyn’s face once the words sink into her. The look of pure joy bursting from her voiceless body was something Sherlock burned through his mind. He saves the memory for later, maybe he can use it to cheer himself up once Jocelyn leaves Baker Street.Jocelyn sits up and embraces Sherlock. He inhales her scent and wonders if their daughter would smell as wonderfully familiar as her. God, he wishes their daughter could be more like Jocelyn than him. Maybe then, he can say that he has brought something good to this world.They get to Baker Street half an hour later and Jocelyn goes straight to sleep.He begins to make his way towards the room. Sherlock pushes the door open, and light luminates the walls it reaches. He looks to his left, only to see Jocelyn on his bed with her back towards him.He reluctantly slips off his dressing gown and unbuttons his shirt to change into some comfortable clothes to sleep in. Then, he makes his way towards the bed and lowers himself into the vacant space behind her.Sherlock carefully situates himself right behind her and wordlessly slips his arm around her waist, with his hand touching the precious bump of her stomach. His chest presses against her back, and her warmth gives him a sense of peace.Suddenly, he feels her lift her arm so she could rest her own hand on top of his. Sherlock allows himself to smile even just a little bit.“Are you awake?”She taps lightly on his fingers to answer his question. Unfortunately, she didn’t know Morse, so it was random taps that made Sherlock hum against her hair.Jocelyn shifts until she was facing him, and her face is not upset. In fact, she looks calm.“Couldn’t sleep? I can’t blame you. I’m finding it hard to sleep as well, knowing we’re going to have a daughter.”Her smile grows and she focuses on his eyes. She fingerspells, “Names?”“We should decide on the full name.” Sherlock whispers with excitement in his eyes, despite the lack of a smile. Jocelyn smiles at his excitement. “How about… Rosamund?”Jocelyn stares at him and bursts out laughing without her voice, and she palms her face.Sherlock watches her and a smile grows on his face. “What?”She pushes his chest and traces the letters on his chest, “John and Mary?”“Is it? Oh. Must be why I liked it.”Jocelyn shakes her head at him with humor.“Elizabeth?”She scrunches her nose in disgust.“Well, you did say two English names and one unique name. The Holmesian name pattern.” Sherlock raises his brows. “Although, I do recall your name being three words as well, but the opposite of ours. Two strange names and one ordinary one.”Jocelyn grimaces in disgust of being reminded by her name. Not many people know about her middle name other than her aunt, and the Holmes brothers. Only because Mycroft got her birth certificate around three days after they met.“Why are you embarrassed of your name, Jocelyn Campbell Melrose? Yours sounds much stranger than William Sherlock Scott.”Jocelyn’s palm pushes against his face in annoyance, and he chuckles.“Alright, alright. I yield. Hm…” he stares at her for a moment. “How about… I decide the two ordinary names, and you decide the unique name? Fair trade?”Jocelyn thinks about it for a moment and begins nodding. Sherlock gives a pleased smile.“Yes? Alright. Good. Hopefully, you pick a memorable one.”She rolls her eyes, and they watch one another. A nagging voice in his head reminds him that she may not have long, but Sherlock is determined to believe that that is not true. Jocelyn is strong, she can do this.With a quiet voice, he speaks. “I hope she’s just like you.”Sherlock expected a flustered look, or even a teasing smile. However, that is not what he receives. Even in the dimly lit room, he still sees the astonishment and the sign of sadness flash across her face.He feels her warm hand on the side of his neck, her thumb gently caressing his cheek. He stays awake and listens to her breaths, hoping that he will still be listening to the same sound in four months.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean… you’re going to be talking with the person who practically tortured you for a bloody keycode.” Harry tells her while emptying her own boxes.Jocelyn officially moves back into her old house the next day. As she helps Harry unpack her things, Harry keeps talking to fill the air. Jocelyn realizes how much she missed having her talkative friend around her, and it makes her smile.“I mean, it’s Silas! The assassin brother.” Harry huffs. “Bloody hell, there are a lot of assassins in this narrative.”Jocelyn briefly quirks an amused smile. When they finally finished unpacking everything, Harry and Jocelyn plop on the thick rug in the middle of the living room.“I understand why you had to leave New York, you know? I get why you needed to leave.” Harry tells her. “And you know what? It’s nice to leave that city behind and come home.” Harry deeply sighs. “Going back to this whole Silas business, are you sure you’re up to talking to him?”Jocelyn looks at Harry with reluctance and shrugs.“You have to be sure. Mr. Umbrella guy sounds pretty serious when he says you’re going to talk to Silas. Do you even know what to say to this guy? He sounds like a psychopath.”Jocelyn sighs, staring back at the ceiling.***Harry opens the door and sees Sherlock standing on the doorstep. Sherlock offers a thin-lipped smile and is already eyeing everything behind Harry.“Ah, Mr. Detective. You are so late.”“…It’s seven in the morning.”“Exactly. Come on in.” Harry steps aside and Sherlock complies.He hums as he looks around. “I see that you’ve settled in quite nicely.”“Oh, yeah. Jocelyn did the heavy-lifting.”Sherlock turns to her with wide eyes. “What? She is not supposed to wear herself out, that was the—”“Calm your arse, Curly. I was kidding.” Harry pats his back. “Jocelyn, your baby daddy is here!”“Please don’t call me that.”“What? You two always hate labels. Baby daddy is the closest thing I can call you. Or do you prefer… boyfriend?”Sherlock grimaces in disgust. “You are much worse than John.”“Oh, I know. He reminds me that every day.”Jocelyn walks down the stairs and smiles at them. Sherlock breathes in relief upon seeing her. Her eyes brighten up, as do his.Harry chuckles. “Oh, look at you two. Already so excited for your date.”“It’s not a date.” Sherlock defensively says.“Oh, sure. You two are just going to visit the University you both met in. Recall a few memories, share a milkshake, ride off into the sunset.”Sherlock glances at Jocelyn. “You picked living with her over me?” He amusedly remarks, making Jocelyn grin at them both.“Oh, trust me. Jocelyn likes it loud.” Harry winks. Sherlock rolls his eyes while Jocelyn blushes and covers her face. “Now, you know the rules.”“What rules?”“She has to be home by eleven tonight—” Harry starts her speech, making Sherlock groan light-heartedly. “And always at least one foot apart.”“I suppose I should say that she is in safe hands.” Sherlock goes along with the joke and Jocelyn grins while walking out of the house.Harry pats Sherlock’s shoulder. “Look after her, alright? It might not be easy for her, going back.”Sherlock nods in a more serious way. Harry and Sherlock share a meaningful look before he turns to follow Jocelyn outside. They find a cab and travel to the Cambridge together.As soon as they step into the campus, Jocelyn breathes in the familiar fresh air. Sherlock remains by her side as they walk past a few people.During the conference a few days ago, it was requested that the media would at least respect their privacy. Still, Sherlock can point out every single photographer and journalist within the area. He knows that Jocelyn is aware of them, too.Sherlock watches as Jocelyn is greeted by her students with tearful hugs. It was a heartwarming sight, but he can keep that to himself.Everyone is quite welcoming towards them, and the attention was all on Jocelyn. For the first time in Sherlock’s life, he felt invisible… and he is comfortable with it. If the smile on her face stays where it is, Sherlock would gladly spend the whole day standing behind her.It was a bit difficult to hide her bump, which is growing much more noticeable. Sherlock had to stifle a chuckle whenever Jocelyn would awkwardly angle herself to embrace people.As she is surrounded by various students, an elderly professor stands next to Sherlock, admiring the view with him.The bell rings and the students are sent back to their classes. Jocelyn walks over to Sherlock and the elderly professor, and Jocelyn grins brightly at her. The woman shakes hands with them both and leaves.Sherlock and Jocelyn share a glance and Jocelyn jokingly signs, “She’s still alive, can you believe it?”“I was thinking the exact same thing.” He places his hand on her lower back and guides her to begin walking.They enter a familiar building and Jocelyn chuckles as they walk down the aisle. The stage lights point to the empty stage. Although, the stage isn’t entirely empty. Her eyes light up at the sight of a familiar instrument taking center stage. It seems that it was being used in one of the previous musical plays.Jocelyn grabs the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat and pulls him onstage after checking if the stadium is unused. Sherlock chuckles as he stands onstage with her, shielding his eyes from the bright stage lights. She stands in front of him, smiling widely.To think that twelve years ago, they were on this very same stage, playing to make art in front of people. That was the same day Sherlock realized he wanted to keep her in his life. Back then, he believed that the sentiment was unreturned, but when she stayed, Sherlock did everything he could so she would never regret her choice.Now, they stand on the stage where it all started. And there are now three of them on the stage.Sherlock reaches up to touch the small bump of her stomach, and cups her cheek with his other hand. She pulls back with a grin and makes her way towards the piano. Jocelyn runs her fingers over the keys.Sherlock cups his hands around his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice echoes, surprising Jocelyn for a second as she grins. “For tonight’s last performance, we give you… Cambridge’s own Chopin and Paganini!”Jocelyn screws her eyes shut as she laughs voicelessly.“Come play something.” Sherlock tells her and she just humorously scoffs at him. “I am serious. Play something.”Jocelyn raises an eyebrow at him, mouthing, “Is that a command?” before smirking.“I miss hearing you play. It’s the only type of music I enjoy.” Sherlock states as if it was a fact, not even understanding why a blush forms on Jocelyn’s face. Damn Sherlock and his unintentional compliments.Jocelyn positions her fingers on the keys before pressing down. Although, she suddenly finds it difficult to push the keys down from how hard they are. It makes her frown and stop playing after two chords. She looks at her hands, frowning at how weak they are.Sherlock notices and sits next to her, copying the notes she tried playing. Jocelyn softly smiles at him, but she still appears upset over being unable to play continuously. Not only is her body weaker than it usually is, her hands feel too damaged to actually play anything.Sherlock continues to play as if he knew Jocelyn’s composition by heart. He plays it for her with ease, and it was one of the nicest gestures anyone could ever do for her. All she can do is watch him play with such concentration on his face.Once he finishes, he turns his head to look at her and sees the soft green eyes he grew to enjoy looking into.She writes on her notepad. You still remember that?Sherlock’s eyes never leave hers. “I remember everything.”Jocelyn’s lips part in surprise, but she recovers quite quickly. She lifts her hand, and she rubs his shoulder. Sherlock leans closer and presses his forehead against the side of her head, their eyes closing. The silence between them is enough, and he slowly leans closer to kiss her, but she pulls back.Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at her. Jocelyn blinks multiple times. He leans back and exhales slowly. They sit in silence together, with the air thickening. Jocelyn shifts in her seat while Sherlock briefly closes his eyes.“Jocelyn, what is it?” he quietly asks.She just stays still without signing anything, and Sherlock glances at her.“Have I done something wrong? Please, tell me.”Jocelyn shakes her head.“Should I take you home?”She stubbornly shakes her head again.“Jocelyn.” She always seems to drive Sherlock mad, but it is different this time. She always has been so stubborn, but it’s different this time.She places her hand on his, that was still on top of the piano keys. She laces their fingers together, and she stares into his eyes. Then, she write.
After I talk to Silas, watch the tapes.
“We’ll be watching while you talk to him.”She shakes her head and gives him a look, then the realization sinks into him.“You want me to watch the basement tapes.”With Mycroft. She writes.Sherlock inhales to steady his breath. “Okay.”Jocelyn smiles, but it was laced with sadness. She writes, “Please, don’t change the way you look at me after you see them.”“I’ve accepted a long time ago that such a thing can never be possible.”Jocelyn leans her head on his shoulder, embracing him. Sherlock is surprised for a moment, but returns the gesture.***Sherlock tells Mycroft about this the same day.“And what brought her to make this decision?”“Something is wrong, Mycroft. There’s something she isn’t telling us.”“Is there?” Mycroft dryly remarks.“You don’t seem too surprised by this.”“Brother mine, she faked her death on us.”Sherlock mockingly scrunches his brows. “How strange. We definitely didn’t do the same to her for two years.”Mycroft briefly clenches his jaw. “And is withholding information that puts her in a grave danger.”“Well, then. Maybe you should be kinder to her now that she can wreak havoc upon the Britain.”“This is not a game, Sherlock. She changed. She has done things that can never be undone.” Mycroft insists. “She even refuses to speak because it is of an inconvenience to her! She’s turning into her mother!”Sherlock stares at him. “What are you talking about?”Mycroft backtracks and sighs, briefly closing his eyes. “Never mind. What we need to discuss—”“No. What were you saying?” Sherlock skeptically asks.“Nothing of importance.”“Mycroft.”“Look, Sherlock, Miss Grant’s wellbeing matters to me solely because she is carrying your child and that is all.”Sherlock gives him a humorless smirk. “Is that why you still keep her letters at arm’s reach?”Mycroft gives him a look. “Good day, brother mine.”Sherlock stares at him for a moment before leaving his office. Mycroft watches him slam the door on his way out, and he waits for a moment before reaching for the letters in his drawer. He opens one of them and begins to reread.***“It’s not too tight, is it?”They are currently in a shop where Molly purchased her wedding dress. Right now, they are fitting Jocelyn into her bridesmaid dress. The only problem is that the dress doesn’t fit good around her bump at all.She stands in front of Molly with a nervous smile. Molly and the dressmaker give her an awkward look. Jocelyn unzips herself and breathes, and Molly grimaces.Jocelyn apologetically smiles at her, mouthing a small “Sorry,” and draws a laugh from Molly.“You’re being silly, don’t apologize. Do you know how happy I am that the dress doesn’t fit you because you’re pregnant?” Molly’s eyes are bright with happiness.Jocelyn gives her a quick hug to remind her that she’s happy for Molly, too. Molly is finally marrying someone she loves, and it was nice to be part of something beautiful.When Jocelyn sees Molly fitting her wedding dress, she almost tears up because of how happy Molly appears to be as she shows off the beautiful white dress. The wedding is in four days, and of course, she already bought the dress before. Molly just thought it would be nice to show it to Jocelyn, too.Molly and Jocelyn spend the afternoon together, with Molly telling her everything about her husband-to-be. Tom was an amazing guy, from how Jocelyn knows him. Honestly, it was nice to be voiceless because it gives her the chance to listen.“I haven’t seen Sherlock so happy, you know?” Molly chirps out of nowhere when they sit in the park to have ice cream. Jocelyn snaps her head towards her in surprise. Molly meets her gaze with a knowing smile. “It’s true. When you were… gone, he never looked so lost. I’ve seen him before. Looking sad when he thinks no one can see him. I don’t see it anymore.”A part of Jocelyn wanted to believe it was because of her, but if it weren’t for Jocelyn, Sherlock wouldn’t need to stop looking sad because he wouldn’t be sad in the first place.“He’s happy, Jocelyn. I know that stuff is difficult with the public, the police, but Sherlock is happy with you.” Molly nods. “Which is why I don’t get why you moved out of Baker Street.” Oh, boy. “Didn’t he put your name on the lease?”Jocelyn gives her a look, and Molly holds her hands up in defense.“Sorry. John always wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound nosy.” Molly takes Jocelyn’s notepad and opens it so she can write.Jocelyn sighs and takes the pen, writing down, It’s complicated.“Oh, come on. I’m getting married! I need some gossip, or drama. I’m a little bit too happy lately.” Molly sheepishly says, making Jocelyn snort in amusement.So, she writes.
I’m not the only woman in Sherlock’s life now.
Molly stares at the words and slightly pales, which only gives Jocelyn an idea that she didn’t particularly like. Jocelyn raises her brows, as if to say, you knew?“Well… um…”Jocelyn screws her eyes shut and frustratedly buries her face into her palms.“But it was nothing serious! I don’t even know the woman’s name!”Jocelyn takes the notepad and writes down, Camille Lavalle.Molly stares at the unfamiliar name. “Well, Sherlock told me he didn’t have romantic feelings for her.”Jocelyn softens, but somehow, she still is not comforted by the words.Molly sees this and takes her hand. “Sherlock was trying to, you know… replace you.” Jocelyn flinches a bit. “God, sorry! That’s not what I meant! I meant… he was grieving and wanted to move on, so he talks to the woman who likes him apparently.”Jocelyn reels back to widen her eyes at Molly. Camille Lavalle likes Sherlock? Then, why would she reject a kiss from him? Did Camille Lavalle feel bad since she knew Sherlock lost Jocelyn? Did Camille Lavalle even know about Jocelyn? Even if she did, what was Jocelyn even in Sherlock’s life?All these questions are making her head hurt a bit, and she rubs her temple. Molly frowns apologetically. “I’m sorry. I probably made things worse, didn’t I?” Jocelyn shakes her head in disagreement and tries to smile, Molly bites her own lip. “For what it’s worth, Sherlock never saw her again. I don’t think.”Jocelyn writes on the notepad.
She came by Baker Street when I was there. Sherlock didn’t introduce her to me.
“Oh,” Molly trails off. “There’s probably an explanation. All I know is that Sherlock doesn’t like her in the way you think.” Molly thinks for a moment. “Is this why you moved out? You think Sherlock wants her instead of you?” Jocelyn’s silence is enough to make Molly chuckle even just a little bit. “Sorry, no. Sherlock would pick you over anyone.”Jocelyn chews the inside of her cheek and writes again.
Sherlock tried to kiss her.
Molly widens her eyes while Jocelyn writes. Jocelyn is probably making a big deal out of this, and she should just talk to Sherlock about it.Jocelyn doesn’t exactly know that. Sherlock didn’t even try to stop her from moving out, or even demanding why she wants to leave. Molly’s words replay in her mind the rest of the day, even when she’s at home.***The next day, Jocelyn faces the mirror, staring at the ugly scar across her neck. She takes a calm breath and turns on her radio, and it plays a quiet Billie Holiday song. She grabs a clean cloth and begins to clean around the scar. The marks from old stitches are still visible, and the longer she stares at her reflection, the more she feels like an old doll that got ripped.
“Jocelyn adores it when she’d talk, but not if I watch her like a hawk. She lost her voice and now I see, a freezer is definitely her cup of tea! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
She shakes her head off the voice in her head and brushes her short hair. Today, she will be talking to Silas. Jocelyn has no idea why Silas wants to see her, but she is not going to let him break her.For a brief second, images of Silas standing before her in a dark basement flashes before her eyes. His menacing smile and fascinated eyes burn through her skull. Jocelyn swallows anxiously and looks back at her reflection. She touches her short hair, frowning to herself as she remembers why she needed to cut it short. A disguise.Harry enters her room, holding the supplies in her hands. Jocelyn sighs and smiles gratefully at her.An hour later, Sherlock arrives in front of her house with John ever by his side.John chuckles with his eyes bright, taking in her appearance. “Wow.”Sherlock blinks, parting his lips in astonishment as he looks at Jocelyn, who is staring at her with a calm look. Expecting another head of jet-black hair, instead, they are now staring at her natural light brown color.Sherlock’s eyes melt with gentleness. “You… you changed your hair.”Jocelyn’s smile widens, and she walks past him to go to the car. Sherlock takes a few seconds to digest the new information before following behind her.All three of them go to a hidden base of MI6. As Sherlock explains to John where they will be, he finds himself being distracted by Jocelyn’s new appearance. John finds it amusing how Sherlock is staring at Jocelyn’s hair while she is unknowingly looking out of the window.***“Ah, brother mine, good to see you.”“Can’t say the same about you. Do you have it?”Mycroft briefly rolls his eyes, but nods at Anthea. She hands Jocelyn a folder, pulling her back from how she is observing the place. “The list of questions required for you to ask.”Jocelyn nods and reads the questions. Some of them were simple enough, and she can easily slip it in between conversation.Mycroft begins to walk with Anthea by his side. Sherlock, John and Jocelyn walk behind him. John and Jocelyn glance around the place. John has been here before when he was questioned, but he never got the chance to see how wide and populated the whole building is.“How many people are here?” Sherlock asks the question John was thinking about.“Right now, we’ve employed thousands of agents, stationed in different areas. Here, there’s exactly three thousand present.” Mycroft calmly informs, and a guard opens the door for them.Jocelyn briefly glances at the guard and follows Mycroft inside. They walk for what feels like forever until they reach the cells. They walk through a corridor and make a left. Sherlock is reminded of his six days of detainment. During those six days, all he could ever think of was whether Jocelyn was safe.They stop at a special cell, and there he is. Through the small screen next to the elevator, Silas sits on a chair in front of a table. A notepad and rubber pen are placed neatly on the table, while his wrists, and ankles are chained to the floor. He wears a gray jumpsuit, much like Sherlock once wore, and he stares blankly at the wall.As Sherlock glances at Jocelyn, she has a calm and unbothered look on her face. However, he sees the way she tightly grips the folder given to her. Sherlock places his hand on her back, making her flinch a bit. She relaxes upon seeing Sherlock, but a frown etches onto her face.“You don’t have to do this, you know?” John reminds her.“Yes. Jocelyn, please do not feel forced to do this.” Sherlock curls his hand around her wrist. “Please, say the word and we can leave immediately.”However, she shakes her head. Mycroft, despite himself, is impressed by her determination. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss Grant.”Jocelyn stays still for a moment, turning to Mycroft and signs, “No one outside while I’m in.”Mycroft glares. “Absolutely not.”“Why would you need that?” Sherlock asks her instead.
“He won’t talk.”
Sherlock contemplates, glancing at his brother who had a look of disapproval. Sherlock turns back at her. “We’d still be watching from the surveillance room. It’s the same thing.”Jocelyn musters a small smile. Sherlock looks at Mycroft, who still looks unconvinced.Mycroft sees how Jocelyn will not take no for an answer, and so he huffs in annoyance. “Station at least two guards here.” Mycroft speaks to Anthea, who instantly walks off to call someone. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Miss Grant.”Jocelyn takes a deep breath. John pats her shoulder and goes with Mycroft to the surveillance room.Sherlock stands in front of Jocelyn with concern on his face. “I still do not feel alright about this.”Jocelyn sighs and gives him an unflinching expression, reaching up to place her palm on his shoulder. She smiles, and her lips move to form the words, “I’ll be fine. Go.”Sherlock hesitates, but nods at her once a few guards arrive to stand next to the entrance. He watches her for a moment before turning to walk away. Jocelyn fixes her gaze at the sight of him leaving until he is gone. She breathes in and turns to face the entrance.Sherlock reaches the surveillance room, seeing various of monitors overlooking the entire building. Agents are situated in their own stations, observing every single room of the floor. His brother is sitting in front of a monitor for a camera at the corner of the room, having a full view of Silas’ face.“Christ, has he even blinked?” John asks while looking over Mycroft’s shoulder.“He is human, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft mutters.“He doesn’t look it. Is he even allowed out of the room?”“He has not stepped outside ever since he arrived.”Jocelyn enters the elevator, and it closes behind her. Then, she waits. She can feel the space around her moving as she descends deeper into the building.The elevator stops and stays still for a brief second before it slides open with a hiss.The sight of Silas sitting in a chair greets her. He lifts his head and watches her with those brown eyes she grew accustomed to looking with burning rage.As soon as he sees her, a smirk grows on his face. “Well. If it isn’t the Regal,” his tone is mocking.She glares at him, stepping out of the elevator and it slides close behind her. There is a distinct click, and a red light flashing above her, indicating that it is secure and locked. Jocelyn stands by the elevator and just stares at him, but he gestures towards the seat with his cuffed hands. She exhales and takes her seat in front of him.Jocelyn sees the notepad and pen placed in the middle of the table.Silas watches her carefully. “I’ve been saving my voice for you. What have you got for me?”Jocelyn meets his eyes and clenches her jaw as he smiles at her. She reaches for the notepad and pauses for a moment before pushing it to the side. Silas’ smile grows, and he looks to the corner of the room where one of the cameras were.In the surveillance room, Sherlock and Mycroft watch her through the monitors. Although, confusion seeps through them both when Jocelyn pushes the notepad aside.“What’s she doing?” Mycroft narrows his eyes.The two brothers watch as she stays still for a moment, and Silas looks directly towards the camera with a smile. Sherlock suddenly feels a cold chill down his spine. Something is wrong.Then, the lights and cameras turn off.
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The elevator opens, and Jocelyn stepped out. She drew in a shaky breath and stood still for a moment. Then, a shaky sob wrecked from her chest as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to control her sobs. Her face twisted with pain, and she could feel her whole world breaking around her.Jocelyn could feel her throat tighten, and the pain she felt was unbearable. It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she lifted her head to see Naomi with a concerned expression on her face.“Are you okay, Miss?”Jocelyn’s breaths came sharp and short, and her chin trembled as another cry threatened to leave her throat. Her wide eyes are filled with tears, reflecting the light in her green orbs. “I just forced Sherlock to go home after he looked for me for weeks. Yeah, I’m fucking fine.” She sarcastically remarked.Naomi sighed. “We had no choice in the matter. If Mr. Holmes is found anywhere close to you, Sebastian will find you.”They were both in New Orleans, and just a few minutes ago, Sherlock and Jocelyn finally saw each other after weeks of separation.Adding more to that, that day was Jocelyn’s birthday.Jocelyn continued to stay on the floor, her whole body was vulnerable. She felt weak, and just wanted nothing else other than to come home. Be with the man she told to leave her tonight.She closed her eyes, feeling the pain seep through her bones. “I can’t do this, Naomi. I can’t be this.”“Yes, you can. It’s always been what you were supposed to be.” Naomi offered a smile.“I don’t even know what that fucking means!”Naomi grabbed her arms and helped her back to her feet. “It means that you are one of us. You are here, and you will thrive as who you are supposed to be.”Jocelyn shook her head. “Just because I’m here, doesn’t mean I want to be.”“Understandable, but one day, you’ll come to understand your purpose.” Naomi took her hands. “Our purpose.”But her mind was still on Sherlock. She felt her stomach twist a bit, and her chin trembled again as her eyes begun to sting. “H-He doesn’t even know that I’m… I’m…” Her voice broke as she gestured helplessly to her stomach.“He’ll find out one day.” Naomi placed her hand on Jocelyn’s back, guiding her to begin walking. “For now, we have work to do.”Jocelyn mustered all the strength she could manage, and pulled away from Naomi to walk on her own. She placed a secure hand on her flat stomach as she walked to the room full of her people waiting for her.She stood in front of them all, blinking her own tears away as she stared back at the people who anticipated her words. Jocelyn opened her mouth and exhaled shakily. “Project Clavis is go. You all know what your job is. Let’s find this key code. As for the rest of you, I have a new job. I need you all to gather every single name ever involved with Moriarty’s network. With evidence. Project Talem is go. Report to me whatever you find. Everything goes through me first.”The others didn’t question her decision. Instead, they nodded at her and begin to leave as well. Jocelyn stood frozen at the platform as the room decreases with people until it was just her and Naomi.Naomi looked at her with such pride in her eyes. “You are a natural.”“They are listening to me without any question. They are doing everything I say.”Naomi chuckled. “You will get used to it.”“No. I will never get used to it. This isn’t normal, Naomi. None of this is normal.”The assassin only gave her an ungenuine sympathetic expression. “How awful it must be for you, to have hundreds of people following your every command.”“I never asked for this.” Jocelyn glared at her. “Christ, I just need a drink.”Naomi respectfully lowered her head a bit. “Right away, Miss Jocelyn.”Her eyes widened briefly. “What—no! That wasn’t… no. Just… can you leave me alone for tonight?”“Of course.” Without another word, Naomi turned around and walked away.Jocelyn gaped for a moment, and clenched her jaw. She lowered her head, looking at her flat stomach.She sighed, exhausted. “I know I promised you that we’ll come home, but I had to tell your Daddy to leave. He isn’t safe around me.” She muttered and began walking to her room, closing the door and finally getting some peace. “But I miss him a lot, darling. I can’t wait to introduce you to him.” She smiled, caressing her stomach, feeling her heart clench in her chest.She thought of Sherlock’s face when she told him to leave. She saw the pain and confusion, and it broke Jocelyn.“Don’t worry. I’m going to fix everything. You’re not going to grow up like I did. You’ll have the perfect father. A perfect family that will love you and put you above everything else.” A tear slid down her cheek and Jocelyn sniffled, wiping it away immediately. “And you don’t have to do everything on your own. You won’t be alone, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that happens. You’ll come home one day.”--The power goes out inside the room and the emergency lights turn on, providing a cold blue light over Sherlock, Mycroft, John and the other agents.Sherlock glances frantically at Mycroft, who widens his eyes and stumbles as he stands up. “What is this? What happened?” Mycroft yells at his employees, but the others appear confused as well. John furrows his brows and glances at the others in the room.Moments later, the lights come back, and the monitors turn back on. However, all the screens for the cameras within the cell remained blacked out.“Open the elevator, Mycroft!” Sherlock yells, moving to go to the buttons to look for the one that would open the elevator door.“We cannot allow Silas to escape.” Mycroft sternly reminds.“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sherlock pushes Mycroft aside and presses the button.Nothing happens, and it makes Sherlock’s blood boil.He slams his palm on the button multiple times before yelling in frustration. “God damn it!” Sherlock’s voice booms across the room and he exits before running towards the halls, pushing past people who were walking and ignoring their exclamation of his rudeness.Once he arrives, the elevator door is bolt shut, and no guard were in sight. Sherlock tries scanning his card, but it declines over and over again. Sherlock slams his fist against the metal door, cursing aggressively.John comes running with an uncertain look. “What just happened?”Sherlock pants with wide eyes. “I-I am not sure, the cameras shut down and the elevator won’t open!”“Shit.” John says under his breath.A few men, and Anthea hurriedly came down the cells with Mycroft and approach Sherlock and John. The male employees try to pry open the door for minutes upon minutes before giving up.Mycroft deeply exhales. “These doors won’t just open. They’re locked completely. They were made to keep whatever is inside from escaping. It could withstand a nuclear bomb.”“We can’t just do nothing.” Sherlock sneers. He knew it was a mistake to send her inside on her own. “He could be doing something to her right now. Saying things to her. I can’t… I can’t just stand here—”The elevator opens with a hiss, and reveals Jocelyn standing inside. The others stare at her in surprise. Sherlock takes a step back and watches her in astonishment. No one speaks, and all eyes were on Jocelyn.Jocelyn falters and pushes past them to walk away. Sherlock’s lips part in surprise as he looks into the cell, only to see Silas without the usual smirk on his face, replaced with a furious glare. Silas is still chained to the ground, and nothing unusual seemed to have happened. Everything was still in place.Sherlock’s face fills with confusion before he walks inside and takes the notepad on the table.He keeps his eyes on Silas for a moment before flipping through the pages. What stuns him is the fact that there is nothing written on the pages.He looks up at Silas, who is eyeing the notepad as well. Upon seeing the look on Sherlock’s face, a smirk forms on Silas’ face.Sherlock clenches his jaw and leaves the cell, while Mycroft shuts it close with his own card.“Jocelyn. Jocelyn!” Sherlock shouts right behind her as he tries to catch up. He grabs her arm and stops her from walking, turning her to face him. “What did he do to you?” Jocelyn doesn’t answer him, and he observes that she is not physically hurt. “What was that?”She stares back at him, and gently pulls her arm back. They share a gaze for a moment before she turns around and keeps walking.“How long?” She stares intensely back at him and tilts her head. Sherlock shows her the empty notepad. “How long have you been able to talk?”Jocelyn doesn’t answer him, and he watches her for a moment. He scoffs before turning to walk away from her.“Sherlock.”One call of his name with the voice he longed to hear, and it makes him abruptly stop walking. He listens to her footsteps approaching him from behind.“He wouldn’t have talked if you were listening—”“He could have killed you.” Sherlock asks with anger laced in his tone.Jocelyn gives him a puzzled look. “He was chained to ground.”“He could’ve stabbed with the pen. Strangled you with the chains. Crushed you with the table.” Sherlock inches towards her face. “He would’ve done anything just to hurt you!”“But he didn’t, because he wanted to talk to me alone.”“How did that even happen? This whole building is secure, and Mycroft’s people are strict with protocol.”Before she could answer, Mycroft appears down the hallway with Anthea by his side. He looks furious. “I’d like to speak to Jocelyn alone.”“Whatever you say to her, you can say to me.” Sherlock glares at him.Mycroft glances at him briefly. “Alright.” He calmly responds before charging towards Jocelyn. “How many?” Jocelyn shakes her head in confusion at him. “How many people are working for you in this building?”Sherlock’s eyes widen momentarily, and he immediately thinks back to when he was in New Orleans and she tells him about the network she built. However, to be able to recruit a few people from MI6 was something entirely different.“Answer me, Jocelyn. How many—!”“Why?” She turns to face him and has a curious look on her face. Jocelyn narrows her eyes at Mycroft, taking a step forward. “Are you going to put them in jail? Instead of the necessary evil who deserve it?”Sherlock blinks, and her words render everyone speechless. Even Mycroft stares at her in astonishment. Jocelyn gives them all a glare before she turns to walk off.Sherlock glances at his brother for a moment and sees the way he is momentarily surprised. Anthea appears to be worried as well. Sherlock inhales calmly, but his heart is pounding in his chest before he goes to follow Jocelyn to the top floor.He looks for her everywhere, only to find her by the windows. Sherlock can feel a chill down his spine when she turns to look at him with familiar hesitancy. He approaches her side and stares at the view from the window.“How did you do it?”Without glancing at him, she answers. “One of the guards.” Jocelyn shakes her head “I helped them with a few problems. Owed me a favor.”Sherlock steps forward. “What else are you hiding?”Jocelyn frowns and shakes her head. “Sherlock…”He stares at her. “Jocelyn, I want to help you.”She finally tilts her head to meet his eyes. “I know you do.”Sherlock glances at her, unsure what to make of their situation. “Whatever it is you are not telling me, please know that it will not change the way I see you.”“It will.” Jocelyn says in a tired voice.Sherlock softens at the sight of her. Others might see anger when they look at Jocelyn, but all Sherlock can see is pain. The deeply rooted pain that came from the abduction.So, he approaches her cautiously. Even Jocelyn tenses the moment the space between them is decreasing. She meets the icy blue eyes, but instead of seeing a hateful look, she sees the same genuine look he gives her every single day. It tugs something in her chest.He scans her face. “You’ve never acted this way during our time in Sussex.”“That’s because we were alone, and I trust you.”Sherlock stays silent, and he is reminded by the fact that Jocelyn did indeed go through yet another traumatic experience. The whole time they were in that cottage, nothing else mattered. Now that they have come back to London, it was as if they were both slapped by reality.“You can’t trust anyone now.” Jocelyn’s voice is slightly shaking as she stares into his eyes.“I trust my brother. He knows how to keep you safe if you are worried about being in danger.”In the middle of his sentence, Jocelyn chuckles dryly. “Mycroft doesn’t know shit. He’s never been out there. Not like the two of us. He has no idea what it’s like to be on the run. To constantly looking over your shoulder.” Her voice breaks and she turns away in frustration.Sherlock hears the way she is still struggling to speak smoothly with her voice. The roughness of her voice only tells him that her throat hasn’t fully recovered.“What are you trying to do, then? What’s your goal here?” Sherlock asks her with a frown.“Sherlock, I see a world where ‘evil’ won’t be necessary. No Magnussens, no Morans, no people who would prey on the vulnerable.” She places her hand on her own chest. “I’m talking about getting rid of Moriarty’s network. Not dismantling it, but making sure no one else will ever start it or join it again.”Sherlock focuses on her eyes. “How do you propose on doing that?”“I have a list of people who had been involved with Moriarty. I know information that could imprison more than half of the British government.”Sherlock’s jaw clenches. “Does my brother happen to be one of them?”A smile appears on her face. “Fortunately, no. Your brother is squeaky clean. He’s very loyal to you, you know.” Jocelyn reaches into her pocket and holds up a silver memory stick. “Everything is in here. If any of this gets out to the public,” she twists the memory stick in her fingers. “Secret societies will come crumbling down. All the corrupt politicians, Royal members, businessmen, public figures. Everyone.”Sherlock inhales, glancing at the memory stick. “Where did you get it?”“The key code wasn’t the only thing I preoccupied myself during my vacation. I talked to a lot of people.” Jocelyn snorts, looking at the memory stick. “Once everything is public, people will be too afraid to reach Moriarty or any sort of network because no one will be trustworthy. Everyone will turn against one another. Pretty soon, the network will be gone.”Sherlock stares at her and the full realization sinks into him. Jocelyn is doing what Sherlock refused to do during those two years of dismantling the network. To expose the innerworkings of the web for everyone to see, until it becomes so bare, that no one will be able to hide.He frowns. “Innocent people will be affected by this, Jocelyn. People related to these criminals. People who had nothing to do with the crime.”Jocelyn sighs, slipping the memory stick back into her pocket. “It’s a small sacrifice to get rid of the network for real this time.”“I ask you to reconsider.”“What else is there to reconsider? Every war has collateral damages.” Jocelyn observes the reluctant look on his face. “I knew other people wouldn’t like this plan, but I thought you’d be supportive of this.” Jocelyn asks in surprise. “Don’t you hate Moriarty? He ruined your life. Our lives. Getting rid of his legacy will probably be the only right thing we could do.” Jocelyn snaps, her voice is rough and raw. “I am trying to do something right!”“At what cost, Jocelyn?” He softly asks, trying to reason with her. “You cannot keep hiding things from me. Not now when we both need each other.”“I don’t need anyone!” She yells for the first time in their conversation, stunning Sherlock for a moment as silence engulfs the empty room.Jocelyn breathes out, and the fury in her eyes dissipates the moment she realizes that she crossed a line. She swallows and looks away from him, while Sherlock stays quiet. Jocelyn grimaces and grips her neck in pain, and Sherlock watches her in concern.She sniffles and takes a deep breath. Sherlock stays quiet for a while before he starts to approach her again. This time, he grabs her wrist and pulls her to his chest. She is surprised by the gesture and sinks into him. Her eyes close and she inhales his familiar cologne.A tear slides down her cheek and she let it remain on her skin, and she leans into him. “You still treat me the same way. Why?”Sherlock frowns, unsure why she needed to ask him this. “Because you are you. And I am me. I was always meant to be by your side ever since the day we first met. You and I, we are on the same side.”“What would it take for you to realize that I changed?”“Is there something else you’d like to tell me?”Jocelyn lets out a surprised chuckle, laced with a distinct sadness that Sherlock picked up on. “I have a lot to say to you, but I can’t think of any words to say.”Sherlock stares at her for a moment. “Then, show me.”She tilts her head up and meets his gaze. Then, her hand pressing against his chest to slowly push him against the glass window. Their faces are inches apart from one another and Sherlock holds her gaze. Blue eyes burned through green ones.“The building is currently under renovation, that’s being kept from the public eye.” Her voice comes out as a whisper.“I know.” Sherlock whispers back. “How did you know that?”“You just have to look around.”Sherlock quirks a smirk. “My scientist learned something from me.”Jocelyn mirrors his subtle smirk. “Renovation means this is the only floor, with the fewest rooms, without security cameras at every angle. Every corner of the room is completely out of anyone’s reach. We’re at one of the blind spots.”“You pick your locations very efficiently, then. I’m impressed.”Jocelyn musters half a smile and keeps her palm placed against his firm chest.Then, Sherlock feels something cold and solid press against the side of his throat. He knots his brows together and refuses to look away from her eyes.“And do you know what this is?”“Hm. I could be wrong, but I’m assuming it’s a knife.” Sherlock lowly answers, keeping his body still.“Mhm, not just a knife.” Jocelyn nods. “I found it on Silas. I had to take it from him in case he attacks me.”“MI6 is completely strict when it comes to security. How did he manage to sneak a dagger inside despite the constant surveillance?” Sherlock calmly asks, not even flinching at the feel of the steel against his neck.“Because MI6 can’t be trusted. There are traitors everywhere, willing to give up the safety of others just so they can make quick money.” Jocelyn whispers to him. “There are Moriarty fanatics all across the globe. People who worship him, and would follow him to the ends of the Earth.”Sherlock hums, and she feels the vibration through the knife. “And I’m assuming that you spoke to Silas in order to get information from him?”“No.”“No?”“I told him that if he ever escapes and decides to do anything to me, I wouldn’t of being as merciful as you think I am.”Sherlock silences, blinking once as he stares into her sincere eyes.“I’m not the person you think, Sherlock. I’ve done things you would hate me for.” Her eyes sting, but she fights it off as hard as she could. “Three months is apparently long enough for me to change.”Sherlock softens, and his lips part in astonishment. “Well… who are you now, Jocelyn? Because I am quite open to get to know you all over again.”Jocelyn sucks in a harsh breath from his words. “You’re supposed to hate me the moment I threaten your life. You’re not supposed to be thankful for it. You are not supposed to think of it as an honor.”Sherlock cracks a smile. “I guess that makes us quite an odd pairing, doesn’t it?”“Do you really think it’s an honor to be killed by me?” Jocelyn asks with her whispered yet appalled voice.Sherlock watches her for a moment, almost tenderly. Any sane person would run, would push her off, would report her immediately, or anything else.No sane person would lean in, over the hand that held a knife against their throat, just to have a taste of the lips they longed to have.He gently kisses her, despite the knife against his skin. The knife held by the very hand that he longed to hold. The hand that impressed him with the way they caress the piano. The same hand that tensed up the moment his lips touched hers just now.Sherlock pulls away slowly, and pierces his blue eyes through her green ones. Firmly, he says, “Beyond a doubt.”Jocelyn stares at him in shock, taking a step back and blinking rapidly at him. He finally sees the knife in her hand, with a daggerlike shape. Her perfectly pink lips part with astonishment as she takes another step back before turning around and hurriedly walking off.Sherlock almost calls out to her, but he just watches her leave. The door slams shut, and he stands there, alone. After a moment, he reaches up to the skin of his neck, feeling the slight dent to where the knife pressed against him.No blood was drawn, but the press was deep. As a doctor, Jocelyn knew how to use knife, and how to avoid vital veins. She knew when she would cross a line. She never crossed it, and Sherlock knew what she was trying to do.First Mycroft, now Sherlock. She is trying to disturb him so that he will distance himself away from her.However, that is never going to happen.
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“She could talk this whole time. Why would she lie about that?” John frowns.“Perhaps she was channeling her inner Helena Melrose. God rest her soul.” Mycroft humorlessly remarks.“Stop being an arsehole, Mycroft. This is your fault.”“Of course, you’d find a way to blame this on me.”“None of this would have happened if you did not greenlight this whole operation.” Sherlock furiously remarks. “I told you. She never should have been in the same room as him.”“Sherlock, I think we have a bigger problem than that one. Jocelyn? Having people work for her in bloody MI6?” John crosses his arms.“Why is that a problem? Everyone here are traitors already.” Sherlock gives Mycroft a look. “She has her reasons, Mycroft. She was tortured for weeks. Isolated for months. Killers tracked her down, forcing her to hide. You don’t know what that is like.”“I don’t have to know what it’s like, Sherlock. I only have to deal with the people who do.” Mycroft glares.“They made her choose between making a bomb or a poison. She chose a poison so she could withhold the antidote. If the Morans don’t have an antidote, they can never successfully blackmail anyone. Jocelyn’s choices have been made carefully!” Sherlock snaps at him. “And now she believes that she killed seventy-five innocent people. And you putting her back with the person who did all of that to her, it was inevitable that she would suffer!”“Sorry? A bomb? Jocelyn can make a bomb?” John cuts in with wide eyes.“She is a scientist with three PhDs, specializing in Chemistry. Of course, she knows how to make a bomb. In fact, she is the right person to consult about that.” Mycroft answers briefly, looking back at Sherlock. “I fear for her state of mind.”From the radio back in the cottage, to the outburst she had earlier, her mental state is starting to be questionable.Sherlock frowns. “The tapes can wait. We need to know what Jocelyn and Silas talked about in that room while they were unsupervised. If you are questioning her mental state, this should be your priority.”“Brother mine, my priority is you and your child. What Jocelyn does during her free time is no longer any of my concern.”Even Anthea glances at her boss with brief astonishment. John stares at Mycroft in shock. This is not the same man he saw when he informed him that Jocelyn was dead.Sherlock coldly stares back at his older brother. “Well, how unfortunate for you. Jocelyn is the main priority of your main priority.”“Jocelyn is not innocent in this situation.”“None of us are innocent, Mycroft. Our entire lives center around the lack of innocence.” Sherlock approaches Mycroft’s desk. “I do not want my daughter to live in a world where her uncle would never protect her mother when he is fully capable of doing so.”Mycroft softens, and his body suddenly relaxes at the mention of a daughter. A niece. Mycroft blinks a few times at Sherlock, and he finally turns speechless.John glances at Sherlock with wide eyes as well. Sherlock sighs — He did not expect his announcement to be this way, but here they are.He watches Mycroft visibly swallow before looking away. “I am concerned of Jocelyn’s mental state. It could affect the infant, if it is not affected already.”Sherlock humorlessly smiles. “Of course you knew.”“Knew what?” John asks cluelessly.“It has been determined early on in Miss Grant’s life that a pregnancy would be dangerous for her health.” He explains to John, briefly glancing at him. “She’d get weaker every day, as long as that child grows inside her. It’s a rare case, but not exactly uncommon for her family genes.”Sherlock furrows his brows. “How long have you known?”“Since the moment I saw her in Baker Street for the first time.” Mycroft gives him a frown. “I thought you knew then as well.”“You know I never step over the line when it comes to her.”“You hated her when she first came here.”“My past anger towards her had nothing to do with the respect she so clearly deserves from me.” Sherlock calmly paces across the room. “We’re so close. I feel Moriarty hovering around me. He’s nearby.”***Sherlock and Mycroft go to an empty surveillance room. John left because he was asked to, out of respect for Jocelyn’s privacy. It is probably because Mycroft does not want anyone else to see the contents of these tapes. At least for that, Sherlock can appreciate the effort.Mycroft and Sherlock pop in the tapes into different monitors and now, they have images of every single room inside of that mansion. One of the monitors display a pale-walled room. They can see Jocelyn in a hospital gown, asleep on the bed. She still has her long brown hair from before.Mycroft glances at Sherlock for reassurance, and Sherlock takes his seat before nodding at his brother. Then, he presses play.--
“I want you to know that I’m not going to let you take my child away from me.” She quietly said.
“I’m not going to take your child, Miss Jocelyn. They are.”
Naomi’s words replayed in Jocelyn’s head. The mixture of pain and fear kept creeping into her bones at the idea of her child being taken away from her.Three weeks, she’d been here. Three weeks inside the walls of this mansion. Jocelyn might lose her mind if she looks at the same ceiling again.They don’t even do anything to her. After Laurie found out about her pregnancy, she had not seen him for days. Not even Silas.Jocelyn asked Naomi where Laurie could be, but all she says is that he is very busy. It was as if Jocelyn was playing house, with Naomi as her maid who does everything for her.The mansion felt like a mixture of a fancy hotel and an isolated prison.Every day, Jocelyn roamed around the mansion in hopes that she could find any sort of machine that could be used to send a message to London, but there wasn’t any.Now, she was in the library to pass the time by going through the shelf of compositions. She read familiar names like Beethoven, Bach, and more. As she was about to grab the book on Chopin, a voice behind her made her jump.“Found something you fancy?”Jocelyn snapped her head behind her, only to see Silas’ smirking face by the entrance. She glared at him before turning back to the shelf, ignoring his presence.Silas entered the room. “Thanks for the warm welcome, little sheep. I think I might fall in love with you.” Silas slowly made his way towards her. Jocelyn held her ground and held back a flinch once he was at arm’s reach. “Like it? It’s a cute name.”“I don’t care about names.”“Really? So, you’re not thinking about what to name your baby?”Jocelyn met his eyes. “If you or Laurie do anything to keep me and my baby apart, I swear—”“Making threats. How adorable.” Silas chuckled and reached over to caress her hair. As she jerked her head away, Silas grabbed her chin and squeezed hard. “Do you even know why you’re here? Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes won’t harm us as long as we have you. That’s all you are to us.”He released her and Jocelyn gasped in a breath, and her hand flew to her aching jaw.Silas flashed a smile. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”He started walking and Jocelyn steadied her breath before following behind him. They both walk past a few house staff who nodded at Silas respectfully while he walked with ease.“Did you know that Jim lived here for most of his life? Whenever he’s not off messing around with your detective, he was right here. Naomi and Nova traveling the world and doing his work for him. He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.”“Nova?”Silas grimaced. “Mary Watson, or whatever her name is now.”“Where are you taking me?”“Somewhere I think you’ll like.”It was strange, only because Silas never really spoke to her. It was only ever Laurie or Naomi, but never him. This is probably the longest conversation she has had with him.“Where’s Naomi?”“Relax, darling. You’ll be with your nanny soon enough.” Then, Silas began to lead her to the door where she first emerged from. The door that led to the dark basement she woke up in.Jocelyn halted by the door when Silas began to walk down the stairs. “No.”“I don’t recall giving you a choice. Come on.”Jocelyn clenched her jaw, but slowly walked down the stairs as well. What surprised her was another flight of stairs leading to another basement floor. A second basement level.As they walked down the dark corridor, she began to notice just how big the basement is. Then, she could hear painful groans from a distance, and a chill ran down her spine.“What… what is that?”“No questions.” Silas led her to a room. “After you.”Jocelyn glared at him, but complied. He followed behind her and closed the door until they were engulfed by darkness. Jocelyn stood frozen for a moment before a blue light grows from a small bulb above them.She took a step back with a gasp once she saw a man tied to a chair. The side of his forehead was bleeding and his whole face was covered in sweat and dirt. The man coughed weakly.“What the hell is this?” Jocelyn’s voice was demanding as she looked back at Silas.The moment she met his eyes, was the same moment she realized that he is holding a gun.“It’s fine. He’s alright. I had him checked out.”“He’s bleeding!” She hissed at him. “How many people are here?”“I think about… eighty or something.”“You have eighty captives under this building?”“I wouldn’t call them captives. They’re all volunteers.” Silas reached out the gun toward Jocelyn. “Take it.”She hesitated, but took the gun. Upon seeing the condition of the man, she was not looking forward for the same thing to happen to her.His next words startled her as her hands froze around the gun.“Shoot him.”Her heart stopped and the man coughed weakly, but it was laced with sobs of fear.“I… I’m sorry?”“I said, shoot him.”“I’m not going to kill him!”“I didn’t say kill him. I said shoot him.”Jocelyn craned her neck towards the man, who was looking back at her in fear. The gag in his mouth prevented him to talk as he whimpered repeatedly through it.“Shoot… him…”She shakily inhaled before raising the gun, aiming it towards the man’s knee. Silas smirked and observed her closely. However, she slowly turned to aim the gun toward Silas instead.Silas rolled his eyes. “I said shoot him. Not me.”“Let him go, or I’ll kill you.”“You don’t have the spine.”Jocelyn’s finger settled on the trigger, and it made something intense spark in Silas’ eyes. “Let them all go, and I won’t kill you.”“Ooh, I’m terrified.” He chuckled darkly.Jocelyn’s breaths trembled. “You don’t think I would?”“You’re just a sheep, Jocelyn. What makes you think we’re at the same level? You don’t have the spine to kill.” Silas stepped forward, not even fazed by her gun until the gun was pressed against his chest. “I’m going to ask again… shoot—”The words barely left his mouth when Jocelyn pulled the trigger, only for it to click. The two of them stayed in their place before Silas pulled back.The moment Jocelyn saw Silas’ face, she saw the danger in his eyes. The complete anticipation. It was the same look a predator would give its prey, and he grinned. Almost… almost as if he was proud of her.“You didn’t think I’d give you a loaded gun, did you?”Jocelyn’s stomach recoiled and she stepped back to maintain a distance between them. Silas took the gun and loaded it with one bullet, handing it back to her. “Now, stop playing games, Jocelyn. Shoot him.”“What makes you think I wouldn’t try to shoot you again?”“You have one bullet and shaking hands. You wouldn’t be able to shoot a moving target, and I can promise you, I have an interesting stamina.” Silas stepped behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders to make her face the man in the chair.Jocelyn clenched her jaw, but Silas’ hand took hers to make her aim the gun towards the man. He started to groan desperately against his gag. It made her chest cave in.“I can’t,” she shook her head furiously, lowering the gun.Silas only mocked a pout, walking behind the shaking man’s chair before slamming his palms on his shoulder to make the man jump. “Not even the man who strapped poor little Shane to a chair and brutally murdered him and his mother?”The world had stopped spinning, and the loud ringing in Jocelyn’s ear increased in volume. She stared at the man who seemed to have tensed up at the mention of the little boy.Silas had the widest and most mischievous grin on his face upon seeing the flash of disbelief and anger in her eyes. “That’s it, Jocelyn. Feel that rage. Let it fester.”Jocelyn’s hands began to shake, but she seemed to have lifted the gun again, aiming towards the man whose screams were muffled by the cloth in his mouth. Jocelyn’s lips are parted as tears streamed down her pale face.Silas’ whole body is filled with anticipation, and he walked next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you want him to feel every single pain they felt, and worse,” he lifted her hair to gain access to her ear to whisper. “Make him pay for what he did. Don’t kill him. Just make it hurt.”Jocelyn’s chin trembles as the tears keep pouring down her cheeks. Her uneven breaths and the rapid pumping of his heart kept ringing in her ears. She couldn’t hear the panicked groans from the murderer in front of her. All she could see now was that smile of the little boy she knew years ago. The boy who saved her life. The reason why she was still alive. The reason why she came back to London and met Sherlock again.The reason why she wanted a child in the first place.Small gasps of air left her mouth as tears streamed down her cheek. Jocelyn’s vision begins to blur as her finger slowly slides down to the trigger as she aims for his leg.And suddenly, the gun was out of her hand. Her body felt heavy as arms wrapped around her, gently pushing her away from Silas. Then, she slowly sunk into the floor to catch her breath.Although, she could hear thuds against the wall, as if something heavy was repeatedly pushed into it.“What were you doing?!” Laurie’s booming voice echoed in Jocelyn’s head, along with a high tone deafening her ears. “You were supposed to keep your distance! Keep your hands off her. She is pregnant, for Christ’s sake!” The thuds continued, as well as breaths being knocked out of Silas’ chest.Jocelyn could feel arms support her, helping Jocelyn on her feet as she stumbled out of the basement, but as they reached the top of the stairs, her vision blacks out.Hours later, Jocelyn woke up inside her room, and she jolted herself to sit up. She jumped upon seeing Naomi by her bedside, pouring a cup of tea.Naomi briefly glanced at her. “Good morning, Miss Jocelyn.” She offered a cup of tea.“What the hell happened?”“You passed out this morning.” She calmly replied, handing her a plate of cake. “Cake?”“I… I can’t remember what happened.”“Silas took you to the second basement level. He must have shown you something.”“You mean you don’t know?”“I’ve never been to the second basement level, Miss Jocelyn. Only Silas and Sebastian are permitted.” Naomi looked at her, with no hint of sympathy or pity. “Well, whatever happened, it won’t happen again. I was not informed this morning that Silas would be borrowing you.”Jocelyn gave her a sharp look. “I’m not an object you can borrow.”A hint of a smile curled on Naomi’s face. “Apologies, Miss Jocelyn. I meant that I wasn’t aware of Silas wanting to spend time with you today. But don’t worry, Sebastian made sure Silas won’t try anything like that again.”“He was encouraging me to hurt that man.”“And were you?”Jocelyn blinked. She wanted to believe that it was because of Silas’ manipulation that spurred her on. Silas was so good at manipulation, and that is the only reason why she felt like she wanted to hurt that man.That is what Jocelyn wanted to believe.When she didn’t answer Naomi’s question, Naomi briefly glanced at her and smiled to herself once her back is turned.That night, Jocelyn was afraid to walk around the mansion again, but Naomi reassured her that Silas was not here anymore. Still, she just stayed in her room where she brushed her own hair.When the door opened, Jocelyn immediately got up and took a step back, with her back against the edge of the desk. She saw Sebastian with his hands slightly raised in defense.“I come in peace.”“None of you ever came in peace ever since you took me from my home.” Jocelyn hissed at him, but he seemed unfazed.Instead, he looked apologetic. “I’m sorry for what Silas did. I warned him to stay away from you, and yet he still put you in harm’s way. Endangering you was never the plan, Jocelyn.”“Endangering me? You plan to give my child away the moment they’re born, which would kill me more than any gun or knife you’d throw at me.” Jocelyn’s voice trembled slightly with anger. “I have nothing to offer you. You don’t need me.”Laurie stood by the door, just watching her after her rant. “Did you know that the man downstairs was the one that killed the child and his mother?”“I didn’t.”“Hm. And did you know that it was his voice that you heard when I called you at Mr. Holmes’ family home?”Jocelyn softened in astonishment, with her lips parting. The thought of trying to save the life of a murderer makes her sick to her stomach.The look on her face confirmed it. “Would you have shot him if I didn’t figure out what Silas was doing?”“No.” She answered too quickly before her face melts into cluelessness. “I don’t know…”“In that case, I think you needed me.” Laurie nodded at her. “And I need you.”“I can’t give you the keycode.”“No, but you can give me something else. You can make me something else. Something I can use against other people and make it easier for them to comply to my wishes.”“What are you talking about?”Laurie had a knowing smile on his face. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow. For now, get some rest. You had a long day. I have something for you tomorrow that’ll cheer you up a bit.”--Sherlock and Mycroft continue to watch the tapes. All Jocelyn does is walk around the mansion as if to measure everything. Sherlock would see her trying to look for something. More likely any sort of communication device to reach home.At other times, Jocelyn would be served with fancy meals and drinks, but never alcohol, which only let the two Holmes brothers know that the mansion is aware of her pregnancy.However, there was one particular day that completely threw Sherlock off. Silas taking her to the basement. Sherlock and Mycroft did not speak the entire time, and listened to every word Silas said.They could not see Jocelyn’s face, but her shaking hands and trembling voice were enough to tell them that she was near her breaking point.Sherlock’s lips would curl in anger every time Silas would come near Jocelyn. His tone, his voice, it oozed with fascination towards her.It confuses Sherlock because earlier when she was kidnapped, he nearly killed her with a knife. And now, he is looking at her as if she was the most interesting thing in the world. It somehow reminds him of a certain consulting criminal, and it makes Sherlock sick.Sebastian swooped in and pushed the gun out of her hands. He pulled Silas away from Jocelyn, and slammed him against the wall with such force that the thud could be heard. Silas would groan as he was repeatedly pushed while Sebastian yelled at his face. Afterwards, Sebastian gently took a weakened Jocelyn in his arms and led him back upstairs to Naomi.Sherlock had to pause the entire feed. They sit in silence for a moment to digest the events that happened so fast.“Interesting. Sebastian Moran protected her.” Mycroft furrows his brows.“From his own brother.” Sherlock shakes his head. “Silas’ words. It’s as if he was provoking her, too. But… provoking her to what? Hurt that man?”Mycroft glances at Sherlock. “I believe they’re provoking her to break. They’re trying to break her. This could be their mind games. They’re pushing her to her limit.”“And then what? Why would they do that?”“People are much easier to manipulate when they are vulnerable or in pain.” Mycroft presses his lips together in contemplation. “In this case, it’s both.”--The next morning, Jocelyn left her room when Naomi didn’t wake her with tea. It felt unusual that Naomi didn’t.The other staff didn’t talk to her at all and just ignored her presence as she walked. She even tried asking them where Naomi was, but they just hurried away from her.Jocelyn frowned as a few guards followed close by, probably to make sure she won’t escape.She and walked to the living room, only to grow suspicious upon seeing a white organ piano in the middle of it. She slowly approached the instrument. There was a piece of paper on the organ, and she picked it up to unfold it.
Here’s something for you to do.
Jocelyn sighed and rolled her eyes. As if Laurie can make her feel better by giving her gifts. All she wants now is to go home unscathed.Although, it wouldn’t hurt to play something… she thought to herself as her fingers touched the piano keys.Jocelyn gritted her teeth in annoyance of giving in, and made her way to the library to find the composition books she saw.She looked between Chopin and Bach, before settling for Bach. Jocelyn went back to the piano and sat down, opening the book to a familiar piece.Standing behind her nearby the entrance of the living room, Naomi watched her with a small smile. The ease on Jocelyn’s shoulders as she began to play the piano was something Naomi hasn’t seen ever since Jocelyn got here.Naomi entered the room with a tray of breakfast, putting it down on the top of the piano, and Jocelyn stopped playing.“Oh, please. Don’t let me stop you.” Naomi poured her some tea.“Where were you?”“Mr. Moran asked me to bring the piano to your room, but you were still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. I had it moved here.” Naomi flashed a mildly amused expression. “I was told you were extremely good, you wouldn’t need a book.”“Oh, I just… I just find it hard to focus lately. I hate playing off-key. It needs to be perfect.”“Then, look for something you rarely play. Might help.”Jocelyn contemplated. It was not a bad idea. She grabbed the book and looked at the table of contents. Her eyes scanned the page and, to her amusement, found the perfect and ironic piece to play. Ah, Partita No. 1.She flips through the pages to find the composition, and once she does, a piece of paper slips out from between the pages. As Naomi prepared her a cold drink, Jocelyn carefully leaned down to take the paper.On the note, there were no words. Most of it were handwritten lines in ink, forming strange patterns. Although, she only needed the first word on top to be able to feel a cold shudder down her spine.
Moriarty
“What is that?” Naomi asked upon seeing the pale look on her face.“I… I don’t know. It’s just… it’s just Moriarty’s name with a bunch of random squiggles.”At those words, Naomi snatched the paper out of her fingers and stared at the page. Her eyes moved as if she were reading them. Whatever was on the note was far from Korean, that’s for sure. It barely looked anything readable.Then, Naomi looked at Jocelyn. The expression on the maid’s face were a mixture of shock and confusion.“What is it?”Naomi’s eyes were wide, but with one swift movement, she pulled out the gun from behind her back, and aims it towards the guard by the door with a considerable amount of distance. Jocelyn barely had any time to flinch when Naomi shot three guards in a row without so much as a blink. Blood pools from underneath their heads and Naomi calmly lowers her gun.A horrified gasp left her mouth as she jumped back, covering her ears from the echo of the shot. “Naomi, Jesus! What—”“Don’t talk. Come with me. Quickly.”“O-Okay, I… alright,” stammered Jocelyn, and followed her out of fear.Naomi walked calmly down the corridor, and when a new person walked by, she would aim her gun to their head and pull the trigger without a flinch. Blood would splatter across the wall like paint. As more bodies fell with a thud, Jocelyn’s heart kept pounding in her ears.Naomi led her back into her bedroom. Jocelyn’s eyes lingering on the people that Naomi shot down, and tried to steady her breath as she watched Naomi begin packing her things.“What is going on?”“There’ll be more of them on the way, we need to move quickly,” she pushed the bag to Jocelyn’s chest. Naomi’s eyes were calm. “I’m taking you away from here.”“And go where?”“One place they won’t look for you.”“Why did you kill—”“They tell the Morans everything. Come on.” She grabbed Jocelyn’s arm and led her outside to a car.On the way, they pass a few guards and without hesitation, Naomi raises her gun and shoots them through the head without even stopping with her walk. Jocelyn jumped from the ear-piercing noise of the gun, and gaped at the way these men just drop to the floor with loud thuds, but she followed quietly behind the other woman.They hop inside and she stared at Naomi with clear terror and confusion. Naomi started the car, glancing at Jocelyn with raised brows. Naomi was so calm and collected, as if she hadn’t must killed more than twenty people in the span of three minutes.Naomi stared at Jocelyn as if she was waiting. “Seatbelt on, please.”Jocelyn stared in shock, but put on her seatbelt with her hands shaking. Is this where she dies? She saw Naomi’s skills in shooting, she is definitely not just a housemaid.“W-What was in that paper?”“We have to burn it. Make sure no one else will see it.”“That… that didn’t answer my question.”Naomi gives her a brief glance, and she had a look of disbelief on her face. Then, it turns into exasperation as she hits the pedal. She did not talk to Jocelyn for the rest of the drive.--“Jesus.” Sherlock mutters under his breath. “That paper. It had Moriarty’s name on it and random lines, which can be code that Naomi understood.”Sherlock and Mycroft have been in the office for more than twelve hours just watching the footages.They watch as Sebastian comes back to the mansion, only to find his dead staff, with Naomi and Jocelyn gone. They watch as Sebastian took his anger out at ripping paintings off the walls with screams of fury. Then, after that, the mansion was empty for the next few weeks. Possibly because Sebastian looked for Jocelyn—and attending her ‘funeral’ a few days later.The captives were still in the basement doing the same routine for the next few weeks.It wasn’t until Jocelyn comes back to the mansion after weeks. This time, her hair is short and jet-black, the same style Sherlock saw in New Orleans.Naomi is no longer by her side as she entered the mansion while holding a gun, ready to shoot. At this moment, the security cameras were now muted, and they are unable to hear Jocelyn as she tries to call out to someone loudly. But from how her lips moved, she seemed to be yelling Laurie’s name.Sebastian walked in. This time, with Silas next to him. Jocelyn lowered her gun and reached into her pocket, holding up a mobile phone. Sebastian took it from her and scrolled through it.Silas grinned at her and leaned down to wrap his arms around her to embrace her warmly. Jocelyn barely reacted. It made Sherlock’s blood boil.Sebastian looked at his brother and Jocelyn, and Silas gave him an amused look. Sebastian said nothing and went outside. Silas took Jocelyn’s hand and guided her back outside. Mycroft watches as Sherlock tightens his fist to dig his nails into his palm.Sebastian, Silas and Jocelyn were gone for several days, until they come back one night.Sherlock checks the date and clenches his jaw. “That was the same day I saw Jocelyn at the pool.” And the same day he found out that she is carrying his child.The three of them come back and Jocelyn pushes Silas off her before he could come any closer. She storms off, and Silas goes after her to grab her arm.Mycroft and Sherlock watch as Jocelyn’s face fills with fury. Jocelyn yelled at them for a full minute before she stormed off to her previous room.The two brothers were alone now, and Silas watched Jocelyn walk away with a smirk.Sherlock clenches his teeth and Mycroft shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he felt a thick aura of pure rage coming from his younger brother. His blood continues to boil under his skin as he watched the Morans go to their own rooms. Sherlock had to pause the tapes and take off his headphones.“Brother mine.” Mycroft starts but Sherlock stands and begins to make his way towards the door. Mycroft grabs his arm. “Where are you going?”“I think I deserve a little chat with our inmate.” Sherlock sneers through his teeth.“No one is allowed to harm a detainee.”“He preyed on her while she was weak. I cannot sit still while he is kept in a secure and well-formed facility where all his needs are being met.” Sherlock snaps at his brother. “He should be rotting in an actual jail cell.”“Getting to that. We cannot take him anywhere else. He has a reputation of escaping. This cell is the only cell he cannot.”All Sherlock can think about is wrapping his hands around Silas’ throat and cutting off his airway. He has never felt murderous as he has now.Sherlock meets Mycroft’s eyes, and he softens. “I put her in harm’s way—”“This is not your fault.” Mycroft squeezed his shoulder. “What we can do now is make it right. We can make it better. She’s safe now with us.”“Is she?” Sherlock quietly asks. “From what I’ve seen so far, she was never safe with me. In fact, I’m the reason why she got caught in this.”“That is not true.”“So, Moriarty took interest in her because he randomly saw her? Sebastian Moran didn’t get close to her because she was a professor after quitting her job because of my death? Silas Moran didn’t torture of her because I left her in New Orleans?” Sherlock buries his face into his palms. “I don’t know if I could keep watching anymore. I… I can’t. I do not think I can stomach watching what they’ll do to her.”The one scar on each palm and back of her hand. The burnt skin in shape of an X on her lower back. Sherlock knew how she got them. It wasn’t a mystery or a hard deduction. It was so clear. Sherlock doesn’t know if he could bear watching.Mycroft watches Sherlock exit the room. Mycroft waits for a moment before shutting down the monitors and calling Anthea to tidy the place up.***Harry opens the door and sees Sherlock standing on the doorstep. She offers a worried smile. “Hey.”“Hello. Is Jocelyn…”“She’s in her room. Locked.” Harry’s tone is laced with nervousness as she tries chuckling through it. “John came by earlier, but she wouldn’t budge.”Sherlock frowns. “Has she eaten? Drank water?”“I gave her a tray, she took it inside.” Harry nods, stepping aside to let him in. “Listen, um… did you know that she can, um…”“That she can talk?”“Yeah.”“No, I didn’t.”“Neither did I.” Harry sighs. “How did it go?”Sherlock sighs, not wanting to burden Harry by getting her even more involved in this. “There was a technical malfunction. Jocelyn managed to talk to him, unsupervised for about five minutes.” Sherlock looks unsure. “We still aren’t sure what exactly they talked about. For now, I just want to know if she’s eating and drinking enough. Do you mind?”“Oh, not at all! Please,” she gestures to the staircase, just before placing an apple in his hand. Sherlock thanks her before making his way to Jocelyn’s room.He knocks on the door and instantly, he hears her voice.“I swear, Harry, if you offer me another apple to lure me out, I am going to refill your toothpaste bottle with mayonnaise.”Sherlock blinks once he hears her voice and threat. “I doubt it’ll be a successful prank, considering I would notice from a mile away.”There is silence for a brief moment before the door clicks and swings open, revealing Jocelyn in a baggy shirt reaching half her thigh. She appears anxious and refuses to meet his eyes.“What are you doing here?” Her voice is gentle and unsure.“I came to see you. Checking if you’ve eaten yet.” He presents the green apple to her.Jocelyn furrows her brows at him, but takes the apple. “Did you watch the tapes?”“Jocelyn…”“Did you?”He stares at her for a second. “Yes. Up until when you came back to New Zealand from Bristol.”“You didn’t… you didn’t watch what they did to me when they took me back there?”“If I do, I can never delete them from my mind.” Sherlock swallows, and his throat bobs. “I apologize, I don’t think I can watch you being hurt.”Jocelyn observes him. “There’s stuff in there that I don’t know if I could say out loud to you. If I do, all of it would… would feel too real to me. I wanted you to watch it because I don’t have to be present to watch you look at me differently.”“There is nothing you can do that would change the way I feel about…” he stops. “—that would change the way I see you.”Jocelyn looks into his eyes and Sherlock can see that she’s considering it, but at one blink, that look in her eyes disappears.She hesitates. “Aren’t you supposed to not like me right now? After what I did earlier?”“Aim a gun at me by the pool? Compromise the interrogation? Have a knife against my throat?” Sherlock sighs casually. “Feels like a typical Tuesday morning.”“Sherlock, I’m being serious.”“I am, too. Those are ancient history. Can we move on?”“Move on? I threatened your life twice. I’m probably not in the right mind right now, and you’re here.”Sherlock’s frown deepens. “I wanted to see how you were. Is that such a crime?”Guilt washes over her face. “No…”The two of them stand in silence while Sherlock observes her face. She looks pale and weak, and it was without a doubt something to do with her pregnancy. Sherlock observes how tightly she is holding onto the door to keep herself standing.“Rarely anything could get the best of me, Jocelyn. But I couldn’t watch you get hurt while there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Sherlock quietly confesses. “I do not intend making this about me, but I just… I cannot watch.”Sherlock can witness the goriest and most brutal deaths ever during his cases, but he doesn’t think he could watch Jocelyn go through any kind of pain.Jocelyn facial features soften. She pushes herself on her toes before pressing her lips against his.Sherlock is surprised, but he immediately sinks into it as he places both his hands on her hips to pull her closer. Their lips mold together in sync, and Sherlock can feel the warmth and passion being laced into it. It was a simple kiss, but enough for Sherlock to feel a brief shudder down his spine. He had no idea how much he missed her.They pull away and Jocelyn cups his cheek as Sherlock stares at her with such emotion. “Would you just hold me for the whole afternoon? Or some other cliché shit right now. I just… I need you.”He feels a sudden thump in his chest. “Of course.”She offers a thankful smile. Jocelyn turns around and makes her way back in bed.Sherlock stands frozen for a moment before he inhales and removes his scarf. Jocelyn watches, and Sherlock barely broke eye contact with her as he begins to unbutton his white shirt. He removes it, to reveal his pale chest covered with a soft tuft of hair. Jocelyn’s gaze on him slightly made him feel warm as he unbuckles his belt to remove his pants as well, leaving himself in boxer shorts only.He makes his way to the bed and climbs under the sheets to join her. She scoots closer to press her back against his chest, while he wraps an arm around her. Sherlock and Jocelyn find a comfortable position, with Jocelyn in his arms and her hair tickling his face.Sherlock glances at the nightstand, seeing the picture frame of his face from ten years ago. He leans closer to bury his nose into Jocelyn’s brown hair, closing his eyes to inhale her scent. She smells nice.“Jocelyn, I’m worried about you.” Sherlock mumbles.She stays quiet for a bit, and her hand is on top of his on her stomach. Then, she speaks. “Have you thought of names?”Sherlock blinks and traces his own fingers against her stomach. “Not yet. You?”“I’m still wondering.”“We have time. You have until baptismal.”Jocelyn snorts. “Baptismal? Neither of us believe in God.”“Well, maybe our daughter will. We don’t know.”“She wouldn’t need a God if we’re here to protect her.”“I won’t argue with that.”She chuckles quietly.He hesitates. “How long have you been able to talk?”“Two, three days. I think.”“Why didn’t you tell me?”“I like being silent, you know? It gave me a chance to really listen to people.” She smiles. “The other day, Molly just talked to me for hours and it made me so happy because she was comfortable with just letting me listen. It was one of the best days of my life lately.”Sherlock can hear the joy in her voice. “You’re welcome to choose to be silent, you know. I’d understand.”“It’s nice to have that every once in a while. It helps me understand why my mother was like that for many years.” She shakes her head. “But it’s not for me. It shouldn’t be.”He stays quiet, just enjoying her warmth in his arms.“If you’re wondering what Silas and I talked about, I asked him if he knew where Laurie was. I asked what the poison’s purpose was. I asked if he’d prefer spending the rest of his life in that cell, or dying by getting stabbed to death with that knife he had under the table.” She sarcastically says the last part with a quiet voice. “He was very honest and straightforward.”“What did he say?”“Hm. ‘No. I don’t know.’ And he gave me his knife.”Sherlock quirks a small smile, pressing a kiss on the back of her neck. “Smart girl.”“Well, he’d be dumb to harm me. He knows he’d die the moment you all saw me dead. He values his own life, even if he says otherwise.”“Your forgot one question from Mycroft’s list.”“Oh?”“Is Moriarty alive?”Jocelyn sighs, looking away. “Jim is dead, Sherlock.”“How can you be so sure?”“He is. He’s dead. He blew his own brains out in front of you, remember?”“But he sends me messages. Sent. He’s been quiet.”“Laurie was the one who texted you to come to Bristol, remember? It wasn’t Jim.”“Oh.”“Yeah. Oh. I told you. Jim is dead.” Her voice is almost a whisper.“…Well, fewer enemies for us, I suppose.” For some reason, Sherlock felt disappointed. It would have been quite interesting if Moriarty hadbeen alive all along. His great arch nemesis, whom he used to respect… until he harmed Jocelyn. Moriarty being dead all along briefly upset Sherlock.A few hours later, she lifts his arm off her and sits up. Sherlock glances at her in confusion, but she just smiles a bit. “I need to pee. I’ll be back.” Jocelyn leans down to press a lingering kiss on his lips. He watches her walk to the bathroom and close the door.Sherlock leans back in bed, surrounded by her perfume. He cracks a smile, and his hand caresses the warmth she left behind on the bed.His phone beeps from inside his jacket, interrupting his sentiments. Sherlock sighs before getting up to read a text.
St. James’ Park. 5PM. Come alone. I have something for you. JM
His brows knot together in puzzlement. Sherlock stares at the screen and checks the time. It’s three in the afternoon, the meeting is in two hours. He must leave now.He hears the toilet flush, and the bathroom door swings opens. Sherlock turns his phone off. He puts it back into his jacket and sees Jocelyn smiling at him before climbing into bed again. This time, she slips off her shirt and leaves herself in her underwear. It makes Sherlock stammer for a second as he glances between her and his phone.She notices that Sherlock doesn’t do the same, and she sits up while wrapped with the white sheet. “I was thinking of an afternoon nap.”“Something came up. Might be a lead on a case I’m working on.”“You’d rather go on a case than spend the entire afternoon cuddling in bed with me. Naked.” She raises her brows.“W-Well, I…” Sherlock swallows, and actually considers ignoring Moriarty just to do just that.Jocelyn snorts. “I’m just kidding. Go, super sleuth.” She stands, still wrapped in a sheet and making her way towards him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and Sherlock immediately grabs the sheets around her to prevent them from slipping off her body and expose more skin that would make him drop his appointment in St. James’ Park.He brushes his nose against hers. “We’ll talk soon, yes?”Her hesitancy is still visible, but she nods. Jocelyn presses a soft kiss on his lips. “Be careful.”He nods and kisses her deeply. It surprises her for a moment before she sinks into it, kissing back with the same passion. In all honesty, watching him get dressed was just as attractive as watching him get undressed.*** It was Tuesday, most people would be at work. There were a few families around, and Sherlock sits there… waiting. Waiting for something he has no idea about. At least the location is public.Then, he turns his head, and sees the one person he expected the least. Frankly, he never expected them at all. They were not ever on Sherlock’s mental list of possible traitors. Normally because he trusts his brother’s judgement.Sherlock softens once they approach the park bench, holding a purse and wearing a formal black pencil skirt with a matching blazer on top of a white blouse.He sighs. “Bit of a long way from the Diogenes, Miss Anthea.”“Hello, Mr. Sherlock. May I?”Sherlock nods and Anthea sits down next to him. “Where’s my brother?”“He’s in his office. He’s safe, don’t worry.”“Can I take your word for that? I don’t particularly find it easy to trust Moriarty’s agents.”“I’m not an agent of his.”“Then, what are you? Why did Moriarty ask me to meet you?”“I’m here to pay a debt. My debt to Moriarty.” She calmly says to him, reaching into her pocket to take a neatly folded note. She slides it towards him, and Sherlock cautiously takes it. “It’s just a simple letter, and it’s for you.”Sherlock flips the folded paper, and sure enough, his name is printed on the front. It is printed saying, “Sherlock Holmes. From JM.”Anthea briefly closes her eyes and exhales in relief. She stands, brushing her hands against her skirt. “Well, I guess I’m done here.”“No. Sit down.”“Mr. Holmes.”“Sit down.”Anthea hesitates, but complies. Sherlock slips the paper into his coat. “How does it work?”“Pardon?”“How do you contact Moriarty?”“One of his known associates. Naomi.”“No… Naomi was with Jocelyn during her entire abduction and their time on the run from the Morans. She no longer works for Moriarty.”“I’m quite sure that it was Naomi I spoke to.”“Where?”“A café nearby Diogenes.”“And Moriarty responded to your request?”“Yes.”“How?”“Well, he just messaged me. Through my private number. The next thing I know, what I asked from him came true.”“What did you give him in return?”“He said that I should just wait for instructions. After a few months, he finally gave me some.”“What instructions?”“Take the note he left on my desk this morning, and give it to you here. After that, my debt is paid.”Sherlock frowns to himself, keeping his head facing forward. “My brother trusts you. One of the few people he trusts.”“You wouldn’t understand.”“What is it, then? What problem did you have that it took Moriarty to solve it for you?” Sherlock could not hide the bitterness of his words.Anthea stares blankly ahead of herself. “There was a man. I served him coffee every day, because I am required to serve the ones who attend Mr. Holmes’ meetings.” She tells Sherlock. “He took advantage of me. And afterwards, I had to look at his face almost every single day as he walks freely. I could not tell anyone. I did not have the energy to explain it all to people. But I did want him to go to prison. So…”“You contacted Moriarty.”“Yes. And he made it all go away, in the span of a few days.”“You should have told my brother this. He would’ve done something.”Anthea smiles. “Your brother is a brave man, and I admire him a lot, but I don’t think Mr. Holmes would go against someone whose evil is apparently necessary.”Sherlock frowns to himself. “Anthea, I do not hide anything from my brother. Not anymore, I’ve learned my lesson. I will tell him.”“I expect nothing less.”“Was it worth it? Losing your job from this?”It takes a few seconds before Anthea answer with a smile. “Yes. It was worth it. Moriarty did something for me that no police or government departments can ever hope to do.” She stands back up again. “I’ll be collecting my things tomorrow morning. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”Sherlock nods and she turns to leave. However, she stops and turns back to face him.“Moriarty is… different now. He’s been helping people. Good people.” Anthea tells him with a genuine tone. “I know your history with him. I know who he is, but so far, he’s kept his word.”“You are talking about a murderous psychopath. Psychopaths do not change. They evolve.” Sherlock simply tells her. “Good afternoon, Anthea. I do hope you’ll find peace after this.”Anthea says nothing else, and she walks away. Sherlock exhales, stressfully pinching the skin between his brows. He reaches into his coat for the folded paper, breaking the seal to open it and read the printed words.
Surprised?
Sherlock lets out a scoff, but couldn’t help but smile a bit. Moriarty sent a person of a good reputation to jail for Anthea, causing a massive ruckus among the media. And in exchange, Anthea delivers this message to Sherlock? A single word?In all honesty, it does seem like something Moriarty would do. He never cared much for monetary payments.Moriarty sent Sherlock here so that Sherlock can listen to Anthea indirectly praise Moriarty of his work. Moriarty wants Sherlock to know that he changed. How manipulative can an individual be?Well, Moriarty was never just a man. He has always been the spider. The spider at the center of a web, and he knows precisely how ever single web strings work.
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“Can you grab my coat? It’s on the door.”“It’s way too hot for you to wear one, while also wearing a scarf. And Sherlock is going to throw a fit if you pass out in the church.”“I’m not going to pass out.” Jocelyn snatches the thick coat from Harry’s hands. “I’ll be fine.”“Whatever you say. Just make sure the little princess stays healthy.”Jocelyn smiles and smooths a palm over her stomach. “Well, considering how much I need an apple right now over how tired I am, I’d say that she’s doing just fine in here.”They both chuckle and go downstairs. “Where’s Sherlock?”“I haven’t heard from him for a while.”“What do you mean you haven’t heard from him?” Harry practically yells.“Well, he lives like five hours away. It’s understandable.”“Understandable? He’s the father of the human inside you. It’s unacceptable!”The doorbell rings and they both lift their head to it. Harry smirks. Jocelyn smile fades a bit, and she nervously watches Harry answer the front door, revealing Sherlock. He stands in front of Harry, wearing a crisp suit and bowtie. He offers a smile, but his eyes immediately wander behind her, just to see Jocelyn with a hesitant look on her face as she wraps a scarf around her neck.Sherlock presses his lips into a thin line. “Are you both ready?”“Oh, yes, we are. Right, Jo?” Harry links her arm with hers.Her eyes go back to Sherlock’s, and both of them are a bit tense as they lock gazes. Harry looks between them and senses that something is still off.Harry clears her throat. “Okay… we should get going.” Harry walks past Sherlock to go to the car.Sherlock glances at Jocelyn. “How are you feeling?”“I’m okay.” She supports her bump with her hand, and Sherlock briefly follows the movement with his eyes. “Are you okay? I didn’t hear from you yesterday.”“My apologies. I was with my brother.”“Did you finish watching the tapes?”“I didn’t see him for the tapes. I… have to tell you something, but it can wait, yes?”Her face softens in surprise, and she says nothing. Instead, she nods.“Good.” He offers his arm to her, and she slowly loops hers around his. “You look lovely.”She relaxes and gives his arm a gentle squeeze. With a serious look on her face, she replies, “You look sexy.”That results with a surprised stuttering from Sherlock, making her smile a bit. Sherlock sighs and lifts his hand to her cheek, touching the rosy skin while looking into her eyes. He watches her for a moment before leaning down to bring his lips to her forehead.“Hey, Romeo and Juliet! We have a wedding to attend to. I’m not about to sit in a car and wait for you two to finish shagging!” Harry calls out from the door.Sherlock sighs. “You genuinely picked her over me.”Jocelyn closes her eyes in mock frustration. “I know. Save me from her terror.”***It was surprisingly a big wedding. Tom’s family is quite a number, and they even invited his extended family. They did the same for Molly, but her family side is a bit small compared to her husband-to-be. Molly arrives shortly after the church prepared. Tom is standing at the end of the aisle, looking quite nervous.The doors open and the ceremony begins. The organ music fills the large church, and everyone stands to watch.Jocelyn had to take off the coat while walking down the aisle. She hopes that no one notices the slight bump of her stomach as she tries her best to cover it with the bouquet she is holding. Jocelyn catches Sherlock’s eye and he offers a reassuring smile, no doubt seeing her struggle keeping herself upright from a mile away.After that, she was able to take her seat next to Sherlock and watch Molly walk down the aisle herself. Molly has tears in her eyes as she smiles beautifully at Tom. Upon seeing this, Sherlock tilts his head to look at Jocelyn, only to see the look of fascination and pride as she grins at Molly and Tom. The bride and groom share their first kiss as husband and wife, and the whole church cheers for them. They walk outside where rose petals are thrown over them and photographers were everywhere. Jocelyn is smiling at some of the children running around, and Sherlock watches her with soft eyes.They all move to the reception, and the first thing Jocelyn noticed was how Sherlock is being surrounded by the same women from earlier, and he appears to be speaking to them in a polite manner while they are obviously swooning over him as they listen attentively. It makes Jocelyn roll her eyes briefly.Of course, these women aren’t blind. Sherlock looks absolutely gorgeous.While standing nearby the entrance of the reception building, Jocelyn tightens the coat around herself. She tilts her head and watches the others mingle.“You look like you’ve got a lot in your mind.” Jocelyn turns her head and sees an unfamiliar man by her side, and he smiles. Jocelyn is barely fazed by his presence. “Mind if I join you?”Jocelyn furrows her brows a bit, but shrugs and he stands next to her, overlooking the entire room filled with chatter.“So, why are you standing here and not, you know, talking to them?”Jocelyn briefly glances at him. “Not feeling up to it, but it is a nice view, isn’t it?”He hums and observes the room, seeing the happy smiles and the joyful laughter. “You’re probably right.” He chuckles, looking back at her. “I’m Kit, by the way. Kit Hooper.”“Hooper?”He sheepishly smiles. “I’m Molly’s brother.”“Oh, wow. Keaton, right?” She offers her hand.“Yeah. It’s just Kit.” He chuckles, shaking her hand. “And you are?”She smiles. “Jocelyn.”“Jocelyn. A pleasure.” He releases her hand and glances back to the room.She glances around, before turning and seeing Sherlock to her left. His arms are formally put behind his back as he glances between Jocelyn and Kit with an unreadable expression.She sighs in relief. “And this is Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Kit. Molly’s brother.”“So, you’re the Sherlock Holmes I’ve been hearing a lot from Molls, she told me all about you.” He chuckles a bit, offering his hand.Sherlock glances at his hand momentarily before looking back at Kit in the eyes. Jocelyn holds back a grimace as she braces herself for the worst.However, Sherlock lifts his own hand and shakes Kit’s firmly, smiling tightly. “Good to meet you.”“You, too. Listen, can I get you both a drink?”Simultaneously, Jocelyn answers with, “No, it’s fine,” while Sherlock says, “Yes, that would be good.”Kit blinks between them. Sherlock and Jocelyn look at one another and she clears her throat. Kit walks away to the open bar.Jocelyn looks at Sherlock with a puzzled expression. “What is it?”He furrows his brows together, opening his mouth but saying nothing as if he is unsure. “How are you feeling?”“I’m okay, Sherlock. Are you?”Sherlock’s facial expression is unreadable again as he lifts his head to the right, only for Kit to come back holding three drinks in two hands.Jocelyn immediately takes hers to help him. “Thanks.”Kit hands Sherlock the bourbon and Sherlock nods in acknowledgement. Kit lets out a nervous laugh, and Jocelyn sees a little bit of Molly in him. “Sorry, guys. Took a while.”Sherlock nods at them again. “I’ll leave you two.” He briefly pats Jocelyn on her lower back before walking away.Jocelyn’s eyes follow him with an odd look while Kit sighs. “Damn. I didn’t think Molly was being serious about him being all mysterious and everything. I thought she was exaggerating.”She lets out a soft chuckle. “He’s friendly, deep down. Don’t worry.”“So, you two close?” Kit sips his drink.Jocelyn looks at him in amazement. “Where did you say you live again?”“Oh, I’ve been in Japan for the last six years now.”“Ah.” So, that’s why.Meanwhile, Sherlock stands next to John as he talks about something about stuffed animals and Rosie. Sherlock barely pays attention as he stares at Jocelyn laugh at what Kit is talking to her about.John follows his gaze for a moment and hums. “You didn’t hear I word I said, did you?”Sherlock double-takes John and blinks. “My apologies. I’m a bit… well, distracted.” He glances at Kit and Jocelyn again.John suppresses a smirk and hides it with his champagne glass.Sherlock notices and frowns. “What?”“Sherlock, it’s alright if you’re jealous.”He widens his eyes. “I most certainly am not. What gives you such a ludicrous notion?”Sherlock does not believe he is capable of envy. He was never capable of that during Jocelyn’s time with Sebastian, and is sure as hell not capable with it now during her with Molly Hooper’s younger brother, whom Jocelyn just met.John shrugs. “Jealousy is normal among couples, mate. You’re not the first person to ever feel jealous.”“Jocelyn and I are not a couple.”“She is literally pregnant with your daughter.”“And? Does that automatically make us a couple?”“But—you know what? You two are just… bloody hell, you two drive me insane.” John shakes his head, immediately drinking his glass of champagne.As if on cue, both Sherlock and John watch Jocelyn let out a laugh after a particular sentence Kit said to her. It makes something boil at the pit of Sherlock’s stomach, something of which he still cannot fully understand.Across the room, Jocelyn covers her mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh from Kit’s hilarious story about Molly during her college years.After a moment, Kit chuckles. “So, what’s the history between you and Sherlock Holmes?”The sudden question only makes Jocelyn shrug. “Oh, Sherlock and I are good friends.”“Really? Because he’s been staring at me like he’s plotting my murder or something.”Jocelyn turns her head and just as Kit said, Sherlock was watching them. As soon as he sees her look at him, he turns back to pay attention to what John is saying.“It’s… complicated.”“I feel like he’s about to chew my head off.” Kit chuckles, and Jocelyn forces a laugh.Then, Molly comes over with a grin. Jocelyn compliments her, since she truly does look beautiful. Molly smiles and thanks her before looking at her brother. All three of them talk, but Jocelyn mostly listens to Molly and Kit talk about their childhood. It was enough to amuse Jocelyn for a while.After a certain time, Jocelyn feels a sudden shift in the air. She furrows her brows before looking around the room. From a distance, she can see Sherlock carrying Rosie while Mary fixes Rosie’s clothing. The others coo around Sherlock as they grin at little Rosie. John stands next to Sherlock and all of them have smiles on their faces. It is a lovely day for them.Jocelyn offers a smile to Kit and Molly. She excuses herself before walking away. Kit and Molly continue their conversation while laughing.As Jocelyn walks, she passes the comfort room and moves through the back of the building. She smiles politely at the staff she walks by, until she reaches outside. The sun is shining brightly, as if it were a sign of how good of a day it has been so far.Still, Jocelyn sighs. “You know that I can tell when I’m being watched, right? Stop wasting my time and come out.”She barely hears any sound when she looks to her left, only to see her visitor.In front of her stood Naomi, clad in a waitress’ outfit with her hair tied. She smiles at Jocelyn. “Hello, Miss Jocelyn.”“On my friend’s wedding. Really?” Jocelyn’s voice radiated with anger.“Nice to see you, too.”“Stop with the sarcasm, and just get to the point.”Naomi laces her fingers together. “I’ve accomplished what you’ve asked.”Jocelyn’s annoyed expression softens into surprise. “You’ve got him?”“Not yet, but I’m close—”“You said you accomplished what I asked.” Her annoyed expression returns.“Yes, but not that one.”Jocelyn stares at her before she breathes out in realization. “Is the lab secure?”“Yes. Secluded. Safe. Sanitary. Quiet.” Naomi pauses.“I can’t come down there yet. Mycroft and Sherlock practically have me under a microscope.”“You’re going to have to tell the two Holmes brothers eventually.”Jocelyn’s face hardens. “I don’t need your opinions. I just need you to do your job.”Naomi softens and she lowers her head in respect. “Of course.”Jocelyn’s cold expression fades as she reaches into the pocket of her coat, taking out a piece of paper. “Here. Some more things I’d need for the lab.” She reaches the paper towards Naomi, who takes it immediately. “The sooner we work out the antidote, the better.”“What about you?”“I’ll be fine. I’m safe here.”Naomi watches her carefully. “If you need anything at all… I’m there.”Jocelyn nods. “Now, remember. No human test subjects. That’s final.” She says in a firm manner, which makes Naomi sigh. “Once you find Sebastian, tell me as soon as possible.”“Oh, I found him.” Naomi nods, making Jocelyn gape. “I just haven’t worked out how to apprehend him.”“Y-You found him?”“Yes.”“Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?!”“You didn’t let me finish.” Naomi gently smiles, almost innocently.“You are so…” she couldn’t find the right words, so Jocelyn just closes her eyes in annoyance. “Get him as soon as possible and call me when it’s done.” Jocelyn makes her way to the door again. “And Naomi, make sure that when you try creeping around me again, try not to do it while Sherlock is in the building. He could see you.”Naomi nods and lowers her head with a small smile. “Of course, Miss Jocelyn.”Jocelyn makes her way inside, leaving Naomi. Inside the wedding reception, Jocelyn puts on a smile before walking back into where the crowds were. Some people are already eating, and she approaches their table where Greg and Mrs. Hudson and laughing as they eat with Jocelyn’s aunt.Jocelyn forces a smile and looks back around. She spots John talking to his sister and Jocelyn approaches them. “Did you guys see Sherlock anywhere?”“He said he was looking for you.” John frowns a bit and starts glancing around the reception hall.“When did he say that?”“Like a few minutes ago.” Harry copies their movements. “I’m sure he’s just in the restroom or something.”Jocelyn walks to the hallway where the restrooms were. She knocks on the door to the men’s room. “Sherlock? Are you in here?”There was no response, but she hears a thud inside.Jocelyn frowns anxiously. “Sherlock?”The door clicks open, and Sherlock shows himself at the gap. He has a smile on his face. “Oh, hello.”“Hi. You okay?”“Yes. Of course, yes.”She gives him a look of concern. “Okay, well, the speech is about to start.”“I’ll be there.” Sherlock closes the door. She moves away slowly before reluctantly walking back to her table.Inside the restroom, Sherlock locks the door and grunts in pain since his arm is currently twisted against his back. “Satisfied?”He was shoved against the door before being released.Sherlock huffs and readjusts his bowtie and jacket. He glares. “This would be much easier if you told me why you are here.”“I am not obliged to tell you anything.” Naomi coldly answers. “My duties are to Jocelyn.”Moments ago, when Jocelyn entered the building again, Naomi walked away. Unaware of another presence nearby that would grab her arm. They struggled against one another, and Sherlock was clearly combat-ready. But at the end, she won. However, seeing as he already saw her, she had no choice but to pull him to a private area. That area being the men’s room.“And why is that? Your loyalty has always been Moriarty’s. Why Jocelyn?” Sherlock grabs her arm, but she pushes it away. He grabs her arm again and she raises a knife near his neck.“I don’t owe you answers.”“The lab. Why won’t Jocelyn tell me about this?” Sherlock asks despite the cold metal touching his clavicle.“You should ask her that yourself.”“Where is Irene Adler?”“Don’t worry about her. She’s fine in Los Angeles. Living her life as she wanted it.”“And you were supposed to live it with her.”“Plans change,” she shrugs casually. “She’s better off without me anyway, and she is none of your business.”“Where is Moriarty?”From the question, Sherlock sees for a split-second the way her lips twitch into a smile. “Moriarty is everywhere.”Sherlock’s eyes burn with anger. “Stay away from Jocelyn.”“I don’t take orders from you.”Sherlock harshly grabs her wrist, and she tries to pull away, but he tightens his grip and forces her to lower her knife. “That wasn’t a request. You will keep your distance from her.”“If I do, who’s going to protect her? You?” Naomi lets out an amused laugh. “Always so confident about yourself.”Sherlock reaches into his pocket, and Naomi briefly follows his movements with her eyes. He pulls out a paper and shows her the message that Anthea gave him. “Your boss sent me this. Through a client of yours. You still work for Moriarty. Why would an assassin be simultaneously working for both good and bad?”“There’s no such thing as good or bad. Only opposing sides exist. You choose one and condemn the other.”“Which side do you condemn?”“The side opposing Jocelyn.”“You still work for Moriarty. That does not count as condemnation.”Naomi’s eyes are blank yet still intense and burning through his. “What makes you think they are on opposing sides?”Sherlock feels a sudden chill down his spine as he takes in Naomi’s words.From the surprise on his face, a look of satisfaction appears on hers. “This does not concern you. In case no one has informed your egotistical self, this is not about you, Mr. Holmes. Not anymore.”Sherlock’s lips part in astonishment. Naomi gives him one last look before opening the door and leaving calmly. Sherlock stands in the middle of the restroom, staring blankly ahead of himself.“You’d think I learned my lesson with keeping secrets from you.” He hears a female voice in his head.Sherlock turns to his right, only to see the mind palace figure of Jocelyn, leaning against the sink. Sherlock stares at her, horrified by the fact that she has come back. Which always means that something is wrong inside Sherlock’s mind.“Oh, don’t look so surprised. Something’s always been wrong ever since I got home.” She approaches him and circles around his body. Sherlock follows her with his eyes. “All these little secrets. First, the pregnancy. Then, Silas. Then, Sebastian. And now, a little lab set up for the antidote.” She fakes a gasp. “It’s getting worse and worse!”Sherlock narrows his ryes at her. The figure has never spoken to him this way before. It is almost as if she’s…Slowly, her face and body morphs into the consulting criminal. Moriarty flashes a smirk at him, still wearing the suit he wore from the first time Sherlock saw him as his true self.Sherlock stares at him in confusion, while Moriarty smirks. “She’s so different now, isn’t she? She is ‘t the Jocelyn you knew. I told you, but did you listen?” Moriarty says in a singsong voice, taunting him.“I…” Sherlock stammers a but, unsure of his own thoughts. “I don’t understand.”“Oh, I think you do. Remember what I told you, Sherlock? What did I say? Come on, even you can find it in this little mind palace of yours.” Moriarty circles around him, like a predator does its prey.Sherlock briefly screws his eyes shut, frantically searching in his mind palace for the exact words that Moriarty said to him at the rooftop of St. Barts.Then, he finds it. He replays Moriarty’s words in his head.“No. That is not possible.” Sherlock glares at Moriarty. “Jocelyn would never do this.”Moriarty’s smile widens with his eyes. “But she did. And you can see that now, can’t you? I told you. I warned you.”Sherlock clenches his jaw and closes his eyes before leaving the restroom while fixing his jacket. Sherlock calmly walks back to the reception. The speech was ending, and everyone moved on to the first dance of the newlyweds. Molly and Tom stare into each other’s eyes the entire time and it makes Jocelyn smile a bit. The newlyweds share another kiss, and the lively music begins.Everyone is on the dancefloor having fun. Jocelyn is pulled into the crowd by Harry. Jocelyn tries to pull away with a grimace but Harry insists. Soon later, Jocelyn loosens up and dances with Harry, her aunt and Mrs. Hudson while laughing.At the corner of her eye, she sees Sherlock standing and observing everyone while holding a drink. He was standing right next to Molly’s brother. She sees Kit lean into whisper to Sherlock, and Jocelyn watches the way Sherlock’s face softens. And… he smiles at Kit before nodding. Kit chuckles and pats Sherlock’s back.Jocelyn contemplates but approaches Sherlock once Kit went to walk away. “What was that about?”“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.”She tilts her head, but shrugs and stretches out her hand with a smirk. “It’s our friend’s wedding day, you are obliged to dance with us.”“No.” Sherlock simply says and takes a sip of his drink.“Oh, come on. You love dancing!”“And you hate dancing.”“Didn’t we already have this conversation?”Sherlock suppresses the smile as he remembers their conversation about this. All it takes is the right partner.Jocelyn reaches for his warm hand. “Please? Just one night. You know how bad I am with dancing and that you’re way better so… this is a once in a lifetime offer.” She wriggles her brows as she starts swaying their arms back and forth to his amusement.The more she continues to move without rhythm while holding his hand, the more it gets difficult for Sherlock to stifle a smile.He could not believe what his mind suggested earlier in the restroom. It seemed so impossible, now that Jocelyn is right in front of him. His Jocelyn, the woman whose smile can brighten up the darkest corridors of his mind palace. There is no way she could be capable of his mind’s suggestion.So, Sherlock puts down his drink, allowing himself be pulled to the dance floor. He stands awkwardly in front of Jocelyn as she begins to move clumsily while smirking at him.Sherlock’s eyes light up as he shakes his head in a lighthearted disapproval way. He sighs before taking Jocelyn’s hand and positioning it on his shoulder, completely startling her.He holds Jocelyn by the waist, and her hand in his other hand so they could waltz in a fast pace to match the upbeat music and strobe lights. Her laugh stands out from the others and the loud music as she holds onto him while they dance enthusiastically.The whole dancefloor is filled with laughter and cheers, but all Jocelyn and Sherlock could focus on were each other. Sherlock’s hands are warm on her skin, and her perfume fills his senses. Sherlock spins her around with a laugh, making her squeal before holding onto him while giggling. And they continue dancing with happy grins on their faces.He can feel all his worries dissipate, and it was as if Naomi never happened today. All he can do for the night is let the joy consume him as he surrounds himself with his friends and family.It was a night to be remembered. Sherlock realized that as he loses count on the number of times he smiled. The night ends and Jocelyn kisses Molly’s cheek goodbye as they watch her and Tom leave for their honeymoon.Harry doesn’t come home with Jocelyn. Instead, she goes with a woman she met tonight. So, Sherlock offers to take Jocelyn home.They reach her house, and he walks her to the doorstep. Jocelyn still feels a bit tired, yet happy from how well the night went. They both stand nearby her door and Jocelyn looks up at Sherlock once he grabs her arm gently to call her attention.Sherlock’s thumb strokes her soft skin, and his piercing ocean blue eyes lock with her forest green ones. Jocelyn feels warmth all over her body as she holds his gaze.For a moment, Sherlock is at loss for words as he stares into her green eyes. “Thank you.”She pulls a small and confused smile. “For what?”“For making me happy today.”Her smile softens, and she had to break their gaze to look at the ground, feeling her face heat up. After a while, she lifts her head and meets his eyes again. Sherlock steps forward, decreasing the distance between them and she feels his hot breath on her face. The air is so quiet that she can hear Sherlock’s breath tremble.Just as Jocelyn thought he was going to kiss her, Sherlock parts his lips to speak softly. “I know about Naomi, Jocelyn.”He feels her arm tense in his hand, but her face barely wavers. Jocelyn stays quiet and keeps her eyes on him.“I know about the lab. And I know that you are planning to hold Sebastian Moran hostage.”From that, she finally looks away and pulls her arm from his hold. Jocelyn lowers her eyes and Sherlock sees the mixture of panic on her face. “You weren’t supposed to know.”“But now I do.”Jocelyn closes her eyes. “Can we not discuss this today? We had a great night. I want to leave it at that.”Sherlock furrows his brows. “You are not exactly making it easy for me to defend you. You let Naomi come to Molly’s wedding, where our friends are supposed to be celebrating. Safely.”“That was her own choice, and no one got hurt.”“That is far beside the point!”“You know what? I am not discussing this tonight.” She pushes the door open and quickly walks in.Sherlock follows her to the stairs. “Then, when? When are we going to discuss the antidote? You said you had no idea how to make it.”“No. I said I haven’t made it yet.”Damn sign language. Sherlock almost groans in frustration. “What is your progress?”“Currently zero because you and Mycroft won’t get off my arse.” She flashes him a sarcastic smile before going to her room. Before she could close it, Sherlock pushes it with his hand. She groans. “Are you going to stay there while I change?”“We are going to talk about his. Now.”Jocelyn clenches her teeth. “Fine.”Before Sherlock could reply with a bitter tone as well, he watches Jocelyn reach for her scarf, unwrapping it from her neck. “Why haven’t you told us about your plans with the antidote?”“Because you aren’t going to like what I’m going to do with it.” Jocelyn unbuttons her coat and slips it off before she begins to undo the buttons of her dress to change.Sherlock briefly closes his eyes and turns around, out of respect. “What are you planning?”“I’m going to use the poison on Laurie to make him beg for the antidote.”Sherlock’s face relaxes and he stands quiet as he watches Jocelyn take a seat in front of her mirror, taking the hairpins and ornaments from her hair. He watches her wordlessly, unsure how to respond to that.“I told you that you won’t like it.”“Revenge isn’t like you.”The words make Jocelyn look at him through the mirror. “You would understand if you watched the tapes, but no! You chose your own comfort over understanding my pain.” Her voice breaks, but her voice is still deep and angry.Those words send giant stabs through his body. “You are condemning me because I cannot watch you suffer?”Jocelyn stands up and faces him with fury in her eyes. “No. You had all the answers right in front of you and you still refused to find out! I am angry at you for talking to me like this when you have no idea what I’ve been through because of Laurie and Silas.”“Oh, I understand plenty. I have scars on my back to prove it.”Jocelyn falters and she goes back to sitting in front of the mirror.“What have I done lately? Other than comply with all your wishes?” Sherlock slowly shakes his head. “When did I question every single decision you have made? I never pushed you to tell me why a song made you throw a radio to a wall. I never refused your request to live back in your own home. I looked the other way when you revealed that one of Mycroft’s agents owed you a favor. I never even questioned you about why you were ready to shoot me by that pool, or almost stuck a knife through my throat.”Jocelyn’s breath shudders for a moment, and Sherlock frowns.“I have faith in you, but I’m beginning to wonder if I may have misplaced my trust.”Jocelyn stays quiet and unmoving, with no words to say. Sherlock stares at her as silence engulfs the room. He softens, realizing that she has nothing else to say. Before she could come up with anything else, Sherlock turns around and makes his way out.She turns and feels her chest tighten. “Wait… Sherlock…”The door closes and she listens to the footsteps fade away. Jocelyn feels her eyes sting and she sheds one tear before burying her face into her palms.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jocelyn came to Lestrade the next few days, hoping to get back on the job. She was more than welcomed back. For now, she is visiting.Lestrade moves to the door to leave her in the lab, but it opens even before he could reach for the handle. Then, an unexpected visitor walks in, taking them both by surprise.He looks at Lestrade, and then at Jocelyn who gapes slightly. Sherlock clears his throat and looks back at Lestrade. Greg stares at him in confusion. “Sherlock. Wasn’t expecting you.”He closes the door behind him. “I was hoping for a few cold cases.”Jocelyn lowers her head and goes back to reading the case file. Lestrade glances between them and feels the air fill with tension. Enough to make him a bit uncomfortable.“Well, er, I think I’ve got a few cases you can busy yourself with.”“Great.”“I need to, um… I should get the files.” Lestrade walks past him to leave.Silence fills the room again as Sherlock looks across the room and watches Jocelyn flip through the pages of a case. She feels his eyes on her, and lifts her own eyes to look at him. They both turn away after a while.Jocelyn gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She hears Sherlock’s footsteps, and she discreetly turns to see. Sherlock walks up to a wall with a few framed photographs, and one of them were of Jocelyn from her first day of working for Scotland Yard.Sherlock stares at the photograph, watching the permanent smile on her face as she stands next to the other Scotland Yard officers. It was interesting to see her smile that wide, considering how this was after Moriarty trapped her in a freezer where she almost froze to death.Jocelyn puts down the file. “Listen,” Sherlock turns to face her, his face is neutral, but his eyes glint with a certain interest. “I didn’t like how we left things a few days ago. Can we talk?”“What is there to talk about? I ask you a question, you reply that everything is fine, when none of it is. We argue, one of us storms out. The other tries to apologize. We make up. And the cycle repeats itself.”She fiddles with her fingers. “Sherlock, I know that you’re confused about why Naomi was here.”“She told me that her duties are to you.” Sherlock coolly tells her. “Frankly, I’m quite concerned of how you managed to acquire the world’s second deadliest one to be at your disposal.”“She just wants to help.”“Forgive me for finding it difficult to believe that a person of Naomi’s reputation would do anything out of the kindness of their heart.”Jocelyn stares at him, and their gazes lock for a few seconds before she had to look away. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About me using the poison on Laurie, and you’re right. I shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t need to do that.”He softens, but stays quiet and it urges her to continue speaking.“I was acting on what I want. It’s all I’ve been doing lately, which is very reckless of me, and I’m sorry.” Jocelyn lifts her head to face him.Sherlock wavers. He observes her green eyes, seeing them look as genuine as ever. His blue eyes scan her face. She wonders what he could be thinking of her. If he is anywhere near to understanding how everything she does will always be for him.Sherlock exhales. “I know that you can handle things on your own. You’ve managed to do it for weeks. Well, frankly speaking, you’ve been doing it your whole life.” He pauses, and she closes her eyes. “But you are not alone.”“Yes, I know. That’s why I need to protect you all.” Jocelyn quietly whispers. “I… can’t lose any of you.”“You’re not going to lose us.”“I could.”“You are not losing me.”She stares at him for a long time before speaking. “I feel like I already did.”“What does that mean?”“Who’s Camille Lavalle?” She softly asks.Sherlock’s features soften. “John told you.”“He didn’t. I figured it out.”“If you have, you wouldn’t need to ask this question.”“She’s someone special to you, right?”“Not in the way I fear you are assuming.”“What do you think I’m assuming?”“What anyone in your position would assume. That I am harboring romantic feelings for Miss Lavalle, which could not be further from the truth.” Sherlock knots his brows together. “…Is this why you have been so distant lately?”“I-I don’t know. Maybe.”“Well, I can assure you, Jocelyn, there is nothing between Miss Lavalle and me. We are good friends.”Jocelyn draws in a breath. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”“Of course, it is. You and I are…” Sherlock trails off, unsure how to word it. “You and I are family.”She softens, and lowers her eyes to the ground. Sherlock fears that he may have said the wrong thing. “I know.”“I must confess, Miss Lavalle was truthful when she stated that she feels something for me, but that does not mean I reciprocate.” Sherlock shakes his head. “But she helped me reflect on my thoughts about grief. She spoke about her deceased brother, and I spoke about… you. We supported one another, and that was all.” Sherlock’s frown deepens.She stares back at him, at loss for other words. Instead, she lowers her head and buries her face into her palms.He watches her, unsure of what else to say. “When I thought you were gone, I wanted something. I thought I would find it in Miss Lavalle, but I didn’t. Miss Lavalle was incapable of giving me what I want, because what I wanted was…” the words fail him as his hands helplessly gestures between them.Jocelyn lifts her head, and he can see now that her eyes are shining with tears.The sight alone makes his chest clench. “What I need is you.”A breath is knocked out from her lungs upon hearing those words, and the two of them watch one another in silence.She relaxes. Sherlock ended things before he even found out she was alive. That would mean she cannot be the reason why Sherlock stopped seeing Camille. That would mean Jocelyn being pregnant didn’t hinder Sherlock from being with someone.Jocelyn is about to say something when the door opens and Lestrade enters.Lestrade pauses by the door and looks between them. “Er… sorry.”Sherlock turns to Lestrade and grabs the file from him before proceeding to leave. Jocelyn remains standing in the lab with Lestrade giving her an apologetic look before following Sherlock outside.***It wasn’t until her phone vibrates from the table. She reaches over and stares at the unknown called ID, sighing to herself before pressing the phone against her ear. “What do you want?”
“We got a problem.”
Jocelyn’s heart drops. “What happened today?”
“Sebastian told me that he put a hit out on a Mycroft Holmes.”
Jocelyn stammers. “W-What?”
“A hit. Assassination. Paid someone to kill him.”
“Naomi, I know what a hit means.” Jocelyn hisses into her phone. “You have Laurie already?”
“As promised.”
“If Mycroft finds out about the hit, I swear to God, Naomi.”
“Mr. Holmes will be safe, as you asked.”
“Then, what the hell is the problem?”
“The problem is that Sebastian said that he has a vial of your poison.”
Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?”“You asked me what happened today. I answered.” Naomi informs in an innocent voice.“Oh, fuck off.” Jocelyn half-whispers in an annoyed tone. “Tell me about this vial.”
“He won’t say where it is, or what he has done with it, but he’s most likely going to copy your formula.”
“Let him try.”She hears Naomi chuckle. “You’re being too cocky.”“If he’s trying to replicate it, he won’t use the vial on anyone, and reserve it all for tests. We’re safe.”
“And if he’s bluffing?”
Jocelyn clenches her teeth. “Wait.” Jocelyn flatly tells her and hangs up the phone. She stares at the wall thoughtfully and clenches her jaw. Rosie looks up at her with her wide blue eyes, and Jocelyn gives her a warm smile. Rosie giggles and starts making cute little noises while trying her best to crawl on the floor.The doorbell rings, and Jocelyn lifts her head in suspicion. She stands up and carries Rosie to her crib inside the nursery before walking slowly to front door. Jocelyn looks through the peephole and her lips part with surprise.She opens the door and reveals Mycroft in his three-piece suit and umbrella. He flashes her an insincere smile and steps inside without saying anything. “I imagine that you still have not told my brother of your little activities outside London.”Jocelyn shuts the door. “I see that you found out about the hit.”“I know when I’m being watched, and I can easily guess by who.” Mycroft makes his way to the sofa, glancing around John and Mary’s home.“Nothing is going to happen to you, Mycroft.”“Oh, I have no doubt. I’m perfectly safe. It is not the first or last time anyone has tried to kill me, and failed.” Mycroft flashes another humorless smile. “What my concern is how Miss Naomi is still in contact with you. Given she is supposed to be in Los Angeles with Miss Adler, living their life together as they asked.”“She’s here in Europe.” She confesses.Mycroft barely reacts and continues to stare at Jocelyn. “I know, I also know she showed up at Molly’s wedding. You mustn’t doubt my intellect, Miss Grant.”She stares at him. “Why are you here?”“I gave you two weeks. A week was what I initially stated, but I gave an allowance. I’ve given you ample time to tell Sherlock the truth.” Mycroft’s entire face is fuming.“It’s not that simple, Mycroft.”“You betrayed Sherlock.” He speaks over Jocelyn, but she resumes talking.“It wasn’t easy, I didn’t have a choice!”“You betrayed me.” Mycroft practically hisses at her, and she stops.The sudden cry from the nursery, makes both of them waver in silence. Mycroft’s eyes are wide with fury before pulling himself together and drawing in a breath.Jocelyn swallows and makes her way to the nursery while supporting her heavy stomach. She picks up Rosie to calm her down, and she sees Mycroft standing by the door.Mycroft watches Rosie lean into her for comfort. Jocelyn closes her eyes and holds the baby close.He watches in silence, realizing how he will be seeing her like this with his own niece. After a few minutes, Rosie calms down and feels sleepy. Jocelyn lowers the child back to the crib and exits the room quietly. Mycroft and Jocelyn stand in front of one another in proximity, and she tilts her head to meet his eyes.“Mycroft, he can’t know yet. This will break him. If you love him, don’t tell him about me yet.”Mycroft sees the genuine desperation written on her face. It surprises him, but he keeps it well-hidden. “I know why you want to wait until my niece is born, but I will tell you right now, that will be much worse. He has to know as soon as possible.”“And if he finds out while I’m pregnant? He is going to force himself to care for me… while hating me so much. I-I can’t do that to him.”Mycroft hesitates, and watches the way she is struggling to keep herself calm and collected. He can see that from the way her hands are shaking, all Jocelyn wants is to rest.“Do you want me to beg? Because I can do that right now,” Jocelyn slowly lowers herself on her knee, and Mycroft finally shows another emotion flash across his face as he grimaces.Mycroft gently grabs her arm to keep her on her feet. “None of that.”The two of them stand in front of one another as Mycroft holds her by the arms. He frowns, seeing the sadness in her eyes up-close.With a quiet whisper, she pleads. “Please. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to care about me just to make sure our child is safe.”“Miss Grant…”“Once I give birth, he can hate me all he wants. Just as long as he can love our daughter separately. I will tell him everything.”“You know my brother. He will not hate you for this.”“Yes, he will.”“It is possible that he will be upset, but he can never hate you.” Mycroft sighs and places his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me, Miss Grant. I know that you do not mean any harm to anyone, but this. Everything that you’ve done, it is not right. This is not right.”“You think I don’t know that? I can’t get out of this,” her voice breaks and lowers her head.She looks so clueless, unlike the cold Jocelyn that Mycroft saw emerge from Silas’ cell. Unlike the furious woman on his balcony the other week. Right now, Mycroft sees her as the young emotional blue-haired girl he met all those years ago.So, he pulls her in for an embrace, and that is what breaks her. Mycroft wordlessly listens to her quiet sobs into his chest.“Mycroft, please understand. I had to keep my daughter alive, please. I couldn’t say no.” She says with a shaky voice.His chest clenches as he holds her tighter. Mycroft pulls away and looks down at Jocelyn’s tearful face.He calmly wipes them away with a handkerchief from his pocket, and sighs. “Tears were never a good look on you, Miss Grant. Despite how very often they appear in your eyes.”She closes her eyes and Mycroft gently wipes her cheeks.He folds his handkerchief back into his jacket. “I will withhold this information from my brother until my niece’s birth.”The smile on her face is almost blinding, but Mycroft is not finished.“Until then, you will tell me everything. Right here, right now. All that has happened, so we can take action where it is needed.” Mycroft walks back to his chair and sits down, watching her expectantly. “The offer stands for five minutes.”She hesitates, but slowly walks to the chair in front of Mycroft. Then, she takes a seat.***
“Everything is fine, brother mine.”
“What do you mean everything is fine? You could have died!” Sherlock hisses to the phone once his brother informs him of the hit.“As much as I appreciate your rare displays of brotherly affection—” Sherlock scoffs in the middle of Mycroft’s sentence. “I can assure you, that I am safe. No need to worry about me, brother mine. All things aside, it’s too early for me to die. I do recall our wager that it would not happen until I reach my seventies.”“Sixties.” Sherlock narrows his eyes. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with, brother mine. You can trust me. Miss Grant is fine, and I can assure you, you can trust her.”
Sherlock wavers in surprise. “You’re the one who keeps insisting that she is no longer trustworthy.”“And I do hope it satisfies you to a great extent that I admit that I was wrong.” Mycroft’s tone is laced with amusement, and it puzzles Sherlock. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve re-hired Anthea. Don’t think I could function a week without her. Goodbye, Sherlock.” Then, the line goes dead.Sherlock lowers his phone and scoffs at the screen. He breathes in the fresh air and finds peace in the quiet. Hours later, he finds himself in Baker Street. Sherlock picks up his violin and cleans it free from dust. Afterwards, he settles it on his shoulder and slides his bow against the strings to form a solemn tune.All the while, Jocelyn would never leave his mind.“And I probably never will.”Sherlock sags his shoulders and lowers his violin, looking to his right to see the mind palace figure of Jocelyn.“Maybe because you’re crazy about me.”“Yes. She does drive me up the walls.” Sherlock bluntly states before sitting on his chair with a grunt. “Not to mention how she continues to keep things from me. As if we never learned our lesson.”“Oh, come on. You still like me, despite all that.”Sherlock scoffs in disbelief of what his own mind is saying. “I’d like her quite more if she is truthful to me.”“Well, you know how stubborn I am. How willing I am to do anything to keep you safe.”“I suppose… whatever she is hiding, it must mean she believes that it would be in my best interest.”“I could be protecting you. And little one over here,” she smiles while gently patting her stomach.“Yes… I suppose you could be right, but… protecting me from what? Both Sebastian and Silas will no longer be a problem. What could possibly be bigger than them?”A knock on the door makes him snap out of his thoughts. The figure disappears from the chair in front of him and Sherlock is alone in the flat again. He sighs and stands up to open the door, only to be surprised by his visitor.The real Jocelyn fiddles with her fingers as she meets his eyes. “The lab is in Edinburgh.” She immediately tells him and lowers her gaze. “I told Mycroft about the lab, and about Naomi. He’s letting me go to Edinburgh. And I’m going with or without you, but I… I would prefer it if you came.”He softens, but still couldn’t find any words to say.“I need to fix the mistake I made. The poison. I need to make an antidote. I don’t want anyone else to die because of it.” Jocelyn checks her watch. “There’s a train leaving in four hours. I’ll wait for you. If you don’t show up, it’s fine.”Sherlock says nothing and just watches her slowly back away from the door.“I hope you’ll come.” Jocelyn quietly says before turning around to leave Baker Street. Sherlock watches her leave and listens to the door closing.Three and a half hours later, Jocelyn sits and waits on a bench. She repeatedly checks her watch and bounces her leg anxiously. Another half hour rolls by, and she swallows tightly. Jocelyn sighs to herself and nods in disappointment.She stands and makes her way to the train once its arrival is announced. She picks up her bags and sits in the train, waiting for it to depart so she can sleep on the way to Edinburgh, alone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jocelyn arrives in Edinburgh and takes a cab to this fancy hotel that Mycroft booked her into. She insisted on a motel to be subtle, but Mycroft reassures her that no one will know her identity as long as she sticks to the pseudonym given to her.At the very least, she doesn’t have to hide her baby bump anymore. She’d be unrecognizable with her long blonde wig. Jocelyn checks into the room, glancing around the suite after thanking the maid who helped her inside. People are much nicer to pregnant women.Once she is alone in the wide room, Jocelyn plops down on the soft king-sized bed. She lies down and stares at the ceiling when her phone rings.Jocelyn answers it while caressing her bump. “Yeah?”
“Have you arrived?”
“Hi to you, too. Yeah, I am. This is way too much, Mycroft. How much did you even pay for this?”
“Never mind that. What’s important is that you are in a safe room. No one will suspect you to be there. Do you have your prescribed medication?”
“Yes, mother. I do.”
“No sarcasm allowed. Now, who are you?”
“Uh, Alina Sigerson. I am an accountant who works in London.”
“And you are in Edinburgh because?”
“I’m on maternal leave.”
“Hm. Good. Thank you for reviewing your notes.”
“You should be an author.” Jocelyn laughs.
“Very amusing. Now, this nightclub you are referring to. I’ve heard that it is quite an eccentric club. They have a, er… unique dress code.”
“Oh, yeah. Sounds like a club Naomi would go to. Don’t worry, I came prepared.” Jocelyn stands up to her luggage, looking through her clothes.
“This mission of yours sounds dangerous.”
“Eh. Not really. I’ll handle it like I handle the others.”
“I have no doubts, Miss Grant. Just be careful.”
“Sure will, Iceman.” She smirks.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What? It’s what he used to call you.” She shrugs while holding up the lingerie Harry sneakily packed into her luggage. Jocelyn snorts and shakes her head while pulling off her wig.
“Too early to make jokes about it, Miss Grant.”
“Fine, fine. Marcellus, then.”
“Hm. That’s better, I suppose. Your dinner reservation downstairs is under Sigerson. Be sure to eat. Room service is not an option. Please, always remain in public places.”
“Got it.”“Will call you if needed.” Mycroft hangs up and Jocelyn tosses her phone to the bed.Jocelyn grimaces, holding up what looks to be a thong. Jesus Christ, Harry Watson. Are these really underwear? They look extremely uncomfortable.For the next two hours, Jocelyn remains in her room to sort out her clothes. She’ll be staying here for at least five days.As she stares at her reflection in the mirror, closing her eyes to breathe. “Five days. You can make the antidote in five days. You made the poison in one day. Five days would be more than enough.”She sounds ridiculous talking to herself, but she needs some reassurance, and it doesn’t matter if it comes from herself.Jocelyn pats her stomach. “We can do this, darling. It’s just the two of us for now. Mommy’s going to need your help, please don’t tire me out too much this week.”***When it is time to have dinner, Jocelyn walks to the restaurant downstairs and approaches the lady. “Hi, reservation for Sigerson?”The lady smiles and types into her computer. “Would you like some appetizers while you wait for your partner?”“Oh, it’s just me.”The lady squints at the computer. “The reservation under Sigerson is a paid meal for two.”“Oh, right. Well, um… actually—”“My wife would very much like an appetizer. Anything with melted cheese on it.”Jocelyn whips her head around at the sound of a familiar voice. Her eyes widen at the sight of Sherlock, wearing his usual tieless suit, and his hair swept back. His face holds an unusually cheerful expression as he smiles at her for display. Then, he slides his arm around her waist and pulls her to his side, smiling falsely at the receptionist.The lady smiles at them. “Right away, Mr. Sigerson. Please, follow me to your table.”Sherlock offers his arm to Jocelyn, and she reluctantly takes it before they walk behind the woman. They arrive at a private booth, and they sit facing one another. Jocelyn is staring at him cautiously as he orders drinks.Once the waiter leaves them alone, the smile instantly fades from Sherlock’s face as he looks at Jocelyn with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”“You asked me to come. Here I am.”“I asked you to come to the train station.”“Yes, well. Now I’m here.”“Why?”“You made it clear that this little ‘vacation’ of yours isn’t a vacation. It’s a mission. You’re going to the lab to make the antidote.” Sherlock laces his fingers together under his chin. “I’m here to assist you.”Jocelyn stares at him in disbelief. “I’m not going to the lab right away. I’m going to a nightclub tonight to find Naomi.”“Can’t you just phone her?”“Naomi uses burner phones. I don’t have her number, she has mine. That’s how she contacts me. I need to find her so she can take me to the lab.”“You mean, you don’t know where it is?”“No. I don’t. This whole operation is airtight, if I knew about the lab and I get captured, no one can torture it out of me. Naomi’s idea.”“How charming.”“Eh. I’d probably do the same—hold on, when did you even get here?”“A few minutes ago. I went to our room to leave my suitcase.”“Our? We’re sharing a room?”“Jocelyn, the number of times I’ve seen you naked can never be counted by my fingers, toes and strands of hair.” His facial expression and monotonous voice barely change.She heavily sighs. “Fine. Whatever.”They stay silent for a bit until the waiter serves them some appetizers. Her mouth nearly waters at the sight of grilled cheese. Her cravings have increased, and Sherlock noticed.“So… Sigerson, huh?”“It’s from a story that Mycroft used to tell me when we were younger.”“Do tell.”He gives her a look. “You mentioned a nightclub?”She sighs at his dismissal. “I’m going tonight. You don’t have to come. I just need to talk to Naomi.”“Why wouldn’t I come?”“Because the club is a bit… different from clubs you’ve been to.”“How different?”“Let’s just say it’s not up your alley.”“And it’s up yours?”“Sherlock, I spent nearly four years getting high in different clubs in New York. Trust me, it is definitely up my alley.” She chuckles, but upon seeing the lack of amusement on his face, she clears her throat. “Anyway, you’re welcome to stay in our ro—”“No. I’m coming with you.”“…Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh, and you’re going to need a change of clothes.”“What’s wrong with this?”“No offense, Sherlock, but your suit will look bland in this club,” she smiles at the waitress when she approaches their table.“Ready to order?”“Oh, yes. My husband here would love some lasagna and onion rings.” Jocelyn smirks across to Sherlock, who has a pained smile on his face. “And I will have some steak and… whatever this is.” She points to the menu.“Bouillabaisse.” Sherlock easily pronounces.“What he said.” She smiles at the waitress, and she leaves. Jocelyn turns back to Sherlock with a playful gasp. “Pronouncing words for me! You are the perfect husband, Mr. Sigerson.” She speaks in an exaggerated voice of a woman from a period drama.Sherlock finally cracks a hint of a smile. “Only the best for Mrs. Sigerson.”***“How far are we from this… nightclub?”“Uh, not that far! I think we can walk there.” Jocelyn calls out from the closet.“I’m not about to let you walk. We’re taking a cab.”“I can walk, you know.”“Not in your condition.”“Ugh. Fine, get a cab, then.”Sherlock faces the mirror to adjust his new jacket, grimacing. “Is a satin suit quite necessary?”“If you’re going to complain the whole time, you’re welcome to stay here and let Mrs. Sigerson do all the work.”Sherlock rolls his eyes, but looks at his suit again. It is not that horrible, it is only something new. Sherlock detests new things, which is why he is slightly annoyed.Jocelyn walks into the room and Sherlock turns to see her, and his face softens. She smiles and holds her arms out to her sides. “What do you think?”Sherlock’s eyes linger down her body being hugged by a thigh-length peach colored silk dress with thin straps over the shoulders. Her bump is slightly visible. Her short natural brown hair pools over her shoulders. She looks captivating.His eyes waver and his throat dries.Jocelyn’s smile fades a bit. “If it’s too much, I can whip out another dress—”“No, that… that one is, um…” Sherlock clears his throat. “Good.”“Yeah?”“Yes, I just… I have never seen you wear a dress like that.”Jocelyn laughs, and the sound echoes around him. “This dress is nothing compared to what I used to wear in clubs,” she gives him a playfully suggestive look.Although, the humorous response was not what she gets. Instead, Sherlock just stares at her with this look. As if she was the only thing he ever saw in his entire life.Jocelyn tilts her head at him and walks to the mirror he was facing so she could put on some earrings. Sherlock’s eyes are still on her as he steps aside to let her prepare.“So, if stuff gets weird, tell me, yeah? We can go.”“Why would it be weird? It’s a nightclub.”“Yeah. For people in high-end businesses who likes to get high occasionally. It’s a private nightclub. You need to have an invite. Hence the outfits.”“Have you done this before?”“Yeah. It’s not really a big deal. Now, come on.” Sherlock gives her a questioning look and she motions him over. “I need to do your makeup. Come on.”“My… makeup.”“You look like Sherlock Holmes fresh out of the shower. Losing the curls isn’t enough. In fact, you should bring them back. The curls would fit your appearance.”Sherlock sighs. “Fine. How do you want me?”***“I look ridiculous.”“You look perfect.”“I look like some sort of mutant threw up rainbow glitter on my face.”“A beautiful pile of vomit, then,” she grins at him. “Your eyeshadow is great. Why are you complaining?”“They feel uncomfortable. Is this what all women I know go through?”“And worse. At least you’re not wearing heels.”“Are your feet uncomfortable?”“I’m always uncomfortable. I’m pregnant.”He sighs loudly. “How do we find Naomi?”“Uh, no. I’m going to find Naomi. You are going to stay very far away.”“Absolutely not.”“Hey. Can I remind you that Naomi doesn’t like you very much? You pulled her to a men’s room at Molly’s wedding and interrogated her.”“Correction, she was the one who pulled me in there and threatened me with a knife.”“Yeah. Like I said. She doesn’t like you.”“Why here?”“Naomi has, um… what’s the word, unique tastes. This is the only club she’d go to. I know it.”Sherlock grabs her arm to stop her. “Wait. She did not tell you to meet her here?”“No, but I’m positive she’s here. There’s no other place she would go.”“Jocelyn, what if you are walking into a dangerous area? What if Naomi knows you’ll come here and hurt you?”“She is never going to harm me. Or you. You have my word on that.”He gives her a worried look that he tries to suppress. “Fine, but I will stay close to you. I will not allow you to be alone with her.”“Alright. I won’t argue with that.” She tugs on his arm and pulls him to the front of the long line outside the club. She smiles sweetly at the bouncer and wraps her arm around Sherlock’s. “You don’t remember me?”The bouncer scans her face and chest for a moment before stepping aside to let them in. Sherlock widens his eyes momentarily before following Jocelyn inside, and he can already hear the muffled deafening music from the distance.He turns to her. “You’ve been here before?”She snorts. “Of course not. You’d be surprised of how often men don’t really look at women’s faces. I’m dressed like any other blonde bombshell in here. Respectfully.” She smiles at Sherlock. “Bouncer guy out there probably thought I’m some woman he slept with the other day.”“Well, he can’t be that lucky to have a lookalike of yours.”Jocelyn feels her heart flutter and she just scoffs. “Shut up. Be lucky he didn’t notice this,” she gestures to the bump of her stomach.“Only because he was too busy looking at your chest.” He mumbles and follows her into the nightclub where various men and women with… interesting outfits were dancing and cheering.Sherlock squints his eyes from the neon purple, pink and blue strobe lights around. They both squeeze through the crowd and Sherlock grimaces whenever he feels hands on his chest and giggles from different women over the loud music. Jocelyn notices and grabs his arm, glaring at the other women as she leads him away. Sherlock pretends to not appear too amused.They arrive at the bar and take their seats on the stools. Jocelyn looks at him with a reassuring smile, her face is covered in night makeup. The purple and pink hue on her skin from the lights make her look radiant and just… absolutely magnificent. Sherlock had to double-check if his lungs are still functioning.“What would it be today?”“Not here for the drinks, love. Where is she?” The bartender glances at Sherlock and looks back at her. “I know you know who I’m talking about. Where is she?”The bartender stares long and hard at Jocelyn.Jocelyn sighs, and reaches into the neckline of her dress, taking a wad of money from her bra and handing it to the bartender, winking at her.The bartender appears much relaxed, and she walks off somewhere.Sherlock looks at Jocelyn’s chest and glance back to her eyes with a raised eyebrow.She shrugs. “What? I saw it in a movie.”A few minutes later, a new bartender arrives, and this time, she has a familiar face. The dress she wears is a tight-fitting latex dress with a low neckline, and her jet-black bangs almost cover her eyes. Her heavy eyeliner and red lipstick make her look intimidating yet attractive.She smiles at her adoringly. “Miss Jocelyn.” Naomi turns to Sherlock and her gaze turns bitter. “Sherlock Holmes.”“Actually, right now, it’s Mr. And Mrs. Sigerson.” Jocelyn returns the smile.Naomi snorts, turning around for them to see how her dress is backless. She reaches for the shelves and takes a few bottles, pouring some into glasses. She turns to face them, observing Sherlock’s face. “You look like the galaxy decided to collapse on your face.” She coos teasingly.Sherlock smirks humorlessly. “Such poetry.”Naomi shoots him a glare, sliding an iced tea towards Jocelyn. “You two are a long way from London.”“Where is it?”“By it, I’m assuming you mean the little lab I set up for you somewhere?”“What else would I be referring to?”“How about the rat I have in a cage?”“I wouldn’t call Laurie an it. Jesus, Naomi—”“All right…” Sherlock interrupts with a sigh. “We only need the lab, Naomi. And we can get to work.”Naomi looks at him, but talks to Jocelyn. “I thought you didn’t want to get him involved in this.”“Change of plans.”Naomi smiles. “You’re the boss.” She slides a drink to Sherlock. “Bourbon on ice. Your favorite, according to boss here. On the house.”He glances at Jocelyn, who flushes for a moment and nods at him without turning. Sherlock takes the glass and sips.“Take us to the lab. It’s not a request.” Jocelyn tells Naomi.“I know, but you’re going to have to wait. I have someone for you tonight.”“Who?”“Nightclub owner. This whole place is a front for money laundering. Drug operation. I checked. He specifically asked for you.”Sherlock frowns. “Why?”“I think he wants a chat.” Naomi smiles at Jocelyn, who sighs. “He’s four stools down to your right. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Mr. Holmes.” She tells Jocelyn before waving over the other bartender to take over.Sherlock glances at Jocelyn, and she nods at him with a genuine smile. He exhales before following Naomi while having a drink in his hand.Naomi and Sherlock sit a considerable distance from the bar, and as the deafening music continues to burst from the speakers of the nightclub, they both watch as Jocelyn stands to sit next to a well-dressed man.Sherlock clenches his jaw. “What is this about?”Naomi chuckles. “Oh, I see. So, she gets you involved without actually telling you everything. Smart.”Sherlock could not take his eyes off of the way Jocelyn is smiling charmingly at the man, and how the man seems to be into her as well. The way Jocelyn reaches over to touch the man’s collar in such a flirtatious way, it makes Sherlock tighten his grip around his glass.Naomi notices his gaze and rolls her eyes. “Men.”He glances at her and for a moment, he is abashed by his obvious display of jealousy.Naomi hums. “Alright, Mr. Detective. Face towards me and keep your face unseen. We don’t want anyone to recognize you.”Sherlock hesitates but complies, knowing that Jocelyn will prefer it if he does. He stares at Naomi, and sees the way she smirks, waving towards Jocelyn’s direction. Possibly waving at the man Jocelyn was speaking to.After a moment, Naomi speaks. “Right. You can look now.”Sherlock narrows his eyes at Jocelyn and the man smiling at one another, although, a few seconds later, the smile on the man’s face fades away. Jocelyn’s grin remains as the familiar fear settles on the man’s face. Then, he begins to look around, shoots up from his seat and bolts.“Hm. That is my cue. Excuse me.” Naomi smiles at Sherlock before standing to leave. Jocelyn finally approaches Sherlock’s table.As she walks towards him, Sherlock starts talking. “I am still not entirely clear on what you are—”His words are cut off as Jocelyn cups his cheeks and presses her lips against his. She sinks into his lap and kisses him deeply, and he instinctively grabs her waist to balance her on him.Sherlock is astonished, but he can feel his heart pounding in his ears at the same beat of the deafening music around them. He can inhale Jocelyn’s alluring perfume, and he can feel the gentle curves of her body. It pushes him to give in and kiss her back with the same passion. The club music around them begin to sound muffled until they completely fade away from their senses.Without even caring how they are in a public place, Sherlock pulls her closer and listens to her muffled moans against his mouth. Her quietest noise riles him up to almost growl into her lips, but he still restrains himself. If he doesn’t, he’ll pity the ones watching them right now.She runs her fingers through his curls and breathes heavily between kisses. Sherlock is slightly embarrassed of how incredibly aroused he is, which never happens in a public place.Although, Jocelyn abruptly pulls away with wide eyes. Sherlock recognizes embarrassment in her eyes, and she stammers before pulling herself back on her feet. Sherlock clearly avoids her eyes as well as he readjusts his jacket and, embarrassingly enough, his own pants.They say nothing to one another as music continues to blare around them. Sherlock manages to glance at her for a brief moment.“She’ll take us to the lab tomorrow.” Jocelyn quickly tells him. Sherlock nods, standing up to follow Jocelyn out of the club.Once they are outside, Sherlock inhales the fresh air and shakes off any remaining aura of the eccentric club behind him.“Jocelyn.”Jocelyn blows out a breath as she cradles her bump in one hand. They both share a brief look before Sherlock steps forward.“You seem different. Freer,” he says.She shrugs. “I did just help put a guy to prison.”“See, that is where things do not add up. Naomi is still working for Moriarty.” Sherlock sternly tells her, and she does not respond. Instead, Jocelyn watches him. “He re-hired Anthea, but did you know that the reason Mycroft fired Anthea was because she worked for Moriarty?”“Why did she?”“Because she wanted Moriarty to put someone into prison.” Sherlock keeps his eyes on her. “So, let me ask you this, Jocelyn. Are you working for Moriarty?”A look of horror flashes across her face. “What? No! God, no! I’m not working for Moriarty! Jesus, Sherlock.”“Then, what is all of this? I don’t know what to make of it, anymore.”“I don’t know what any of this is! I just… it all just happened, and I…” she shakes her head cluelessly. “Can we just go back? I need to sleep this off.”He softens, watching her walk away. He doesn’t follow. Instead, Sherlock remains where he is standing. “I know you’ve changed, Jocelyn.”She stops walking, but doesn’t turn around.Sherlock slowly approaches her, but keeps his distance. “But it would be much stranger if you didn’t.”Jocelyn remains with her back turned to him. “What are you saying, Sherlock?”“I’m saying that whatever it is you are doing, I know that you are doing it for our sake. For the greater good.”She wavers, and it appears as if she has been waiting for him to say those words.“But you are increasingly becoming more impulsive and secretive, that I worry about you and our daughter’s safety.”Jocelyn doesn’t even look remotely surprised by his conclusion, but she cannot mask the pain in her eyes.His face is neutral. “I will help you create an antidote. I will assist in finding the keycode. I will be there for our daughter, but other than those… I’m not entirely sure for what else.” He thinks back to what happened in the club. The way she touched him, and the way he touched her.Sherlock is no longer sure if he should continue to allow both of them to have that while this conflict is still unresolved.Jocelyn’s face falls, and she slowly nods. A painful smile paints itself on her face, and it does not help that she wears her heart on her sleeve. Sherlock can practically see the hurt flash in her eyes.As if on cue, rain begins pouring down on them. Jocelyn tilts her head up to meet the droplets on her face. Sherlock takes off his coat, covering Jocelyn’s head with it. It startles her, but she grips the coat around her and feels Sherlock’s hand on her back to guide her into walking.***Jocelyn gestures to the book. “I’ve tried countless of ways to develop the antidote, but none of them are reactants to the poison. Meaning—”“The dosages vary.”“Yeah. The dosages vary for different people. Meaning, doctors have to measure it every time they get a patient. Which would take hours to completely heal someone. Patients would be dead before then.” She forcefully shuts the book. “Who knew an antidote is way more difficult to develop than actual poison?”Sherlock takes a seat at the edge of the bed and picks up the notebook to flip through the pages. It contained sketches of different chemical formulas and bonds, much like how she explained it to him back when they were still at the cottage in Sussex.Sherlock carefully watches her hiss in pain while touching her bump. “Are you alright?”“Yeah, she’s just kicking a bit. Probably uncomfortable in there,” she chuckles nervously.Sherlock’s eyes soften and he stares at her stomach with a longing look. He blinks before looking back at the notebook, flipping through the pages.She watches him with contemplation. “Do you… do you want to…?”His eyes brighten a bit, Sherlock hesitantly scoots over closer to her. Jocelyn pushes her hair back and watches Sherlock lift his hand to delicately place it on her stomach. They sit in silence, her eyes trained on his face while his eyes are on her bump.After a few seconds, Sherlock feels the kick under his palm. It surprises him, just as the first one did. And it brings a bright grin to his face.She smiles a bit at the quiet joy in his eyes. “She’s a real kicker, isn’t she?”Sherlock continues to stare fondly at where their child resides. “Does it hurt?”“Not really. It just sort of tickles. Like a fluttery feeling.” She whispers.He meets her eyes and probably realized that he is expressing too much happiness on his face. From that, the light dims in his eyes. It makes her smile fade.Sherlock slowly pulls his hand off her stomach once the kicking stops. “You should get some sleep. We’ve had a long day.”He stands from the bed and walks out of the room, out of her sight. Jocelyn frowns and closes her books before turning the lights off to sleep.***
“You can’t be alive. You shot yourself.”
It was dark, and quiet. Jocelyn sits alone in a room, and as she tries to move, she notices that her wrists and ankles are tied to the chair. She struggles to free herself, but to no avail. A scream rips her throat as an agonizing pain impales through her hands.
Echoes of voices overlapping rang in her ears.
“And you’re selfish. How could you bring a child to life, while being who you are?”
Jocelyn whimpers, screaming as she tries to break free. The next thing she knew, she is sitting in a bathtub filled with blood. Her breath shudders as she stares in horror of the amount of red in her hands.
“Scared of becoming like me, Josie?”
She shots up with a start, and there are hands grabbing her arms. Jocelyn squirms under their hold, trying to push them away, but they are stronger.“Jocelyn.” A voice echoes in her ears as she frantically looks around the room.The dark and damp room slowly molds into a room with cream walls and scented candles. Her breaths are still uneven as her frightened eyes kept seeing things.“Don’t touch me!” Jocelyn yells.“It’s Sherlock, please, look at me. Look.”Her whole body tenses as she finally looks back at the person in front of her. Sherlock’s face slowly comes into focus, with the worry and fear clear in his eyes. She slowly calms her breaths as Sherlock cups her face, pushing back her hair as sweat matted them to her skin.Jocelyn places her hand on his beating chest before she gasps, and tears fill her eyes. “Sorry. I just… had a bad dream. I’m sorry.”Sherlock gently stroked her hair. “What were you dreaming about?”“It’s nothing. I’m probably just stressed out.” She chokes out a sob.“What was your nightmare, Jocelyn? Tell me.”A tear escapes her eye as she whispers, “Moriarty… I’ve been dreaming about Moriarty,”“And what does he do in these nightmares?”“He… he talks to me.”“Memories or just scenarios in your mind?”Jocelyn screws her eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk about him. Please. Not him. I don’t want to think about him.” The desperation in her weak trembling voice makes Sherlock falter for a moment.He says nothing for a while. “When have you been having these nightmares?”“Every night.”“How come I’ve never noticed when I sleep next to you?”She says nothing and doesn’t meet his eyes.Sherlock traces back his words and his face molds into realization.She sharply inhales. “I should order some room service. I’m starving.” She leaves the bed and goes to the phone to dial.Sherlock stays in bed, replaying in his head all the words said tonight.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’re kidding me, right?”Naomi doesn’t respond and keeps walking. Sherlock and Jocelyn share a look, but follow behind her.“Please tell me you didn’t set up the lab here.”“Say it proudly, will you?” Naomi sarcastically warns her.“I am not working here.”A few hours ago, Sherlock was reading the papers. The front page was of the nightclub owner who got exposed for money laundering. He went straight to prison as well, and while reading, Sherlock looks at Jocelyn, sleeping after trying to stay awake due to her nightmare.And a few minutes after that, Naomi came knocking on their door. How she acquired their room number, Sherlock doesn’t know, but he woke Jocelyn up so they could leave immediately.“What were you expecting? Were you expecting me to set up an illegal lab in downtown Edinburgh with a local neon sign saying, Grant’s drug lab? You cannot be serious.”“But… this is a spa!”All three of them look back at the building with a flashing neon sign saying, “Whitman Springs” in purple and green.“A spa with steams coming from the chimney due to saunas, and therefore, covering up any tracks of other chemicals.” Naomi casually explains while Sherlock glances around the parking lot.“I don’t think I’d be comfortable working on deadly poisons while people are here to relax.”“No, actually… I do believe this could work.” Sherlock nods. “It is quite clever.”Jocelyn glares at him while Naomi sighs in relief. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. Even your boyfriend agrees.”“He’s not my—”“Spare me. I don’t want to hear it.” Naomi walks in the spa.Sherlock and Jocelyn glance at the women relaxing in their chairs while having their hair and nails done. After all of this, Jocelyn might try to have a spa day as well.Naomi just walks past countless of employees, and the other two just follow behind her until she leads them to a vacant room. “None of them are aware of the lab under this building, and I intend to keep it that way, to avoid any bloodshed.” She sarcastically smiles.“Do you own this establishment?”“I don’t. Irene does. I only visit it when I’m bored.”“Irene Adler… owns a spa… in Scotland.” Jocelyn states in a disbelieving voice.“Yes. How do you think she launders the money she received from Moriarty?” She snorts. “Amateurs.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “Are you done insulting us for not knowing how to be a criminal?”“Both of you are criminals, as I recall.” Naomi smirks before the wall begins to slide open with a hiss.Jocelyn stares in amazement as Naomi walks inside. “A secret room?” She can’t hide the excitement in her voice. “Oh, I feel like I’m in a superhero film and we’re about to go to the villain’s secret lair.” She whispers giddily to Sherlock when Naomi is far away enough not to hear.“Jocelyn.” Sherlock lowly speaks, but couldn’t help the twinge of amusement in him.“Sorry.”“Alright, so, here we are.” Naomi gestures to the lab, and Jocelyn stares at the whole area with wide eyes.There were barrels worth of different chemicals, desks, respirators, different tubes, machines with endless buttons.Jocelyn descends down the stairs while looking around the lab with a gaping mouth. “Jesus Christ.”Even Sherlock couldn’t help but part his lips in surprise. This lab could be a professional lab used by high-quality scientists. It was perfect for Jocelyn.Naomi has a proud smile on her face. “How did you put all of this together?”“Jocelyn gave me a list. I got them all for her.”From the simple answer, Sherlock can tell that the proud smile on Naomi’s face wasn’t for herself, but it was for Jocelyn. It pleases Naomi to see Jocelyn so satisfied.Sherlock turns back to Jocelyn, who looks like she is about to pop in excitement as she checks all the items.She touches one of the life-sized metal containers. “This reaction vessel, it could be around a thousand liters. This system, it could mask any chemicals. It’ll just… vent odorless steam.”“As you requested.”“I… I didn’t think you could do it.”“At this point, you should stop doubting me.”“And look at this! I don’t have to grind anything by hand anymore, this thing could do it for me,” she laughs in amazement. “Christ, I can do so much more than make an antidote here. I can make other pharmaceutical drugs, or… coffee! I can make actual coffee here.” She gasps with wide eyes, laughing. “God, you can do almost anything in this lab. You can even start making metham…” she excitedly turns to look at Sherlock and Naomi, who are both staring at her in silence. “—phetamine. Sorry. It’s cool.”Sherlock’s lips curl into a small smile, unable to hold it back.“Kidding. I’m kidding. I’m not making meth here,” Jocelyn taps her hands on the metal tank. “Even though I totally could.” She mutters, grinning.Naomi audibly sighs. “Yes, yes. You are fully capable of becoming a drug lord. Hooray for you, Heisenberg. I’m going to call the chemists I hired—”“You don’t have to.” Jocelyn says.“I have over thirty-five impressive chemists from all around the world that you can choose from to assist you. As many as you want.”“Don’t need to. I already have the best one.” Jocelyn smiles, looking over Naomi’s shoulder.Naomi looks behind her and sees Sherlock. He relaxes and stares back at Naomi, flashing a humorless smile at her.***Sherlock offers a small smile as he slips on his own body suit, zipping it up. “You know, you don’t have to wear the gas mask all the time.”“I think you’re forgetting I’m pregnant. I need to be cautious about this entire thing. I can’t inhale any sort of fume.”“You look ridiculous.”Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “We’re the only ones here. And I’m about to show you how to make poison. Okay? Now, stop talking and carry those bags over.”It took a few hours, and Sherlock is mostly watching her work. Of course, he assists whenever she asks him to fetch something, but other than that, he feels amazed as he watches Jocelyn mix and heat various of chemicals with such focus and ease.After a while, Jocelyn uses a dropper to place a single drop of poison on the slide. They take off their gas masks once it is safe, and both lean over to watch the substance closely.“It has no odor, nor color. It looks similar to…”“Water? Yeah.” She sighs before walking to where their food were, and starts munching on some cookies. “You can slip it into anyone’s drink, and they won’t even notice.”“It doesn’t have any taste?”“Nope.”“How did you know that?”“Well, we… found out in the hard way.”He is instantly reminded of the seventy-five people who died from the poison. Sherlock frowns, feeling a bit guilty once he brought it up. “Every ingredient here is created by lab, except for the herbs.”“Native in New Zealand.”He does as well, and furrows his brows. “How did you manage to make all of this while imprisoned?”“I don’t know, I just… did it.”He doesn’t appear convinced. “Jocelyn.”She reluctantly looks up at him and musters a weak smile. “They threatened to kill our daughter the moment she leaves my womb, if I don’t make anything. Motivation is enough.”Sherlock feels a chill all over his body, and all he can do is helplessly stare at Jocelyn.She inhales sharply. “Well, then. Now that we have the poison, I want to see your opinion on how to make the antidote. So far, all my attempts just failed.” Jocelyn takes a needle and Sherlock watches as she pricks her own finger with it.Droplets of her blood are put into a small vial, and she puts a bandaid around her finger afterwards. She hands him the blood and he still couldn’t move.Jocelyn worriedly frowns. “Hey, you okay?”“Apologies, I just… can’t imagine what you went through.”“Yeah, well, it happened. We just have to move forward.”He slowly nods and goes to the microscope. A drop of her blood is put onto the slide, and Sherlock places a drop of the poison on it before looking at it through the microscope.He raises his brows. “Oh, wow.”“What is it?”Sherlock smiles in disbelief. “The poison, it’s tearing apart blood vessels and putting it back together again. I’ve never… I’ve never seen any substance behave like that so instantly. Jocelyn, this is brilliant—”“I never wanted this poison to exist in the first place.” She cuts him off. “If it’s in the wrong hands, people could die.”Instantly, Sherlock remembers that no matter how extraordinary Jocelyn’s creation is, it could potentially take countless of lives.Many hours pass and they’ve ran countless of tests. Jocelyn checks the time, seeing how it was already nine in the evening. She sighs once she realizes that they are not even close to forming an antidote.Right now, as Jocelyn waits for the latest chemical to cool down, the side of Sherlock’s face is buried into his arms as he begins to sleep on the table. She cracks a small smile at the sight of him dozing off.Sherlock must have realized he was falling asleep as he jolts awake and pushes himself to sit upright again. He rubs the side of his face and looks at Jocelyn, flushing at the possibility that she might have seen him. “Still no good?”“Nothing. It won’t react to blood. It doesn’t reverse anything at all.”“We rest for now and continue tomorrow.”Jocelyn sighs in disappointment. “I just need to figure out what’s missing.” She gestures wildly and rubs her forehead. “I managed to make this bloody poison in half a day, but it’s taking me weeks to figure out how to reverse it.”Sherlock stares at her for a moment. “Do we need an antidote?”“What do you mean? Of course we do.”“But do we truly need it? You are the only one who holds the formula of the poison. No one else can remake it. There wouldn’t be a need for an antidote if the poison will never be used.”Jocelyn pauses. Sherlock is right, but… does that mean she shouldn’t try to at least reverse her mistake?“No one can replicate your formula, Jocelyn. I’ve been studying your notes for hours now, and I still haven’t fully grasped the concept. Do you see?”She lowers her head. “I need this, Sherlock. I need to undo what I did.”“Then, let’s destroy your notes. Let’s destroy everything. Make sure no one finds them.”“D-Destroy everything?”“Yes. Every single hint that could pertain to the existence of this poison. Let’s get rid of it.”Jocelyn begins to stammer while looking around the lab in shock. “But… I worked hard on this antidote to just throw it away.”“You were forced to work hard for all of this, Jocelyn. They had a gun to our daughter’s head. You don’t need to do any of this.”“Yes, I do. I killed more than seventy people. Seventy.”“You didn’t kill them.”“I did. I killed them because I made this stupid fucking—” she stops herself to take a breath. “I’m the reason why they’re dead.”“Don’t do that to yourself.”“I owe it to them to make this antidote, Sherlock. I need to redo what I did. If you’re not going to help, you are welcome to go back to London and leave me here.”Sherlock feels his own body fill with frustration as well as he returns her glare. “Fine. I can’t watch you do this to yourself.” Sherlock begins to remove his lab coat.“Oh, yeah? Like how you can’t watch what they did to me? What they’ve done to me?” Jocelyn follows him from behind. “You are unimaginably selfish!”Sherlock turns to face her, and his blue eyes are icy with rage. “You’d like to speak about selfishness when you have been so adamant in not telling me everything that is happening?”“You had the answers right in front of you! You just didn’t watch it!”“Why are you so keen of me watching you suffer at the hands of the Morans? Do you wish to hurt me?”“Hurt you? Hurt you? Brilliant idea! Let’s make Jocelyn’s fun trip to New Zealand about Sherlock Holmes!”“Oh, please.” Sherlock groans.“It’s all about you, isn’t it? It always has been! First with Moriarty trying to get to you by putting me in a freezer. Moriarty threatening my life and causing you to kill yourself. Magnussen having my file to taunt you, and then—!” She forcefully slams her palm into the metal counter, and the other laboratory apparatuses clang loudly together. Sherlock watches intensely without flinching. “Laurie and Silas kidnap me, taking me away from my family for months just to get to Mycroft and you. Do you even realize how fucking demeaning it is to be a pawn in someone else’s game?!”She clutches her throat, touching the faint scar on her skin, as if screaming her words made her throat burn in quiet pain.Sherlock says nothing as he watches her edge towards a breakdown. He doesn’t move, but his eyes are trained carefully on her.Jocelyn blinks back the tears as her fists slightly shake. “Do you even know what they really did to me?” She slowly lifts both her hands, showing the twin scars on each one. “Silas pinned both of my hands to the armrests of a wooden chair, using daggers.”Sherlock finally shows a hint of emotion as he briefly closes his eyes.“And he left me like that for a whole day. I was bleeding out.” Jocelyn humorlessly smiles. “The burn mark on my lower back? Hot metal. Silas burned me for ten full seconds.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I can still smell my own burning flesh.”Sherlock feels a sudden pang of pain and hatred, all the complicated emotions he could lose count of, but he could not say a word.“Do you want to know why they did all of that? It’s to see your face. Laurie and Silas are so obsessed with Moriarty that they resent you for having his full attention, enough to drive him to his own death. They blame you for Moriarty’s death.” Jocelyn dryly laughs. “They want you to suffer. And they did it through me.”Sherlock feels himself twitch in regret, now realizing the burden of what Jocelyn must have carried home from New Zealand.“I just need you to cut me some slack here.” Jocelyn almost grips her hair. “I just… I’m so tired, Sherlock. I’m tired of people using me to get to you. I just want our daughter to be safe, so forgive me if I want to find an antidote and move on with my life.” She finishes and drops to the nearest chair to rest, feeling herself tire out from the full rant she had given him.Sherlock still doesn’t say anything and it is beginning to anger her even more, but all she can do now is sigh wipe away her tears away and bury her face into her palm. The lab is filled with silence yet again.Neither of them moves until they both here the door opening from above them. They lift their heads towards the sound and sees Naomi emerging from the top of the stairs.She scans the entire room and rolls her eyes. “I don’t even want to know.” Naomi mutters as she walks down the stairs.Sherlock’s eyes go to Jocelyn, who only sighs and stands, supporting her baby bump with her hand. “Get two cabs. We’ll be right out.”Naomi nods and leaves without another word. Jocelyn gathers her notebooks and samples she can carry, all while Sherlock watches her silently.“You’re going back to the motel. I don’t want you to keep getting in my way.” She throws him a glare before walking to the stairs. She finds it difficult to push herself to walk upstairs, but she does so anyway.Sherlock clenches his jaw, but follows behind her. The lab is securely closed as they both leave to go outside. A cab waits for them. Jocelyn immediately gets into the cab and it drives away.Sherlock stands right next to Naomi and watches her leave. “Where is she going?”“The bookshop downtown. A familiar one to you, I think. I’ll be with her, so she’ll be safe. No need to worry.” Naomi calmly answers, glancing at him. “No luck today?”“It seems that we run more out of it as days pass.”Naomi snorts at his dramatics. “Making an antidote has always seemed impossible, Mr. Holmes.”Sherlock looks at her in brief surprise. “If you believe that, then why form a lab for her?”“I do as she says.”“Why?”Naomi huffs. “Now I see why Miss Jocelyn is so frustrated with you.”“Why would that be?”“You refuse to see the truth.”Sherlock furrows his brows at her as she turns back to type into her phone. “Mary told me that you never lie.”Naomi scoffs in amusement. “Did she, now?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.“She says that if you even attempt to lie, you’d feel certain… health issues.”“If that is your way of explaining my odd situation, yes. I do feel sick when being dishonest.” Naomi mutters casually.“So, at least answer me this.” Sherlock walks in front of her, and she looks at him. “Is Jocelyn working for Moriarty?”The small smile grows on her face. “She doesn’t work for Jim Moriarty. She doesn’t work for anyone.”Sherlock analyzes her whole body language and he does not detect a single hint of discomfort. Naomi is completely at ease as another cab pulls over in front of them.“But, Anthea, she—”“Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.” She offers him a false smile.Sherlock gives her one last look before riding the cab to the suite.Around midnight, Jocelyn comes back to the suite carrying stacks of books. Sherlock can hear her shuffle through the living room, and he frowns to himself. She is not supposed to be carrying heavy books, so he stands and approaches her, but she stubbornly turns away. “I got it.”He watches her for a moment as she takes off her coat and hangs it over a chair. She grimaces while placing her hand on her bump, and she opens one of the books which already had a bookmark hallway through.“Jocelyn, I think we are done for today. You must sleep.” He softly tells her.She sighs and meets his eyes. For a moment, Sherlock though she was going to refuse, but once she looked at him, her eyes soften. At the end, she nods and closes the book before going to the bedroom. Without another word, Sherlock runs her a hot bath.Once the bath is ready, Jocelyn thanks him on his way out of the room. As he walks past her, she gently reaches for his arm.Sherlock is caught off guard, and he sees the way she reluctantly looks at his face.“Will you come join me?”Their eyes bore into one another, bright green and icy blue clashing. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”The words sink into Jocelyn, and she lowers her hand. Without saying anything else, Jocelyn walks into the bathroom and the door is shut. Words continue to hang in the air around them.A sigh leaves Sherlock’s mouth as he closes his eyes. A few minutes of overthinking, and Sherlock turns to come inside the bathroom. He sees Jocelyn in the tub already, with the white foam and bubbles covering her bare body. Her short brown hair is held up by a handkerchief turned into a headband.She looks at him in surprise, and then, he reaches up to unbutton his shirt. Jocelyn shifts from her place, and she watches Sherlock remove his clothes.Sherlock’s face remain blank yet intense as he refuses to look away from her. Equally as stubborn, Jocelyn keeps her eyes on his. His trousers and pants drop to the tiled ground, leaving himself completely bare to her eyes.Jocelyn blinks.He says nothing as he begins to approach the wide tub, climbing inside and sitting opposite her. Her eyes follow him quietly, and she feels his leg brush against hers underwater.Jocelyn watches Sherlock reach over to the side and pour himself a glass of champagne. He raises the glass towards her and says, “Cheers, Mrs. Sigerson.”She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he drinks, and he exhales from the taste. Sherlock looks absolutely dashing with his tousled curls and a glass of champagne in his hand. His chest peeks out from the water’s surface. She can feel their legs tangle a bit underneath the water.As they sit in silence for a moment, Jocelyn speaks. “So, Mr. Sigerson, what is your story?”“Hm. I am a businessman, married to an accountant. I am on vacation in Scotland with my pregnant wife. We are both having a splendid time.”A smile grows on her face, pleased that he’s going along. “Not bad.”“And we’re having twins.”“I see. Are their names going to rhyme?”“Hm. Annie and Holly.”A sudden laugh leaves her chest. “Those are characters from The Parent Trap.”“Ah, yes. My wife loves that film, we watch it every weekend in our white picket fence house.”“Your wife sounds marvelous.”“Oh, she is.”“What else can you tell me about Mrs. Sigerson?”“Alina is an amazing cook. And she can drive properly.”Jocelyn snorts, rolling her eyes. “Is that so?”“And she’s a good dancer.”“She sounds like a full package. Must be why you married her, William.” She gives him a cheeky smile.“Oh, I married her for many different reasons. You see, ever since my brother died,” Jocelyn gasps dramatically from his words, and Sherlock nods in a mocking way, putting on a false expression of grief. “My life had been quite the mess.”“And I assume that she picked up the little pieces of your heart?”“Maybe.”“What an amazing woman, then.”“Yes, I’m quite thankful.”They share a small laugh and Jocelyn watches him quietly for a second. “Sigerson. You said that was from a story Mycroft told you about.”“It is.” He nods, furrowing his brows in concentration. “It is about an old man named Sigerson and his son. They were traveling from the city to a rural area, until their car broke down in the middle of a desert. The weather was hot, and they barely had water. They had to endure the heat until nighttime, where it would be cooler. So, they sat together and talked about the son’s mother, who drowned just a year earlier.”Jocelyn keeps quiet, watching him as he lays the story on her.“It is later revealed that the desert they were on was once an ocean. Bodies of water have been extinct for decades, and the little boy had no way of knowing what an ocean would look like. Except from his mother’s paintings. Faded memories from her youth.”Jocelyn cracks a smile. “What a twist.”Sherlock nods, staring off into the distance. “My brother can be so inventive. He even called the story as The Young Boy and the Desert.” Sherlock stares at her. “You know, like—”“The Old Man and the Sea.” She smiles.“Yes. The son confronts Sigerson for neglecting the mother. He had taken her for granted. She drowned herself in a bathtub, to feel the ocean once more.”The smile fades from her face a bit. “Sounds a bit grim to tell a little boy like you.”“Mycroft told me that story when you left for New York.”“Oh…”“Do you regret asking?”“No… it’s a beautiful story. How does it end?”“It doesn’t. I stopped him from telling the whole story. I didn’t want to listen to him at the time.”“So, Sigerson and his son are still stuck in the desert?”“That may be so.”Jocelyn narrows her eyes. “Am I supposed to be the hypothetical dead mother in this scenario?”From that, Sherlock lets out a surprised chuckle. “Believe me, Mycroft is quite creative.”“And who’s supposed to be Sigerson?”“I assume it should be me.”“And the little boy?”“To this day, I’m still not sure.”Jocelyn hums. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”“It’s been almost a decade since he told me that story. One of the greatest mysteries in my life.”“Well, maybe you’ll never figure it out until the story is finished.”“That could be why.” He offers a smile.Silence fills the room again, and she hesitates. “I think Alina Sigerson owes William Sigerson an apology for earlier.”“Oh? Knowing William, he forgave Alina long before she asked for forgiveness.”“How about Sherlock? Would he forgive?”He stays quiet for a moment. “William and Sherlock are quite similar in that way.”She softly smiles at him. “Still, Alina said some things that crossed the line. She would probably apologize.”“And what about Jocelyn? Would she apologize?”“Oh, I think Jocelyn would apologize in another way.”“And in what way is that?”He watches the way her eyes darken for a brief second, and her lips twitch into a small smirk. He narrows his eyes at her in suspense, and she slowly rises from her place, exposing her dripping chest to him. Sherlock tilts his head up to keep his eyes on her face. Jocelyn slowly scoots closer to him, the water spilling slightly over the tub and into the floor.Sherlock feels her hot breath brushing against his face, and he puts his champagne glass down. His hands grip the sides of the tub, and his eyes are still trained on hers. The pupils of her eyes slowly dilate, and he feels her hand on his thigh.Without moving his head, he lowers his eyes to see where she is touching him, feeling her fingers trace upwards. He looks back into her eyes, and could not say anything. Although, his mind is filling with such filthy thoughts that he cannot say aloud.However, as her hand continues to slide upward, Sherlock snatches her wrist and stops her movements. His breath brushes against her face as his eyes rake all over her face.“Mm-mm.” He lowly hums while slightly shaking his head no, eyes piercing through hers.The corner of Jocelyn’s lips twitch slightly into a ghost of a smirk, and her eyes are equally as enamored with his features. She pulls her hand off and leans back into her previous place. “Okay, fine.”“Is there any other way you can apologize to me without any sexual advancements?” Sherlock’s tone is amused with his deep voice.“Harry said it works.”“Maybe for men with lack of self-control.” Sherlock’s eyes darken quite a bit the longer he watches her. “It would take quite the strength to resist someone like you, Jocelyn.”Jocelyn can hear her heart pounding through her chest. “And do you?”“Do I what?”“Have self-control?”“Are you suggesting that I don’t?”“No. You’ve always displayed self-restraint.”“Exactly.”Jocelyn smiles a bit. “Whatever you say, Sherlock.”Before he could even reply, Jocelyn slowly rises from the tub with the water dripping from her. Sherlock feels his throat close up at the sight of her bare body covered in white soapy suds. Without looking back, she enters the shower and wash off the remaining soap.For show, she even throws a look at Sherlock over her shoulder. It makes him waver, and his hands tremble, leading him to lift himself from the tub as well. Instead of joining her in the shower, Sherlock wraps a towel around himself and leaves the bathroom.Jocelyn frowns to herself and turns off the shower. Afterwards, she sighs and shuts her eyes.***“Ow,” she mutters under her breath.Her voice catches Sherlock’s attention and he closes the book from his chair. “Are you alright?”“Yeah, I just,” she grimaces in pain as she tries to massage her stomach. “She’s kicking really hard this time.”“Is it a different type of kick?”“Yeah. Probably. I don’t know. This is my first time being pregnant.” She throws him a mocking glare.He returns the scowl, but approaches her. “I should take you to a doctor.”“No, it’s fine. It’s not that painful, it just feels different.”“Jocelyn. No arguments.” Sherlock gives her a stern look. They share a gaze but Jocelyn eventually sighs.That is how she finds herself in a secure and private hospital in Edinburgh. Mycroft thought everything through.So, when Jocelyn is lying still on a hospital bed with a doctor and Sherlock standing on both her sides.The doctor smiles and shakes her hand. “I’m Dr. Martin. Mr. Mycroft Holmes asked for me personally.”“Yes. I know who you are.” Sherlock nods.Dr. Martin snorts. “I don’t doubt it. I’m aware of how difficult the last few months have been for you, Dr. Grant.”Jocelyn shrugs. “We just have to accept it.”Dr. Martin nods. “Anyway, so far, your baby is healthy.” She offers a smile but sighs. “But I have to talk about your health.”“Is she okay?” Sherlock asks with concern.“All is fine for now, however… things are only going to get more difficult for you.” She hesitantly says. “You say you’ve been having nausea more often?”Jocelyn nods, and Sherlock can sense a wave of fear in her.“Your health will severely deteriorate during the third trimester. It’s much advisable if your food consumption is increased and—““Excuse me for one moment, did you say severely deteriorate?” Sherlock asks with tension in his shoulders.“Yes. No other appropriate description for your discomfort during the last trimester.”Jocelyn’s brows knot together in hesitation. “But she’ll be okay? Our baby?”“I can’t guarantee it a hundred percent, but if you stick to a proper diet, medication and avoid unhealthy food or fumes, things could go well.” Dr. Martin shrugs, looking down at the clipboard. “And if there’s anything else I can help you with, just call me.”Jocelyn thanks her and the doctor leaves. Sherlock helps her sit up. She tries her best to hide her fear, but he can see it in her eyes.“Severely deteriorate. Phrase of the day.” She sarcastically says.He sits on the chair next to her and gives her a determined look, but Jocelyn cringes away.“Not another pep talk. Come on.”“No. Not a pep talk.” Sherlock slowly reaches for her hand, and she flinches for a bit before relaxing. “The doctor said—”“We are keeping the baby. You know that, right?” Jocelyn cuts him off with an incredulous expression.“Yes, I do. And I am glad that we share that sentiment, however, if your health is on the line… we need to be more careful.”She softens. “Yeah. I know. Sorry, I thought you were going to…”“No, no. I understand.”“It was rude of me, I’m sorry. I know how much you want this, too.”He meets her eyes and she can see that he is agreeing. Sherlock was never one to show emotions straightforwardly, but Jocelyn can tell that their daughter is the most important person in Sherlock’s life right now.They continued to work at the lab as if yesterday never happened. Sherlock assisted her with anything she may ask of him, and the whole atmosphere is strictly professional.As time approaches sundown, they still found nothing. Neither one of them spoke on the way back to the motel. Sherlock can tell how disappointed Jocelyn is. It was easy to observe how desperately she wants to find an antidote for the mess she created.
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“Miss Jocelyn, il-eona!”From the loud voice, Jocelyn flinches awake and sits up with wide eyes. She looks at Naomi, who is covering her mouth as if to suppress her giggles.“Naomi? What the hell are you doing here?” Jocelyn sharply whispers.“You asked me to wake you up.”“With a phone call! Not by sneaking into my hotel room!” She clutches the sheet into her chest.Naomi holds back a smirk. “I thought you and the sir were fighting.”Jocelyn furrows her brows, but looks down to the bed, and she sees Sherlock sleeping soundly right next to her with his arm around her hip. She softens, and wonders if Sherlock does this every night to let her sleep well. She only noticed now that whenever she sleeps, she wakes up relaxed.“Ooh, is the lost love found?” Naomi hums, smirking a bit.“Shut up,” she mumbles while taking Sherlock’s hand off her thigh. Naomi smiles while watching them, and Jocelyn sneers at her before following her outside.***“Don’t you think Mr. Holmes is right? What if the antidote just isn’t attainable right now?” Naomi asks as she drives.“Do you agree with him?”“Not saying that, but—”“You either agree or you don’t.”“I side with you. You know that, Miss.”Jocelyn sighs, touching her baby bump to comfort herself. “Then you won’t ask questions like I told you to.”Naomi glances at her with a knowing smile. “Sure, Miss.”“How’s the project?”“Projects Clavis is still ongoing. The key code is a difficult find. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, they report to me everything they see.”Jocelyn sighs heavily. “Ever since Project Talem was accomplished, we still haven’t found any way to complete Clavis.”“Oh, relax, Miss Jocelyn. We have the two Morans in our possession which means Project Talem is done. That’s something that deserves to be happy about, isn’t it?”Jocelyn nods. “Sure. I mean, both of them were too willing to be captured without a fight. Not suspicious at all.”They reach the lab and Jocelyn goes straight to work. While Jocelyn remains at the lab, she thinks about Sherlock and how he chose to sleep next to her despite everything he said when the first left the nightclub.Jocelyn forces herself to believe that Sherlock was just being sweet to her solely because of their child.She places her hand on her stomach and sighs. “It looks like you’re the only thing keeping your father in my life. Thank you, darling.”***Hours roll by and Jocelyn is gripping her hair out of frustration. Why can’t she do this right? Why can’t she derive a fucking antidote—Before she could even realize, she is swiping her arms across the table to throw off her laboratory gear. Some glass beakers fall to the ground, shattering in pieces as a few chemicals spill over.She gasps in a breath and steps back from the mess. She gapes and covers her mouth in surprise. Since when has she been this violent? What is happening to her?“Jocelyn.”She lifts her head and sees Sherlock at the top of the stairs. His eyes glance over the mess in front of her and he descends down the stairs. Sherlock approaches her and pulls her away from the broken glass.“How many attempts have you done?”“Almost two hundred,” she answers monotonously.“Jocelyn, I think it is time for us to accept that a cure may not be the best way to counter the existence of the poison.”“Then what is?” Jocelyn meets his eyes, and he can see how tired she looks.“We go see the only other person who possesses even a drop of that poison. And we get rid of it.” Sherlock proposes his solution. “We don’t need a cure. We just have to make sure there is nothing to cure at all.”Jocelyn softens. “I just want this to be over.”“As do I.”Later that evening, Sherlock and Jocelyn find themselves in another building that Naomi took them to. It was empty, apart from one person in what appears to be the most efficient cage Sherlock has ever seen.His lips part in astonishment when he sees Laurie’s feet dipped two inches into water inside the glass cage. There were wires efficiently tucked into the corners.Electrocution.Jocelyn and Sherlock stand before the cage and Sebastian just stares at them before breaking out into an amused smile.“Jocelyn Melrose, finally you’ve visited me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”“The vial that you stole from me. Where is it?”“I’m sure you already know that I’m trying to recreate the poison.”“And I also know how much of a two-faced cunt you are.” She hisses at him through the glass.Sebastian laughs even more. “Oh, Jocelyn.” He looks towards Sherlock. “Did she tell you yet?”Sherlock narrows his eyes and says nothing. Jocelyn clenches her teeth as she glares at Sebastian.Laurie, well… Sebastian clicks his tongue thrice. “Still keeping secrets from your beau. I thought you learned your lesson, Josie.”“Sherlock, can you wait outside? I don’t want you to listen to this idiot.”“I’m not a child, Jocelyn. Let him say what he wants to me.” Sherlock replies with an easy tone.Sebastian just grins. “Isn’t this fun? Just a few months ago, Sherlock here was so jealous whenever I’m around you, Jocelyn. And you, my dear, were so torn between Sherlock and I,” Sebastian chuckles. “Choosing between someone you love and someone who loves you. A very difficult decision indeed.”“I’m not here to discuss all the lovey-dovey bullshit, Laurie. Tell me where the vial is and your brother lives.”“You don’t have it in you to kill.” Laurie shrugs.“But I do,” a new voice speaks, and Jocelyn turns to see Naomi approaching the cage. “I have it in me to kill Silas Moran. In fact, no one needs to ask me.”That catches Laurie’s attention, and his expression grows dark. A smile grows on Naomi’s face, while Jocelyn and Sherlock watch in anticipation.“New Zealand. There’s a latch inside the room I put you in.” Laurie tells Jocelyn, who raises her brows.“I thought you were using it to replicate the formula.”Laurie snickers, and he leans back against the glass wall of the cage. “Who are we kidding? Jocelyn’s formula is unmatched. No one can duplicate it.”Sherlock narrows his eyes and looks at Jocelyn, as if to say, ‘Why is everything suddenly so easy?’Naomi turns to Jocelyn. “I’ll swing by New Zealand, to check whether or not Sebastian is lying and I should kill Silas.” Her tone is casual.Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “Fine. Make it quick.”“Yes, ma’am.” Naomi grins before she leaves.Sherlock turns to Laurie. “Knowing Miss Naomi’s skillset, I don’t think it would benefit you much if you’re lying.”“Don’t worry, Mr. Holmes. I’m not lying.” Laurie mutters, and his face is dejected. Genuine defeat. Sentiment never fails, even the sociopaths tend to protect their own. “If I do lie, you’d know where to find me.”Jocelyn frowns at Laurie, eyeing him from head to toe. “Why the hell are you being so compliant?”“You said it yourself, Jocelyn. You won.” Laurie’s tone of voice filled with self-pity.“I didn’t know there was a fight to win.” Jocelyn monotonously replies. “I thought this was just a fight I had to escape.”“Well, you still won. You have everything. A home, a family,” he glances at Sherlock, who refrains from rolling his eyes as he exhales in boredom. “What more do you want?”Jocelyn’s face hardens, and she slowly steps forward in such a predatory way while keeping her eyes on Laurie. “What do I want? I want you… to be extinct.”Sherlock watches Laurie form a smile, unaffected by Jocelyn’s words. Laurie chuckles. “Do you have a death wish, Jocelyn?”“The only death wish I have is for people like you.”“People like me?” Laurie finally stood up and approaches the glass, pacing casually a bit. Now, Laurie stands in front of Jocelyn with thick glass separating them. “People like me… are the REASON—” he bangs his fist against the glass, and the sound echoes through the room. The familiar manic expression flashes across Sebastian’s face. “—why people like you are alive right now.”Sherlock slightly flinches from the sudden display of violence, and the action briefly reminds him of Moriarty. He disliked the feeling of being reminded of that vile man.What was strange is how Jocelyn never flinched. She didn’t even blink. It was as if she was expecting his outburst. Jocelyn raises a brow at Laurie. “Are you done?”Laurie wavers, seeing the way she is barely affected, and his face hardens. “When I get out of here, I swear to you, Jocelyn. I will come for you.”Sherlock feels a sudden protectiveness burst through him, and he looks at Jocelyn. He is slightly surprised to see amusement across her face. As if she finds it funny how confident Laurie is that he’ll get out.“You, and your daughter.”Then, there was a shift in the air. The curling smile on Jocelyn’s face disappears, and the amusement drains from her. Sherlock feels a chill down his spine when a dark look takes over Jocelyn’s eyes.He watches her calmly reach into her back pocket, taking out a remote before pressing a button, without looking away from Laurie.Then, Sherlock watches Laurie drop to the wet ground and begin convulsing as he is electrocuted by the water. Sherlock’s eyes widen, and his lips part.He lifts his head to stare at Jocelyn, who is barely fazed by Laurie in pain.Many seconds pass, and Sherlock notices her increase the voltage. As much as Sherlock found it pleasing for her to get revenge, he did not want her to become a murderer. “Jocelyn!”She blinks before gasping, and the remote drops from her hand. Sherlock takes the remote from the ground and turns it off. Laurie’s body twitches a bit and he remains heaving on the ground.As she comes down from her trance, Jocelyn gapes for a moment before turning around to walk away a bit. Sherlock falters. “I think we should go home.”Jocelyn closes her eyes and nods, walking away without looking back. Sherlock pockets the remote and follows behind her.“You know what she is, Mr. Holmes. I think… you’re the one in denial.” Laurie announces while he’s still unmoving on the ground, and Sherlock stops walking. “You clearly… have no idea… what she is capable of.”“But you do.” Sherlock swiftly answers, eyes hooded as he looks down at Laurie. “Perhaps you will consider that the next time you use our daughter against her.”Laurie remains silent and Sherlock leaves. The moment fresh air meets his nose, he fills his lungs with it. He finds Jocelyn by the bus stop down the road, looking deep in thought.The way back to London was silent, and neither of them spoke to one another. When they reach Baker Street, there was no one in the flat except for them.The door closes behind Sherlock and Jocelyn lifts her head to meet his eyes, with her green eyes are shining with panic. “I’m not like this, Sherlock. I swear to you. I’ve never been violent.”“I know.” Sherlock quietly says.“I-I didn’t want you to see me like that.” Jocelyn shamefully expresses. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”“I know,” he looks at her and observes her face. “I hope you don’t see me as an idiot.”“Never have.”“So, you must be aware that I have an inkling as to what is going on. There is only one thing that would make all of this grow sense.”Jocelyn keeps her gaze on him as a tear slides down her cheek. It seems like she already knew what Sherlock is referring to. “So, what gave me away?”“The name they call you.” Sherlock’s response was immediate. “Jocelyn Melrose.” Sherlock continues to stare at her with an indecipherable expression. “Jocelyn Melrose,” he repeats, followed by a quiet utterance of, “JM.”Jocelyn offers him a small defeated smile. “I thought I was being clever.”“Why would you do that?” Sherlock knots his brows together, his voice lowered in confusion and… betrayal. “Why would you make me think Moriarty is alive? Why?”“But Moriarty is alive.”Sherlock’s eye twitches. “He’s been dead for almost four years.”“Moriarty is alive. He will always be alive. The world will always have a Moriarty in it.”Sherlock sharply inhales. “Enough with these dramatic sentences, and just get to the point.”She stares at him silently before parting her lips. “You once asked me if I was working for Moriarty. I said no.” Jocelyn reminds, and Sherlock can already feel the chill creeping up his spine. “I don’t work for Moriarty… I am Moriarty.”Suddenly, all the sounds he could hear begins to be muffled. His heartbeat is steady, and he keeps his eyes on her. Sherlock slowly straightens his back, unsure if he is intrigued or appalled. Somewhere in between, maybe. He is not sure how to feel about this. Then, he makes his way to his chair and sits down.“I see.”Jocelyn sees the look on Sherlock’s face and inhales sharply, sitting on the chair opposite his. “No, you don’t.”“How did you acquire this power?”“Naomi is Moriarty’s voice. People go to her to contact Moriarty. I was Moriarty’s first choice as a successor, and Naomi complied to his wishes. Now, she follows everything I say. She does everything I tell her to do.” Jocelyn’s voice is laced with grim. “Moriarty passed everything down to me. Everything he owned, everything he worked for, everything he built. They’re all mine now.”The ticking of the clock sounds much louder in the silence between them.“Does that shock you, Sherlock?”“Not particularly, no.”“Why not?”“Given his unjustified obsession with you years ago, I’d say it was inevitable for him to do something to you.” Sherlock calmly replies. “He mentioned something to me once. He said that that he will make you his right hand. If you refuse, you’ll end up in terrorist cells. It seems that you’ve made your choice.” Sherlock’s voice is frigid and emotionless.“I didn’t have a choice. I either take the job or die.” Jocelyn leans forward while widening her eyes. “I look in the mirror everyday and barely recognize who I’m facing.”“So, who am I facing? The most dangerous woman in the world?”She blinks, astonished by his words and she was at loss for a response.“This was what you wanted to figure out. Why Moriarty chose you as his successor.” Sherlock narrows his eyes.“I’ve already had that figured out a long time ago. He wants to torture you. What I’m trying to do now is use this inheritance for good.”“Just how vast does it stretch?”“Worldwide.”“Do you have connections?”“Everywhere.”Sherlock hums and looks towards the wooden floor, trying to sort his mind.Jocelyn sighs, closing her eyes. “Well, the cat is out of the bag.”“It’s an enormous cat…”Despite herself, she still chuckles at that.Sherlock glances at her again. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”“Uh, hey, Sherlock? Moriarty made me his successor and I now control everything about his network and people are blindly following and protecting me just because Moriarty said so? How am I supposed to explain that?” She sarcastically says.“As bluntly as that. No games, no secrets, nothing.” His blue eyes are icy and piercing through her like daggers.“And it’s supposed to be easy?”“Yes. Very.”Jocelyn’s eyes flash with anger. “I’ve just informed you that I’m controlling the criminal underground, the same network that drove us apart and killed thousands, Sherlock. You think this is easy for me to admit?”“Tell me what you’ve done.”Jocelyn’s breath hitches and she averts her eyes from him. It takes her a while to reply. “I’ve done… unspeakable things. Things I was forced to do. You’ll see me differently.” Jocelyn finally looks at him in the eye. “And I don’t want to see that happen.”Sherlock inhales before exhaling loudly. “Well, I think that’s that, then.” He begins to stand and button his jacket. “You should go home. Have dinner. Get some rest. I will contact Harry to visit you. Your medication is in your bag.”“And where will you be?”“I will be here.” Sherlock avoids her eyes and walks towards the kitchen.Jocelyn blocks his way, having a humorless smile on her face. “Is that it?”“Is that what?”“That’s all you have to say to me? Go home? After I’ve told you that I’m—”“It does not matter what you are or what you’ve done. You are still the mother of my child.” Sherlock’s voice is lowered and strained, almost as if they were difficult to say. It nearly broke Jocelyn.As he proceeds to walk past her, Jocelyn grabs his arm gently. Still, however gentle she was, he still tenses up under her touch. Jocelyn tilts her head up to face him, his shoulder nearly touching her cheek. Sherlock tilts his head down to meet her eyes, and he doesn’t move.Jocelyn parts her lips. “I’ve done things, Sherlock. Things you wouldn’t imagine me doing, ever. Things you would hate me for.”Sherlock notices the way her voice barely quivers. This confident young woman in front of him, with the face he had come to grow affectionate of for years, somehow should feel like a stranger to him.But she isn’t. She does not feel that way at all. She feels so familiar, that Sherlock could be looking through a mirror.She continues to look into his eyes. “Because the one person you must have trusted most, turned into your worst enemy.”Sherlock says nothing, but he could not look away from her.The longer she looks into his eyes, the more her face twists with confusion. “Or maybe you’re not repulsed.”Sherlock’s face softens, but he keeps quiet.Jocelyn’s hand on his arm was beginning to feel warm, and the faint flush on her cheeks made her look alive. It was as if she noticed something in Sherlock’s eyes, making him feel so open and exposed.She stares at him with surprise and faint amusement. The surprise on Jocelyn’s face remains, and the corner of her lips begins to curl upwards. “I never should’ve underestimated your attraction to danger and mystery.”Sherlock’s eyes close, as if he could not believe how obvious he has become.“Is that it? Everything that attracts you, all rolled into one person. Is that your weakness?” She whispers to him, and he feels her hand slide up his arm until her palm settles on the side of his neck, where the skin is burning and untouched for months.“Jocelyn…” he mumbles under his breath. “Please. I need you to leave.”Jocelyn flinches at his words, and she pulls her hands away before she gives him one last look. Jocelyn leaves and Sherlock finally breathes. He steadies himself on the wall, clenching his fists against it as he screws his eyes shut.Before he could change his mind and dials a number, he grabs his coat and leaves the flat.He barges into the office and glances at the two strangers in the room.Mycroft raises his brows, seeing the look on his brother’s face. “Hm. This meeting is adjourned. Thank you.”The others leave the two brothers alone and Sherlock glares at Mycroft. “You knew.”“Ah. Did she tell you already?”“No. I figured it out.”“Took you long enough, brother mine. I’ve known the moment I laid eyes on her again.”“And you didn’t bother telling me.” Sherlock clenches his fists.“She requested not to.”“Let me guess. So I wouldn’t see her differently?”“Precisely.”Sherlock frustratedly rubs his forehead. “All of these lies, these secrets. What else are either of you not telling me!”“Sherlock,” Mycroft’s warning tone makes him even more furious. “I think it is time for you to watch the rest of the tapes.”Later, Mycroft stands behind Sherlock as the detective’s eyes are glued on the screen. He watched Silas burn the end of a metal stick, and press it into her back. He watched Silas pierce a dagger through each of Jocelyn’s hand, pinning her to the chair and leaving her to bleed out for hours. Her face twists with agonizing pain, her mouth stretching open to yell. For a moment, Sherlock was thankful for the lack of audio. He has no idea if he will be able to live if he heard how horrific her screams must have been.Then, Sebastian finally shows up with a life-sized box. He places the box in front of Jocelyn and had a smirk on his face.When the box was opened, Sherlock had to pull himself together to prevent a horrified gasp escape his mouth. His breaths grow heavy, eyes bulging out of its sockets.Inside the box was a man slumped into a chair. He wore a suit and his hair is neat. His face is all too familiar to Sherlock and it makes his hands shake in both rage and disbelief.Mycroft’s voice sounds strained from behind him. “This happened the day before we rescued her.”Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to speak as he keeps his eyes on the screen. He watches as Jocelyn struggle, but her hands are still pinned into the chair with daggers. She appears to be panicking while sobbing in fear. It makes Sherlock’s chest twist.“When Jocelyn told me about this, I could hardly believe it. Not because I did not have a feeling that Moran took Moriarty’s body from the roof. But because of what they used it for.” His voice felt grim, and sounded like an echo in the back of Sherlock’s head. “That is Moriarty’s corpse, brother mine. Preserved and frozen for years… and Sebastian Moran forced her to look at him for hours upon hours.”Sherlock couldn’t help the tears form in his eyes as he stares back at the screen, mortified by what he is hearing. They forced her to look upon the corpse of the person who ruined her life.“If she looked away, that would be another hour with the knives through her hands.”The detective closes his eyes, unable to bear another moment watching.Mycroft sees this and turns off the monitor. Sherlock didn’t need to know how many times Jocelyn looked away. “They blame you for Moriarty’s death. So they poured their anger and frustrations into her.”“Why is this happening to us?” Sherlock lowly asks, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Why did I need to bring her back to my life, Mycroft? She and I were doing fine separately. If I had just… left her alone—”“Sherlock, this is not your fault.” Mycroft furrows his brows. “You would be the last person to ever wish this to happen to Jocelyn.”“Yes, but it happened. And it was because of me.” Sherlock sighs heavily, turning his chair around to face his brother. All of this further proves that Sherlock does not deserve Jocelyn.Mycroft decides that this would be a topic to be discussed later. “I’m assuming you already know about Jocelyn’s two missions. Project Talem being the capture of the Moran brothers. Project Clavis being the search for Jim Moriarty’s key code.”Sherlock stares deeply into his brother’s eyes, trying to measure whether or not he is lying, but he sees no falsehood behind them.Sherlock sharply exhales, in disbelief of everything he is hearing. “She’s still looking for the key code.”“She has people for that, Sherlock.”“People that were once under Moriarty.” Sherlock shoots back, appalled.Mycroft glares down at his younger brother. “With Moriarty’s global power and influence at our side, we remain at peace with everything else.”“You would subject Jocelyn in such danger of being the leader of Moriarty’s criminal web? While she is carrying my child? After everything I had just witnessed?” Sherlock shakes his head. “You are despicable, brother mine.”“No one other than Miss Naomi, foot soldiers, and the two Moran brothers know of Jocelyn succeeding Jim Moriarty. The brothers would never tell anyone, since it will hurt their ego because neither of them were chosen.”Sherlock weakly scoffs, smiling humorlessly. “Successors. Chosen. Jim Moriarty treats his criminal web like a kingdom with heirs to the throne.” He spats bitterly. “He has no right to pluck Jocelyn from her life and force her to carry all of this on her shoulders.”“She can’t leave. We have Naomi to deal with if that happens. She’s rather loyal to Moriarty. Any Moriarty, it seems.”Sherlock grits his teeth angrily. “Then I will kill her myself if you, a government official with title and power, cannot.”“Naomi is not alone. Moriarty has a loyal following, and they would all do anything for him.” Mycroft sighs, sitting back down. “If Jocelyn backs down, there will no longer be a Moriarty to follow. To their eyes, she’ll just be Jocelyn Grant. Someone who they can get rid of.”Sherlock silences and he just closes his eyes.“Brother mine, Jocelyn can handle herself. She has been doing so for months. She wouldn’t have taken the job if she knew that she couldn’t handle it.” Mycroft leans back, shrugging. “And besides, we both know her. She is not James Moriarty. She is our Jocelyn.”Sherlock relaxes and looks back at his brother. He knows that Jocelyn would do anything for their child, and that should be enough to reassure him that she won’t do anything drastic.Jocelyn may have taken Moriarty’s role, but she isn’t Moriarty. She isn’t, Sherlock keeps reminding himself.When Sherlock returns home, there was someone already waiting for him. Someone he expected last to be in London at all.Sherlock frowns as he closes his door. “What are you doing here?”Irene stands up with a serious look on her face. “I’m looking for Naomi.”“Well, she’s not here.” Sherlock boredly responds as he removes his coat, noticing how his radio is playing old upbeat music near his chair. “She left to New Zealand.” He easily reveals what he knows.Irene sighs tiredly, sitting back down as Sherlock makes his way to his own chair. She observes the distant look on Sherlock’s face. “Ooh… is something bothering the great Sherlock Holmes?” She has an amused smile on her face, as if hiding her own worry over Naomi.Without meeting her eyes, Sherlock asks. “Did you know?”Irene stares at him for a moment. “I didn’t. Not until yesterday. I figured that the only way Naomi would leave me is if Moriarty is alive somehow. It’s why I’m here.” She looks down at her lap. “Naomi has an obsession over Moriarty. She would follow him to the ends of the Earth. In this case… her.” Irene mutters, as if she were ashamed.“Why would she blindly follow Moriarty?”“Naomi thinks Moriarty saved her life. She was a child, Sherlock. She thinks she owes him her life. So anything he says, she does.” Irene shrugs. “Go here, go there. Do this, that… kill this person, kidnap this man, give this woman money. Recruit the dominatrix.” Irene gives him a false smile, and Sherlock sees a hint of sadness in her eyes. “The only thing she ever did that wasn’t Moriarty’s command, was marrying me. Even then, she left me for Moriarty again and again.”Sherlock feels his throat close up a bit, as he thinks about what could happen between him and Jocelyn. He doesn’t want to experience what Irene has. To be constantly waiting for them to come back, only for them to leave again. The thought of Jocelyn vanishing on Sherlock the way Naomi does with Irene makes Sherlock uncomfortable.Irene observes the look on his face while she listens to the music on the radio. “Hm. I’m guessing this isn’t the type of music you listen to.”It isn’t. This was Jocelyn’s CD. She listens to it quite often. Sherlock doesn’t reply to Irene even as she hums to the music and chuckles.“What’s so funny?” Sherlock emotionlessly asks.Irene smiles a bit. “Brandy, you are a fine girl. What a good wife you would be,” she recites the lyrics of the song playing on the radio with a smile, and her eyebrows knot to form an exaggerated expression of worry. “But my life, my lover, my lady… is the sea.”Sherlock wavers, immediately catching on to what she is trying to say. He finds himself at loss for words.“Won’t you look at that? You and I are the same again. Might as well be looking in the mirror.” Irene says with a saddened smile. “They may care for us, but they will never choose us, Sherlock. I think, from the very start, they’ve both decided what their sea is.”
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“What the bloody hell?” John widens his eyes when Sherlock finishes explaining to him. “You can’t be serious.”“Incredibly serious, unfortunately, John.”“So the person who always texted you—”“They were mostly her. Signing them with her initials, JM.”“Why would she do this?” John appears to be betrayed as he sits opposite Sherlock. “Jesus, Harry’s at her house right now. What if Jocelyn—”“She isn’t like Jim Moriarty, John. She is merely… standing in for him. So that his network would have someone to follow. If she backs out, they all might go to Sebastian, seek for a new leader.” Sherlock reminds, shaking his head at their complicated situation.“So, Naomi does everything Jocelyn would her to?”“Without question. Miss Adler emphasized that Naomi has no limits when it comes to Moriarty.“So if Jocelyn tells Naomi to kill someone…”“Naomi will ask her who, when and how.”“Jesus.” John rubs his forehead. “Are we just not going to talk about how Sebastian Moran keeps Moriarty’s body refrigerated? And that he made Jocelyn stare at it for hours? That corpse has been rotting for almost four years. Is that even possible?”Sherlock flinches before exhaling. “I’m not entirely surprised about the fact that anyone close to Moriarty is the slightest bit insane. I wouldn’t be shocked if they’ve built a personalized freezer to keep the body preserved for years.”John grimaces in disgust. “What, and they just keep Moriarty in a refrigerator? Roll him out every once in a while?”Sherlock is in deep thought, wondering just how much the Morans have affected Jocelyn’s mental state.Later, at Jocelyn’s home, she takes her medication. Harry had just left to go to work, and Jocelyn was now alone. As she drinks her water, there is a ring of her doorbell.Before Jocelyn opens the door, she grabs the nearest knife from the kitchen and hid it behind her back. She opens the door and steps back in surprise, the grip around her knife loosening.Sherlock’s eyes dart towards the hand behind her back and immediately guessed what she could be holding. When he steps forward, Jocelyn steps back with caution as she keeps their gazes locked. Sherlock closes the door behind himself and faces her again.“What are you doing here?”“You’ve seen Moriarty’s web in its entirety. I’d like to see it as well. I’d like to know everything, Jocelyn. The House of Night, Project Clavis and Talem, the web—everything.”“And then what?”“Then I’ll assess if you are not yet corrupted by this immense power you inherited from Moriarty.”“Corrupted?” Jocelyn repeats incredulously. “Like Moriarty is some kind of virus?”“The deadliest kind. He’s already infected Sebastian and Silas Moran. Naomi. Millions of other people.” Sherlock approaches her slowly, while Jocelyn keeps backing away.“And you think I’d be one of them?” She scoffs. “I would rather die than be their leader, but I have no choice as long as I’m carrying your child inside me.”Those words make him halt, and Sherlock observes her face. Jocelyn was not lying.“They would kill me the minute I say no. And they would all turn to Sebastian. Can’t you see? The only thing stopping Sebastian from ruining our lives is me. I have the entire network under my thumb. And they won’t do anything that I don’t tell them to do.”Sherlock stays quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me that they forced you to stare at Moriarty’s corpse for hours before we rescued you?”Jocelyn finally averts her eyes from him. Instinctively, she covers her baby bump with her palm. “I had to make you all think that he’s still alive, so you wouldn’t suspect me.”“I would never suspect you. You know that.”Jocelyn sighs. “Fine. I get it. You don’t trust me anymore. You don’t have to rub it in.” She glares at him before moving to the kitchen, returning the knife.He follows behind her. “I’m just trying to make sense of it all. You’re Moriarty. You assumed the position of Jim Moriarty because he named you as his successor before any of the Morans. Moriarty chose you for a reason—”“Fucking hell, Sherlock! Do I need to spell it out? Moriarty chose me to get to you! To fuck your mind up!” Jocelyn frustratedly claims. “We talked about this already. Everything they do to me, they’re doing it to mess with you. Because everything has always been about you.”Sherlock stays quiet now and just stares back at Jocelyn. Then his face begins to soften and wash with a hint of regret.Her eyes fill with angry tears and she looks away from him with a sigh. “You better go. I’m meeting with Mycroft to talk to him about Moriarty’s network. Especially the ones involved with the government your brother works for. I’m making the most out of this fucking situation I got into. So, if you’re not going to help me or even trust that I know what I’m doing, then you’re free to leave me alone.”Sherlock doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gives her one last look before leaving the house. Once he was gone, Jocelyn finally broke. A sob breaks out from her throat and she grips her chest as if her heart was in physical pain.As she sobs, Sherlock stood quietly by the entrance of her door with a worried frown on his face. He hesitates before leaving completely.***“This is all very…” Mycroft clears his throat as he glances at the many papers scattered on the table.“Yeah, I know it’s a lot to take in.”“These don’t just affect Britain, Jocelyn. It affects the entire world.”“Yep.” Jocelyn casually says as she sits back down, taking out her medication. “So, what do we do with your corrupt politicians and celebrities? Chuck them out of the window?” She chuckles before biting into her apple.“I wish things could be as simple.” Mycroft mutters as he strokes his chin in thought. “If we send them all to prison due to the evidence against them, their entire families would be tainted. We need to plan this carefully.”“Whatever you say, Iceman.” Jocelyn teases, and Mycroft glares at her. “What?”“You are using humor to deflect from your own problems. What happened this time? Is it Sherlock?”“I don’t use humor to deflect?”“Oh, you most certainly do. Now, out with it.”Jocelyn sighs in defeat. “Fine. Sherlock doesn’t trust me anymore. He thinks I’ll probably go insane like Moriarty did.”“And will you? Go insane the way Moriarty did?” Mycroft asks with his eyebrows raised.Jocelyn just glares at him before her phone rings. She answers it with a sigh. “Naomi, I’m kind of in the middle of some—”“Miss Jocelyn!” Naomi’s voice is panicked and out of breath, and she seems to be running. “You need to go to the hospital right now!”Jocelyn frowns at her voice. “I don’t appreciate being yelled at, Naomi.”“Miss, please. You have to go to the hospital. Now!” Naomi can be heard shuffling through papers, and Jocelyn’s heart begins to race. “Sebastian lied. The vial isn’t here. I looked everywhere!”Jocelyn wavers and she tries her best to slow down her breathing. “Why do I need to go to the hospital, Naomi?”From her words, Mycroft immediately stands and goes to her with concerned eyes.
“The vial. Sebastian must have put it in your medication.”
Once Naomi finishes her sentence, Jocelyn dropped the phone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Jocelyn, it’s going to be alright.”“No, it’s not. You don’t understand. This sort of poison can’t be cured by hospital medicine.” Jocelyn struggles to speak in between sobs as she lies down on the hospital bed. “And I’ve been taking the pills for almost three days now. I never felt the side effects, but it’s been days since she last kicked and I—”“Jocelyn, deep breaths.” Harry tells her.As of right now, Harry and Jocelyn as both inside a private room in St. Barts. Mycroft is standing outside the door with Jocelyn’s aunt, and Sherlock is nowhere to be found. Only because Jocelyn begged not to call him.With tears lining her eyes, Jocelyn shakes her head. “My baby has to live, Harry. Please, she has to live. It can’t have been for nothing. Please. I can’t lose her. If I lose her, I lose everything. Everyone. Please, Harry.”Harry hesitates. “We’re doing everything we can, yeah? Just lie still and let us work.”“No, I need to go back to Edinburgh and keep looking for a cure.” Jocelyn sobs out, making a move to leave the bed again, but Harry pushes her back.“Jocelyn, no. There’s no time for that now.”She closes her eyes and her heart never slowed down. This cannot be happening. This can’t happen to her, not their child. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have…” her words come out slurred and she looks to her left, only to see Harry injecting something into her IV with regretful eyes. “Harry… no…”Harry watches Jocelyn fall into unconsciousness and she leaves the room. Mycroft appears too worried. “Well?”“Well, I… put her to sleep like you asked. But doing that would put her resistance to sleep. The poison must have reached the baby by now.” Harry says with a heavy heart.Mycroft closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “We cannot keep this from Sherlock. He must know.” He takes his phone to start dialing.Mrs. Forbes couldn’t say anything and just stares at her sleeping niece through the glass window, and her own eyes turn watery.Harry frowns. “Mycroft, Jocelyn said that if she loses her baby, she loses everyone. What did she mean?”Mycroft gives Harry a look before averting his saddened eyes to speak into the phone.An hour later, Sherlock sitting next to her. He held her hand in his as he speaks to Mycroft from across the room.“They’ve detected it, then?” Sherlock’s voice was unusually heavy with grim.“Yes. It’s in the baby’s system. Not in hers. The baby absorbed it as usual.”“How long until…”“Hours maybe. The child’s immune system is impeccable.”“How could it not be? She lives inside the strongest woman ever.” Sherlock mutters. “There has to be another way, Mycroft.”The eldest Holmes’ face fills with the rare grief and helplessness. “There will always be another way, brother mine. But we are not going to find it today.” He turns to Sherlock with grim eyes. “And today is all we have.”***Jocelyn flutters her eyes open and Sherlock feels her hand twitching in his. He immediately looks at her, and musters a gentle smile. She looks pale with darkness under her hollow eyes, almost seeming like a ghost. A sight that Sherlock has never seen on her before.She pulls her hand away from his grip, and Sherlock’s smile fades. “I told you not to call him.” She sends a tired glare towards Mycroft.He sighs and looks to the ground. “He deserved to know. It is his child as well, Jocelyn.”She shakes her head. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. She’s fine. I just need you to take me to Edinburgh so I can keep working on a cure. I could come up with something.”“Jocelyn, you could barely stand!” Mycroft hisses, and recollects himself with an inhale of breath.“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you talk as if my daughter is going to die before she even takes her first breath!” She pushes the words out of her lungs and startles the two brothers. “I’m not losing her. I can’t lose anyone else.”Sherlock can see the fierceness yet vulnerability in her eyes and he could not say no. And this, Mycroft sees, so he steps in.“Jocelyn, my word is final. You are not leaving this hospital.”Sherlock sees the look of utter despair in her eyes and feels his blood broil with rage towards Sebastian Moran. He was torn between strangling Sebastian himself and staying by Jocelyn’s bedside.“So, we’re just… we’re just going to wait? Wait for her to die? Is that your… brilliant plan?” Jocelyn whispers, but loud enough for both of them to hear.“Both of you will die if you step through that door. Please understand, Jocelyn.” Mycroft reminds. “And you’ve already spent days in Edinburgh for the cure. If there was one, you would have it already.”Jocelyn’s face twists in pain. “Leave. I want to be alone.”Sherlock frowns. “Jocelyn, you shouldn’t be alone during this time—”“Get out!” Her voice shook, and she clutches the bump of her stomach as if it were her only lifeline.Sherlock was at loss, he had no idea what to do. He only glances at Mycroft and nods at him. They both leave the room while Jocelyn helplessly lies still, savoring these last few moments left.At exactly four hours, it happens.And when it was over, Jocelyn just woke up, and she knew.Her entire face is pale, and she couldn’t speak. Sherlock couldn’t explain it, but the same type of grief comes back to him. The true grief he felt when he believed Jocelyn was gone. He couldn’t speak either, and he was just outside of Jocelyn’s room.Right now, she looks out of the window to watch the busy evening streets of London from outside the hospital. Everyone had normal lives, and went about their businesses as if Jocelyn’s entire world didn’t change in only four hours. Never has she felt the need to burn an entire city than this moment.Her hand goes to her flattening stomach and her eyes twitch. The lights in the room were dark, and a tear slides down her cheek without her moving an inch.Outside, Sherlock sits on a bench. His coat and jacket are gone and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone. His hair was a mess and his face is pale with sweat.John had no idea what to say to Sherlock to make him feel better. All he can do now is sit with Sherlock and make sure the man knows he is not alone.Mycroft left a few minutes ago. He couldn’t stomach what just happened, and he had no idea how to comfort either of them. He thought he would be a better help if he had left. As for Jocelyn’s aunt, she was driven away by the coldness of Jocelyn’s one word; ‘Leave.’Harry enters Jocelyn’s dark room. Without looking back, Jocelyn rolls up her sleeve and lifts an arm to her side. Harry sighs and gets to work. She leaves after being called by the PA system, and when she exits the room, Sherlock lifts his head to meet her eyes. Harry immediately sees how red Sherlock’s eyes are, and took great empathy on him, but shook her head. As if to say Jocelyn still didn’t want to see anyone.The detective only nods at Harry before she leaves without another word.Inside the dimly lit hospital room, Jocelyn continues to stare at the busy streets. Her whole body feels numb despite the incredible pain it’s in. She feels so empty, as if her body is entirely hollow. The grief struck her in such an overwhelming way, that it could blind her.Later, Sherlock feels Molly’s hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He stands and lets her embrace him. Sherlock did find it strange to feel like this, since he has never met his child. All they had was the promise of her existence. And now, that was gone. She was gone.“Have you spoken to her?” Molly sits next to Sherlock when John went to the cafeteria to get Sherlock something to eat. They’ve been at the hospital for hours and hours.Sherlock shakes his head and stares at the door leading to Jocelyn’s private room. “She spent so many days under the torture of the Morans, and only went through it all to keep our child alive.” Sherlock frowns, feeling his chest tighten. “All that effort, all for nothing.”Molly’s eyes fill with empathetic tears for her friends, and she takes Sherlock’s hand.Sherlock meets Molly’s eyes, and his own have tears lining them. He musters a little smile that was nothing of happiness. “I feel strange. As if… as if my whole world has revolved around someone I have not met yet. And all of that was ripped away from my grasp. It’s odd, don’t you think?”Molly’s bottom lip wobbles at the words he spoke quietly. She leans over to hug him at his side, and Sherlock leans into it for comfort. He knows that he should be inside of Jocelyn’s room, but still, he makes no move to stand and he remains by Molly’s side.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Is this truly how you would like to spend your days? Moping?”“Leave me alone, Mycroft.”“It’s been three weeks, Sherlock. You can’t go on like this.”“I must have missed the news of your deafness, brother mine.” Sherlock glares at his brother before walking past him to the kitchen.Mycroft’s face hardens at the sight of various lab equipment in the kitchen, and Sherlock doesn’t bother hiding the syringes and brewing containers. Mycroft has never been so repulsed in his life.“For goodness’ sake, Sherlock. You’ve been holed up in this flat for weeks.”“I wonder why that could be.”Mycroft sighs. “Sherlock…”“If John sent you here to check on me, you can tell him—”“Your blogger didn’t send me here. Is it truly unbelievable for me to visit you on my own accord?”“You didn’t bother until now. Why are you here? What do you want?” Sherlock boredly asks as he rummages through his drawers and the mess on the kitchen table. Gone were his formal button-up shirts and pants, as he roamed the flat in a dirty pajamas and dressing gown.“Jocelyn is gone.”From those words, Sherlock freezes. He slowly lifts his head and his drug-addled eyes turns intense and scrutinizing. “Show me.”
THREE WEEKS EARLIER
No one exactly knew how to comfort Jocelyn or Sherlock. All they knew was that both of them are dealing with their grief… separately.Right now, Jocelyn is taking down the nursery in her house, and Harry stands by the door to watch her with a worried grimace.As Jocelyn folds the cradle, she finally looks at Harry with raised eyebrows. “What?”“Jo, should you really be cleaning up already? It’s only been a day—”“Yeah, well, no one’s going to use this room anyway.” She bluntly remarks and loudly rips a garbage bag open to put the toys inside. Harry flinches every time a toy thuds against the ground through the plastic.“Jo…”“Are you going to say that you told me so? Because you did. You said that I can never have a successful pregnancy. Are you going to rub it in my face now?”Harry looks appalled. “I would never do that.”“Then, why are you here?”Hurt flashes across Harry’s face. “You’re my best friend, Jo. I’ll be here for you even when you tell me to leave you alone.”Jocelyn stares at Harry with hollow bloodshot eyes. “What did I do, Harry? I can say that I’m no saint, but I’m not evil. Why did all of this have to happen to me?”“None of this is your fault.”“I’m so tired of hearing those words over and over again. When is anything ever going to be my fault?” She emotionlessly questions.It’s taking everything in her not to go to Sebastian’s cell right now, and give her pain back to him tenfold. She don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her this way.“Months of being under their thumb. Enduring everything… to keep her alive. Even almost sold my life just for her to live.” Jocelyn touches her disgustingly flat stomach. “Only for her to die before I get to hold her for the first time.”Grief was no stranger to Sherlock, which is why he found it so strange how his body seems to know the gravity of the loss he is experiencing. He could barely leave his bed, and whenever he does, he only ends up in his chair, drowning his sorrows in whiskey.The mother of his dead child was grieving so far away from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her. He practically stood by and watched as she was forced to wait for their child to die just so Jocelyn could live. The guilt that built in Sherlock’s body was far too great than the grief consuming him.It never occurred to him just how much his mind had devised so many scenarios with his would-be child. Sherlock even built a small nursery in his mind palace.In his head, he sits on the floor of the colorful nursery, fiddling with a little rattle. He is alone, thank God. No conscience has disturbed his temporary peace as of yet, whilst he leans against a pastel pink wall with a blank expression on his face.A child he never met, yet he feels as though a piece of him burned away.In his hand, he held the scanned photograph, the tiny shape of a human is in it. The little bit of hope that he lost.In the real world, Mrs. Hudson and John stand by the doorway and watch Sherlock sitting still on the floor with his eyes closed, a single wet trail coming from his eye stained his cheek. They share a worried look and close the door to leave Sherlock be.Back in his mind palace, Sherlock stays quiet in the nursery, and his eyes are distant with emptiness.This went on for days. The nursery in Jocelyn’s home is now empty and dull, despite the colorful walls. She sits by the window of the room with a glass of bourbon in her hand. Her health is going back to normal, and her body looks the way it did before, as if nothing happened. She loathed it so much.“I underestimated him. Sebastian Moran.” Jocelyn mutters, eyes empty. “And now, I lost everything.”“Not everything.”Jocelyn lifts her head, and sees Naomi standing by the doorway with a small reassuring smile. Jocelyn is far from reassured. If the only thing she has now is Moriarty’s network, then she truly has lost far too much.“Naomi, you would do anything I ask, isn’t that right?” Jocelyn quietly asks, still staring out of the window.“Yes.”“You would die for me?”“Yes.”“You would kill for me?”“Without hesitation.”“Why?” Jocelyn mutters, repeating the same questions she asked Naomi a long time ago.There was a pause, but Jocelyn knew what Naomi was going to say.“I owe you.”Jocelyn nods. “That’s right. You do. So, I’m asking you to keep an eye on Sebastian, and stay the hell away from me until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”Naomi is momentarily surprised, but she lowers her head in respect before leaving her house. Once Jocelyn is alone, she sighs and downs her glass of bourbon.Mycroft comes by a few hours later, and he finds Jocelyn in the same position as Naomi left her; a drink in her hand as she sits by the window.“Drinking already?” His voice comes unsurprisingly to her ears.“The doctor said I was allowed to after a few days. Why waste more time?” Jocelyn punctuates her words by raising the glass to her lips.Mycroft sees the three empty bottles next to her, and sighs. “You’ve had enough.”“I went six months without drinking. I can have as many bottles as I need.” Jocelyn calmly says. “You got your wish, though. Naomi’s out of London now. She’ll stay away until I say otherwise.”“Like a dog.”She weakly chuckles. “Do you know what? Moriarty’s little nickname for her is The Guard Dog. And she’s very proud of it. It’s so…” she twists her face in disgust and confusion. “It should feel demeaning, but she likes it. Can you imagine how fucked up in the head you have to be in order to see yourself as someone’s dog?”Mycroft says nothing.Jocelyn shrugs. “But she certainly acts like one. I’m not complaining. She actually gets things done.” Jocelyn bluntly says, not even caring how inhuman she sounds. “Why are you here?”“I was worried.”“You’ve got agents to tell you what I’m doing every hour. Why come here yourself?”“I needed to see if my friend is okay.”If she was feeling any normal right now, she would have felt her heart clench at the thought of being finally referred to as his friend, but all Jocelyn could think of is how empty the nursery is in her home. So, she smiles humorlessly. “Funny. I thought I didn’t have any anymore.”“You’ll always have me. John. Gregory,” he pauses. “And Sherlock.”She finally lets out a loud scoff, paired with a mocking smile. “Oh, he made it clear that the only thing he wanted from me was our daughter, and nothing more. And she’s gone.” Her voice broke, despite how icy the expression is on her face. “So don’t come here and tell me that I still have him, when I don’t have anything that would connect the two of us. What I predicted, happened.”Mycroft wavers for a split second, but it fades and he says nothing. He only watches Jocelyn as she breathes heavily and turns back around to pour herself another glass of whiskey.“So, why are you really here?” She asks quietly, as if any louder, she would crack.“I didn’t want you to be alone.”Silence fills the room, and she slowly turns around to face him again. Only this time, her eyes shine with tears. With a single look, Mycroft knew what she wanted to say. He reaches for her hand and holds it as they sit together in silence. She finally let go of her bourbon for tonight.***“I want to get rid of it. The network.” Jocelyn says as they have tea together a few hours afterwards.Mycroft gives her a brief look. “And how do you propose you do that?”“I expose everyone who got heavily involved in the network. That way, no one else would want to join and it would cease to exist.”“And what if someone else would start a new crime syndicate?”“That won’t happen. Not unless everyone is terrified at the thought of crossing paths with ‘Moriarty’. No. I need to get rid of Moriarty’s Network, without… actually getting rid of Moriarty himself.”Mycroft furrows his brows. “How?”For the first time in a while, Jocelyn breaks out into a genuine smile. Although, her smile seems more amused than happy.After a long conversation, Mycroft leaves. On his way out, he stops by her door and looks at her. In his eyes, she sees the rare look of pride.“You’re wrong, you know.” Mycroft tells her. “About how nothing connects you and Sherlock any longer.”Jocelyn scoffs. “And what else connects Sherlock and I?”“For one, me,” he simply says, and Jocelyn is momentarily surprised. “I would never abandon you, Jocelyn.”She softens, and pulls a small yet gentle smile towards him.“And two… well, maybe it is best if you and Sherlock find out what that is,” he says, opening his umbrella to shield himself from the rain. “After all, it is what brought you two together, despite the long years you’ve spent apart.”With that, Mycroft leaves, and Jocelyn is left alone to think about everything they’ve discussed—both about the network and Sherlock.
PRESENT DAY
What Mycroft did not expect was how soon Jocelyn would take action.Sherlock and Mycroft stand in front of Jocelyn’s empty house. And by empty, they mean empty.All the furniture and appliances were gone. Picture frames, ornaments, gadgets, they were all gone. Her closets were empty, and seeing from the dust, they’ve been empty for quite a while.“I thought you’ve been monitoring her.”“She has more connections than the whole scope of mine in the government—everything I know are the things she wants me to know. Which is a lot, however, we should still consider other possibilities.”Sherlock is unusually calm, and Mycroft can’t tell if it is due to the drugs or if it is because he no longer cares for Jocelyn. The latter seems unbelievable.“She chose to leave, then. She chose to abandon all of us.” Sherlock monotonously replies, talking mostly to himself.Others may not notice the venom in Sherlock’s voice, but Mycroft did. “I should remind you that people handle… grief quite differently.”“Oh, funnily enough, she and I both know that because of each other.” Sherlock sarcastically mentions, turning to leave the empty house.Mycroft sighs in frustration. How he wishes it was the year 2001 again; and his biggest worries were being unable to attend his little brother’s orchestral recitals in Uni.Jocelyn was gone for weeks, and no one had any idea where she could be. What’s even more nerve-wracking about it is that Sherlock was making no effort to look for her.Despite not knowing where she is, Sherlock knew what she was doing.Even with his drug addled brain, he still listens to the news radio. Countless of popular people are being exposed for their crimes every single day. It has sparked so many discussions and theories, and Sherlock knew that Jocelyn let the fire embers burn.Many of these exposed leaders have involvement with Moriarty, crimes involving money and killings. Jocelyn wasted no time. Before everyone knew it, there have been more than fifteen arrests in the last six days, and of major politicians.So many of them were dragged away from office with flashing cameras everywhere, reporters shouting various questions while rallies commenced nearby. Their images are now tainted with ink and blood, and there was nothing that can undo them.The person behind these exposés is being dubbed as The Wolf of England, from how they devour their prey, and becomes the leader of a pack. It was quite amusing to Sherlock, and he has no idea how to handle. People were idolizing ‘him’, as though ‘he’ was the savior of the country. Sherlock had no idea what to feel as he listened to the news.The people took to the streets, wearing cartooned masks of wolves, celebrating the sudden decrease of corrupt politicians and criminals in the city, and only in a matter of a few weeks, it spreads to other parts of the world—until a few words of the nickname was dropped. Now, he was only known as The Wolf.The global recognition of Jocelyn’s actions stretched for weeks upon weeks.What they were clueless about was how The Wolf is actually a woman who recently just lost her child.Somewhere in New Orleans, Jocelyn stands in front of a large map. Cities were covered with different colored pins, and the unmarked areas are much less than the marked ones.Naomi walks up from behind her. “Crime rate is decreasing everywhere, and money is being returned to their respective governments funding. Your plan is working.”“Don’t you see, Naomi? You can do so much more with good things.” Jocelyn takes in a calming breath of fresh air as she overlooks the city of New Orleans.“Yes, I do see.” Naomi nods.It wasn’t easy to make Naomi see it. Jocelyn had to explain to her extensively that the fight that Moriarty had been leading were hurting so many people. It was strange to find out that Naomi has an odd sense of right and wrong. There are so many things about Jim Moriarty that Naomi believed to be normal, and Jocelyn did her best to lecture her about it. Naomi easily listens to her, since she believes that it is her duty to do whatever Jocelyn says.Jocelyn looks at Naomi, wanting to tell her that she should open her eyes and see that Moriarty took advantage of her loyalty and nothing more… but Jocelyn did not want to argue about this again so she stays quiet.After a while, Naomi speaks again. “I found her, by the way. Apprehended her like you requested.”Jocelyn’s eyes fill with emptiness yet again and she nods calmly. “Bring a car out.”***The drive to an isolated warehouse was far longer than Jocelyn expected. Ever step she took, she is aware of how light her body is, with the absence of her growing belly.To say that she returned to her previous body was an overstatement. Jocelyn is now sickeningly thin and pale, with her brown hair cascading down her shoulders.She took it upon herself to wear only white whenever she is in her Moriarty persona. She never felt quite like herself when she is immersed in Moriarty’s shoes.Often times — (well, all the time) — Sherlock would cross her mind. She wonders if he is aware of everything she has done the past few weeks. How she successfully turned the whole network as something good.Moriarty’s network was easy to manipulate. Jocelyn had them believing that they are doing diabolical things, when really, they have been helping Jocelyn burn away the network piece by piece.The only person in the network who is aware of her plan was Naomi, and she did not disallow it. As far as Jocelyn can understand it, as long as there is someone Naomi can follow, she would do anything to service them.Which brings her to the current predicament.Jocelyn walks into the dark warehouse, her pure white clothes are dimming along with the whole room. Naomi quietly follows behind her.In the middle of the abandoned area, there was a person tied to a chair, with a sack over their head. Jocelyn can hear the faint sobs and heavy breathing as the person blindly listened to the footsteps approaching them.Jocelyn stands in front of them with her eyes trained on their sacked head, while Naomi moves to the back and snatches the sack off the head.Whimpering with fear, a woman struggled on the chair with her wrists and ankles tied into the wood. Her eyes are filled with fear, sweat matted her bangs into her forehead, but she was uninjured. No bruises nor cuts appeared anywhere on her body.Naomi took off the ropes, and the gag in the woman’s mouth when Jocelyn nodded. As soon as she could speak and move, the woman cries with pleading hands. “Please… you can have all my money. Just please, let me go.”“Hello, Dr. Martin.” Jocelyn calmly greets, taking a step forward. “Do you remember me?”Dr. Martin squints at her until she grows pale and starts shaking her head. “I-I didn’t know. I swear! I didn’t know!”Jocelyn tilts her head. “Know what?”“The… the poison. The medication, I-I didn’t know…”“Really? So, I should just let you go?”“I… I… please, they told me to. Or else, th-they would kill me!”With a swift move, Jocelyn’s face is now inches away from Dr. Martin’s, and her eyes fill with bottled rage. “So you decided to poison my unborn child?”“I had no choice! Please believe me! They were going to kill me!” She sobbed helplessly.“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Jocelyn’s powerful yet shaking voice filled the room with echoes. Her eyes flickered with violent anger through salty tears, and Dr. Martin flinches. Jocelyn forces herself to pull away and turn her back to her.False images of Sherlock’s smile as he cradles their faceless daughter kept flashing in the back of her eyes. The look on Mycroft’s face once he is called as uncle for the first time in his life. The joy in John and Harry’s eyes once they are announced to be godparents. Jocelyn’s aunt cooking for her grandchild. Celebrating the holidays with the Holmes’. Watching Sherlock have their child on his lap as he reads bedtime stories. Everything.Jocelyn’s whole being was shattered upon the realization that she could have had everything in the palm of her hands.Instead, everything she had hoped to have were ripped away from her during a single abduction.This title she now carries, the previous and original bearer had ruined her life. And now, she keeps his name alive. She feels disgusted by herself.Jocelyn sharply turns to Dr. Martin again. “Do you even realize what you took from me? She was my chance of starting over again. My chance of redeeming myself after all the shit that your boss put me through. She was my hope!” She shudderingly confesses with manic eyes. “And she was beautiful. Her heartbeat was all that mattered to me when I was trapped in that shit hole.”Silence fills the room, except Dr. Martin’s shivering sobs and hiccups.Jocelyn coldly stares at her. “If you’re so afraid of being killed by the Morans, maybe I can do the job for them.”Swiftly, she pulls a revolver from her holster, twisting its barrel and bringing it to Dr. Martin’s head, who begins to sob loudly with panic and pleads. Naomi trains her eyes carefully on Jocelyn, as if anticipating her boss’ next move.Jocelyn can feels her hand shaking, and the cries begin to muffle out of her ears until she can barely hear her.“If you pull the trigger, you’ll regret it when the time comes.”A new voice merges from the back of Jocelyn’s head, but she refuses to turn around and face them.“Go away, Sherlock. I know what I’m doing.” Jocelyn mutters quietly.“Do you? If you do, then you wouldn’t be thinking what you are currently forcing yourself to do.”“Get out of my head. I can’t let her walk free. She killed our daughter.”“The person who truly killed our daughter is sitting in a glass cage in Edinburgh right now. Dr. Martin is merely a pawn.”Jocelyn weakly scoffs. “A pawn who had been responsible for at least a hundred deaths of patients due to her addiction of seeing corpses in a morgue.”“A pawn, nonetheless.”“No one will miss her if I kill her right here.”“How utterly familiar, your words, Miss Grant. If I reach far into your alcohol addled mind, I might able to find the original person who spoke those words,” another voice came. “Perhaps a certain dominatrix.”“Leave me alone, Mycroft.” Jocelyn says through gritted teeth. “None of you can stop me.”“No truer words, Miss Grant. Seeing as we are only figments of your imagination.”Jocelyn swallows, shutting her eyes. She’s losing her mind. She is losing it all.Naomi notices how Jocelyn seems to be struggling. “Miss Jocelyn?”Jocelyn opens her eyes and glares, sharply shaking her head as if it would make her mind stop making her hear Mycroft and Sherlock’s voices. She pulls her gun away and places it back to its holster, much to Dr. Martin’s relief.“I know you have a son. I know you have a sister. A brother. A mother. I want you to remember that I know about them—everything about them—once I release you here and put your filthy poor excuse of a human person back in the streets. Are we clear?” She speaks calmly, yet her words hid a certain venom to it.Dr. Martin frantically nods, frightened and pale as Jocelyn’s clothes, fearing the woman in white standing in front of her. Jocelyn nods at Naomi, who immediately places a handkerchief over Dr. Martin’s nose, making her struggle and go limp shortly afterwards.“Deliver her to the precinct in Edinburgh. Let the police deal with her.” Jocelyn tells Naomi, watching Dr. Martin’s unconscious state. “And leak the information to the prisoners that this obstetrician kills children. That certainly would make her time in a women’s prison more enjoyable.”Later, another car takes the unconscious Dr. Martin back to Edinburgh. Jocelyn stands by the entrance of the warehouse, clutching the scar on one of her hands. If Jocelyn was as any vile as Moriarty, she would’ve given Dr. Martin a taste of her own medicine—literally. But Jocelyn forces herself to do better. That, and she vowed to never make even a drop of her poison again.Naomi approaches her while clutching her phone. “Miss, there’s been a problem.”“What is it this time?” She exasperatedly asks.Naomi shows her the phone and Jocelyn reads the email. She frowns, feeling her heart drop to her stomach, but she calmly gives the phone back and stays quiet.“Ready to go home, Miss?”“Doesn’t seem like we have a choice.” Jocelyn sighs before she follows a smiling Naomi into the car.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Once more, onto the breach, dear friends, once more!” Sherlock yells through the flat with manic eyes and sharp movements, clutching his silver pistol as he moves about.It appears that Bill Wiggins failed to stop Sherlock from increasing his own dosage, and as a result… well…SLAM! The door yells as it was kicked shut with force from Sherlock’s shoe. His blue dressing gown acting like a cloak bellowing behind him as he ventures around the flat, surrounded with photographs of a certain TV personality.Sherlock’s mind is filled with nonsensical words that were now organized to be an out of context Shakespeare play. His eyes were addled with mania, that he barely notices the young woman enter the flat.“—Straining upon the start!” Sherlock yells as he twists his body and lifts his gun towards the smiling face drawn on the wall, and shoots it multiple times.After a moment, he now sees her. Jocelyn, who had lived with someone who liked throwing knives at her during random times, barely flinched when bullets rained down the wall next to her head. She merely covers her ears and waits for them to be over.Sherlock widens his eyes at her, and he looked like a downright mess. His face is no longer as smooth as it was, from the light stubble appearing. His hair looks greasy as though he hadn’t showered in years. Sweat clung to his shirt in dark patches and the blood marks on his sleeve only indicated what Jocelyn feared most.What Jocelyn did not expect was how Sherlock grabs a teacup from the table and immediately flung it towards her. As reflex, Jocelyn catches it with both hands instead of dodging.Her eyes are wide with surprise. “What was that?” asks Jocelyn in a disbelieving tone.“I had to see if you were real.”“And you had to throw this to prove that? This is the one I drink from.” She scoffs, offended. Jocelyn lifts the teacup and sniffs the inner side. “And it smells like crushed Vicodin. Lovely.”“What are you doing here?”“Well, I got a strongly worded email from Mrs. Hudson saying that you’ve, quote on quote, lost your mind.”“Had to leave your consulting criminal duties, did you?” Sherlock dryly remarks. “You’re being assisted by the world’s most wanted and dangerous hitwoman. I would count that as a crime.”“You didn’t have a problem with her when you were all rescuing me. How is it any different than what I’ve been doing?”“I don’t want to argue about this.”“Neither do I.” Jocelyn stands in front of Sherlock, reaching out her palm.Sherlock almost grimaces, but he says nothing as he places the pistol on her hand. She unloads it and tosses it towards the sofa.“Tea?”***“So. You’ve gotten what you’ve wanted. Many people involved with the previous Moriarty have been put to trial and prison with no bail, all thanks to you. What is your next plan?” Sherlock asks as he walks aimlessly around the flat.“I’m still looking for the keycode. It’s difficult to look for something if you have no idea what it looks like.”“Shame. And how long are you in London for?”“Trying to get rid of me already?” Jocelyn smiles insincerely.Sherlock says nothing and only sits on his chair in front of her.“My work is done for now. So, I’m staying at home for a while.”“And does Mycroft know you’re back again?”“He will eventually.”“Of course. Maybe you should tell me why you’re really here.”Jocelyn flashes him a much more genuine smile. “Would you believe me if I say that I missed you?”Other people would not notice the way Sherlock wavers at her words, since it was barely there, but Jocelyn knew him better than most. Before he could answer, Jocelyn points towards the photographs all over the room.“So… who’s your friend?”For a moment, Sherlock was surprised that Jocelyn could see the photographs too, but didn’t want to mention it.From Jocelyn’s sudden appearance, Sherlock almost forgot about his current case. “Culverton Smith.”“He’s a celebrity, right?”“Oh, he is much more than a celebrity. He is the country’s most dangerous serial killer.”Jocelyn frowns. “Well, how come I’ve never heard of him before?”“Because he is not connected to Moriarty. He works independently. Which is why I’m focusing on him.” Sherlock snatches one of the photographs near him, crushing it in his fist. Jocelyn briefly wonders something. “He’s becoming increasingly confident over the past weeks. While you were shedding light on people hiding behind Moriarty’s name, the ones who aren’t connected to him at all are celebrating in the streets because you are removing all of their competitions.”Well, Jocelyn certainly never thought of that. Before she could reply, footsteps emerge from the stairs and they both checked to see, only for John to appear by the door. He doesn’t even question the state of the flat.Once he sees Jocelyn, he doesn’t look shocked to see her. Instead, relief appears across John’s face and he goes to Jocelyn to embrace her. The two of them chuckle for a bit before pulling away.“Welcome back! You okay?” John greets with a smile, in contrast of Sherlock who still looks glum. Jocelyn nods and John sighs in relief. “I read about everything you do in the papers. Nicely done, Jocelyn.”For the first time, Jocelyn’s heart swells with pride. Her hard work has finally been acknowledged by someone other than Mycroft and Naomi. “Thank you.”“D’you like the nickname? The Wolf.” John snickers a bit as he takes his jacket off.“Well, it is a nice change from The Regal,” teases Jocelyn.It’s odd to see Jocelyn smiling and laughing after everything that has happened to her and Sherlock. After everything they both lost. Sherlock has no idea why, but it does slightly anger him how she is pretending as if everything is fine. Or maybe… she is not pretending at all. That would be much worse.Jocelyn stands. “Well, this has been great. I’ll see you both when I see you.”“You’re leaving already?” asks John.“Oh, I’ll be back at my house,” says Jocelyn. “If you’d like… maybe I could look after Rosie for you and Mary?”There is a tone of hopefulness in her voice that made Sherlock soften. John didn’t hesitate with nodding. “Of course.”With that, Jocelyn leaves after one final look towards Sherlock, a look at he recognized to say ‘Please take care of yourself’.Once she is gone, John takes her place on the chair. “Finally calmed down, have you?” John rhetorically says.“There’s a reason she is back. She won’t return for nothing.” Sherlock lowly says, going to the window to watch Jocelyn walk down the street.John sighs. “You don’t have to be suspicious of everything she does. She’s been quite honest and blunt about everything she’s been doing. You could just ask her. Jocelyn isn’t hiding from us anymore. Isn’t that what you wanted?” John asks as Sherlock narrows his eyes at Jocelyn’s shrinking figure before she disappears to a corner. “The two of you probably didn’t even talk about…”Sherlock sharply faces John with icy eyes, and it shuts him up immediately. “About what?”“About… about your daughter—”“There is nothing to talk about,” he averts his eyes, to prevent John from seeing the pain flash across them. “It was a tragic loss, yes. But there is nothing that can be done. End of story.”“If you say so.” John softly says. “I won’t force it out of you. I just thought that maybe… it would be better if you and her are the ones to talk about it.”Sherlock’s face drops when he is once again reminded by the daughter he never held—something he had been making an effort to forget about. He says nothing.John finally shifts the topic to be about Culverton Smith, and they discuss him instead. As they talk, John throws away everything related to substance abuse inside the flat.***For the next few days, Jocelyn had done nothing other than stay in her home. Of course, she had been trying to find work because being Moriarty isn’t exactly what she had in mind when it came to earning money. Naomi urges her to use the money she inherited from the late Jim Moriarty, but upon seeing the incredibly large sum, Jocelyn believes it should be distributed through the country. That, and she felt dizzy to think that the blood money is hers. It could power multiple countries. Practically end world hunger.At times, she forgets that she is a forensic scientist, but she isn’t sure if she should bother Lestrade again from the number of times she went to Scotland Yard to attempt on coming back. It hasn’t been working out for her.Jocelyn spends her days watching television and drinking. Not quite a good example, but it is the best she could do.Her hands have been healing now, and when she attempts to play the piano, it doesn’t hurt to press down the keys anymore. Still, it feels a bit lonely knowing that she is playing for no specific person. She was all alone in her home.She aches to wonder how things would be different if her daughter was alive. She wouldn’t be so alone right now. Jocelyn forces herself not to think about it as she eyes the door that was supposed to lead to a nursery. Suppressing a sob, she fills her glass with bourbon and drowns her throat with its burning taste.Jocelyn focuses on Sebastian’s words, when she went to see him the moment she left London. He was the first place she went to.No, she did not yell at him. She did not throw a fit. Jocelyn was calm the entire time.“Does it make you feel better? Knowing you killed an innocent child?” She calmly asked Sebastian as she stood in front of the glass cage he was in.“I think I was doing the kid a favor. Imagine having you and that oaf of a detective as parents. The child would off himself the minute he left your wretched womb.” Sebastian’s tone matched her calmness yet laced with amusement.Jocelyn doesn’t flinch. It was as if she went entirely numb. “You made the biggest mistake.”“Oh, really? Why is that?” Sebastian made his way towards the glass wall that separated them.Jocelyn slowly took a step forward. Her eyes shining with a hint of rage and hidden madness. “Now, I’ve got nothing to lose.”Sebastian faltered and for a brief moment, a flicker of uneasiness appeared across his face. He realizes that he has lost his biggest leverage, all because of a moment of weakness from needing her to suffer another loss.Her stare melts into a glare and she turns around to leave.“You’re not the only one, you know.”“Not the only what?”“The only Moriarty. There’s someone else, too.”That made Jocelyn freeze in place… and she turned to look at Sebastian, but she couldn’t tell if he was bluffing to save his own arse.The malicious smile spread across his face, and he brought his palms against the glass. “Oh, yes. Another Moriarty. Isn’t that interesting?” He grins. “Run while you still can, little sheep.”Jocelyn only stared at him before chuckling, and the smile fades from his face. “Try not to starve to death.”As she walked away, she listened to Sebastian bang the thick glass wall with his hands while yelling for Jocelyn to come back.Now, Jocelyn sits in her home, wondering if there was some truth behind Sebastian’s words. What if there is another Moriarty? Where would he be operating? Certainly not in Europe or America, since Jocelyn knows the ins and outs of both continents. Asia is a larger scope and it is a bit more difficult to look after due to its size, so it is possible that another Moriarty is operating there.She has not brought this information to Naomi. Jocelyn is a bit concerned that if she did tell Naomi, the assassin would turn her back on Jocelyn and chase after this other Moriarty. They could be a sinister leader, which is something Naomi grew accustomed to. Naomi might revert to her old ways and ignore everything that Jocelyn had shown her.So, Jocelyn tries to look for this other Moriarty in her own way.“Another Moriarty?” questions Mycroft. The moment Jocelyn came to his office, all the niceties were skipped as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks.“They could be in Asia, I don’t know. I haven’t fully assessed things there.” Jocelyn mutters.“I will look into it.” Mycroft thoughtfully says. “In the meantime, I ask you to come to my home.”“Why?”“I’m suggesting that you live with Gregory and I. I’d like for you to stay there.”Jocelyn gives him a look. “I can take care of myself.”Mycroft sighs. “It does not mean you have to.”“Moving on.” Jocelyn insists, and Mycroft almost interjects, if it weren’t for the look she gave him. “I don’t want Naomi to find out about this… other Moriarty, yeah? I can’t afford to lose my greatest asset.”***“You really thought I didn’t know?” Naomi calmly asks as she clips off the flowers in Jocelyn’s lawn. “And don’t worry about me. You know where my loyalties lie.” Naomi raises her brows in amusement.Well, Naomi found out. Jocelyn shouldn’t be surprised.Jocelyn stands next to Naomi as she watches the assassin clean up Jocelyn’s—as Naomi described it—pathetically ungroomed lawn. Respectfully.“Who is it, then?”“Trust me. Sebastian is just riling you up. This Moriarty he’s talking about? Totally harmless.” Naomi says. “Now, would you like the lawn mown with a tractor or by hand? I can do both beautifully.”Jocelyn ignores the bizarre question. “If he’s harmless, then tell me who it is.”“It’s more for their privacy that I can’t disclose that information, boss.”“And what about my sanity? I need to make sure this Moriarty won’t ruin my plans.”“Trust my word, Miss Jocelyn. The only thing you need to worry about is your handsome detective.” Naomi shoots her an amused smile, as if nothing is bothering her at all.Jocelyn glares at her, but her chest tightens at the thought of him. “I need your word, Naomi. You will tell me about this other Moriarty if they start something with me.”“You have my word, Miss Jocelyn.”It may be odd to many, but Naomi’s word is incredibly heavy. She never breaks them, and she never lies. Not once was she dishonest with Jocelyn, and Jocelyn almost envies Naomi. Jocelyn has broken her own word with Sherlock so many times, and it infuriates her.The only thing Jocelyn does not envy Naomi on is her ability to turn her back on the one who loves her the most. As much as Jocelyn is indifferent with Irene, being abandoned is something Jocelyn would never wish upon her greatest enemy. It makes her wonder how Irene is doing right now.Jocelyn ends up asking Naomi to do the lawn by hand, as some sort of silent (and petty) punishment for her treatment of Irene, but it seems to have backfired from how Naomi beams and began to show off her skills in landscaping. Sometimes, it was odd to imagine that she is the world’s second deadliest assassin.As she listens to Naomi, Jocelyn wonders about this other Moriarty. If Naomi won’t tell her, then Jocelyn will find out herself.***When Sherlock hears a knock on the door, he loudly groans in annoyance. He drops the harpoon he was examining, and goes to answer it. Once he opens the door, he reels back in surprise.Camille Lavalle stands in front of him with a cheerful grin, wearing her usual floral blouse, cardigan and skirt. Though, her smile fades upon seeing Sherlock’s appearance. Sherlock frowns at her in confusion but feels strangely comforted by her presence.“Am I interrupting?”“No, not at all.” Sherlock lets her in, not bothering to clean up the state of his flat. “To what do I owe this visit, Miss Lavalle?”“Well, I’ve been seeing you all over the news lately. The whole thing with Culverton Smith…” Camille briefly looks around the messy flat, raising her brows at the multiple photos of the man she mentioned. “And I was walking around here anyway. The old lady in the shop next door was lovely, she said that you were here upstairs. But she sort of… warned me for visiting.”“Oh. Well, that was Mrs. Hudson. I rent this flat from her.” Sherlock mindlessly mutters as he views the Smith case on his wall. “Some tea? Coffee? Valium? I have all sorts here.”“Um… maybe just tea?”“Wonderful. The kettle’s over there. Make some for two.” Sherlock pauses. “Please.”Camille holds back an amused grin, but complies and makes herself at home by shedding her cardigan. “So, how’s, er… everything?”“Everything is not so great, but what is so different with any other day?” Sherlock mutters again, wild eyes scanning the wall. “How is your dead person group therapy?”“Oh, splendidly well, actually. Got a lot of people the other day.”“Bad news for their dead person, then.”“Evidently not.” Camille shoots him a smile. “How’s the girlfriend?”“I have none.”“I meant Jocelyn Grant. She lives here, doesn’t she?” Camille grimaces at the state of the flat. “What did she think about the… makeover?”“She is not my girlfriend.” Sherlock mumbles. “Haven’t been around to ask her. She’s been gone for weeks. And no, she does not live here, in contrary to popular belief. She lives in Cambridge.”“Gone? Gone where?”“Truth be told, I have no idea anymore.”Camille glances at him with saddened eyes, but Sherlock did not notice. “Are you not together anymore?”“Jocelyn and I were never together, Camille.”“Yes, but… there was something there.” Camille offers him tea and sits down after clearing the mess on the chair.Sherlock thoughtfully hums and sits with her. “You have the perfect timing. I’d like an assistant for this Smith case I have.”“Me? Oh, no, no, I’m not qualified for detective cases.” Camille laughs nervously.“Nonsense. Anyone can do it.”“Sherlock, I’m an Elementary school teacher. You expect me to solve a serial killer case with you?”“Yes. Now,” he claps his hands together. “I am going to take a shower and you should, er… do what you do best.”“And what is that?” Camille raises her brows, but with no seriousness.“Clean the place?” Sherlock waves her off with graceful fingers while walking away.“Right on.” Camille appears bewildered.Half an hour later, the whole flat is clean. Camille is practically a miracle worker.“Consider this as payment for almost hitting you in the face with a frying pan.” Camille smirks a bit as Sherlock emerges from the bedroom looking much more presentable than before. “Oh, hold on. Let me just—”“What?”“Your face. You need a shave.” Camille raises her brows at him as if to say she won’t take no as an answer. Sherlock sighs and lets her get on with it. He tells her more about Culverton Smith as she rummages through his bathroom for equipment.Camille shaves his stubble for him, and he notices how careful she is.“I used to do this all the time for my brother, you know. Before he… got married.” Camille mumbles, swiping the razor against the stubble on Sherlock’s chin. “He never really learned how to keep still. Thankfully, we had our mum around when we were kids, but she was gone too. It’s always been my brother and I since the beginning.” She frowns a bit. “I think his wife forgets that sometimes.”Sherlock had no idea how to reply to that, but she saves him the trouble by smiling after she wipes his face.“There. All done.”Sherlock rises to his feet and views himself in the mirror, finally recognizing himself again with his smooth face. He can practically sense Camille grinning as she tidies the room again. For the first time in a while, Sherlock hadn’t spared a thought for Jocelyn.“Liar.” The mind palace figure smirks from behind Sherlock, her reflection appearing in the mirror. Arms crossed with a smug face.Sherlock rolls his eyes and tries his best to push her out of his mind despite how much his stomach churns and his chest tightens around that merciless organ in his ribcage.Though he can see the mind palace figure holding a baby rattle and it almost pulls Sherlock back under.“Sherlock?”He snaps out of it and sees Camille wearing her hat and cardigan again, carrying her bag to prepare herself to leave with him. She has a concerned look on her face.Sherlock clears his throat and grabs his coat. Wordlessly, he leaves the flat and assumes she would follow him. Camille does, but with worried eyes. Sherlock can’t even begin to tell her how he had a child, who is now dead, and how he is unable to find the words to speak to the mother—which is why they are no longer in speaking terms. Sherlock isn’t even sure if he wants to talk about it, so he resorts to what he does best.He and Camille head to the hospital that Culverton Smith invited Sherlock into.***Culverton Smith was caught by the end of the day, with no fights or misfits. Sherlock then takes Camille to have shawarma. As she eats, they walk together down the miraculously unbusy streets of London.“I can’t believe you asked me to put drugs in your tea.” Camille sighs.“I needed to be hospitalized so Smith could visit me. Simple.”“You could have died.”“Hm. Would have loved that, actually.”Camille glances at him, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him walking. “Sherlock, there’s something wrong, isn’t there? You can tell me.”“Everything is perfectly fine, Camille.” Sherlock calmly continues walking. “Let me walk you home. As a thank you for your help.”“You mean for drugging your tea?” She raises a brow.“Precisely.”“Well, I did enjoy playing actress today,” she grins before breaking out into a cry. “Help! Somebody help! Mr. Holmes fainted!” She says in a mocking voice and it brings a smile to Sherlock’s face.“Yes, it was rather entertaining.”“We make a pretty good team. But please don’t ask me to hospitalize you again. That gave me weak knees.”“Noted.”On the way to Camille’s flat, they just talked about the case, but no matter how hard Sherlock tries to distract himself, there is still that burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. A gaping hole in his chest, in the shape of something he can never have.They reach Camille’s home and she turns to look at him with seriousness. “There’s something familiar about you. It’s weird to think about.”Sherlock says nothing, and merely raises a brow.“Your eyes. They look the same way they did when you used to come to the group therapy.” Camille gently says, and Sherlock softens.Sherlock is at loss for words, and almost applauds Camille for her read on body language. It almost could rival that of Irene Adler. Sherlock is undecided whether he should lie or not, but he would gain nothing if he lies.“When I found Jocelyn, she was carrying my child.” Sherlock confesses, and astonishment washes over her face as she reels back in surprise. “She kept herself alive because of it, but at the end, she still lost it.”Camille’s entire face appeared to have darkened as she stares at Sherlock with shared sorrow. “Sherlock…”“We lost our child three months before she could have been born.” Sherlock says, and it took everything in him to say the words aloud. And it was my fault because I convinced her to stop looking for an antidote. That remains unsaid. “Have you ever… have you ever spent months hoping for something, being extremely excited, being besotted by someone whom you have never met… only for it to be taken from you?”Sherlock looks up and sees the tears filling Camille’s eyes, reminding him of Molly when she sat with him all night outside of Jocelyn’s hospital room.“I’m so sorry, Sherlock. That must have been really hard for you.”Sherlock gives her a frown. For him? One can only imagine what Jocelyn must be feeling like. Sherlock barely spared a thought for himself. And just like that, Camille is once again surprised for tonight when Sherlock’s eyes suddenly shone with tears and he lowered his face to let the tears drop to the ground. Camille wraps her arms around Sherlock to comfort him, and he quietly lets her.That night, Sherlock sleeps on Camille’s sofa, not wanting to sleep in the bed inside his own home where he used to hold two people within a single warm body.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“There can’t be another Moriarty. No one to his level, anyway. I’ve scoured the entire world. If there was one that is remotely even close to him, I’d have heard of them by now.” Sherlock glares at Mycroft ones he had updated him on Jocelyn.
“Oh, like you heard about Sebastian Moran?” Mycroft challenges with a raised a brow, and Sherlock sighs.
They all currently stand in the Diogenes club. Mycroft is by the window while Sherlock paces around. “It is not an impossibility. Jocelyn admitted it herself. She hasn’t covered the entirety of Asia. Someone could be operating there.”
“You cannot just send her there.”
“It is her decision. I have no say in it apparently.”
Sherlock scoffs. “This is absurd. She can’t just leave the continent whenever she pleases.”
“I think I can make that decision for myself, thanks.”
Sherlock briefly closes his eyes and turns, facing Jocelyn, who appears offended that they’re both talking about her as if she wasn’t in the same room. “It’s not safe for you to just leave.”
“It’s not up to you.”
They two of them did not look away from the burning eye contact, making everyone around them a bit uncomfortable. John nervously chuckles. “Well, erm… does anyone want any coffee?”
Everyone ignores John. “Sherlock could be right, Jocelyn. It’s too dangerous,” says Mycroft.
Jocelyn stares back at them with an unreadable expression. “Are you all afraid that I’m going to lose my mind, like Jim Moriarty did, after gaining all this?”
No one answers her, but the answer is as loud as an anxious heartbeat.
She softly scoffs. “I’m the sanest I’ve ever been.”
“There is no question in that,” reassures Mycroft.
“Then what are we debating about?” Jocelyn appeared bewildered. “Sebastian and Silas are both locked up separately. Naomi is on our side now. Everyone rich involved with Moriarty, are being exposed. I’m on the lookout for the keycode. Everything is going according to plan and once it’s all over and I don’t need the network anymore, I’ll expose it and it’ll be gone forever. That’s my plan, and Naomi is on board with it as long as she has someone to follow—”
“You said she would kill you the minute you refuse being Moriarty.” Sherlock interrupts.
Jocelyn falters. “You don’t understand Naomi. To her, there isn’t good or bad. There’s only opposing sides. Whichever side she chooses doesn’t matter. Things are different now. She’s changing. She sees that what I’m doing is helping more people in ways that Jim Moriarty never did.”
The conversation ended the moment Jocelyn stormed out of the office. John goes after her and leaves the two Holmes alone.
“You’re being too harsh on her.” Mycroft snarks. “You have no idea the burden that rests upon her shoulders.”
“All I’m asking is that she takes a minute to digest everything that has happened. She barely got a breath after our daughter died inside her womb!”
The words left his throat before Sherlock could ever help himself, and it was as though his voice slapped Mycroft across the face from the way he reacted.
Sherlock swallows and averts his eyes before leaving the office as well. Mycroft stands alone, feeling his own insides churn at the reminder that the promise of a niece was no longer here.
***
Jocelyn was gone the very next day, to Sherlock’s dismay. She and Naomi venture out through the world to look for the other Moriarty, and Naomi keeps reminding her the same thing.
“You are not going to find them because this Moriarty you’re looking for is harmless.” Naomi singsongs.
“Then tell me who they are so I could sleep at night.”
“I’m sworn to all Moriartys, Miss Jocelyn. The first one made me swear to secrecy and take it to my grave. I choose to honor that vow.”
Jocelyn huffs, rolling her eyes as they ride the bus together in Japan.
The first lead she got, without the help of Naomi, was in South Korea. Naomi was pleased to be in her home country, but she was practically just around to protect Jocelyn and nothing else.
Apparently, in South Korea, there is a rumored uprising against the government (and Jocelyn suspects it has to do with this other Moriarty), and to smooth things over, rich people do what they think is best; throw a party.
In Seoul, there will be a massive ball in the grandest formal hall in the city. All the big names in the country were invited, so it was safe to assume that the second Moriarty is there.
The only issue Jocelyn has with attending it is that she must wear a mask, since it is a masquerade ball. And wearing sequined masks are a bit more uncomfortable than the surgical ones that Jocelyn was used to wearing.
But naturally, she complies. As she slips on her gown and gloves, she stares at herself in the mirror. No amount of makeup is going to bring back the life on her face, especially as she stares back at her thin reflection. She was so used to seeing the image of herself with a protruding stomach that it was always strange to see herself without it.
“Wouldn’t it be exhausting looking for a specific person if everyone there is going to be wearing a mask?” Jocelyn mumbles as she slips her gloves on, with Naomi standing by to wait for her next task.
“Not if you know who you’re looking for, Miss,” says Naomi. “One recognizes its own.”
And with that, Jocelyn and Naomi enter the formal hall with masks adorning their faces, hiding their identity from the world. Jocelyn insisted that if Naomi was going to dress them up, they do not use the money that Moriarty stole. Instead, they use the money that Moriarty earned from his… unique service, which is still a lot. Still a gray line there, but legally, Jocelyn is not committing a crime.
Jocelyn’s dress alone probably costs more than a London mansion, and she prefers not to ask Naomi for the price.
“I want you to monitor the hosts of this party. It’s either they’re in danger or they are the danger. I’ll be here, talking to the guests.” Jocelyn tells Naomi, and without another word, Naomi complies.
As Jocelyn scans the area through the small holes of her mask, she observes that everyone is either talking in pairs or groups. They all seem to be rich business owners and their acolytes, and the atmosphere reminds her of the parties her father used to throw, and forced her to attend.
Jocelyn frowns, thinking about how her father has not spoken to her since she was eighteen, and still hasn’t reached out even when she was announced to be alive. Did she really mean that little to him?
She forces herself to focus on the present mission, all while grabbing a champagne glass from one of the waiters that roamed around.
If she’s possibly going to meet a ruthless Moriarty tonight, then she might as well not be sober for it.
From the corner of her eye, she sees a crowd forming at one area of the hall. Curious, Jocelyn begins to make her way towards the growing murmuring crowd. As she comes closer, she can make out that the person at center is a masked man, surrounded by a few gushing women.
They were all speaking Korean, which Jocelyn realizes, is a disadvantage to her. But one of the women sees her, and delightfully points her out while grinning as she says something Korean to the man. The man whispers back to her, and everyone turns to look at Jocelyn.
“…Miss English woman, er… our man is attempting to guess your occupation by only looking at you,” the woman says, with a doting tone and a Korean accent. “And if he guesses right, you must buy him a drink!”
“Oh… right.” Jocelyn curiously stares at the man, who had his entire face hidden behind a big mask that hides his hair and features. “And if he guesses wrong?”
“Then he will dance with you for tonight before he leaves.” Another woman says. “And none of us have been lucky enough,” she sighs dreamily, which Jocelyn grimaces at. None of these women even know who this man is, or even what he looks like.
“Fair enough. Make your guess.”
The crowd around them murmur in anticipation as the man glances at Jocelyn from head to toe. His eyes were barely seen because of how dark they are from underneath the mask, so she could not see his eye color. His hands were covered in gloves, and his hair was hidden along with his face. It was an odd look, and no skin besides his neck is revealed.
The longer he survey’s Jocelyn, the more anxious she gets. What if he guesses correctly and reveals that she is a leader of a crime syndicate in London? What if he announces it here with everyone liste—
Her train of thought is cut off as he leans over to the woman to his right, who giggles as he speaks quietly to her only. She flushes, and he pulls back, straightening his back.
“Our man has made his guess.” She smiles at everyone, and they all anticipate the answer, while Jocelyn dreads it. “He believes that you are a musician. Specifically, a piano player.”
Jocelyn is stunned for a moment, and it shows in her eyes. The masked man tilts his head and folds his arms formally behind his back, as if waiting for her response.
“Um… well, I am actually a scientist. Being a pianist is more of a hobby of mine, not an occupation.”
The crowd groans, and obviously, it was the first time this man guessed wrong, and it made Jocelyn smile a little. She did like catching people off guard.
She keeps her eyes on the man as he removes his gloves in a slow manner. His graceful hands had prominent veins, as he reaches up to remove his huge mask.
And all the air in Jocelyn’s lungs were knocked out of her body.
In front of her stood the detective she has thought was still in London. Jocelyn practically gapes at him, and had thousands of questions, but no word leaves her mouth. As if on cue, the music around them changes into a different one, and everyone partnered up to dance.
Sherlock has not taken his eyes off her, not even for a second as he offers his hand. She is taken aback, but slowly places her hand into his. Sherlock removed his disguises, and was the only unmasked person in the party. The murmuring around them increased, as if they are beginning to recognize Sherlock. Thankfully, photography was not allowed inside of the formal hall.
Jocelyn steadies her breath and Sherlock pulls her closer to him as they begin to dance. “What are you doing here?” She hisses quietly.
“Following up on a lead for this other Moriarty you brought my attention to.”
“It could be dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you, but here you are.”
“This is hardly appropriate. If anyone finds us being in the same place together—”
“They would think that the happy couple is merely taking a vacation in South Korea.” Sherlock points out.
One of the things Jocelyn is thankful of doing is hiding her pregnancy from the public. It would be a different story if the whole country knew that their baby died mere weeks ago.
“How did you even know it was me? I changed my hair and everything.” Jocelyn quietly mutters, avoiding his eyes as much as possible.
“I’d recognize you in a sea of strangers.”
She finally meets his eyes with an unreadable expression, and feels him tighten his arm around his waist. She looks away, and continues to dance with him. Even when she would avoid his eyes, Jocelyn knew that he was staring at her.
Jocelyn feels him carefully hold her, twirling her around to the music. She meets his eyes, and could feel the need to not look away, even when his stare becomes more intense.
Somehow, it felt strange to think that only months ago, she and Sherlock were having the time of their lives. Being happy everywhere they go, despite the challenges they face. All because they were about to welcome a new addition to their family.
Now that that’s over, Jocelyn felt as though she was a stranger to Sherlock now.
Although, Sherlock does not feel that way. Instead, he feels more comfortable near her. His chest aches with so much pain the more he watches her.
The music ends and they both snap out of their dazes. The other dancers cheer loudly with laughter, all while Jocelyn and Sherlock step back to keep distance between themselves.
Jocelyn steps closer to Sherlock’s ear. “Don’t get in my way, Sherlock. I’m finding this guy.”
“And if I find him first?” Sherlock raises a brow, almost in an amused tone that surprised even Jocelyn.
She relaxes, and has a ghost of a smirk on her red lips. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Oh, I think I’d need more than that.”
“And what else would you want from me?”
Sherlock pauses as he thinks. “You will owe me.”
She thinks about it for a moment, and holds her hand out.
Sherlock shakes her hand to seal their word, but Jocelyn uses it to pull him close, startling him for a second.
“But if I find him first, you will owe me.”
“You say that as if you’ll ask me to die for you.” He lowly says.
“Not really. Maybe I’ll ask you for a new sofa. Or a mini fridge.” She flashes him a genuine smile.
Despite himself, the corner of his lips twitch upwards, almost forming into a small smirk. Before he could respond, Jocelyn lets him go and walks the opposite direction while grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. From how nervous she is, Jocelyn failed to notice how Sherlock, the master of body language, and the cocky man who somehow always wanted to win… lost in guessing her profession.
Sherlock watches her walk away, and couldn’t explain it, but it felt like the mischievous and fearless nineteen-year-old Jocelyn was the one who spoke to him a few moments ago.
***
“Nothing?”
“Everyone checks out. No one here acted the least bit suspicious,” Jocelyn shakes her head as she removes her uncomfortable masquerade mask. “I need the list of all the guests to make sure I spoke to all of them.”
Naomi hands her a file before she tidies the room Jocelyn was going to sleep in. As Jocelyn bites into her apple while reading the list. She pauses with chewing and immediately feels anger bubble in her veins. “Sherlock… was on the list?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” She almost crumples the list in her fist.
Naomi innocently stares back at her. “Was I supposed to? You did not ask.”
Jocelyn groans in frustration. “You are insufferable!”
“You told me to never mention him to you, and I always keep my word, Miss.”
Still, Jocelyn continues to glare at her. “You could’ve warned me that he would be here.”
“I wasn’t the one dancing with him the minute I saw him again.” Naomi had an amused smile. “Did you kiss and make up? Or did you fight? If you did, did you come out on top?”
“Fuck off, Naomi.”
Naomi chuckles. “I will warn you next time, Miss. you have to be more careful with your choice of words, too, next time.”
“What are you, a genie?” Jocelyn scoffs. “And where the hell were you all night, even? I told you to keep an eye on the host.”
“I was. He was in the banquet, doing nothing. Just drinking after talking to the guests when he welcomed them inside. He was talking to someone on the phone. Something about London.”
Jocelyn sighs. “We need to monitor him more. Send a few people to keep an eye on him on his way home.”
“Stalking. Crime.”
Jocelyn grimaces. “Following. It’s not a crime if you just happen to be following them.”
Naomi lets out a laugh. “Doing a crime doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person, Miss Jocelyn.”
“Uh… yes, it does?”
“There is a difference between a bad person and a criminal. You’d be surprised how many good thieves and horrible policemen I know,” Naomi shoots her an amused look.
Jocelyn rolls her eyes, but Naomi’s words seemed to have etched themselves into her mind. “Fair enough.”
“You can be a criminal while still being a good person, Miss Jocelyn. If it helps ease your conscience.”
Jocelyn says nothing else, and just waits for Naomi to leave her room. Once she is alone, Jocelyn goes to the window to look at her view, sighing in relief. She removes all the white clothing she wore, and finally felt more like herself.
Her phone beeps, and she goes to read the text she received.
I never knew how much white suited you. SH
She softens, smiling to herself… but it soon disappears. Jocelyn wonders back to her decision, of always wearing white whenever she is in her Moriarty persona. Did Sherlock pick up on that?
Even if he didn’t, and the text did not mean that way, she somehow felt something heavy fill her stomach.
Jocelyn did not reply to the text.
And in a different hotel, Sherlock stares quietly at the screen of his phone, wishing he was holding something else other than this irritating device that seems to be the only connection he has with her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The minute Jocelyn arrives back at her own house, she pops open her newly bought bourbon and pours herself a drink. She never denies the fact that she drinks too much, but it’s all for good reason. She has no idea what she’ll be like if she is sober while feeling all of this anger build up inside her.“You better slow down with that, love.”Jocelyn sighs, not even bothering to turn around. “What are you doing here? Oh, no, wait. I just remembered, I probably wouldn’t care.”“I heard you’re looking for the other Moriarty.”That catches her attention, so Jocelyn faces them, seeing how they are comfortably sitting in Jocelyn’s living room. “Are you here to tell me who it is?”Irene chuckles. “That implies I would know who they are. I don’t.” She fakes a gasp. “Or do I?”Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “You and Naomi are definitely the pair. No wonder you two got married.”Irene falters for a moment but her usual flirtatious demeanor instantly takes over. “Well, she and I are over. Perhaps you and I can be a possibility now. You know I have great taste in women. I can tell that you do, too.”Jocelyn gives her an unimpressed look, Irene looks amused. Before Jocelyn could reply, there was a knock on the door. Jocelyn looks at Irene with an annoyed yet playful way. “See? This is how you respectfully enter someone’s house. By knocking.”Expecting to see either Mycroft or Sherlock, Jocelyn freely opens the door, but she pales a bit upon seeing the last person she wants Irene to meet.Harry looks incredibly worried, and she hugs Jocelyn instantly as soon as the door opened. “John told me you were here! Where the hell have you been for the past few weeks?”Jocelyn is stunned, but she hugs her back. “All over the place.”She is somehow reminded that Harry isn’t aware of Jocelyn taking over an entire criminal network. Best not to mention it.Harry pulls away and lets herself into the house, not even noticing the third woman watching the interaction with amusement. “You could have said something, you know. I’d been losing my mind being worried.”Jocelyn says nothing, but she didn’t need to. Harry knew why she had to get away, despite not being aware of Jocelyn’s new occupation.“Today’s Rosie’s birthday, by the way. We’re all supposed to be at the party this afternoon.”Jocelyn felt horrible to admit that she forgot little Rosie’s own birthday. “Yeah, I just remembered.”As Harry was about to enter the living room, she is startled to see a woman sitting on the sofa with effortless poise. “Oh. Hello.”Not living in England for the last few years, and not bothering to check her brother’s website—Harry had no idea what Irene Adler looked like.Irene flashes her a smile. “Hello. You must be Dr. Watson’s sister.”Harry smiles politely and awkwardly waves. “Yeah. Hi. I’m also a Dr. Watson, actually. General practitioner, not an army doctor.”“Oh, how delightful. A family of doctors.” Irene genuinely smiles, impressed.“I’m Harry,” she offers her hand before Jocelyn could even tell her off. She never wanted Harry to meet anyone from that side of Jocelyn’s life.Irene takes her hand, slowly shaking it with a red-lipped smile. “Irene Adler.”The smile drops from Harry’s face and she widens her eyes. “Oh. Oh, wow. Um,” she looks at Jocelyn, who is still in disbelief of the scene playing in front of her eyes. Harry looks back at Irene. “Right. Yes. Irene Adler. I’ve, um… heard of you.”“Really?” Irene’s voice is laced with amusement, and to Jocelyn’s horror, the natural flirty tone. Oh, no.“…Yeah. I don’t need this in my life.” Jocelyn mutter, seizing Irene by the shoulders to begin pushing her out of the house, but it only makes Irene chuckle. “You, out.”“Relax, love. I’m not going to do anything.” Irene looks entertained. “Besides, I think the doctor here is taken.”Harry purses her lips. “Actually, I’m divorced.”“Oh? Another man making a big mistake, then.” Irene gives her a humorous sympathetic look.“…woman, actually," corrects Harry.Irene’s eyes brighten, her lips forming a mischievous smirk. “Now things got a little more interesting,”Jocelyn thought it was impossible to cringe even more than she already is. “I really don’t need two divorcees in my house. Why are you here, Irene?”Irene only shrugs. “Maybe we need each other. We have a talent for that.” And you’ve saved my life more than once, I’d like to help you keep yours. The words went unsaid.“How about we have some tea? All… three of us.” Harry hesitantly looks at Irene, still unsure about her presence, but Jocelyn can tell that she’s trying her best to stay calm. As far as Harry was aware, Irene has a partner who is an assassin.Jocelyn looks fed up, but gives in. “Fine, but this does not make us friends.”Irene gives Jocelyn a pleased smile, and sends Harry a wink. Jocelyn is mortified to see that the overly enthusiastic and outgoing Harry is now flushed with surprise. Oh, no.***Later that afternoon, Sherlock arrives at the Watson household’s backyard, where the small party is being held for Rosie turning one. It was odd to think that she was a year old.Sherlock did not arrive alone, however. He took it upon himself to invite Camille, and introduce her to some of his friends.“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Camille whispers as they walk up to the door.“Yes. Well, between you and I, you understand grief better. So, maybe you can help Jocelyn in more ways than I can.”“But Sherlock, that’s not—”Camille barely finished her words when Harry opens the door and sees Sherlock. She smiles and lets them both in, but Harry was a little bit confused by the new girl. Sherlock briefly introduces her and they shook hands politely.When he shows up with Camille, the air around them felt strange.Jocelyn had been talking with Molly, drinking their fruit punches together, when she suddenly catches sight of Sherlock with Camille. The small smile fades from her face instantly.John and Mary greets Camille and Sherlock, despite looking as if they had a thousand questions. Camille gives her gift to them, and fondly pinches the cheeks of a happy Rosie in Mary’s arms. John notices the way Sherlock is staring at Rosie until the detective forces himself to look away. Sherlock goes around the party to introduce his friend, and Jocelyn just discreetly watches from afar, her hand tightening around her glass.Finally, they both reach Molly and Jocelyn.Sherlock gestures to Camille. “Molly, Jocelyn, this is Camille Lavalle. My friend.”Molly smiles a bit, shaking Camille’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Sherlock mentioned you a few times.”Camille chuckles. “All good things, I hope,” she turns to Jocelyn. “And you’re the famous Jocelyn. Sherlock talks about you a lot.”“All good things, I hope,” repeats Jocelyn, stiffly shaking Camille’s hand.“Always good things,” Camille grins. “You are his favorite topic, you know.”“That’s enough…” Sherlock mumbles, and Camille playfully covers her mouth towards Jocelyn, who only attempts to smile. “A drink, Camille?”She hums, nodding before following Sherlock to the food table.Molly shakes her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him to suddenly feel the need to bring her here. Even a blind person could tell that she has it bad for him.”Jocelyn suddenly feels sick in her stomach and she hands Molly her glass before excusing herself. Molly calls after her, but Jocelyn makes her way inside the house and hurriedly into the bathroom.Unprepared, Jocelyn throws up the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She would have a real drink, but seeing as this is a party to celebrate a baby living for a whole year, better not.A part of Jocelyn, mostly the selfish and petty part, wonders why other children are blessed to be alive for a whole year while her own child never even opened their eyes. And now, Sherlock brings to the party the person Jocelyn felt jealousy for.When there was a knock on the door, Jocelyn immediately rinsed her mouth and opened it, only to see John.“Jocelyn, I had no idea he was going to bring her.” He immediately says, but notices how she looks pale and weak. “Did you… did you just—”“I’m fine, I just… worked myself up a bit.” Jocelyn mods, but the bags under her eyes grow more noticeable from how her skin is paling.“Jocelyn…”“Come on, let’s not keep Rosie waiting.”The party continues, and at some point, the godfather and godmother were called to say a few words. John was a bit hesitant to do this, but Sherlock said he didn’t mind, neither did Jocelyn. So, John hands over Rosie to Jocelyn and they begin.Sherlock stands next to Jocelyn, glancing at the baby in her arms. “When John and Mary first appointed me to be godfather, I was a bit daunted. At the time, I was not yet sure if I was… ready of such responsibility.” Sherlock glances at a dazed Jocelyn, who holds Rosie gently. “But then they chose Jocelyn as godmother, and I feel that change many things of how I view my position.”Jocelyn stares in surprise, and Sherlock gives her a softer look.“…Rosie is a beautiful child. John and Mary are very lucky,” adds Jocelyn, unable to hide a bit of a sniffle, and the way tears are lining her eyes the more she felt tiny Rosie’s warmth in her arms.Sherlock begins to notice and speedily talks. “And we both promise you, Rosie, that your godmother and I will protect you no matter what, and we will teach you everything we know. You will never be alone.” Sherlock finishes and takes Rosie from Jocelyn’s shaking arms, gently giving her back to Mary.From the corner of his eye, he sees Jocelyn fleeing the scene and go back inside the house. The sun is setting as Sherlock follows her inside.“Jocelyn—”“I’m fine. Please, just go back.” Jocelyn takes her purse from the sofa, and Sherlock watches from behind.“I believe we should discuss this.”“Discuss what?”“You know what.”She scoffs, shaking her head at him in disappointment. “What is the matter with you? You bring her here after knowing how I’ve felt about her since the very beginning?” Jocelyn gives him a look of disbelief. “After… after…” after their moment in Korea?“She has nothing to do with you. Camille is my friend. If she makes you insecure, it is not her fault.”Those words sent more daggers through her body than any knife through her palms. “You are such an asshole,” her words come out as a harsh yet calm whisper, as if she had always known it and has finally admitted it to herself. “What was I thinking, having a baby with you?”Now, it was those words that make disbelief and pain flash across Sherlock’s face, stunning him into silence.The moment she uttered the words, Jocelyn regretted it immediately, but she could never take it back. So, she swallows and looks away from him. “Go back outside before we make a scene at our godchild’s birthday party.”“You’re worried about making a scene?”“I need to leave before I have a breakdown here.” Jocelyn’s voice edges with panic, and Sherlock can see the way her lips quiver. He softens, and it was as if his anger was dissipating. “I can’t do this, Sherlock. I just… I can’t—”Sherlock hushes her, placing his hands on her shoulders. This simple touch calms her down a bit, but at this moment, she appears like a little child whose ice cream dropped on the ground. An odd comparison, but Sherlock could not stop thinking of an image of a child that would be a spitting image of her.He frowns, reaching up to cup her cheeks that were beginning to glisten from tears. Her makeup is ruined, but to Sherlock, she looks as beautiful as the first time he saw her.As painful as her words were earlier, Sherlock should have known that bringing Camille here would hurt Jocelyn. Why did he even do it? Was it to simply introduce his friend to his family? Or was it really to hurt Jocelyn? Sherlock couldn’t figure it out.Jocelyn stares back at him with astonishment, but her eyes continue to blur with tears. Sherlock wipes her tears with the pads of his thumbs. He listens to her calmed breaths as they watch one another, as if each other’s set of eyes are the only ones steadying them at this moment.The door opens and they immediately broke apart. Jocelyn turns away to hide her face a bit. John emerges to the room, and looks worried. “You two disappeared. Is everything alright?” asks John, but he immediately grimaces at his own question.But Jocelyn tries smiling, but still looking away. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”Sherlock shakes his head at John, and he gets the message. John leaves afterwards, and Jocelyn sighs in relief. “I don’t think I can go back. Can you… can you tell John and Mary that I got sick?”“If that’s what you’d like.”Jocelyn nods, sniffling as she slings her bag on her shoulder. Before she leaves, Jocelyn swallows her pride. “Camille is lovely. I can see why you like having her around.”Sherlock observes the look on her face, and almost sighs. “I’ve already told you how I feel about her.”“Yeah, you did,” she stares at Sherlock. “And how does she feel about you?”Sherlock doesn’t answer, Jocelyn nods.“Thought so. Be careful there. She’s quite nice. I don’t think you’d want to hurt her, on purpose or not.” She gives him a smile that holds no humor or happiness, not even sadness or anger. A neutral smile, something Sherlock has seen on her face far too often.Once she finishes speaking, Sherlock watches her walk away from him, leaving through the back door. Her words rang through his mind even as he was walking Camille home.They reach her apartment and Camille gives him her usual cheerful smiles. Oddly enough, they remind him of how Jocelyn used to be, before she was abducted by the Morans. She used to be so full of light, until it was snuffed out by this new reality she was forced into.“Sherlock?”He blinks and realizes that Camille was talking to him. “Pardon?”“I asked if you wanted to stay the night again? The sofa is still unoccupied,” she smiles.Sherlock almost says yes, only because he did not want to go back to his own home, which held too many painful memories. The only thing that changed Sherlock’s mind was Jocelyn’s words earlier. Camille is lovely, and did not deserve to be led on, unintentionally or not.He shakes his head. “Thank you, but I must go back to Baker Street, I’m afraid.”Camille’s smile fades a little bit, but she maintains it. “Oh, okay then.”“Goodnight, Camille. I hope you had a great day with everyone today.”“I did. Thank you, Sherlock. Your godchild and friends are all wonderful.”With that, Sherlock goes home. As he walks up the steps, he notices that Mrs. Hudson is vacuuming in her own flat. Sherlock goes to visit her, but she seems to be occupied with dancing to metal music through her headphones.He goes upstairs to his door and sees that it was slightly open. To other eyes, it would be unnoticeable.Sherlock tilts his head and frowns, touching the edge of his door before pushing it open and stepping inside. The flat doesn’t seem to be—“Ungh!” Sherlock bellows once something collides with his back, holding him against the ground before trying to tie his wrists together and pushing a cloth into his face.“Stay away from her.” The man hisses in Sherlock’s ear, and Sherlock groans as he struggles.A woman, dressed in a tight black suit, walks leisurely around his flat, as if she knows that the man can handle Sherlock Holmes on his own.Sherlock struggles against the grip, and eventually headbutted the person with the back of his own skull.They exclaim in pain before Sherlock, with zip ties around his wrists, kicks his intruder on the shin before sprinting to the bathroom. The other person, runs to Sherlock, but he grabs his cleaning materials and before the two strangers could attack him again, he sprays the bottle into their eyes.The man and woman yell in pain, doubling over. When Sherlock was about to interrogate them, something tight wraps around his neck from behind. Sherlock chokes before slamming his third intruder against the bathroom wall, crushing the body with his back and the tiled wall.Sherlock elicits a groan from a woman, and he sprays her with cleaning materials as well. They all clutch their eyes while groaning in pain. Sherlock pants tiredly, clutching his own neck as he stumbles back, unprepared by this attack. He takes this moment to observe them. Highly-skilled assassins, dressed in all black. Sherlock can see a tattoo on the back of the man’s neck, of an eight-pointed star.Before he could say anything, the man continues to stumble and hits the sink, knocking it broken until water spurts from the faucet, and the water’s pressure hits the cleaning materials in the top shelf. It all tips over and pours itself down Sherlock’s curls, making him freeze in place over the shock he felt from the cold substance.It takes him a few seconds to gather himself, and Sherlock frowns at his broken sink. Oh, Mrs. Hudson will have his head for this.Sherlock inspects the three, and he sees that they have the same tattoo on the same place behind their neck. Sherlock strips them of weapons, and it took quite a while. His three intruders are all knocked out and tied up inside his bathroom before Sherlock phones Lestrade. He views himself in the mirror, seeing how the blue chemicals are trickling down his head, making part of his skin appear blue.Sherlock catches his breath and removes his coat and scarf to ensure that they won’t be damaged by the chemicals. And he leaves Baker Street after locking his bathroom doors. Then, he goes to the person who the intruders referred to.
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Jocelyn immediately opens the door after seeing his face through the peephole and the rain continues to pour outside, then she observes his whole body.She meets his eyes again, seeing the way he is panting heavily. Jocelyn blinks a few times. “Sherlock, what… what are you doing here? And why are you… why are you blue?” She smells the chemicals on him, immediately figuring out the cleaning products.“It’s quite a long and interesting story.”Jocelyn hesitates, but sees the way he shivers. She steps aside. “You must be freezing.”Sherlock nods and comes inside, grimacing a bit once he steps on the floor with his wet shoes. He takes them off and neatly puts them aside, Jocelyn turns on the lights and looks at Sherlock, immediately frowning in concern.“Your cheek is bleeding.”“I’m alright.” Sherlock reassures her as he removes his jacket. Jocelyn takes it from him and he thanks her. “How are you?”“How—me? How am I doing? Sherlock, you turned up in my house at midnight looking like you got beaten up in a chlorine tub.” Jocelyn stares at him in disbelief.Sherlock says nothing and just stands there, still dripping wet and covered with bluish chemicals.Jocelyn softens and sighs. “Sorry. Just… the bathroom’s over there. I’ll… get you some clothes.”Sherlock nods and goes to the bathroom. Jocelyn walks to the basement to put the jacket away for laundry. She walks to her bedroom and goes through the closet, taking a clean shirt and some pajamas that would fit him.She walks back downstairs and hears the shower running, so she approaches the door and knocks. Sherlock opens the door a few seconds later with a towel around his waist, and he takes the clothes from her with a polite nod.Later, he emerges from the bathroom while Jocelyn is in the living room reading a book. Once he gets out of the bathroom, Jocelyn closes the book and walks to Sherlock as he looks down at his clothes.“Whose clothes are these?”“Oh, um… nobody’s really. They’re just in case. You know… someone comes knocking on my door, covered in chlorine,” she smiles innocently, and Sherlock softly lets out an amused huff.Jocelyn looks at his face. Sherlock reaches for his cheek and there’s blood on his fingers. She walks off to the bathroom, and comes back with a first aid kit.He sits down on the sofa with her, and she pours something into a cotton. Jocelyn holds it up with hesitance. “May I?”Sherlock stares at her and nods. Jocelyn dabs the cotton on his cheek, and he slightly flinches at the shock of pain. Then, he relaxes. Sherlock stares at her as she cleans up the cut on his cheek.Jocelyn is much too focused on the cut to even notice the way he is looking at her. After a while, she meets his eyes and slows down her movements until she doesn’t move.They look into one another’s eyes in silence, and Jocelyn lowers her hand from treating his cheek.She clears her throat, going back to treating his cheek. “How did this happen?”“A few people broke into my flat. They were armed. I was alone.”Jocelyn looks concerned. “What did they look like?”“Dressed in all black. Quite skilled, similar to Naomi, but not as skilled as her. They had an eight-pointed star tattooed on the back of their necks.”Surprise momentarily flashes on her face, and Sherlock blinks.“You know who they are?”Jocelyn continues to clean his cut. “They call themselves the Danaviras. They come from a place called—”“Nocte Domum.”Jocelyn looks him in the eyes and nods. “Naomi has the same tattoo. All students had one. Even Mary.”Secret tattoo. Sherlock remembers making that deduction about Mary when they first met.“Nocte Domum burned down in 2002.” The same year he and Jocelyn met.“Just because the building is gone, doesn’t mean it lost all its students.” Jocelyn continues to treat his small wound.“Mycroft said Naomi and Mary were the only survivors of the fire.”“Yes, they were. But there were students that weren’t at the school when the fire happened, Sherlock.” Jocelyn frowns. “The Danaviras attacking you might be a warning.”“They told me to stay away from you.”Jocelyn pauses her movements and gives him a confused look. “From me?”“‘Stay away from her,’ that is what one of them told me.”“The Danaviras don’t work for me. Naomi’s from that school, but she doesn’t like associating herself with her old school. It’s why she joined Moriarty in the first place. She hated that school,” says Jocelyn with a puzzled look.“You’re the only one they could be referring to.” Sherlock mutters.“Whatever they mean, they’re quite ruthless. Maybe you should listen to them.” She shoots him an amused smirk.“Hm. Not ruthless enough. I managed to knock all three of them out, and I wasn’t armed.”“You fought them all by yourself? Jesus, Sherlock. They were trained assassins.”“Hm. Still human. Still mortal. Still prone to pain. They were no match for lethal substances to the eyes. I put them there as emergency. Laced the cleaning chemicals with drugs I never used.”“You sprayed them with toxic chemicals?” Jocelyn asks in astonishment.“Gave me no choice. They did break my bathroom.”“Break your bathroom, how?” She sounds incredulous.“Well, they broke the sink. One thing led to another and before I knew it, all of Mrs. Hudson’s cleaning products were flying in the air. Hence…”“You, showing up on my doorstop looking like a deformed Smurf?”Sherlock grimaces. “It is imperative that John must never know of this story.”Jocelyn chuckles. “Did you call the police?”“Of course I did. Afterwards, I made my way here.”She sighs. “You should’ve went to John instead of me. His house is closer to yours.”His gaze turns much more softer and serious. “I know.”Jocelyn meets his eyes for a moment before finishing up. She takes a bandaid and plasters it over the cut. “There. All done.”“Thank you.”Jocelyn nods. “Um… you can take the guest bedroom. I’ll be in…”She barely finishes her sentence when a loud cry interrupts them. Out of instinct, they both turn to the nursery and stand up. Jocelyn gives him a nervous smile. “Sorry, let me just… yeah.” She walks off to the nursery and opens the door.Sherlock reluctantly stands by the door, watching Jocelyn smile and coo.“Hello, my darling. Auntie’s coming. It’s okay,” Jocelyn hums as she enters the nursery. Sherlock slowly makes his way to the room, standing by the entrance. “John and Harry had an emergency with their parents. Their dad got sick, so they all had to leave. I was the only available one to babysit tonight in short notice.” He watches as Jocelyn reaches into the crib and takes their goddaughter in her arms. “Hello, Rosie. Happy birthday. Look, there’s Uncle Sherlock!” She smiles at Sherlock, and he musters one as well and warmth spreads through his chest.Jocelyn cocks her head towards their goddaughter, Sherlock enters the room. He smiles widely and takes the little girl carefully into his arms. Although, she cries harder when she is being passed along. Sherlock panics, and Jocelyn saves him by taking Rosie back.“She prefers being held like this,” she places Rosie’s head against her chest, supporting the baby’s head.Sherlock feels himself soften at the sight of his goddaughter in Jocelyn’s arms. “No, that is not the reason.”“No?”“Babies her age would have their sense of smell be incredibly sensitive. She has familiarized herself with your fragrance from the amount of time she spent with you. She recognizes you by smell.” Sherlock explains quietly.His goddaughter barely recognized him, compared to Jocelyn who had been gone for weeks.She stares back at Sherlock with an intense gaze as Rosie hums against her chest.Sherlock lowers his head. “Jocelyn, I am so sorry for not being around. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I—”“Don’t do that. You’ve been blaming yourself for far too long, Sherlock. None of this is your fault.”“I failed her. I failed our daughter.” Sherlock’s voice trembles a bit.Jocelyn’s face twists with pain while looking at him. Rosie finally quiets down and Jocelyn puts her back into the crib. The baby falls to sleep quicker than expected and Jocelyn smiles as she looks down at her. She reaches to touch their goddaughter’s soft cheek before turning to face Sherlock.She leads him outside and sits him down on the sofa. Sherlock watches as she pours him a glass of whiskey. Sherlock stares blankly, but she raises her brows. “Take it. Your hands are shaking.”He hesitates and takes the glass before sipping its contents.Sherlock Holmes is a simple man. Three trained assassins attacking him after invading his home would leave him calm and casual, but the mere reality of failing his daughter can truly damage him to the point of unraveling.As if she knew what he was thinking, Jocelyn sits next to him. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your reaction was completely normal, and no one is blaming you. Not even me.”Sherlock lowers his head to the ground. “You are running the world’s biggest underground network, and you took the job solely because you want to prevent someone worse to have control over it, all while you’re grieving. That is a big sacrifice, Jocelyn.”“You would have done the same, if you were given the same choices I was.” She mutters. “I know that I could trust you to do right by her.”Sherlock stares at her. “I do not want you to get hurt because of this.”“Relax. No one suspects that Moriarty’s network is really dead. Hell, no one even thinks Moriarty’s a woman, for that matter. The Morans wouldn’t risk their reputation by saying that Jim Moriarty chose me over them, so I don’t have to worry about them exposing me. I told you…” she stares into his eyes. “I have everything under control. And all of this will be over soon, you just have to trust me.”Sherlock stays quiet before he slowly nods at her.She sighs in relief. “Good. I’m glad you understand.” She smiles, taking Sherlock’s empty glass and she stands. “You should get some rest. I’ll call Lestrade to check on the situation in Baker Street.”Before she could walk away, Sherlock reaches for her hand and startles her. He lifts her hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss on her skin. Jocelyn cracks a small smile and watches him before pulling her hand away to cup his cheek, trailing her thumb against the bandaid on his skin. And she continues to walk to the kitchen to wash the glass and put the whiskey back on the decanter.As she stands before the sink, she feels a heat behind her. A warm body gently pressing against her back. She tilts her head to the side, only to see a pair of arms wrap around her waist to pull her closer to their chest.Sherlock buries his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply. Christ, he missed her and he has no idea how to express that. Jocelyn closes her stinging eyes, placing her hand on top of his as his arms slithered around her waist.They stay in that position for a few minutes, just slightly swaying while Sherlock’s thumbs caress her skin through her thin shirt.After a while, Sherlock speaks into her hair, with words that sends a shiver down her spine. He was barely audible, but the quiet environment helped Jocelyn hear the soft words.“You are the only person I’ve ever pictured a future with.”The whispered voice is laced with longingness and his usual tone of honesty as if he stated a fact similar to how the ocean is blue.Jocelyn stands still. Her heart melts in her ribcage, and she swallows anxiously. She feels him lower his head to rest on her shoulder.Sherlock embraces her tighter, as if afraid that she would disappear at any given moment. His confession startled her, and she could not think of how to reply. So, instead, she turns around and cups his face in her hands. His large hands settle behind her back, pulling her close to him. Jocelyn gives him a worried look and hushes him. It was then that he realizes that he was crying.Jocelyn’s heart wrenches at the quiet sobs exiting his chest. She tightens her arms around him. “You’ve protected me the moment you knew me. It’s my turn.”Sherlock’s body warms. “In that case, I’ve never felt safer than by your side.”The words bring a small smile on Jocelyn’s face as she rests her head on his chest, surrounded by the gentle smell of his cologne.She wipes his tears with her thumbs. He wanted to tell her that did not want to be apart from her again. He wanted to tell her that he would gladly watch the world burn, only if he will watch it with her. He wanted to say that that she is the only person that matters to him. But no words left his throat. Instead, he leans in, feeling something pull him towards her.But before their lips could touch for the first time in months, the sound of a car pulling over outside disturbs them.They pull away and Jocelyn gives him a cautious look. “Your little friends from Baker Street… they didn’t follow you here, did they?”“They were out cold when I left them.”She clenches her jaw, and her face hardens. “Take Rosie. Right now. Go.”“Jo—”“It wasn’t a question. There’s a car parked right behind this house. The keys are under Rosie’s crib. I need you to go to it and drive as far away as you can.”He glares at her in surprise. “I am not going to leave you here.”“Sherlock, I need you to protect Rosie. No argument. Do you understand me?” She grips his shoulders. “Please.”“Not without you!” He keeps insisting.Jocelyn clenches her teeth. “Get a grip! Now is not the time for declarations, you moron! Go get Rosie, I’ll be right back.”Stunned, Sherlock watching as she runs to the basement. Jocelyn takes her shotgun and slings the strip of bullets over her shoulder. She walks back upstairs, and Sherlock is carrying Rosie and her bag of necessities. He stares at the shotgun in astonishment, but decides not to question it.Jocelyn loads her shotgun and aims at the door. Sherlock stands behind her while gently rocking Rosie back and forth in his arms. Their goddaughter coos against Sherlock’s chest and continues to sleep as the two godparents stare intently at the door.As they wait in silence and anticipation, Sherlock leans closer to Jocelyn. “Are you going to fire? The shot might wake her up,” he mutters quietly into her ear.“Are you seriously more worried about her waking up than us being possibly murdered right now?” Jocelyn harshly hisses.“Well, making her cry is not exactly the last thing I want to do before I die.”“For fuck’s sake.” Jocelyn sighs, bracing herself.Then, they could hear loud thuds of footsteps on the porch. Jocelyn settles her finger on the trigger, exhaling slowly.The door handle jimmies for a moment, and it unlocks, possibly from a key. Jocelyn’s stomach is shriveling at the thought of their goddaughter being harmed. Her breaths come out sharp and quick, evidently afraid for their goddaughter’s life. Sherlock couldn’t help the slight shaking of his hands as he holds Rosie close to his chest.The door handle clicks, and it turns eerily slow. After a moment, it creaks open, and the silhouette appears on her doorstep. The shadow stretches out on the floor, with Sherlock and Jocelyn staring at the figure.Jocelyn furrows her brows, tilting her head as she wavers for a moment in surprise. Sherlock narrows his eyes at the visitor, still standing behind Jocelyn.The visitor raises their empty hands. “Don’t shoot!”“What… what are you doing here?” Sherlock questions.Camille keeps her arms up and steps inside into the light, looking quite frightened. “I-I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m just here to talk!”“…You have a key to my house?” Jocelyn sneers at her.Then, another figure pops out from the side of the entrance, and they smile at Jocelyn. “Hello, Miss Jocelyn.”Jocelyn finally lowers the shotgun. “What the hell is going on?”Naomi stands next to Camille after closing the door. Naomi looks at the weapon in Jocelyn’s arms. “Why do you have a shotgun?” She asks with a confused expression.“Because people are trying kill us!” Jocelyn widens her eyes. “Why else would I have a shotgun?”Naomi raises her eyebrows. “That’s my shotgun.”“Oh, I’m sorry. In a matter of life-or-death situation, I need to have Naomi’s permission to use the nearest weapon I have.” Jocelyn glares at her before looking at Camille. “And why did you bring her?”Sherlock stays silent and he watches the scene unfold in front of him. It still hasn’t sunk into him that Jocelyn still trusts Naomi.Naomi sighs. “We need to talk.”“Yeah, we do have something to talk about. Let’s start with you bringing a stranger to my house where I have my shotgun out.” Jocelyn angrily shots back.“My shotgun.” Naomi quietly corrects.“Do you want me to break your jaw with your shotgun?”“Enough.” Sherlock glances between the women before looking at Jocelyn. She appears to have relaxed once she remembers that Sherlock was here next to her. It appears that these squabbles with Naomi were normal and happens often. “I don’t like it either, but we should listen.”Sherlock doesn’t quite look as intimidating as he usually would, since he was rocking a toddler back and forth.Jocelyn hesitates, but sighs. “Rosie has a cradle in the living room, we can stay there.” She glares at Naomi and Camille before walking off to the kitchen to get a drink.Sherlock frowns and watches her for a moment before going to the living room to slowly lower Rosie into her crib. Sherlock hushes her softly and makes sure she is comfortable. He looks over his shoulder to see Camille and Naomi watching him. Camille offers a small smile.Sherlock keeps his face emotionless. “Now. How do you two know each other and why are you both here?”Camille’s words burst out her quickly. “The Danaviras are coming to attack you.”“Too late for that. They already did.” Sherlock says, cringing as he clutches his bruised neck.She widens her eyes. “W-What?—”“More about that later. I asked her for a favor.” Naomi tells him, cutting Camille off.Jocelyn walks into the living room and widens her eyes. “A favor to what?”“To keep an eye on him.” Naomi nods towards Sherlock. “You told me to. After he left New Orleans.”“No. I said, make sure Sherlock is safe.” Jocelyn’s voice shook with anger.“And he was, only because I had my eyes and ears all over the place.” Naomi tilts her head. “Is that not what you commanded me to do? Keep him safe?”“How the hell did keep him safe translate to get someone to befriend him and then spy on him?” Jocelyn glares at her. “We seriously need to talk about your habits in not understanding simple instructions.”Sherlock stares at Camille, unfazed. “What do you have to do with the Danaviras? Who are you?”“Well, um… they…” she scratches her head.“Don’t worry. She didn’t have to steal any sort of identity.” Naomi looks at Camille, who lowers her head. “Her real name really is Camille. Her brother did die. And now, she’s arguing with her brother’s… widow about who should have what.”Jocelyn scoffs. “And this is important to me because?”Naomis gives her a cautious look. “Because her brother didn’t die of pneumonia. He died of a gunshot wound. To the head.”Her tone is making Sherlock uncomfortable and anxious, unsure of where this is leading to. Then, he realizes. The familiarity of Camille’s eyes, and instead of seeing cold ones, Sherlock saw emotions and genuine feelings in her eyes. However, the familiar shape of her eyes gave her away.“You’re Moriarty’s sister.”Jocelyn stares between Camille and Sherlock, and she felt the need to sit down. She distantly looks at the floor with void in her eyes.Camille awkwardly smiles. “Surprise.” She sing-songs a bit.Jocelyn stares blankly. “You are fucking joking. John said he examined your brother at the clinic.”“It was staged, and it’s for a backup plan in case I ever need her. Way before you and I even met.” Naomi casually waves off. “She has lived apart from Moriarty for decades. No one else knows about her, apart from me, Jim… Sebastian and Silas.”“So, this is the other Moriarty that Laurie mentioned.” Jocelyn softly scoffs. “So, what? Moriarty has an estranged sister, what’s this got to do with me?”“She knows where Moriarty’s data system is located.” Naomi informs her, and Jocelyn immediately shifts in her seat out of curiosity. “Moriarty gave her the coordinates, the day before he died.”Jocelyn blinks. “Did you know about this?”“Not until yesterday.” Naomi confesses. “Someone didn’t inform me that Moriarty went to see her before his demise,” she throws a cold look towards Camille, who avoids her gaze with an embarrassed expression.Jocelyn glances at Sherlock, who doesn’t look as surprised as he should be. “No puzzles. Just coordinates?”“Yes.”She exhales sharply. “In exchange for what?”Naomi smiles at how clever Jocelyn is. Camille swallows a bit. “I never wanted to be involved in my brother’s… business. I was happy here. I… I only agreed to Naomi’s request because I owe her for looking after me for years. But my brother still means a lot to me.”“…Are you really his sister? Because you don’t… you don’t sound like him.” Jocelyn uncertainly speaks. “Or even remotely act like him. No offense.”Naomi sighs, palming her forehead. Camille musters a hesitant smile. “Jimmy and I have always been different, I guess. But he really is my older brother.”“What are you asking us?” Sherlock impatiently asks, crossing his arms.“I keep begging Sebastian to give me Jim’s body, but he always refused. And I know that he keeps him frozen somewhere.” Camille’s eyes fill with tears as she meets Sherlock’s eyes. “I want you to find his body, so I could give him a proper burial.”“No.” Jocelyn replies calmly.“Jocelyn…” Naomi starts.“I am not helping him.” Jocelyn’s whole face is calm.“I didn’t ask you, I asked him.” Camille responds with a tight voice, looking at a neutrally faced Sherlock. “I have no one else to turn to.”Sherlock and Jocelyn look at one another. “Without those coordinates, the keycode will be useless, Jocelyn.”“We don’t even have the keycode yet.” she whispers, giving him a look of incredulity. “And, Naomi, I don’t recall telling you to do anything. You swore to me that you will only act once told. This is a violation of your vow to me.” Jocelyn directs to Naomi from across the room, who frowns with the tinge of genuine guilt, something Sherlock is not used to seeing. “I want you both to leave. My word is final.”Naomi immediately nods, and grabs Camille’s arm, pulling the woman out of the house while Camille frowns with desperation. However, the teacher does not fight back and just allows Naomi drag her out. Sherlock sees that Jocelyn seems to have so much power over Naomi, that the assassin would let her talk to her with such authority.Sherlock wasn’t all that bothered about Camille anymore. Honestly, nothing normal ever occurs in his life anyway. Sherlock closes the front door once he made sure no one is nearby, and he sighs in relief. He hisses as he walks, still feeling the leftover pain from Baker Street.He approaches the living room and sees Jocelyn sitting in front of a small electronic piano. She was playing a quiet melody. He sits next to her, and she stops playing.“You okay?” asks Jocelyn.“Me? Why do you ask?”“Well… your friend is Moriarty’s sister. That’s got to be affecting you in some way.”“Honestly, it isn’t such a surprise. Life has never been normal for the two of us.”Jocelyn cracks a smile. “I guess not.”They share a look before Sherlock taps one of the white keys on the piano. “You’re playing again.”“Yeah, well, John said that Rosie likes listening to piano music sometimes. It’s mostly how I get her to sleep whenever I’m around.”“Do your hands still hurt?”“I’m… getting better.”Sherlock observes her for a moment. “I’m glad to hear that, Jocelyn.”She nods at him, a soft smile on her face, before it fades. “I have something to tell you,” she says, and Sherlock gives her his entire attention. “I had Naomi find Dr. Martin for me, and I isolated her in a warehouse to talk.”Sherlock is unfazed, but felt concerned. “And?”“I… I talked to her. Sebastian threatened to kill her if she didn’t give me the poison.” Jocelyn says, a bit uncomfortably. “I think she was a backup plan, if he was ever captured or unheard from. He was always going to attempt killing our baby if we ever try to fight back. Maybe to show to us that he’s powerful enough to do that.” She shakes her head. “It was a stupid and petty move in Sebastian’s part. Poisoning me let them lose the only leverage they had. Just to make me feel this way.”Sherlock feels his chest tighten. “And then what happened?”“I almost killed her.” Jocelyn quietly confesses. “I was so close. I had a gun to her head. And I really wanted to.” She glances at him, eyes filled with tears she has never shown to anyone except Sherlock. “I really really wanted to. And I think… that’s what scared me more than actually doing it.”“What stopped you?”Jocelyn stares towards the piano, tracing her hand against the keys as a smile grows on her face. She lifts her head to look at him.Sherlock feels a sense of relief, and he reaches over to place his hand over hers on the piano. They share a look, and Sherlock felt like they should talk more about their unborn child, this did not feel like the time. It still felt odd, so he changes the subject.“What do you usually play for Rosie, then?”“Oh, hm… I usually play Chopin.”Sherlock chuckles. “Not Bach? Why not him?”“Bach is too… heavy. I don’t think I’ve ever liked playing him.” Jocelyn chuckles along with him. “Honestly, I think the last time I played Bach was—”And she froze, her words coming to a halt as her smile disappears. Sherlock stares at her before growing uncertain by the look on her face, as if gears were beginning to turn right behind her eyes.“Jocelyn? What is it?”He watches as she blinks for a few times and the corner of her lips twitch into a smile of relief and amusement, and almost in disbelief. Jocelyn meets his patient eyes and her next calm words from her slightly smiling lips bring a shockwave through Sherlock’s body.“I think I know where the keycode is.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The white organ piano is stored safely within Mycroft’s home, after the Musgrave Hall flat was searched endlessly and was subsequently shut down by the building itself until it was entirely empty.Now, Jocelyn stands before the same piano that Moriarty commanded her to play many years ago. She does not even want to touch it, only because thinking of Moriarty would somehow remind her of the hideous sight she witnessed back in New Zealand. The image and smell of Moriarty’s rotting body was something she may never forget. And for a forensic scientist, that may be saying a lot.“How certain are you that the keycode would be within the piano?” Mycroft asks, looking quite sleepy, still wearing pajamas.It must also be said that Sherlock and Jocelyn quickly went to Mycroft’s house the minute of their realization, and Rosie was safely strapped into Sherlock’s chest.“Maybe… Forty-five percent sure?”“Forty-five? You woke me at two in the morning for forty-five?” Mycroft incredulously stares at her.“What happened to ‘I will always be there for you, Jocelyn’?” She mocks his voice, and Mycroft glares at her.“That statement only applies when I am not in the middle of sleeping.” Mycroft sneers.“Both of you, shut up. You are louder than the actual child present among us.” Sherlock quips in, but in a calmer tone as he cradles Rosie.Jocelyn hands Mycroft the crowbar. “Here. Just take out one of the keys.”“Me? Have you gone insane? You two barged in here and you’d like me to accomplish the task you came here for?”“Of course, unless you’d like to hold the baby instead.” Sherlock walks towards him, but Mycroft is already grimacing at him and snatches the crowbar without another thought.“This is a beautifully crafted organ. I cannot believe we are mutilating it.”“Should I remind you who this piano belonged to?” Sherlock mutters, and Mycroft rolls his eyes.“Consulting criminal or not, this piano is intrinsically designed. We are disrespecting art.”“Calm down, Bob Ross. Just take out the keys.” Jocelyn exhales loudly. Mycroft mutters under his breath as he takes the key of the lowest note.Jocelyn takes it and turns the key over, only to see the number one on it. She grins, holding it up. “This is it. All the keys have a binary number engraved into it. This is the key code.” She looks so relieved, that it made Sherlock smile a little. “We found it.”For the next hour, Mycroft and Jocelyn had been taking out the keys from the organ, and each of them had a tiny number engraved into it.The only problem was that the keys were engraved in an alternate manner from lowest to highest note.“One, zero, one, zero, one, zero… I mean, that’s not how binary codes work.” Jocelyn exclaims in exasperation. “There’s another puzzle behind this.”“Moriarty made you play Partita No. 1.” Mycroft points out. “The keycode must be in the form of you playing the piece.”Mycroft returned the keys to its original state and Jocelyn sat down to start playing it the way she played the piece for Moriarty. It was brief, but somehow, both the Holmes brothers caught the pattern.And in under half an hour, Mycroft held the precious keycode in his hand, written on paper. Later in his office, Mycroft tosses the paper into the fireplace and watches it burn.“Now, only the three of us know what the sequence is, and it shall remain that way. My first advice is to not inform Miss Naomi of our recent findings.”“But—”“No further arguments. You may trust her as your guard dog, but I do not. She is only bound to you, and not to anyone else.” Mycroft shoots her a look. “And we are all aware of how she seems to find loopholes from the commands you give her.”True, Jocelyn thinks. She doesn’t argue anymore, even when she went home with Sherlock.“Do you think it’s wise not to tell Mycroft about Camille? He would’ve had an opinion about the coordinates she has. If she even has them.” Jocelyn says as she sits on the sofa within her home. “Admit it. You know he’ll agree with me.”“Fine. I will tell him in the morning. I’d rather not deal with a cranky Mycroft who barely slept tonight,” Sherlock mutters. “I think he was quite agitated that my attack tonight drove Lestrade to Scotland Yard and Baker Street at such an ungodly hour.”Jocelyn chuckles and she yawns. He stares at her for a moment, seeing how exhausted she looks from looking after a baby, but she still has a look of content on her face.Rosie had to be taken away since Jocelyn’s home might not be safe for her. Mycroft had to let the child stay at his home, much to his dismay. Still, he had no choice but to let the baby stay at his mansion. Now, Sherlock and Jocelyn are alone in her home, exhausted due to their long night.They can’t talk about the keycode anywhere other than Mycroft’s home, so Sherlock phrases it differently. “What’s your next plan?”“I think we should sleep. We both had the longest week of our lives.”“I don’t think I could sleep tonight.” Sherlock confesses. “Too many things have happened.”Jocelyn doesn’t think she could sleep as well. So, she opts for something better. “Maybe we can use this time to talk.” She offers him a drink.He keeps his eyes forward. “Yes.”They stay quiet for a moment, just watching the fire before Jocelyn speaks.“Do you remember when we were nineteen, we snuck into Cambridge together, and just trashed the locker rooms of the guys who kept harassing the first years?”“Oh, I do remember that.” Sherlock’s eyes fill with amusement, a bit surprised by her random thought. “We filled their lockers with glue and feathers.”“You were the unwilling participant,” she chuckles.“And you were the enthusiastic mastermind.”“Hey, I only needed you because you could figure out the codes for their lockers. I did the rest of the work by myself.”“I still remember the horrified faces of the professors the next day.” Sherlock softly says, and Jocelyn continues to chuckle at the memory. “It was one of those moments I believed that you could do everything.”Jocelyn tilts her head to look at him, and he thought she was going to say something earnest.“I once accidentally burned one of your shirts, when we were still living together.”A surprised soft laugh escapes Sherlock from her sudden confession. “You what? How exactly do you accidentally burn a shirt?”“There is a reason why I never perform home experiments like you, you know.”Sherlock narrows his eyes, amused by their exchange of truths. “Fair enough. Let’s see… I never liked your cat.”Jocelyn gives an exaggerated gasp.“Yes, I disliked her very much.”“She loved you!”“No, she loved you, and you lived with me, which means your cat had to live with us, and she was forced to live with me.” Sherlock lengthily corrects her. “But I chose to put up with her.”“I can’t believe you didn’t like her! You two were always cuddled up.”“Looks can be deceiving. But I didn’t want her to go homeless, so I let you take her with you when I welcomed you to my home.” Sherlock says.“Why? Do you not like cats?”“I prefer dogs.”“Then, why didn’t you say so? We could’ve gotten a dog together.” Jocelyn chuckles.Sherlock hums, smiling a bit. “Well, the last time I had a dog, I was still a child. I never had one again. Maybe it’s because I grew far too attached to my last dog. His name was Redbeard. He… died because he crossed the road far too soon. It took me years to find that out. I always thought he ran away. My parents couldn’t bring themselves to tell me. I cried a lot once I found out, and didn’t care that I was a bit grown up at the time.”Jocelyn listens, wondering why he never told her about this before. Sherlock looks towards her and gives an awkward tight-lipped smile.“You had a rougher childhood than I did, yes?” Sherlock asks with amusement, as if to alleviate the air around them.Jocelyn shrugs. “When I was fifteen, I once ran away from home. I was homeless for about a week before coming back to my father.”Sherlock goes completely silent after that, the amusement in the air suddenly vanished, despite Jocelyn smiling.“And you know what he said to me when I came back?” Jocelyn slides down on the sofa a bit, until her upper body was practically laying down, her legs stretching across the floor. “Clean yourself up, you look filthy. We are going to Soho tonight, wear a formal dress.” She softly scoffs. “His daughter went missing for a week, and his first thought was to take me to a party.”Sherlock feels his stomach tighten. This could be the alcohol talking, in Jocelyn’s system, but he keeps listening.“It’s no different to how he reacted when I went missing a few months ago either. I saw him and his family go to a beach, as if I wasn’t just on the cover of multiple newspapers.” Jocelyn mutters. “And when I supposedly died, he attends the mass to maybe cash into the insurance money. Thank god I named my aunt as my beneficiary, and not him.”He glances at her, and there was more sadness in her eyes than anger at this point.“We get to this party, and I had to pretend as if I hadn’t just had the most horrible week. I had to go around the place, talking to people about the charity that was obviously just being used by all these rich people as an excuse to drink and get paid.” Jocelyn sighs, and Sherlock furrows his brows as something clicks in his mind. “I gave up and just went to the back of the building to smoke. It was the first time I did.”“This happened in Soho?”“Yeah.”“Strange…”“Why?”“I can recall Mycroft attending a charity program by a few businessmen. He invited me to accompany him in Soho.”The two of them share a look, as if to say ‘Surely not…’“Where was your party held?” Jocelyn asks, a bit spooked.“The Prudential Hall, in Gerard Street.”She widens her eyes and shifts on the sofa, startled. “That’s where I was, too!”Sherlock blinks, and Jocelyn’s smiles brightly. “So… you mean to tell me—”“We were at the same party four years before we met.” Jocelyn was in shock, and couldn’t help the tipsy giggles escape her lips. “Too bad I spent most of it in the back. I would’ve met you much earlier.”Sherlock isn’t so sure if he wanted Jocelyn to meet his fifteen-year-old self. During the entire party, he was itching to get his hands on cocaine.“Can you imagine if I’d have met you there, though? I probably would’ve… hated you, because I would stupidly assume you were one of them. The posh people in the party.” Jocelyn gives him a look of fascination. “Isn’t it funny how easily I would’ve brushed you off then… but now, I don’t think I’d like my life if I never had you in it.”Sherlock stares back at her, the words she uttered have engraved themselves into his chest. “I almost came after you.” She knots her eyebrows, as if to ask him to elaborate. “When you left for New York, I… I almost followed you. I had a one-way ticket, my clothes were packed…”Jocelyn softens, watching him wistfully. “Why didn’t you?”“Perhaps I figured… you would not want me to.”Her face falls, and she remains quiet.“Funnily enough, my parents were against the idea of me going to New York. Only Mycroft encouraged me,” he awkwardly clears his throat, but Jocelyn could feel her eyes stinging. “But I couldn’t bring myself to face you. I thought I’d… only irritate you more than I must have already. I always thought that the reason you left was because you did not want to be around me.”A tear slides down Jocelyn’s cheek as she listens to him. She wonders how different life must have been if Sherlock followed through his plan and went after her, maybe even stayed there with her. Would Jocelyn have avoided spiraling downwards? Would they get engaged the moment they graduated like Sherlock always planned? Would she finally have a healthy pregnancy, since she never would have gone through such horrors during her youth?What a life that would have been. Now, Jocelyn and Sherlock would have to live without the decisions they never made.From all these confessions pouring out of them both, Jocelyn’s voice spoke. “I don’t think we would’ve been good parents.”Jocelyn’s whispered statement held such a weight to it, Sherlock almost couldn’t breathe. He stares back at her teary bloodshot eyes.“Not because we wouldn’t have loved her, because we would’ve. We already did,” she steadies her breath. “But to bring her into our current reality would be crueler than anything my parents ever did to me.”“I think you’re wrong,” he quietly says. “I think despite all of that, you and I would’ve been great parents, Jocelyn,” he gives her a look, as if to say, do not argue with me. “And our daughter would’ve been lucky to have you as a mother.”As much as she appreciated his kind words, Jocelyn only offers a small smile. “I wish we were back in that cottage.”A hole burns through Sherlock’s throat, and he has no other words to say.Instead, he gives an understanding nod, and with the space between them, he places his open palm across the sofa. Jocelyn eyes it for a moment before taking his hand. Their fingers lace together, warming one another’s skin from the cold night.“I didn’t mean what I said back at Rosie’s birthday party,” she softly says. “You’re also the only person I’ve pictured a future with.”That makes Sherlock soften, forming a hint of a smile on his face. It is rare to see him this way, even for Jocelyn.“When I asked Mary to keep my secret of knowing that you are alive, I allowed her to have a trigger phrase for me. Once she says it, I will remember everything.” Sherlock tells her. “Would you like to know what phrase that is?”“What is it?”Sherlock’s lips form a smile. “Return to the Musgrave Hall. Jocelyn’s waiting for you.”A sudden twist in her chest appears, and she softens as she stares at him. Oh, Sherlock.“I’ve told you before. It doesn’t matter if you change. You give me an opportunity to get to know you all over again.” Sherlock squeezes her hand, and Jocelyn can feel her heart pounding. “Whatever state you are, whatever mindset you are in. You have me.”Jocelyn’s throat closes, and the three words are at the tip of her tongue, itching to be said. She wanted to say it, but somehow, despite the number of years they’ve known each other, it still felt too early for her.All she can do is lean over and press her lips against his. Sherlock is briefly surprised, but responds immediately by grabbing her waist to hoist her on his lap, kissing her back softly. He could not explain it, but whenever he touches Jocelyn, he feels lightheaded as if he does not deserve to be this near to her, but is grateful for every inch of her that she gives to him.He pulls her closer, his lips sweetly giving hers kisses. Sherlock kisses the corner of her lips and begins kissing the skin he reaches. Jocelyn smiles to herself, closing her eyes and letting him do as he pleases.It felt too surreal that the woman he is kissing is also the one who had been eradicating many of the world’s most vile criminals by throwing them to prison for the rest of their lives, something that not even Scotland Yard or any police department could even dream of. He is holding the woman that the public has mistaken for a man, and is now worshipping in the streets, waving flags, and wearing wolf masks to convey their support for this faceless individual who has saved countless of lives.The faceless individual being the woman whose real face will be the first thing Sherlock would think of during the moment of his death.“You are the most powerful woman in the world, Jocelyn. Have you ever realized that?” Sherlock breathes into her skin.A shaky breath leaves her mouth, and all of a sudden, she felt her skin crawl at his words. Jocelyn pulls away, and Sherlock immediately wonders if he has said the wrong thing. She adjusts her clothes, making Sherlock realize that he has slid his own hands underneath her shirt to feel more of her warmth. He pulls his hands away and lets her increase the distance between their bodies.Now that she has pulled away, Sherlock now feels the tension. “I… didn’t mean it in that way.”“It’s okay…” Jocelyn quietly says. “I guess you’re right in some sense.”Having this sort of power seems to make Jocelyn uncomfortable. How can it? She has been exercising her abilities for weeks now, how come she is now uncomfortable?Unless…“You feel uncomfortable… because I can see you as Moriarty.”The room is silent, and Jocelyn’s hair covers most of her face. “I don’t ever want you to see me as Moriarty.”“I’ll stop.”She stays quiet for a moment, but her body relaxes. “No. If you see me that way, then don’t let me stop you,” she tells him with a genuine tone. Sherlock only watches her in silence. “In fact, maybe you’ll get to see me being Moriarty soon. Maybe even tomorrow.”That intrigues Sherlock. “Oh? How come?”Somehow, Sherlock feels the hair underneath his sleeves to rise the moment the corner of Jocelyn’s lips quirk into a smirk. “We’re going to see some very familiar faces tomorrow.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Do you want to solve a riddle, Jocelyn? It could pass the time while you’re stuck inside this box,” his voice is soft, and almost heady. As if he was floating around her head.
Jocelyn couldn’t make a sound, but all she can do is shake as she is curled into a corner of the cold room.
He chuckles lowly. “Every morning I appear to lie beneath your feet. And the mornings after, I follow no matter how fast you run. I sometimes take form of the tallest trees with fruits so sweet, However,” Jocelyn faintly watches him circle slowly around her. “I perish at the sight of the midday sun. Do you know what I am, Jocelyn?”
She is steadying her breath, and bumps form on her skin from the slight drop of temperature in the room. She can still see the blurry image of him in front of her, and as he approaches her slowly, his pace quickens and he reaches out his hands to her neck—
Jocelyn gasps as she jolts in her place, eyes wide despite the sleepless nights as her breaths grow heavy. When a hand reaches for her shoulder, her instincts take over as she grabs the knife from underneath her pillow and presses it against the nearest windpipe.He briefly tenses, but he still grabs her shoulders. “It’s alright. It was just a dream,” his large hand wraps around the shaky fist gripping the knife, gently pushing it away from his skin before she does something she will regret.Jocelyn stares at him until her vision clears, and she sees Sherlock’s face. She instantly drops the knife and seeks his warmth by wrapping her arms around his neck, choking back sobs. Sherlock frowns, feeling the way his chest is tightening at the sound of her frightened cries. He holds her close, and Sherlock closes his eyes to breathe her in, gently rubbing her back to calm her down.Later, Sherlock made her some tea as he stares at the empty high chair that Rosie uses when she’s around. A high chair that was intended for someone else. Sherlock stares at it for a moment before pouring some tea into Jocelyn’s cup.She sits on her own chair, hugging her thighs to her chest to curl up. Sherlock notices that she still looks a bit uncomfortable.“I’m sorry about the knife to your throat. Again.” Jocelyn mutters, resting her chin on her knees.“It’s alright. I’m beginning not to mind,” he tries his best to amuse her.It works, as she lets out a soft chuckle. “I think… living with killers for a long time can take its effect on someone. I think I have instincts now that I wish I never had.”“I understand. Drink your tea.” Sherlock’s phone beeps later, and he checks the text. “Hm. It seems that my unusual guests last night are in the custody of Scotland Yard. Although, none of them would talk.”“They’re quite loyal to Nocte Domum. They’re under a single leader.”“Who?”Jocelyn shrugs. “People call him the Mortician.”“The Mortician?” Sherlock snorts. “Does everyone in the criminal underworld supposed to have silly nicknames?”Jocelyn can see that Sherlock is attempting to make her feel better, so she holds back a smile. “I talked to him before. He hates Moriarty and everything he stands for,” she sighs. “I think you know about Moriarty setting their school on fire…”“Yes. Mary told us about that.”“Yeah, well, the Mortician wasn’t at the school when the fire happened, so he was one of the few that didn’t die during it.” Jocelyn explains. “Only Naomi and Mary survived the fire while being one of the many people who were still inside the building. And they both believed Moriarty saved them. Like he was some sort of… savior. The Danaviras disagree. They believe that Moriarty destroyed everything they had. Unlike Naomi and Mary, their faith was to Nocte Domum. So, the Mortician doesn’t really like me that much.”“You said you talked to him before. Have you seen him in person?”“I talked to him through a device once. With voice modulation, so I wouldn’t be recognized. Naomi is very thorough, and she likes keeping me safe,” she mumbles the last part. “He used a voice modulator, too. He could be anyone. I talked to him about keeping our distance, if they keep theirs.”He nods, sipping his coffee as he listens to Jocelyn. So, neither of them had physical contact before.“Sherlock, when you were attacked, I thought they found out who I am. And broke our truce. But actually, they thought that Camille is the new Moriarty, and they’re trying to protect the truce by eliminating everyone who’s a threat to her…” she trails off, and Sherlock is once again amazed by her mind. “They know that if Moriarty is harmed in any way, Naomi will think it was them. It won’t matter who actually harmed Moriarty at all, Naomi will kill the Danaviras one by one.” Scarily enough, Jocelyn is not exaggerating.“So, that’s why they were after me. They think she’s the current Moriarty, and that I became acquaintances with her due to that.” Sherlock exhales deeply. “They must have realized that another person close to Moriarty would take over the business, now that Sebastian and Silas have gone inactive in the criminal world.”“And if they’ve taken the possibility that Moriarty could be a woman, it’s only a matter of time that they’ll find out about me.” Jocelyn screws her eyes shut. “Another problem. Great. Just what I needed.” She dryly laughs.“I don’t think the Danaviras would find out about you. Even if they do, they wouldn’t leak your identity, since they would risk revealing themselves as well.” Sherlock tells her. “Minimize your worries.”“You’re right.” Jocelyn looks up at him, staring into his sincere eyes for a moment before reaching for his hand. “Thank you.”He nods and continues to have breakfast.“I think we should become allies with the Danaviras.”Sherlock stops moving, silent for a second. “Allies? With the same people who tried to kill me?”“Think about it. If we manage to convince the Mortician to side with us, we’d have a number of fighters by our side.” Jocelyn eagerly shifts in her seat. “And if we function together, we can eliminate Moriarty’s network. The Danaviras hate Moriarty and what he stood for. If I introduce myself to him—”“What— Jocelyn—”“If I introduce myself as the current Moriarty, and tell him what my final goal is, he will support us. He might even do everything he can to help us.” Jocelyn reaches over to grab Sherlock’s hand. “They can help us bring Moriarty’s network down for good. And without Sebastian or Silas in our way, it’s only a matter of time until we’re both free from this.”Sherlock sees hope in Jocelyn’s eyes, the desperation to taste freedom once again. Sherlock can empathize. As much as he likes the thrill of the chase, he dislikes seeing Jocelyn in pain because of it.I think we should go see Silas this time. He might know something about the remnants of Nocte Domum. He could help,” she says.“Why would he ever help us?”“Well, for one… he still has no idea what Sebastian did.” Jocelyn quietly says. “And remember when they had a policy for harming kids? I’m curious over what Silas has to say for his noble brother breaking his own rule. Just to get back at me.”***When the red light appears again, Jocelyn steps inside the room and sees the man seated in the same place from last time. He is eating lunch, with rubber utensils.Silas looks at her from head to toe once, and he chuckles before continuing to eat, as if she wasn’t there. “Well, that was fast. Is the little one walking already? How long have I been here?”“Not long, actually.” Jocelyn casually takes a seat in front of him. “And as for the little one, there is no little one. You can thank your brother for that.”Silas blinks, but says nothing. Then, he puts the pieces together in his head before he softens, shifting in his seat. “Ah, shit…” Silas looks deep in thought. “What happened?”“He blackmailed some doctor to give me a dose of my own poison. Naturally, the poison got absorbed by the baby, and it killed her.” Jocelyn says with a straight face, but deep down, it is taking everything in her to keep it together.Silas closes his eyes and grimaces. “Jesus.”Jocelyn has a humorless smile on her face. “Worried? Isn’t that what you wanted? You didn’t give a shit about my child.”“Let me clarify this, little sheep, I didn’t give a shit about you. Doesn’t mean I want a baby to die.” He glares at her. “But you know what? Carrying out your pregnancy even with the dangerous situation you were in, made me sick. What kind of child were you aiming to have?” He scoffs. “Pathetic.”“Where’s this coming from?” She darkly teases, crossing her arms across her chest as she smirks. “Should I remind you who exactly put a pregnant woman in that situation?”“Now, hold on. I didn’t know you were pregnant—”“And yet when all of you found out, you still kept me there.”“Let’s not start pointing fingers, okay?” Silas grimaces, knowing he walked his way into that one. “The point is I would never harm an innocent baby.”Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him, analyzing his face and hands. “You’re the one who started the whole ‘don’t hurt children’ policy, weren’t you? Not your brother.” She leans forward, an intense gaze into his eyes. “It doesn’t make you feel sick? That your brother killed a helpless baby even before she got to breathe?”Silas flinches, but growls at her. “Why are you here, Jocelyn? I’m guessing you’ve run out of options if you want my help.” He laughs, but there was no hiding the tremor in his hands.“I know about Moriarty’s sister.”Those words silence him and his face twists with what could be interpreted as… confusion?Jocelyn tilts her head, puzzled. “I know about her. Camille Lavalle. Or Camille Moriarty, whatever. I know that Moriarty hid her identity so she can live a normal life, and I know where she is right now.”Silas stays quiet, and just stares back at Jocelyn.The longer she watches him, the more it occurs to her. “I have reason to believe that the Danaviras think she’s the acting Moriarty. I need information about the Danaviras, if you give me that—”“Where is she?”Jocelyn pauses, giving him a strange look. “…And why should I tell you that?”Then, he slams his hands into the table. The movement startles Jocelyn for a moment, and makes her jump in her seat. His eyes are manic as he bares his teeth. “Where’s Camille?!”Jocelyn blinks, faltering. “Why… why do you want to know?”Silas pauses, before slowly sitting down. For a while, he stays quiet. “Sebastian… he told me she was dead.”Jocelyn watches as his cuffed fists tighten on the table. The anger radiates from his body, and it was as if the shadow of his darkness hovered over his head. “Why would he say that?”“That—that bastard!” Silas snaps, but immediately gathers himself to send her an icy glare, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if he had been betrayed. “Is this your plan, little sheep? Bring her up and suddenly, you’d have me on my knees? Well, let me tell you this; I will never surrender to you no matter how much leverage you put on me.” Silas’ voice is shaking now, but with fury and uncertainty.It was as if he couldn’t trust his own words.What the hell? “I’m… not here for Camille, I’m here for—”“Your time is up, little sheep. You will never hear me talk again.”Jocelyn just stares at him with furrowed brows. Later on, she exits the room and Sherlock is already waiting for her.“Did you hear all of that?” Jocelyn asks.“Every word. It seems that Miss Lavalle is someone very important to Silas Moran.” Sherlock knots his brows together, surprised. “We came here to ask him about the Danaviras, but he gave us an answer to a question we haven’t asked yet.”Jocelyn has an amused smile adoring her face. Who would have thought that the most feral Moran is actually in love with the softest Moriarty?“The world keeps getting smaller,” she looks at Sherlock. “I hope it’s to our advantage.”***“I understand that you don’t wish to talk.” Sherlock begins. “But the longer you remain silent, the fewer your chances are of walking out of here.”Now, Sherlock and John sit across one of the people who attacked Sherlock in Baker Street. The stranger has not even given his name, and there were no fingerprint records for any of them in Scotland Yard’s system. It was as if these people do not exist legally.It was expected. Naomi did tell Jocelyn that every single student in Nocte Domum were never part of any government’s system.The man only stares at Sherlock, in a silent gaze. One that told Sherlock that this man wished he killed Sherlock in Baker Street when he had a chance. It makes Sherlock sigh, leaning back on his chair while crossing his arms. Sherlock can read him like he can with anyone.
Korean, respects his boss, vegetarian, left-handed, prefers hand-to-hand combat than using weapons, fluent in Korean, English and French.
“You know, we’re all in the same side. We want Moriarty to lose just as much as you do.” John shrugs.Finally, the man shows some emotion. His lips curl into a smirk, but he says nothing. It was like he thought of something that amused him.Sherlock briefly looks at John with disapproval. “Although, having the same enemy doesn’t equate us into being allies,” he says what the Korean man was thinking.John blinks.“I want to speak to the Mortician. Maybe he can be more reasonable than you.” Sherlock states calmly, and the man’s gaze only darkens with amusement.“You believe it’s that easy?” He scoffs. “Even if I tell you how, he won’t talk to you. Hell, he might even kill you the minute you show up on his doorstep.”“We’ll find out by ourselves, won’t we, John?”“Uh… y-yeah, right…”The man seems to be considering it. “I make a deal. I tell you where to find him, and you let me see my comrades.”Before John could interject, Sherlock holds up a hand to stop him, eyes wide with interest. “Deal.”The man chuckles. “Bet on your luck, Holmes. The only person who can find the Moritician in person, is Moriarty herself.”Sherlock frowns. “You mean… Camille Lavalle?”“Moriarty. Yes.”Sherlock and John share a glance, unsure if the man is referring to Camille—who they think is the current Moriarty.Or Jocelyn—the actual current Moriarty.Or perhaps… maybe the late Jim Moriarty himself?“How do you know? Have they met up before?”The man looks at John as if he was stupid. “Boss keeps that to himself. What I know is that they spoke before. And to reach Moriarty, you need to talk to someone. You might be dead before you even approach Moriarty without going through that stupid guard dog,” he scrunches his nose in disgust, as if the mere thought of her makes him sick. “You might as well give up now. You’ll never find that bitch.”They must be referring to Naomi. Sherlock sighs, nodding along as if these are news to him. He looks directly at the camera at the upper corner of the room, giving a short nod.Floor levels away, Mycroft rolls his eyes at the monitor and takes his phone out, dialing a number.Once it clicks, he musters a sarcastic smile. “I hope your schedule is free, Miss Naomi. We learned something from you.”***“Of course I know how to find him.” Naomi deadpans, staring at them as though they were idiots.Now, Jocelyn groans in frustration, widening her eyes at Naomi. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you mention that when I asked you, you sick fuck?!”Naomi raises a brow. “You asked me if you can talk to him without actually meeting him. I provided that for you.”Jocelyn fumes as she marches towards the assassin, ready to choke the living hell out of her, until Sherlock steps in, blocking Jocelyn’s way with his arm. Naomi is unfazed, already hinting that this was a common occurrence.“That’s enough for now. What matters is how to get to him. Where do we go?” Sherlock asks.“Why do you all want to speak to him anyway? He is a total bore.” Naomi looks disgusted, but sees Jocelyn’s angered expression and sighs in defeat. “I’ll take you to him, as requested.”“You’re being useful for once.” Jocelyn grumbles.“Remind me again who kept you alive for almost a year?” Naomi shoots her a sarcastic smile.Jocelyn grits her teeth. “Arsehole.”Naomi looks touched by the insult, and Mycroft is just about fed up by what he is witnessing.“Are you two ever going to behave like adults?” Mycroft huffs, his arms crossed. “It utterly amazes me that you two are behind sending the world’s most notorious criminals to penitentiaries. People should realize that they are worshipping children, not gods.”“Never said I was a god,” Jocelyn gives him a glare.“Never said I wasn’t.” Naomi smirks.Sherlock ignores all of that. “We leave as soon as possible. Where do we need to go?”“Don’t worry too much. He’s not difficult to find,” Naomi waves off. “In fact, his hiding place is pitiful at best. You’ll see when we get there,” she stands up before pausing. “Oh, and each of you might want to bring someone with personal value. That won’t be a problem for sentimental people,” she gives Sherlock and Jocelyn a undecipherable look.***“Something of personal value?” Jocelyn scrunches her face. “What is she even talking about?”Sherlock searches through his drawers in Baker Street while Jocelyn waits by the fireplace. “Anything, my guess. I wonder what it will be for.” He is not ready for more eccentricities from more criminals. Even the thought gives him a headache.“Have you figured out what you’re bringing?”Sherlock frowns. “I’m not sure. I’m not a very sentimental person.”Jocelyn shrugs. “You could always bring the violin.”Sherlock sends her a glare. “I’m not putting my violin in danger.”“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Jocelyn teases him, and he scoffs while trying to hide his smile. “I’ll just bring something I see at my house.”***“You’re kidding, right?” Naomi says, scandalized. “You two are bringing a shitty statue and a painting?”“What are you talking about? These are valuable, you know.” Jocelyn pouts.“Sentimental value, you stupid woman.” Naomi emphasizes her last three words by swatting the back of Jocelyn’s head with a magazine repeatedly, making the young woman jump and rub her head with a scowl. “These are expensive, yes, but who cares about that? Bring something that means something to you.”“Why?”“Think of it as your ticket to his filthy house.” Naomi deadpans. “No sentimental object, you can forget about meeting the Mortician. Which is good, because it saves me the trouble of seeing his hideous face again.”Jocelyn childishly groans out. “You are the worst, you know that, right?”“As you always remind me, master.”“Ugh, I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not interested in what kinky shit you and Jim Moriarty were up to.”“How many times do I have to say that I wasn’t fucking Jim Moriarty? Can you not see that I married a woman? Is that not enough to get it through your head that I’m not interested in men?” Naomi deadpans.“Are you even aware of how that makes it so much worse when you call me master?” Jocelyn mumbles as she glances at the statue and painting. “Is the Mortician going to destroy whatever we take with us?”“No. He won’t. You’ll see why when we meet him,” Naomi softly says, pausing for a moment. “I know that you have a plan. You always have something up your sleeve, but I have to say… revealing who you really are to him isn’t sitting well with me. I don’t trust the Mortician,” she flashes Jocelyn an incredibly rare worried expression. “If things go sideways, you have to remember that my main priority will be you. That’s non-negotiable, Jocelyn. You will be the first person I will protect.”Jocelyn frowns, staring at her and seeing how serious she appears. “Naomi…”“Non-negotiable, Jocelyn. I will try to save Sherlock Holmes. And even Dr. Watson; but you will come first,” she leans down, so she can be of eye-level with Jocelyn. Her eyes are solemnly wide, making Jocelyn feel briefly uncomfortable, as if to tell Jocelyn that she was not fucking around. “You… come first.”She considers it first, but eventually realizes that Naomi will never change her mind. So, Jocelyn offers a nod, knowing that Naomi will give her life to protect her. No matter how bizarre that fact seems to Jocelyn, she has come to accept it. Protecting Jocelyn was Naomi’s own way of serving Jim Moriarty.As annoying as it is, Jocelyn knows she can benefit from Naomi’s strange yet immovable beliefs.
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Sherlock now sits in a private jet, with Jocelyn sitting across from him. He carefully watches Naomi prepare Jocelyn a drink, as if she was a stewardess. It seems that Jocelyn trusts Naomi, and it completely bewilders Sherlock.How can Jocelyn, someone who never trusts easily, seem to trust her own life to this assassin?Maybe Sherlock will never know what these two women went through during Jocelyn’s abduction and escape, but it does spark some curiosity in him. Something must have happened for Jocelyn to realize that Naomi is trustworthy.And Jocelyn being the new Moriarty can’t possibly be the only reason why Naomi acts as a servant to Jocelyn. And even more startlingly, Jocelyn allows it to happen.This whole situation is just bizarre to Sherlock. Five years ago, when he was just sitting in Baker Street with John and Jocelyn, he never thought he’d be flying to Sweden with the two of them, plus Moriarty’s devoted servant. All to visit a strange man that none of them has ever seen before.“So, this… Mortician guy. Does he have a name or…?” John asks Naomi while inspecting the expensive glass of wine that she handed to him.“Our school had a name for each of their student. My given name is Naomi. I don’t care enough about my name to change it, unlike the Mortician. And unlike your wife,” she gives John a glare, to which he returns. “I doubt he still goes by his old name, though,” she answers. “So, avoid addressing him directly, I guess. He tends to be annoying.”“You speak with familiarity when discussing him,” Sherlock begins. “Are you two close?”Naomi snorts. “Oh, God, no. Back when we were children, him and Nova were rivals. I was a year level lower because I was younger, but if I was at the same year level as they were, I’d easily outrank him.” Naomi mutters. “He is a careless idiot who doesn’t like to do things with his own hands. I still don’t see why they all follow him like some god.”John raises a brow at her. “Yeah, doesn’t sound familiar at all.”Naomi shoots him a look. “Don’t compare him to Moriarty. He had a true goal. The Danaviras may be skilled like me, but the Mortician is a joke. They don’t contribute anything useful to society.”“And Moriarty did?” John humorlessly smiles at Naomi.Naomi mirrors the mocking smile. “Moriarty’s plan transcends all your brain’s comprehension. Even if I explain his true goal, none of you will understand or believe me.”John nods, still mocking her. “Right, yeah. You keep telling yourself that. Let’s just all ignore the fact that Moriarty wasn’t batshit insane and just killed people to entertain himself.”Naomi’s smile never falters. “Once we find the keycode, the answer will be revealed to us all,” she side-eyes Jocelyn. “Which is why I implore Jocelyn to take Camille’s deal.”Jocelyn definitely forgot about that whole ordeal, and she sighs loudly while rolling her eyes. “Can we not focus on that right now, please?”“What’s so difficult in retrieving Jim Moriarty’s body and giving him a proper funeral?” Naomi asks without flinching.John seems surprised. You’d think that a devotee like Naomi would show some sort of remorse while talking about Moriarty’s corpse.“Exactly that! I’m not giving him a stupid funeral. No way.” Jocelyn looks disgusted. “After what he did to me? Fuck him, he’s not getting a funeral. Not while I’m still alive.”Sherlock cautiously looks at Naomi, observing her body language after those harsh words left Jocelyn’s mouth. However, to his surprise, Naomi only shrugs, looking back towards her book. “I’m only advising you, that’s the only way we can get the coordinates to Moriarty’s data system,” she mutters. “But your final word is your final word.”Sherlock narrows his eyes at Naomi. She barely even reacted to the way Jocelyn insulted James Moriarty’s actual corpse. Wasn’t Naomi completely loyal to Moriarty? Why is she so calm? It makes no sense to Sherlock.Jocelyn huffs. “Let’s stop talking about Jim, yeah? God, just thinking of him is giving me a headache.”Without even asking, Naomi reaches to her left to retrieve a bag. She places a pill inside a small cup and reaches it over to Jocelyn. Sherlock sees that it’s Tylenol, so he relaxes as Jocelyn takes the medicine. After a while, she relaxes and leans back in her chair. She sleeps after a few minutes, and Sherlock watches as Naomi takes a blanket from the bag she carried and drapes it over Jocelyn’s sleeping body.It seems that she was doing it absentmindedly, because when she meets Sherlock’s puzzled eyes, she pauses before letting out a scoff. “What are you looking at?”“You care about her.”“I don’t want her to die, if that’s what you mean.” Naomi opens her book again, sitting back next to Jocelyn.Sherlock frowns. “If I’m not mistaken, you believe that Moriarty’s spirit somehow reincarnated itself inside Jocelyn.” He even feels ridiculous saying it out loud, but it was the only way he can explain why Naomi seems nonchalant over Moriarty’s dead body.It was because his “soul” did not reside in it anymore.To Naomi, it seems that bodies are merely vessels. It explains why she practically worships the ground that Jocelyn walks on. She thinks that Jocelyn really is Moriarty, as insane as it sounds. It brings a chill down Sherlock’s spine. He did not like how Naomi sees Jocelyn as some sort of Moriarty reincarnation.This sort of belief unsettles Sherlock a bit, since Naomi does not seem the type to believe in silly spiritual things like this. If a person as calm, intelligent, rational, merciless and powerful as Naomi is capable of putting so much faith in this belief, who’s to say what else she is capable of?Naomi doesn’t bother meeting his eyes while she reads the book. “What’s it to you?”“She is not your Moriarty. She is Jocelyn Grant.” Sherlock lowly speaks, careful not to wake either Jocelyn or John with it. Naomi holds his gaze for a moment, and the two of them challenge one another to look away.Neither of them budged, and Naomi breaks out into a smile. The way her lips curl is almost disturbing. “You’re right, she isn’t Moriarty,” Naomi tells him before glancing at Jocelyn’s sleeping face with fascination. “She is… so much better.”He stares at her for a moment, but senses no ill intent her words. At least, not in a way that Sherlock believes Naomi will hurt Jocelyn. In fact, the more Sherlock thinks about it, Naomi might be one of the last people who would want to hurt Jocelyn.The situation gets stranger and stranger it seems. Sherlock can definitely see that Naomi would put Jocelyn’s life before hers. It’s… an odd type of loyalty. One he has never seen before.He still isn’t sure if it’s a good thing.They land in a remote landing zone, and Mycroft immediately calls them to check in. Sherlock reassures him that they are fine and Naomi leads them to a small town. After hours, they reach an area that seems to be owned by one of the richest people in the country. Sherlock, John and Jocelyn exchange glances while Naomi exasperatedly sighs at the view of the mansion from a distance.“We’re here.”John raises his brows. “Wow. Never would have guessed that. What, with all the creepiness of the area. This doesn’t look supervillain-y at all.”“Hiding in plain sight is the best option some criminals have.” Naomi rolls his eyes. “It still amazes me that Nova married you,” she says under her breath.“I heard that, you know.”“Good.” Naomi throws him a smile over her shoulder as they walk up.Sherlock frowns. “And we’re meant to just knock on the door?”“Relax, detective. Once he sees me, he won’t do anything.”All four of them walk up to the gate, and Naomi leans down towards the intercom with an obvious camera next to it.It emits a high-pitch noise for a second and Naomi scoffs. She says something in Korean, with a bored tone as well. After a few seconds, the gate opens. Naomi walks in without a problem, and the other follow behind while glancing around the seemingly empty yet well-groomed front yard.They reach the white front door, and Naomi turns to the others. “Alright. Make sure you have your objects. We’re not allowed to leave without them.”John reaches into his pocket, but frowns. “Why exactly do we need to do this?”Naomi’s lips twitch into a hidden smirk. “What do you give a man who already has everything?”Before any of them could answer the question, the front door opens and, to their surprise, a pile of tiny furry dogs come running outside to prance through the grass.Jocelyn sharply turns her head to follow them with her eyes, startled by the sudden appearance of the happy and excited dogs running and rolling around the front yard. Sherlock sees the way Naomi grimaces at the sight of dogs, scrunching her nose in disgust.Naomi walks inside the house without any fear on her face, it makes John wonder how insane she actually is. John practically gapes when Jocelyn just follows behind Naomi, and Sherlock follows Jocelyn. John almost groans out from how ridiculous this all seems, but enters the mansion as well.Everything was white, apart from the occasional gray accent of the interior design. The house briefly reminds John of Magnussen’s Appledore, but this house seems more cozy in a way. He never would have guessed this interior from the way the house looked from the outside.“We weren’t expecting guests today.”The four of them turn to follow whoever said those words, and they all tilt their head up to see a man from the second floor, looking down at them with a warm yet suspicious looking smile. They all watched as he calmly walks over towards the stairs to descend to their level.The man is Korean, like Naomi, and his hair is styled into an undercut. He wore a long-sleeved button-up white shirt and matching pants. His skin is pale, and his eyes are unsettlingly kind.“Certainly not Moriarty’s Guard Dog,” he glances at Naomi, who crosses her arms to show how unimpressed she is. He softly says something in Korean, to which Naomi immediately replies to in the same language, without changing her expression and bored tone. He only smiles in amusement.Jocelyn slightly leans towards Sherlock, whispering. “What did they say?”“He said it is nice to see her, and she told him to fuck a broken glass shard.” Sherlock mutters back, and Jocelyn widens her eyes. A cough escapes John’s throat.“Actually, it was plural. Glass shards,” the Mortician corrects with an amused smile, still staring at Naomi. “Charming as ever, Naomi. Never thought Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson would be visiting us one day. All while having tokens. Seems pretty serious,” and his eyes settle on Jocelyn. “And you’re Dr. Jocelyn Grant. The scientist that everyone has been fussing about,” he smiles, fascinated. “We heard that you made a poison, so deadly, it can kill a man while forcing him to need it to survive. Very impressive.”Jocelyn offers a smile, and before she could reply, Naomi cuts in. “Cut the nice guy act. You know why we’re here.”“Do we?” The Mortician offers a slightly surprised look, but it vanishes. “We weren’t even informed that you’d come here.”“They sent your people to prison. You knew they’d come for you.” Naomi deadpans. “Your people told them that I’m the only one who can find you.”“And we didn’t think you had any connections with them that you’d willingly take them here,” he replies nonchalantly, still maintaining a safe twenty-meter distance from them, his blank facial expression never betraying him. Although, his lips form a small smirk. “Was it that Irene Adler woman? We heard plenty rumors that you and her are involved.”Sherlock looks around the house. It doesn’t seem that anyone else is here, not even by the subtle hints of the object placements within the home. He is the only person who is physically here right now, so… why is he referring to himself as plural?Jocelyn steps forward. “Can you just cut the bullshit and we’ll go straight to the point here?” She says, and the Mortician is briefly astonished by her interjection. It looks like to him, out of all his guests, she seemed to be the least important. “Look, we didn’t come here to talk about how we got here. We’re going to talk about why.”The dark haired man looks towards Naomi, and he seems a bit confused as to why the most normal person in the room is speaking to him this way. Naomi isn’t even fazed, and he turns back to Jocelyn, this time, he begins to approach her.She stands her ground, though. Not even showing fear on her face. The Mortician is impressed by how she holds herself up, putting on a brave face. It amuses him a bit.Now, he stands in front of her, and Sherlock doesn’t make a move, training his eyes on Jocelyn and the blonde man. The Mortician slowly leans down, so he and Jocelyn could be at eye level. “And who do you think you are?”Now, it was her turn to smirk. “I happen to be the person you spoke to on the phone a few months ago. Don’t you remember?” She tilts her head, almost innocently, and the Mortician narrows his eyes as his smile fades a bit in puzzlement while slowly increasing the distance between their faces. Jocelyn’s smile grows. “I told you that if you even think about breaking our truce, I won’t be as merciful, and I would let Naomi make a decision for me… for once. I think we all know how she feels about you and your goons.”The Mortician is taken aback, and he looks into Jocelyn’s green eyes, seeing the way they darken at an instant. In such a familiar way.For some reason, it makes him falter and take a step back. The only person who can ever intimidate him was Naomi herself, not that he would ever admit it. But now, facing this new woman with a familiar air around her, a sudden cold feeling rushes down his spine. An emotion he doesn’t want to find out.He pieces things together, and straightens his back. “Interesting.” He takes a moment, analyzing her face before looking back at the others. “We’re beginning to understand what’s going on here.”“Do you?” Jocelyn furrows her brows, but in a way that tells the Mortician that she is only testing him. “Mr. Mortician?”He flashes him a calm smile. “Sylvor. That is our given name. You may call us that, Miss Moriarty,” he extends his hand for a handshake.She hesitates, but places her hand into his. “Just Jocelyn is fine. I thought you hate Moriarty.”“You are much too beautiful to look like the Moriarty who burned my home to ashes,” he chuckles, his warm hand curling around hers. He only looks amused before gesturing behind him so they would follow.Sherlock definitely doesn’t like him now, he has decided that the moment Sylvor laid eyes on Jocelyn.“Before we begin, we would like to ask all of you to turn in your weapons. we would rather for this meeting to go smoothly without any blood spilling on our floor. We generally keep the house clean.” The Mortician gestures towards a small basket, that should be holding children’s toys instead of weapons.Jocelyn looks at John, who sighs in annoyance as he surrenders his gun to the basket. Naomi takes more time to remove the weapons she has, sparing a few moments to give pointed looks at the Mortician, who tries his best not to look amused.Once she finishes, she hands the knife to Sylvor, and with a glare, she speaks something in their language, with an intimidating tone. Afterwards, Naomi walks back to her place next to Jocelyn.“What did she say?” Jocelyn mutters to Sherlock.Without tilting his head, Sherlock answers. “She said that he would be stupid to think that she won’t be able to kill him without those weapons. She has two hands.”“Oh.”Sylvor doesn’t seem concerned. “Have a seat. Now, straight to business. We’ll only consider listening to any of you if you give us something in return.” Sylvor sits on the sofa, reaching over the coffee table to retrieve some oranges and a… plastic knife to peel them. “Naomi can go first, so the rest of you will know how it works. We’re all children here,” he smirks, knowing that this will give Naomi some brief discomfort.And it does, since Naomi gives him a hard glare. “Just so you know, I’m not fond of your fetish for this show-and-tell bullshit.”“As you mentioned many times before,” Sylvor grins, looking back at Jocelyn to give an amused wink, almost making her smile. Seeing Naomi uncomfortable was rare indeed.Naomi clears her throat, reaching inside her pocket to take out a small golden ring.“Tell us about the ring, Naomi.” Sylvor pours salt into the wound, and Jocelyn is astonished by how Naomi’s annoyance level is being pushed to its limits. Maybe Sylvor isn’t bad at all, if he is able to annoy Naomi this much.In fact, this is the first time Jocelyn has ever seen Naomi embarrassed. In Naomi’s own way.“This is my wedding ring.”“Oh, come on. You can do better than that.” Sylvor snickers.“I will strangle you with my bare hands.” Naomi says with no emotion.“And your precious master won’t get what she came for,” he presses just the right button for Naomi, and Sherlock sees the brief anxious expression flash across Naomi’s face.She recollects herself, and raises her chin as a modicum of confidence. “This ring is a symbol of Irene Adler’s love for me. And vice versa. I keep it with me to remind myself that I am able to be loved by someone other than myself.”Jocelyn softens. She has never heard Naomi speak such words before, it amazes her. Sylvor looks pleased by her answer, still looking triumphant over how Naomi is subtly avoiding anyone’s gazes. “Dr. Watson, you’re next.”“Uh… right.” John shifts in his seat, reaching behind the sofa to grab the walking cane he brought with him. “Er… well, after serving the army, I had a psychosomatic limp for months. The absence of the rush made me feel weak and incomplete. When I met Sherlock, something just clicked, and I could walk without it. This cane reminds me of the time I found a purpose again,” he nods, still feeling a bit like a child talking about this.Naomi wasn’t wrong, it did feel like show-and-tell; only they’re all adults and it is a thousand times more humiliating.Sylvor seems fascinated by all the answers so far, though. As if this little exercise is bringing him enough information to understand each individual in his own way.“Your turn, Mr. Holmes.”Sherlock blinks, reaching up to his collar to unwrap the blue scarf from around his neck. He smooths his hands over the fabric. “This is the scarf my brother gave me when I was younger. For his first pay as a government official, his first purchase was have a scarf tailored specifically for me, along with the coat I wear now. I am never seen outside without it.”Simple and straight to the point. Sylvor seems to smile at that, taking a moment to pause before announcing again. “Miss Moriarty,” his tone is teasing as he watches Sherlock wrap his scarf back around himself.Jocelyn reaches into the pocket of her coat, holding up an old VCR tape. “This is the only copy of my mother’s final full performance as a ballerina, before her accident. The tape was given to me as a Christmas gift by Sherlock, after looking for it for ages. It’s important to me, because this was the last time I ever saw her happy.”Sylvor sighs in satisfaction, as if he soaked up their words like some sort of recreational drug, and Naomi observes him for a while. “Had your fill?”“What was the point of any of that?” Jocelyn mutters, and Sylvor chuckles.“To remind you all that to gain, you must lose.” Sylvor simply answers. “Before you all leave today, we will ask you all to surrender the objects you presented to us. The moment you step outside, those belong to us.”Jocelyn feels her chest tighten, looking down at the VCR she held.Sherlock frowns, suddenly regretting choosing the scarf. “But why?”Naomi scoffs. “Better not ask, or we’ll be here until morning.”Sylvor laughs. “You never lost your snark, Naomi. We’re grateful for that,” he grins. “And we can’t wait to add your wedding ring to our collection.”Naomi glares at him while John frowns with Sherlock. If Naomi knew what Sylvor wants from the objects, why would she choose something as important as her wedding ring?“Now that all of that is out of the way, we should tell you, everything you all brought today put us in a good mood. We might just say yes to anything you ask of us.”Naomi appears relieved to hear that, and it seems to answer the question John asked in his head. The reason why Naomi didn’t bother telling the rest of them that they would lose the object they brought, was that Sylvor will be able to see though their lies if they bring an unimportant object that they would be okay to lose.Jocelyn places the VCR on the table. “I want us to become allies. You want Moriarty’s network to stop existing. I do, too.”Sylvor raises a brow, surprised. “You? Moriarty wants to destroy her own network?” He doesn’t look like he believes her. “Inheriting such power for free… why throw it away?”“This power isn’t free. I have lost so much, ever since that bastard named me his heir.”“Hm…” Sylvor looks at Naomi, who doesn’t look phased by Jocelyn’s words. “And how do you plan on succeeding?”“Fire with fire. Getting rid of anyone who came to contact with it for ill intentions, until no one would dare to come into contact in the future. There will be no one left to trust. We need to make Moriarty look untrustworthy.”Sylvor doesn’t bother to mask how impressed he is. “Sabotaging your own network to prevent future clients. A smart move.”Jocelyn shrugs. “I can’t end it yet. Not until I find the keycode, which is why process is slow.”“Hm. Understandable. Loose ends are quite annoying. And where do we, the Danaviras, come in?”Jocelyn smiles. “Once my job is done and Moriarty’s network is gone, I’ll obviously no longer be Moriarty. But someone still needs to make sure that no one will dare to become a Moriarty again. I feel like you are very much fit for the job.”“You would trust us with such a task? Even after cutting your ties with us afterwards?”“The fact that she’s showing her face to you is a sign of our trust.” Sherlock states.Jocelyn nods. “All of us are taking a leap of faith today.”Sylvor looks interested, but nods towards Naomi. “Why not her? She’s worth a hundred of my people. There’s no doubt she can do this job alone, and way better than any of us will.”Naomi didn’t answer, and Jocelyn only offers a soft smile towards Sylvor. “I’m setting her free after all of this. I’m going to command her to stop serving me and live for herself.”Sylvor’s smile spreads wider, eyes glinting with interest as he analyzes Naomi’s face and body language. The discomfort on her face was painfully obvious.He looks back at Jocelyn with a smirk. “She doesn’t even like the thought of it.”Jocelyn looks towards Naomi with a concerned frown. “After we accomplish all my goals, there won’t be a reason for her to continue serving me like this. Right, Naomi?”Naomi doesn’t reply, and only keeps her eyes towards the floor. Sylvor snickers, leaning forward as if to whisper. “If you bother verbally agreeing with her, let us know first so we could call some cleaners. We like to keep the house clean and fresh.”Naomi had enough. Her eyes flash with anger as she reaches for her ankle, swiftly grabbing a hidden knife and throwing it towards him with a grunt. Practically with inhuman speed, Sylvor catches the knife’s blade with his fist, instantly cutting against his palm. Despite his bleeding, he had an amused smirk on his face, as if he was pleased by his brief joke over Naomi’s unusual vomiting condition.Jocelyn’s eyes are wide after flinching when Naomi threw the knife. Sherlock has a cautious expression on his face while John remains frozen right next to Naomi.Sylvor places the bloody knife on the coffee table, right next to the orange peels while he takes out his handkerchief to wipe the blood on his palm. Naomi is panting, but is trying her best to keep her breaths calm. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said that Sylvor annoyed her the most.“You proposition is tempting, Dr. Grant,” Sylvor speaks as though nothing happened. “But the only way we are going to say yes is if you free the ones you imprisoned. With no record of them ever setting foot in London.”“That can be arranged.” Sherlock answers. Thank God Lestrade is in love with Sherlock’s brother.“And…” Sylvor adds, looking at Jocelyn again. “If you give us your word that Mycroft Holmes, or anyone from your precious government, will never have authority over me or the Danaviras. We will function separately from the government. No one else will give us commands, except you. Are we clear?”Jocelyn furrows her brows. He would trust Jocelyn over a person who definitely knows how to handle something as big as the military, as well as intelligence agencies? It momentarily surprises Jocelyn, but she tries not to show it on her face.“You have my word.”Sylvor seems to relax with that, and he shows off his youthful smile before standing. He extends his hand over the table towards Jocelyn. “Then the Danaviras are by your side, until the end of Moriarty.”Jocelyn feels a wide spread of relief through her body, and she stands up with a smile. She takes his hand and shakes it with confidence. “Until the end.”Sylvor grins, and something tells Sherlock that he can be trusted. There was something about him that tells Sherlock something along the lines of ‘he has hated Moriarty long before Sherlock ever did’ and it brings him a sense of comfort.Although, none of them are sure why Sylvor would hate Moriarty for destroying the school that abused them, but maybe they’ll learn the answer one day.As they were preparing to leave, Sylvor watches the group from the door.“Say hello to Nova for us. We’re sure that woman missed us.” Sylvor smirks at the way John’s eyes briefly widen. His cool tone easily makes Jocelyn chuckle and Naomi further annoyed. “By the way, Naomi. Have we mentioned that she was also our favorite?” He calls out after them, raising his voice so he can still be heard by the group despite the growing the distance as they leave the mansion.Naomi shakes her head while walking away, not even bothering to look back. “I swear on my life, one day, I will be the one to rip out those irritating vocal cords,” she whispers to herself, but her three companions still heard.They leave Sylvor’s home, and as Jocelyn looks over her shoulder to give a final glance at the Mortician, she almost grins to herself upon seeing a seemingly dangerous man be surrounded by small puppies while having a happy smile on his face as he scratches their heads while cooing towards them.
Nocte Domum’s top students may be the weirdest people Jocelyn has ever met.
“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” Naomi holds back a groan, looking behind her.Things changed once Jocelyn feels droplets of water on her skin. She looks up, and the sky darkens. From a distance, she can see Sylvor squinting up at the sky with a frown as well before looking back at the group.They are all a long way from the city, and walked here to remain undetected. Walking under this rain wouldn’t be ideal, and even Sylvor knows that. So, he waves them back over.Jocelyn steps forward, but Naomi blocks her way with her arm. “No.”“But Naomi, we can’t—”“We’ll camp out here if we have to.” Naomi sends a glare back to Sylvor, who seems amused just standing at the entrance. He can’t hear what they were talking about, but he can tell from Naomi’s expression.Sherlock looks at John. “I agree with Naomi. Staying with… him, it doesn’t feel right.”“I’m not staying in a forest.” Jocelyn looks at Naomi. “And if he does try something, I got you, don’t I? Or are you doubting your own abilities?”John furrows his brows. “Jesus, Jocelyn. This isn’t about—”“Fine.”All three of them turn to Naomi, who crosses her arms, devoid of emotion. Sherlock blinks, and the rain grows stronger. “What?”“We’ll stay with him. And I will protect all of you.”John looks livid. “This isn’t the time for you to show-off.”“Familiar words, John.” Sherlock mutters, looking back at Naomi for a moment before he gives a nod.Naomi rolls her eyes before turning back around to lead the way back to Sylvor’s house. Once they were all at his doorstep again, Sylvor is beaming.“Didn’t expect you all to be back so soon.”Naomi says something in her language, with a sharp tone, pushing past him to go find a bathroom. Sylvor only smiles to himself, but makes no move of stopping her. Sylvor steps aside to let them all inside, a welcoming smile on his handsome face.John still thinks this is all rather ridiculous.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The rain lasts for the whole night, and Jocelyn can hear how loud it is from inside of her temporary room. She is freshly showered, and wearing plain white clothes.The Mortician’s house is clean… way too clean. Freakishly clean. When they stepped back inside after being wet from the rain, Jocelyn saw Sylvor immediately grab a mop and begin to clean the muddy trail they left behind. “Do you think he’s a clean freak?” Jocelyn asks as she sits on the bed.Naomi loudly sighs. “Always has been. Hates getting dirty.”“But he’s an assassin.”Naomi shrugs. “Sylvor is much more of a silent type. He avoids blood at any cost. It’s why he usually uses poison,” she pauses. “So don’t eat or drink anything he gives you. Not even if he consumes it first.”She leaves before Jocelyn could say anything else. Later that night, the rain is still pouring as Sylvor calls them to join him for dinner. On the table was a simple homecooked chicken and pasta, and Sylvor is casually pouring water into glasses.“We weren’t expecting guests to stay the night, so this is all we could offer for now.” Sylvor politely says with a smile. Naomi sits down at the end of the long table, stretching her feet up on it. “They’re not eating, horseface.”“If I wanted to poison any of you, I would’ve used the darts hidden in the walls.” Sylvor is still smiling, as if he didn’t just… threaten them? Was that even a threat? “Besides, it wouldn’t do me good if I break our alliance on the first day,” he tells them before going ahead with dinner.“He’s right.” John joins them, but is hesitant to eat. Although, once he tastes the food, he is pleasantly surprised how good it is. Sherlock glares at him briefly but takes his seat as well.Jocelyn takes a seat across from Sylvor, a bit uncomfortable from the way the man is staring at her. After dinner, they all prepared to sleep. Naomi didn’t have any plans to rest at all, even after insisting they all stay in one room. “We’re staying here for one night, and leaving first thing tomorrow. Get some rest, Miss.”Jocelyn nods at her and watches as Naomi stands quietly by the window, making sure everyone is alright.John sleeps on the sofa, while Sherlock is sitting on the floor with his eyes closed. He seems to be in his mind palace for now, so Jocelyn turns to Naomi. “I’m going to explore a little.”Naomi scoffs, but looks at Jocelyn’s serious expression. Unable to say no, Naomi sighs and opens the door for her to let her walk out. Jocelyn knows the risks, but she needs to find out if Sylvor is trustworthy. She isn’t about to trust someone who can hurt Sherlock at any time.The mansion is quiet and dark, but Jocelyn isn’t stupid enough to assume that Sylvor went to sleep. Not with Jocelyn and the others under his roof.As Jocelyn looks around the extremely neat house, she comes across a dimly lit room filled with strange objects placed inside a glass case on top of mini pillars. It was as if she walked inside a museum.She leans down, examining a hairpin inside the glass case. There was a printed label below it saying, ‘a widow’s final belonging.’“Curious, aren’t we?”She turns, seeing Sylvor approach her with one of his pet dogs in his arms. He carries the tiny brown furred puppy while stroking its head, and it makes him slightly less intimidating.He still has that oddly comforting little smile, which makes Jocelyn a bit on edge. He maintains his distance, out of respect.“What are these?”“Haven’t you guessed?” He walks over a pillar that cages nothing. “Tomorrow, that ballet tape you presented to me will be placed here.”Her eyes widen, looking around the room and seeing so many of them on display. Her lips part in surprise. “Why do you… what’s the purpose of all this?”“You can think of it as our trophy set,” he smiles while touching the glass. “Everyone who asked for our help, they’re required to give us something incredibly important to them. As payment.”
Help? As in… assassinating people?
“You don’t take money?”“Too meaningless. Easy to spend, easy to forget,” he mutters. “These, however… these are priceless artifacts. There is a story behind each one,” he has a nostalgic expression on his face. “Like this hairpin you were looking at. It was from a woman who asked us to eliminate the mob who killed her husband. The hairpin was the last thing she ever received from him.”Jocelyn frowns. “If it’s that important to her, then you shouldn’t have asked her to give it to you.”“Maybe,” he meets her eyes, amused. “But to gain, is to lose. To us at least, sentiment is currency.”Jocelyn looks around the area again. “All of this, they’re from clients?”“Most, yes. Some are just from people who wanted to talk to us in person. Sometimes, they just want to talk. Sometimes, they offer us something.” He chuckles. “We are just like you. Only a handful of people have seen our face as the Mortician. To others, we are only a normal man who prefers the company of their dogs over most.”Jocelyn knots her brows together. “Why do you talk like that? Is… someone else here? You keep referring to yourself as plural.”Sylvor blinks before letting out a surprised chuckle. “…I see. I have not noticed. Force of habit.”“Hm.” Jocelyn still finds that odd. “So, any interesting tokens you have here?”Sylvor lifts his shoulder to shrug. “Are you sure you should be apart from your boyfriend and bodyguard? I think the two of them would be worried that you’re alone with me,” there is a hint of a smirk on his face. Not a mischievous one. Rather a playful one. Jocelyn never imagined the Mortician to be like this in person.“I can handle myself.”Sylvor eyes her for a moment. “Sebastian and Silas Moran once visited me. Not face-to-face though. I covered my face with a cartoon mask while I spoke to them. Silas thought it was ridiculous.” He starts making his way to a corner, where two twin pillars stood.Jocelyn surveys them, seeing a necklace and a pair of glasses.Sylvor touches the glass, as if these items were precious and priceless. “Who knew that the Moran brothers could be so romantic?”As Jocelyn observes closer, it takes her a whole second to realize that the pair of glasses was the same one that “Laurie” left at Mrs. Hudson’s house. The thought makes her recoil a bit, and she steps back. Jocelyn definitely didn’t want Sylvor to see her face.Sylvor looks amused. “Oh, did you think that Sebastian Moran was purely acting?” He chuckles. “It appears that every man you meet falls in love with you. You know, if Mycroft Holmes wasn’t g—”“The necklace. Whose is it?” She cuts him off, not wanting to hear any of that. Even though she already knows the answer to her own question.Sylvor was compliant though. “Belongs to a Camille Lavalle. Funny story, Silas actually gave me something meaningless at first. I think it was… a watch or something. To trick me. But I can tell if something has sentimental value or not. He gave me this necklace instead.”Well, at least that explains why Naomi was so insistent about what they bring. Jocelyn stares at the necklace, seeing the label that reads, ‘a present never presented.’She briefly glances at the wine’s label, which said, ‘won’t be remembered by the giver. but means the world to the given.’“Why did they come to meet you?”“Obvious. They wanted someone killed.”“Who?”He grins. “Sherlock Holmes.”Jocelyn’s eyes falter. “Well, seeing how he’s still alive, I take it that you refused.”“Yes. Sherlock Holmes was too important.” Sylvor nods.“Why did you say no?”“Because Sherlock Holmes was there to keep Moriarty preoccupied,” Sylvor sighs. “As long as there was Sherlock Holmes, Moriarty was distracted. Too interested in their games. The little feud they had. And if Moriarty was distracted, the Danaviras were free to operate without worrying about Moriarty ‘s interference. Sherlock Holmes being alive was to our advantage.” Jocelyn felt a little sick. Just listening to them speak about Sherlock as if he was some sort of object or toy for Moriarty to keep himself entertained with… it was sickening. She doesn’t show it on her face, but she wanted to throw up. Everyone in this side of her life was insane.“I see,” she calmly replies, as if what he said was an acceptable answer.“And I surmised that one day, Moriarty will put everything on the line, and die for his idiocy.” Sylvor monotonously said. “I told him that pursuing Sherlock Holmes will lead to his death. Not to warn him, but to encourage him. Make no mistake, Jocelyn. I may be kind to you, but Jim Moriarty deserved to die. His death was long overdue.”Jocelyn blinks. “You told him? You and Jim Moriarty met?”“Ah, I thought that would interest you. Not even Naomi knew.” Sylvor smirks, walking towards another pillar displaying a… plain white teacup. Sylvor grins proudly.Jocelyn looks at him before staring at the plain boring cup, scrunching her nose. “This is…”“Not what you expected from Moriarty?” He chuckles. “All of us place sentimentality on different things.”“I thought you hated him.”Sylvor hums. “Just because I bore hatred for him, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his occasional intelligence,” he sighs. “In a different world, Jim Moriarty and I could have been allies. Two sides of the same coin. Had he not burnt my home, and left me with nothing.”That makes sense. Jocelyn looks for the label, and yet, there isn’t one. “What’s the story behind this one?”Sylvor chuckles. “Well, that story isn’t free. I’d want something in return.”“And that is?”“Go back to your room and sleep. Your friends get worried.” Sylvor looks amused as he pets the pliant dog in his arms.Perhaps he won’t tell her the story. Not yet, at least. It is worth the wait. “I must ask you something, though,” he starts. “Why are you doing this?” Sylvor gives a curious expression. “You are risking everything you have in life. Your family, career, reputation, even your own child has died in the process,” his voice is soft, and yet she flinches at the mention of her stillborn baby. “You’ve sacrificed so much just to destroy Moriarty’s network. The whole empire he built on his own. Why?”Jocelyn is speechless. She never realized that she has gone through many lengths just to get rid of Moriarty’s work. Now that he pointed it out, she asks herself the same question.“Because if I don’t act now, someone else will have this burden,” she whispers, mostly to herself but he hears nonetheless. “No one else could have done this, and no one else would’ve come this far.”Sylvor watches her, and a glint of satisfaction appears in his eyes. As if he was not expecting such an answer, but felt like it was the best possible answer she could give.“And what will you do once this is over?”Jocelyn shrugs. “Go back to my old life?”Sylvor snorts, giving her a look as if to tell her to answer him seriously. She sighs, shaking her head.“I don’t know. As twisted as it is, all this work… the keycode, the network; it gives me something to do. Something to look forward to…” she admits. “After that, I don’t know what else to live for.”“You have Sherlock Holmes.”Does she? Does she have him? Jocelyn doesn’t answer, and Sylvor just chuckles.“Hm. Then you should find something else to look forward to after you’ve taken down the biggest criminal network in the world.” He looks amused. “Honestly, I could offer you to come work for me as a consultant.”She eyes him with suspicion, glancing down at the dog nuzzling into his chest. She reaches over to scratch behind its ear, much to his delight. Going by the wagging of its tail.Sylvor smiles at the puppy. “I think he likes you.”“Why do you have so many dogs?” Jocelyn counted around fifteen, but it was hard to tell considering how energetic they all seem to be. You’d think that a man like the Mortician would get intimidating dogs, not Pomeranians who would whine needily at every affectionate touch.“I love dogs.” He simply says as if it was obvious, and Jocelyn raises a brow at him. A mischievous smile appears on his face, leaning down as if he was telling her a secret. “And Naomi is allergic.”The admission makes Jocelyn let out a surprised noise, which was half a snort and half a gasp. Sylvor laughs, and Jocelyn finds herself unable not to mirror him. It was one of those moments where Jocelyn somehow forgets for a brief time that there are invisible shackles around her wrist and ankles.***They get home the next day, and during the flight home, Jocelyn retells everything Sylvor said to her inside that little museum. Sherlock and John listened attentively while Naomi had a grim expression on her face.Upon hearing that Jim and Sylvor had met before, without Naomi’s knowledge, it brought a wedge to Naomi’s heart. She wonders what else Jim kept from her, and whether Jim ever trusted her to begin with. It was a harsh blow to Naomi’s self confidence, as much as she didn’t let it show on the plane ride home. Naomi stays silent the entire way back to London.Jocelyn is exhausted as she plops down the sofa in her home. Naomi leaves once she is sure that Jocelyn is safe. John heads to Mycroft in Sherlock’s stead, ready to report everything back to him. Sherlock is speaking into his phone, probably to talk to Lestrade about the Danaviras they have in custody, as per Sylvor’s request.Once he finishes the phone call, Jocelyn groans from where she is lying. “I can’t believe I don’t have the tape of my mother’s performance anymore.”When she said that, Sherlock’s hand creeps up to his neck, feeling the absence of the familiar scarf around it. A frown takes over him and he sighs. “To gain is to lose.”Sherlock noticed the look on Naomi’s face on the way home. Naomi found it difficult that Moriarty, someone she treated like her god… would ever lie to her like that. Sherlock found it rather pathetic how Naomi believed someone like Moriarty is incapable of lying.That woman has too much faith in that wretched man.“Do you trust Naomi?”She glances at him curiously. “Why do you ask that?”“Just answer me, Jocelyn. Do you trust her?”She sees the way he is looking at her, as if he hung by every word he says. “If you’re worried about her betraying me, I’m not stupid enough not to have a backup plan if that ever happens.”“That’s not what I asked.”“I don’t know why you’re asking—”“Do you trust that she will not turn on you?” He asks forcefully, and she stares with wide eyes. “I have no issue with her acting like a loyal killing machine for you, but if she ever turns on you, none of us can stand a chance against her. You understand that, right?”“Why are you saying this?”“Did you not hear what the Moritician said? Naomi is worth ten of them. And she can even handle the job on her own. The job you’re giving to hundreds of people.” Sherlock points out. “I may not like her company, but I think she can be our greatest asset if she’s one of us, or our worst enemy if she is against us.”Jocelyn softens, crossing her arms. “Naomi is one of us. She’s loyal to me. This will sound insane, but she…”“She thinks Moriarty’s soul is in you.”She looks surprised. “How did you know that?”“She admitted it to me.”Jocelyn avoids his eyes. “I know how it sounds, but her views are to our advantage. As long as she thinks Moriarty is… part of me, she will stay loyal and do as I say without question. We can use that,” she steps forward. “She is willing to help me destroy the very thing that Jim Moriarty built. That’s how loyal she is to me. I point, she follows. And after all of this is resolved, I set her free and we can live in peace.”“Sylvor said that Naomi doesn’t want to be set free.” “She’s still not sure of the concept of freedom,” she murmurs. “All her life, all she has known is to follow someone else. She’s never lived for herself, Sherlock. If I can do all of this shit on my own, I would’ve set her free a long time ago,” Jocelyn sternly says. “But I can’t do this by myself, which is why I allow Naomi to assist me.”Sherlock clenches his jaw. “And what if she doesn’t want to be set free after all of this?”Jocelyn isn’t sure how to answer, and she just stays quiet. Sherlock nods, stressfully removing his coat and sitting on his own chair to think. She follows her with his eyes and sighs. “Then I will send her on her final mission.”“Which is?”“Get rid of the last remaining trace of Moriarty’s network.”Their gazes lock, and it sinks to Sherlock what Jocelyn means.“I’ll trust your decision, Jocelyn.” Sherlock says after a while. “Do what you need to do to protect your family. And if you need to become the devil to do it, I’ll remain as a faithful disciple to you.”“You always like making things sound dramatic, do you?” Jocelyn forms a hesitant smile, which Sherlock mirrors.“Considering our extremely odd situation, being dramatic isn’t the worst thing I can do,” he tells her, and she hums. “Get some rest.”Jocelyn nods, feeling a bit tired anyway so she makes her way to the kitchen. Although, she stops in her tracks once she hears a soft repetitive buzzing noise. Jocelyn frowns, not moving so she could hear the sound better, and looks around the kitchen. She turns to look at Sherlock, who doesn’t seem to notice as he goes to the fireplace to check his mail.Then, there is a rapid beeping, and Jocelyn’s heart drops as she immediately runs to Sherlock while yelling his name, and a loud explosion sends them flying towards the ground. The last thing Jocelyn hears are the glass windows shattering from the impact before her vision goes dark.***When Jocelyn regains consciousness, her first thought wasn’t of her injuries, but it was of Sherlock’s. She tries to sit up, but a hand is placed on her shoulder to push her back down on the bed.“Hold still. I need to finish your stitches.”Naomi’s familiar voice fills Jocelyn’s ears. “What… where’s Sherlock?”“He’s fine. Dr. Watson took him to the hospital. Scotland Yard’s at Baker Street now. Don’t worry about Sherlock. He’s alive.”Jocelyn’s breath grows heavy. “Why aren’t I… why am I not at the hospital?”“Mycroft Holmes contacted me. He said I should separate you from Sherlock,” she says, and Jocelyn can hear her use the scissors while finishing with stitching Jocelyn up. “The bomb injured around fourteen people. But no deaths. Thankfully, your landlady wasn’t home.”“W-Who placed the bomb?”Naomi visibly winces. “You’re not going to like this…”“Naomi… what the hell has happened?” Jocelyn’s voice lowers an octave as she tries to stare at Naomi through a muddled head.The assassin averts her eyes for a moment before looking back at Jocelyn. “It’s Sebastian. He escaped.”