Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nov 30, 11pm

I don’t know why I’m doing this.

You’re dead.

You’re dead, and I know this.

I checked your pulse, I saw the blood.

I saw you. After. 

I can’t even type it.

You could have come to me, you know?

You didn’t have to do that.

Nov 31, 8am

Shit, I’m so sorry.

Somebody else probably has this number now, since the messages have been delivered.

Just let me know, alright?

Dec 5, 1am

Nobody responded, so I’m just going to assume Mycroft left your number active.

Out of- Sentimentality, I guess.

I think he misses you, too. 

God knows I do.

Chapter Text

Dec 7, 8pm

You could have talked to me.

I know it was hard, with the news, and Moriarty, and everything.

But it would have gotten better. I know it would have.

We would've gotten through it. 

Dec 8, 9pm

Today was exhausting. It was my first day back at the surgery, and this nurse, Mary, I think she said, asked me to dinner.

I said no.

It would’ve felt like a betrayal to you.

As in, allowing myself to go out, to function, as if I could still come home to you. Why should I allow myself to be happy when you’re gone?

Dec 9, 5pm

I miss you. 

The milk is full.

Dec 10, 8am

This probably isn’t healthy. Not at all.

Did you know, Sherlock, that I talk to you more than any living soul?

Sitting here, on my phone, as if you’re alive.

As if you might reply.

You won’t though.

Never again.

Dec 10, 11pm

I’ve got mysel f hammered on scotch.

Why di you do this?
I needed you

I’ll never hear your voice aagain

Or clean out t he frige drawrers of organs.

Youre gone.

Dec 11, 11 am

God, sorry about that.

Sorry.

Dec 12, 2 am

I don’t know why I still text you as if you’re alive.

I don’t really know why I do anything, anymore.

Dec 12, 6 pm

Anderson came into the surgery today.

Broken wrist.

You’d be happy to hear about that.

He fell off of a building.

Dec 13, 11pm

He thinks you’re still alive.

If you were, you’d tell me.

Right?

Dec 14, 2am

I don’t know why I’m letting myself hope.

Just- If you are

Send something

Anything.

Please.

Dec 15, 10 am

I can’t do this anymore.

Texting you, as if you’re alive.

I’m just giving myself false hope.

Dec 19, 8pm

Hi.

I’m back, I guess.

I miss you.

I keep hearing all these Christmas songs.

Everybody is so happy, so cheery.

The flat feels empty.

I should probably move out.

Dec 23, 5pm

I don’t think I can bear to go through Christmas without you.

You became my whole life, you know?

Well, you don’t know. You won’t.

Dec 23, 9pm

I keep my gun in my bedside drawer. 

I’m holding it right now. I can feel the barrel against my lips.

I think I understand a little better, now, why you jumped.

I don’t want to live, Sherlock.

I don’t want to live in a world without you in it.

This is MY note.

I love you.

Chapter Text

Don’t you fucking dare!

Don’t do it, John.

I didn’t want to jump.

It was only so you could survive.

Please.

JOHN!

Sherlock?

Yes, Yeah.

It’s me.

You’re alive.

Yeah, I am.

What do you mean?

How?

How do I know this is you?

Moriarty had a sniper on you.

He would’ve killed you, If I hadn’t jumped.

My homeless network set out a mat, and the gunman saw my body past the window.

I wanted to come back.

I’ve wanted to every single day.

But his network still exists. If they learn I’m still alive, they’ll kill you.

Is it really you?

The first deduction you saw was ‘Afghanistan or Iraq’

Multiple people saw that.

The main thing we fight about is the state of the organ drawer in the refrigerator.

You couldn’t have told me?

One word.

One word would have been enough.

I know. I’m sorry.

They know me well enough to worry.

They have eyes on you. If you knew I was alive, they would notice.

I wanted to respond, please believe me.

And now?

I was trying to keep you safe, by jumping.

Trying to keep you from getting killed.

But there’s no point to that, is there?

Not if you’re going to kill yourself first.

Thank you. 

God,

I just.

I know.

I’m sorry, I should’ve figured something else out.

But I couldn’t.

This was supposed to be the safest.

It’s alright.

I’m probably processing everything wrong right now.

But I think I understand.

Thank you.

We can’t keep texting, though.

It’s not safe.

Alright.

As long as you’re alive.

You’re gonna have to keep acting as if I’m dead.

They’ll notice otherwise. 

I can do that. 

I’ll come back as soon as it’s safe.

I love you.

Can I keep texting you, just, like, as I had been?

…

I’m gonna take that as a yes.

I love you too, by the way.

Chapter Text

Dec 24, 8 am

Morning.

Christmas Eve!

When you were a kid, did you open presents on Christmas or the eve?

I always opened them on Christmas morning.

Dec 24, 7pm

Molly dropped off a rum cake for me. 

It was very difficult to pretend I wasn’t ecstatic.

I’ve practically been skipping about the flat all day.

I’m still mad at you, mind you. 

But yeah.

You’re alive.

Dec 24, 11pm

My dear Sherlock,

I have a very difficult decision to make.

Where shall I spend my Christmas?

I have a fair number of pending offers, 

But not too long ago I was fairly intent to sulk around the flat

As a dead body, mind you.

Probably a bit too soon for that, but it should be my decision anyway.

Back to Christmas plans!

Option 1: Pints with Lestrade

Pros: I haven’t done much with him for a while.

Cons: It will be depressing and most pubs will be closed.

Option 2: Whatever Mycroft wanted me to do

Pros: He’s probably going to feed me something abhorrently expensive and also give me alcohol so I won’t get mad at him for being annoying.

Cons: He’ll realize I know about you almost immediately and he also scares me.

Option 3: Spent it with Harry and Clara

Pros: She’s my sister and she’s rich

Cons: She and Clara are either going to fight or make out in front of me.

Option 4: Learn to knit with Ms. Hudson

Pros: I can stay here and I’ve been wanting a new jumper.

Cons: I don’t have a gift for her.

I think there’s a clear choice here, yeah?
I better be quick finding a gift.

Dec 25, 6am

I found something!

I was in a right panic about a present, you know.

It’s a book about how to best pull off a kidnapping that I found under the couch.

It’s brand new, and I just have some sort of feeling that it’ll come useful to her.

If it will, though, maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging those habits.

Dec 25, 8am

Merry Christmas!!

I nearly forgot to wish you!

Remember to eat something.

Dec 25, 11am

I forgot that you were supposed to be dead, in a way.

To pretend that you are makes it all come back.

How desperate I felt. 

Just remembering the jump does that.

In my memories it’s real, and only now do I know that it wasn’t.

Dec 25, 5pm

Hudders is teaching me how to knit. 

It’s a bit slow going. 

She gave me some yarn, and I’ve got a tube going.

It’s supposed to be the torso of my new jumper.

Purple, to match that damn button down of yours.

Dec 25, 6pm

The tube is now five inches long and my hands hurt.

Very much. 

I am in pain.

It feels odd to be dramatic.

That’s your job.

Anyway, Ms. Hudson is now force feeding me pie and trying to subtly offer condolences.

I’m trying not to talk about it; I don’t really want to think about it.

Dec 25, 9pm

You’re ‘dead’, but now that I know you’re alive, I can’t really help but worry.

What must you be doing without me?

Probably all sorts of things.

Skipping meals, cocaine, murder.

Heaven knows I spent half my time keeping you alive.

Without Ms. Hudson, you probably would’ve drowned looking for a pirate ship a decade before I met you.

Dec 25, 11pm

Goodnight.

Let me know when you’re coming home, and I’ll get you a late Christmas present.

Chapter Text

Dec 26, 12pm

Ms. Hudson got me drunk while we were knitting and now I feel as if I may perish.

Woe am I, Sherlock.

Woe am I.

Dec 26, 3pm

My hangover should not still be here.

And yet, as has already been made clear on many occasions, the universe is inexplicably at odds with the tolerability of my very existence.

It is England, here. It is rainy and miserable.

 So, of course, every light seems blinding and I feel like my skull has been split by an axe.

Dec 26, 9pm

I ate some Indian food, and now feel considerably better.

Remember to eat something yourself, alright?

Dec 27, 12pm

That nurse, Mary, asked me out again.

I think I’ll say yes.

Dec 27, 8pm

I miss you so much.

I ended up going on the date, and the whole time I was waiting for you to burst in in a jealous huff about someone other than you taking up my time. 

I never minded as much as I put on.

You were right, most of the time.

You’re undoubtedly more interesting than most of those girls were, and heaven knows I’d rather be in some insane gun fight with you than sipping a bad coffee that cost half a fortune.

Dec 28, 10am

Doubling down, I miss you.

I have nothing, I and I mean nothing, to do.

I was never bored, before, and then you came along, and I got addicted.

And after, just after, the grief kept me occupied. I was stuck in it, unable to want for activity.

Now, though, I am bored.

I’m going to make a deduction.

Dec 29, 12 pm

I should have tried to do this sooner. I'm really bad at it.

You know this.

I’m in a cafe right now, since people are usually there, sitting still, for a fair while.

I’ve deduced one person so far. 

He went to college in America.

(College hoodie but he looks old, meaning graduate, Backwards cap, meaning American.)

Recently divorced from his husband of five years, who he relied on for money.

Pale skin around ring finger: Divorce

 Flirted with male barista: Not straight

Changed last name on Resume: He probably wouldn’t have changed his last name in the first place unless he had a husband.

Five year gap on resume: He didn’t have to work

That took me half an hour, but I’m pretty happy with myself.

Dec 29, 1pm

Damn, this is fun.

I definitely should have tried this sooner.

New Subject: Jessica

Name found by a “My Name is’ Sticker

Finished an unpleasant interview at a paleontology museum, which included either some sort of sexism or sexual harassment. She decided not to take the job

Found by observing her throwing papers onto her table, which included fossil diagrams. The museum is a block away, so she’d obviously been there. The interview probably involved talking to

museum goers, given her name tag sticker. She keeps muttering about ‘Damn men,’, ‘Think I’m stupid, not just a damn secretary.’ and ‘A doctorate, Doctorate! Unlike the ‘professor’ who was

hiring.’

I’m beginning to believe most of my deductions involve rather impolite eavesdropping.

Then again, why deduce when they’ll tell you themselves.

Dec 29, 2pm

Make sure to drink water.

Come home soon.

Chapter Text

Dec 30,  10am

I miss you shouting at the telly. My tube is now two feet long, and I’m going to crochet my jumper instead of knitting it.

When you come back, I’ll give it to you-

It will be at least  six feet long by then, obviously.

I’ll put a hole at the top, to poke your head through, but sew shut the bottom so you'll walk around like an inchworm.

You always liked to wrap yourself up in things.

Anyway! You can wear it to Buckingham palace and steal me another ashtray.

It’s not a bedsheet, but I think you’d prefer it to a tuxedo.

Dec 30, 4pm

Ms.  Hudson has taught me to crochet. I made a sphere.

Do you like bees?

Yes.

Of course that’s what gets you to respond. 

I thought so.

I assume that was a great risk you took just then?

…

Of  course it was.

I’ll turn my sphere into a bee for you.

You can have it when you get back.

It will be named Albert.

He is your son.

I’ll write up a birth certificate.

Dec 30, 5pm

Image: [Grainy photo of a piece of paper, which reads, “Runaway Mother: Sir Sher Lock, Devastatingly Handsome Father: Captain John Hamish Watson,

Grandmother acquired by Knitting Advice: Ms. Hudson, Godmother: Molly Hooper, Godfather: GREG Lestrade, Person who Pays Child Support: Mycroft Holmes,

Baby’s Name: Albert        ]

Sherlock, I know you can’t be bothered to be here to support your son, but he needs a last name. 

These are my suggestions:

The Butler

Blablert

Smith

Is A Bee

There’s a couple of others too.

Dec 31, 9am

Now you can’t be bothered to reply.

Jan 1, 6am

Sherlock?

Why is Mycroft at my door?

I’m being bodily shoved into a car by Anthea-

She’s strong. Surprisingly so.

And she’s back on her phone again.

What’s going on?

Chapter Text

Jan1, 9am: New Contact [Idiot Flatmate ]

Mycroft told me this number is secure?

Yeah. He had a bit of a fit when I replied to your bee question.

Apparently I can’t be trusted with my own life.

Oh. Wow. I never would have guessed. Like ever.

Ha, Ha. 

Anyway, I’ve got a couple of things to tell you.

I open presents on Christmas Eve; I’m impatient.

Molly knows, she helped me fake it, so you don’t have to pretend I’m dead near her.

You made the right decision staying with Ms. Hudson for Christmas, but I had been meaning to give her that book as a present. You’re a heathen and a thief.

Good going on your tube, by the way. I will gladly take that as a late Christmas present.

And, since you’re worried: Yes, I have been skipping meals, but your reminders have been helpful. I haven’t been doing cocaine without you here, and all murder I have committed was  justified.

By the way, hangovers really bring out your poetic side.

More importantly, I’m very glad to finally see you admit that your favorite part of those absurd dates you go on is me interrupting them.

Not to forget your deductions though. Very impressive, especially your first one, though you are absolutely right about the eavesdropping aspect. 

And lastly, I am beyond excited to meet my son. What about Walmes for a last name?

How’d you write that all so fast?

I had it in advance and pasted it in.

Ahh. Good on you.

By the way, ‘Walmes’ is an awful name.
Utterly atrocious.

Holson?

…Better

If only by comparison.

What about Watson-Holmes?

No… Too much of a mouthful

Ooh! 

Blasphemous Cockroach!

Say what now?

His initials will be ABC

Albert the Blasphemous Cockroach

He’s a bee.

It’s a false title, so he can go undercover in the dangerous Cockroach Court.

What’s so awful about them?

They didn’t arrest his meddling brother for treason against the crown.

Is this a little bit of self insert?
It must be; Albert is our first child.

…

No.

Ok, ok, fine.

Totally not a self insert.

But back to last names.

What about Blablert?
It starts with a B, so the initials will be in alphabetical order.

And the final third name?

It has to start with a C, obviously.

Uhmm.

Cyanide?

I love it.

You have had a stroke of genius.

Thanks!

Albert Blablert Cyanide.

Chapter Text

Jan 2, 10 am

Morning.

How’s it going with taking down the network?

Censored truth or no?

Uh.

No?

I killed an American Senator who was responsible for encouraging Moriarty to do what he did at the pool.

Oh.

You mean strapping the bombs to me specifically?

Or something else?

Strapping it to you.

Of course it was about you, John.

Oh. Thank you, Sherlock.

That means quite a bit.

Well.

I probably wouldn’t have bothered if it wasn’t for him threatening you.

It’s not like I have some moral compass, or something.

What did Mycroft say?

When you wanted to fake your death, I mean.

He told me that affection was a weakness and gave me more resources than I thought I’d ever have.

Wow. 

I expected a bit more disdain, to be honest.

As did I.

He likes you, though.

Jan 3, 2am.

Hi, Sherlock.

Earlier, today, I didn’t properly say thank you.

Because you have been putting yourself in danger,

Putting your own life on the line to save mine.

And I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with that.

I can’t bear the thought of you in danger, 

Especially if it’s partially because of me.

I want to protect you too, y’know?

But I know that you know what you’re doing,

And that it’s your decision.

So I just want you to know how much this means to me.

Because I would choose you over anything.

And to see that you would choose me-

Yeah.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

Chapter Text

Jan 3, 4pm

Sherlock?

Jan 3, 7pm

What I said– 

Was it too much?

Jan 4, 4am

Are you okay?

I’m going to call Mycroft.

Jan 4, 4:15 pm

Sorry

Was captured

Oh my god!

Are you okay?

What happened?

Are you safe now?

Safe, yes

Injured hand

Oh my gosh.

Don’t text me back if your hand is hurt, then.

To answer later, though–

What happened, has your identity been uncovered, are you actually safe?

Do you know how long it’s going to take for it to heal?

Call?

I’d love to, but is it safe?

[Incoming Call from: Sherlock xx]

“Oh- um. Hi!”

“Hullo, John.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“If- If you’re fine talking about it- What happened?”

“Was infiltrating a religion based political organization related to that American diplomat. Really, it’s a cult at this point. Anyway, the leader accused me of homosexuality, and they attempted to break some of my fingers for my ‘sins’. They failed, but it still hurts.”

“Oh- Oh my god. That’s awful! I couldn’t imagine- You’re really okay, like, apart from the injuries?

“Yeah, yes, John. I’m perfectly alright. Promise.

“Okay. Okay, alright. Why did they think that you were gay?”

“There was a woman there. Her husband - Devin, or something- He’s been having ‘impure thoughts’.”

“About you?”

“Yeah, about me. According to him, I’ve got a voice like velvet and legs like lucifer.”

“Like lucifer?”

“Yup. You know, lust this, temptation that. If you consider the specific alteration of Christian theology that this cult adapted, it doesn’t even take a moron to realize that Lucifer is meant to be temptation embodied, in all forms of the word.”

“You have got nice legs.”

“...Thank you.”

“Course. The story?”

“Oh, yes! The wife was infuriated, wanted me kicked out, and went through my phone- By force, mind you, I wouldn’t have a guessable password.”

“Of course not.”

“Anyway! She snatched it while I was using it and saw our texts. It doesn’t help that I also told her what her husband was actually doing with the priest.”

“The priest? Damn!”

“I know!”

“Wait- Our texts? What about how we text?”

“I love you, John.”

“Love you too, Sher. Our texts?”

“... John, you cannot be serious.”

“Wha- Oh. Ohhhhhhhh.”

“Sure took you a minute.”

“Wouldn’t she have seen the stuff about murdering the diplomat?”

“Well. See- I was reading through our old messages. I also deleted all the information about murder's I've committed, just in case, you know. But mostly, I just missed you. ”

“It was probably a good idea, deleting that. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I didn’t really know how to respond to the last messages you’d sent me. I wanted to- It really means a lot- but. I didn't know what- I’m bad with this type of thing, you know that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright, you replied just now. How’d you get your phone back?”

“Snatched it. Nobody ever bothered to check if she was actually telling the truth, so I kept it .”

“That’s nice, then.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not still staying there, are you?”

“No. Devin leads a minor part of Moriarty’s network and he was my target. He’s no longer accepted at the Church, and so I won’t need to go back. I don’t suspect any trouble surrounding him.”

“Where are you?”

“Camping.”

“Camping?! You’re hurt! There’s no way that’s safe!”

“Well, camping adjacent. I’m staying at one of Mycroft’s safe houses hidden in Utah. It’s basically carved into a hunk of rock, and is so bare that I might as well be camping.”

“What’s it like there?”

“Fairly nice actually. I’m sitting by the entrance right now, and I can see so many stars. London’s always cloudy, and the cities are so bright in the States. But the safe house is in the middle of nowhere, and the only lights I can see are the stars and a car every couple hours or so on a backroad three or four miles from here.”

“That sounds really beautiful.”

“It is. Yeah, it is.”

[Yawn]

“Tired?”

“Yeah, a bit. Was very worried. It’s nearly morning here.”

“Mm.”

“You want me to hang up?”

“No.”

“I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“That’s alright. Do you want me to tell you more about Utah?”

“Ye- Yeah. That would be nice.”

“Well, there’s a pack of coyotes about a mile off. I can hear them howling every so often. Their territory stretches a bit more than most packs. They last caught prey…”

[Call Duration: 4:45:32]

Chapter Text

Jan 5, 11am

Thanks for letting me stay on the call yesterday.

 It was really nice to hear your voice again. I’ve missed you, obviously.

I missed being able to talk to you like that, as well. Did you sleep well?

Yes, quite a bit better than usual, actually.

How is Albert doing?

He’s doing well. 

Ms. Hudson made him a hat.

Has Mycroft been paying his child support?

Not at all :(

He’s such a horrible uncle. 

I’m glad you agree. 

I’ll send him a sternly worded message at my earliest convenience.

Do you think there’s any actual chance he’ll actually pay up?

No. 

Either way, how much should we ask for?

Well, we can’t sum this as we might if Albert was a typical child. He’s mine, and therefore automatically extraordinary. 

I'm the one who MADE him.  You are an absent parent as well, only speaking with him once a week.

It’s because I’m busy texting you. 

Anyway, he doesn’t have a phone, so I speak with him less than that.

Either way, that’s how the patriarchy works. The one who made the child is OBVIOUSLY less important.

Yeah, yeah. How much money for child support?

Well, what does he need?

So far? A playpen, a backpack for school, some new outfits, and a hexagon.

A hexagon?

Yeah, for his bedroom.

You can’t be telling me you’re not going to let him have his own bedroom?

That’s not how bees work.

That’s incorrect.

I can’t be bothered.

Glad to hear it.

Anything else?

Well, Cyanide, obviously.

He has to learn his namesake.

Well thought, well thought.

How much would that total to?

Well, a small sample of potassium cyanide should be about fifty quid.

The outfits should be around ten.

And the backpack for school…

The backpack?

You can’t be thinking of sending him to public school, can you?

Well, yes, that is what I had been thinking of.

Unacceptable. The backpack will cost forty, and school is probably around four hundred a month.

That’s quite an expense. 

Mycroft is rich, that’s why he’s paying child support.

Why don’t we just ask him for five thousand a month and keep the extra?

Again, my dear John, a stroke of genius. 

Why don’t you do this when I’m there?

I’m trying to convince you to come home. Once you’re home, you can do the thinking.

 I will sit around with a cup of tea and take a break from worrying about your state of being alive.

Fair, fair.

I’ll message Mycroft.

Go do that.

I will try to come home soon.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Be safe.

Love you too, John.

Chapter Text

Jan 5, 2pm

Holy shit, holy shit!

Are you okay?

Yeah, yeah, more than.

Guess what?

I have no idea what you’re going on about, Sherlock.

What happened?

You will NEVER believe this!

Sherlock.

MYCROFT AGREED TO PAY CHILD SUPPORT!

You’re lying to me.

That isn’t true.

It is, I promise.

Not in full, obviously.

How much, then?

Three thousand, monthly.

For a crochet plushie I made for you on a whim?

Well…

What did you tell him, Sherlock?

I told him it was for your state of emotional distress-

It was he who insisted that you would be put in more danger if you were told about the plan.

Just know that I’m sighing at you.

What else did you tell him?

I know that’s not all.

…

That I would quit listening to his intel regarding Moriarty's network if he didn’t.

The intel that keeps you alive?

I’m fairly sure that’s what solidified his decision.

Irrelevant.

What are we even gonna do with that much money?

I have pretty much everything I want, except you being here.

It’s your money too, though, of course.

We could get a second fridge.

One for food, another for experiments?

You’re a genius and I love you.

Thank you, and I know. 

…

I’m waiting.

Love you too.

You have acceptable levels of intelligence. 

That’s the best I’m gonna get, I guess.

Chapter Text

Jan 6, 11 am

John

John, open the door.

I’m not home, but there is a sunrise for you.

What?

For context, I needed to pay a visit to Her Majesty the Queen.

You really need to get out of the habit of stealing ashtrays from Buckingham Palace.

Do you like it?

Yes, of course I like it.

Do you intend to steal things for me everywhere you go?

I can’t say I wouldn’t appreciate some souvenirs from your time away.

Now that you mention it, I will steal something for you every time.

I might stop by the White House, and I’ll grab some carpet lint on the way out.

Much appreciated.

By the way, I don’t think I ever asked–

How, exactly, are you dismantling Moriarty’s network?

I do believe you know this.

Well, I know you killed the American senator.

But was that intention or a necessity?

Both.

It is a necessity to kill anybody who was first or second in the line of command, so I fully intended to kill him from the start.

Moriarty may be dead, but organization still exists with the same goals as beforehand.

I see.

Just to mention, those goals include killing the both of us.

I assume you were uncomfortable with my default to homicide.

Sherlock.

I was in the army.

I’ve killed a man for you, and undoubtedly will again.

Oh.

Don’t worry about it, kay?

Are there any updates on Devin?

Fuck Devin.

I wholeheartedly agree.

He’s staying with his aunt, and will continue to do so.

I don’t believe he will continue to be a problem.

Didn’t he lead an entire sector?

He may have gotten a very bad case of memory loss, and advised Moriarty to focus his pursuits away from us.

The memory loss was accidental, though it should be permanent, and I felt no reason to cause him unnecessary suffering.

He was awful to you, Sherlock.

I thought you were the one with a good moral compass, and yet here you are, chiding me for sparing a life.

Ehh, there’s a time and place.

I aggree.

On a second note, I’m rather afraid I may be about to lose signal.

I'm on a train.

Alright, bye Sherlock,

Travel safely.

Love you

Love you too.
[delivery failed, try again?]

Chapter Text

Jan 6, 9pm

[Incoming Call from: Sherlock xx]

“Hullo?”

“Hi, John.”

“Hey Sherlock. Happy Birthday!”

“Ugh, you’re not supposed to know about that. I knew you were going to make a fuss.”

“Well, sometimes people should make a fuss over you.”

“Irrelevant.”

“You’re really not doing anything to celebrate?”

“I’m talking to you.”

“...”

“I have a nicer hotel room?”

“If you say so.”

“I just did.”

“We’ll have a celebration when you come home. A real big one, since you missed Christmas too.”

“You know I- nevermind.”

“I know what?”

“I might not come home. I might not be able to.”

“Yes, you will.”

“John… You know that’s something I can’t guarantee.”

“I will then. I’ll guarantee it. Mycroft will tell me, I’m sure, if you’re in danger. I’ll help you with his network. I’ll kill them all for you. I’ll do anything, Sherlock, to keep you alive. You died once, and that’s all you get. You’re not allowed to do it again.”

“John- I- John.”

“Yes?”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“Um.”

“Would you like to talk about something else?”

“Rather, yes.”

“Do you want to hear about all my workplace gossip?”

“That would be adequate.”

“Remember that nurse I mentioned a while back, Mary?”

“... yes.”

“Is that a tone I hear?”

“Yes. I don’t like her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like your little… affairs. You prance about with your polished shoes an- ”

“We aren’t dating.”

“Oh. I thought- ” 

“Yes, we went on one date, and were both rather bored.”

“I see.”

“Well, she has this awful sense of gallows humor. I think you might like her, actually.”

“Really? I doubt it.”

“Only ‘cause you’re a jealous prat. You two are actually quite similar.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You remember Molly, yes?”

“Yes. How is this related?”

“Well, I introduced them- thought they might get along.”

“And how did that go?”

“Oh, poor, poor Molly.”

“...”

“She is completely, and when I say completely I mean completely and utterly and hopelessly- She is in love, I think”

“With Mary?”

“Yes, even worse than she was with you! She’s gone on her, if I may say so myself. Whenever I visit the morgue, Molly will ask if I’m going to bring Mary with me next time, and whenever Mary does come, she wears that bright lipstick you hate.”

“Oh, wow. That is very telling.”

“Right? And I don’t know if Mary likes her, but she better come around to the idea of it soon. Nothing wrong with a bit of pining and all that, but they’re perfect for each other.”

“This is beginning to sound like you when discussing Gerard and Mycroft.”

“Listen, I’ve spent a lot of time with my focus directed on more… amorous pursuits- ”

“Euphemism is unnecessary.”

“Shhh. Anyway, I’m not doing that anymore, but I can still see it so easily when people fit, y’know? When somebody is interested, it’s so obvious to me.”

“Is it really?”

“Yes, incredibly so.”

“If you insist. So, why are they perfect for each other?”

“Well, Mary’s just insane enough for Molly, while still being a decent person.”

“Context?”

“Well, the crazy part is mostly just vibes, though she does know a bunch of  army codes and nobody knows anything about her past from before, like, 2005.”

“And the ‘Decent Person’ part?”

“Well, decent to Molly mostly, and god knows Molly deserves that after you and Moriarty.”

“Me!?”

“You’re a good person, but not to Molly particularly. You can be mean.”

“True. How is she decent to Molly?”

“Well, Mary notices nearly as much as you, just extrapolates less information from it. So, she’s noticed Molly’s habit of dressing up, though I doubt she knows it’s for her.”

“And?”

“Well, every time, Mary’s just going ‘Gosh, I love your lipstick’ and sighing at her all like, ‘It’s so impressive how you’re able to figure out so much from a week old body…”

“Are you sure that’s not Mary flirting back?”

“Yes, fairly. She lacks both the nervous energy of somebody who’s invested and the confident apathy of someone flirting ingeniously.” 

“Do you plan to interfere?”

“Only if necessary.”

“What if Mary’s straight?”

“Ehhh, I doubt it.”

“Mm.”

“Sorry, am I boring you?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did Molly react to the compliments? I expect she blushed crimson and lost the ability to speak.”

“I would have thought so too, but no, not at all. She seemed remarkably comfortable. She smiled an awful lot, and yes, did blush, but mostly she returned the compliments and seemed quite content.”

“I agree with you.”

“Huh?”

“Relationships haven’t been a thing I know about, but if Molly is truly comfortable with her, well. I hope it works out. I agree with you, Mary will be good for her.”

“Yeah, she will be.”

Chapter Text

“Yeah, she will be.”

“Mm.”

“So. Uh. How are things with the- with the- um. Sorry, I’m looking for a word. The- the um-”

“The assassinations?”

“Yes! Yes, assassinations! How are things going with your hit list?”

“Pretty well. Moriarty only had a few connections in the United States, and I’ve taken care of all of those already.”

“That’s good then. Were they all involved with the cult? I know the Senator was a part of it, as was Devin– but were there others?”

“There were a few others, and yes, they all had links to the cult”

“I’m surprised Moriarty worked with them so closely.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t he gay? Why would he choose to work with a group who would gladly kill him if they knew?”

“Cults are full of people who have had critical thinking beaten out of them. If you get the leader, you get everybody beneath them, too. It was convenient.”

“I guess that makes sense. Where are you going next?”

“Italy. He had ties with some Mafia families. I’ll probably just kill the people who know the information; more than that would be dangerous.”

“Even that is dangerous.”

“But necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’ll be safe.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Promise.”

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Alright, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll keep in contact?”

“Thanks.”

“By the way, I don’t think Moriarty was actually gay.”

“I’m pretty sure he was. Anyway, you said it first.”

“You mean when he was dating Molly?”

“Yeah. The- The hair product and the boxers, or whatever.”

“There’s always something. He wanted me to notice, and put it all on on purpose. Have you seen him looking like that since then?”

“... No. But he’s just- he’s-”

“He’s?”

“He was all over you! Like, he literally put together an entire series of puzzles just to get your attention.”

“I think that was more meant to be an intellectual battle?”

“How can you not see this, Sherlock? Did you not notice the way he looked at you? The way he choreographed every move to get your attention?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You seemed rather worked up over this.”

“No! I- I just. Ugh.”

“I hope you realize there was no chance I ever would have considered his advances, had I noticed them at all.”

“You just seemed nearly as obsessed with him.”

“I appreciated the puzzle.”

“I know- sorry, I didn’t mean to be so possessive.”

“Really, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m much worse, and I don’t feel like spending hours on this. I’m not allowed to date Moriarty, and you don’t ditch cases for girlfriends.”

“Hah. Fair is fair. You do realize I haven’t dated in like… four months, though?”

“Mmhmm. And Moriarty’s dead, anyway.”

“No need to sound so smug, Sherlock.”

“I think it’s reasonable. I get all of your time,  all of your attention. It’s all a man could want.”

“No you don’t.”

“Mm?”

“You don’t get all of my time and attention. You’re very busy, going off to kill people. Maybe, though, if you came back home, you would. We would alway work on cases– I’d get Mycroft to find us the good ones, seven and up only– I’d even help you with your experiments in the kitchen. I would never go on a date ever again. You’d have me all to yourself.”

“You really need to stop this.”

“Do I?”

“I am trying to keep you alive, here. You are making it very difficult not to just give up and go back home to you.”

“I mean, that seems like a perfectly nice idea to me.”

“They would kill you, and you would die. You would die a horrible and gruesome death and I would never forgive you for it.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

“... That’s fair.”

“Anyway, I’m not gonna stop. It’s good motivation for you.”

“I am already perfectly motivated.”

“If you say so.”

Chapter Text

“On a more important note, what do you mean you’d get Mycroft to find cases for us?”

“Oh, yeah. He and I are friends now.”

“Say that again?”

“I am friends with Mycroft.”

“No.”

“Yes. I am now even more convinced that he and Greg are soulmates.”

“Why are you friends with Mycroft?”

“I pester him for information on you so much that he tries to get me off topic and we’ve accidentally had a conversation seven times now.”

“What do you even talk about?”

“Guess.”

“It’s Lestrade, isn’t it?”

“You know me so well, Sherlock.”

“You aren’t very respectful of people’s personal lives, John.”

“That’s rich of you to say.”

“I really don’t think they would work out.”

“Why?”

“Mycroft is significantly more intelligent than me. To him, an ordinary person is equivalent to a goldfish”

“Greg has more common sense than you and Mycroft combined. He’s smart enough.”

“Is sensibility really such a virtue?”

“The two of you don’t recognize intelligence apart from the type you yourselves have. Being able to extrapolate information at a glance is extraordinary, yes. But can Mycroft compose a sonata on the spot with structural integrity and musical balance rivalling those of Beethoven, like you do? And can you effortlessly network and negotiate to the point of controlling an entire nation without a soul noticing?

“No.”

“And can either of you consistently make decisions that require efforts which are feasible, efficient, and ensure the sanity and safety of those under and around you?”

“No.”

“Exactly. Greg is extremely intelligent in his own right, and can also easily understand most subjects once explained to him briefly– Since you’ve explained the process of your deductions to him, you can point out clues you’ve found, and he generally figures out what you found with it.”

“You seem very defensive of him. I have realized most of this myself. I wouldn’t work with him otherwise.”

“ Sorry, yeah, you’re  right. Your idiot brother can’t see that, though.”

“That’s not something I hear every day.”

“Well, maybe it should be? He is a bit stupid sometimes, honestly.”

“I assume this is in the context of trying to convince Mycroft to court him?”

“Nothing that far yet. The best relationships start with a bit of pining. I’m just trying to make Mycroft intrigued. Once he sees Greg’s good qualities for himself, then I can start making them see that they’re perfect for each other.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, why don’t you practice on me. Why are they perfect for each other?”

Chapter Text

“Okay, why don’t you practice on me. Why are they perfect for each other?”

“Point the first: They have the exact same sense of humor.”

“Mycroft has a sense of humor?”

“Yes!”

“Fine, fine. Give me an example.”

“Well, remember A Study in Pink?”

“Must you refer to our cases by their blog names?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then. What about it?”

“Well, you showed me the original debriefing on it after the fact, right?”

“Yes?”

“Somebody in the audience asked, ‘How do we prevent these suicides?’ Do you remember what Greg said?”

“Humor me.”

“He just went ‘Don’t commit suicide.’”

“Oh, yes, I remember that.”

“Mycroft does that all the time! Like- like- just the other day we were on the phone and I was talking about Molly and Mary, right?”

“You told him first?”

“I tell stories better on the phone, and I forgot when you were in Utah.”

“Alright, alright, fine. What happened?”

“Well, I was talking about how I wanted to interfere-”

“He can definitely relate.”

“Exactly! That’s why I was telling him! Anyway, I was all like, ‘I dunno how I’m not gonna give it away, they’re so obvious it’s painful, but I know time is good with this type of thing and Mary doesn’t like her yet,’ and so and so and so, and guess what he said? Guess!”

“Just don’t interfere?”

“Yes! Exactly that! They’re soulmates, Sherlock.”

“You’re awfully invested in this.”

“Shh. It’s your fault.”

“Really now?”

“Yes, you- My brave knight- have gone away on your chivalrous quest, and since the  dragon decided to work remotely and delegate work, you’ve left your damsel- that’s me, by the way, if you hadn’t figured it out already- up in the tower, by herself, very very bored, so now all she has to do is look down at the village peasants and decide which ones should be in love.”

“You can crochet and talk to your housekeeper, as well.”

“Don’t let Ms. Hudson hear you say that.”

“I think you would like Tumblr.”

“What is that, and why?”

“It’s a social media site. It’s a bunch of people with blogs talking about who they think should be together in books and whatnot.”

“Was this site made for me?”

“Probably. You are the centre of the universe.”

Chapter Text

“Probably. You are the centre of the universe.”

“That I am. Can I keep talking about Mycroft and Lestrade?”

“Be my guest.”

“Well, both of them have trouble with consistent friendships and relationships due to their work!”

“It seems like that would cause problems rather than solve any.”

“No! You know why?”

“Indulge me, John.”

“Both of them have work that can be taken with them around twenty percent of the time, meaning that it won’t cause too many actual schedule conflicts. However, they will both be encouraging and respectful of the other’s career due to the fact that they understand the pressure and demands from their own jobs.”

“You make a compelling argument.”

“And guess what else?

“It magically improves the entire planet and brings us specifically great joy and convenience?”

“Yes, yeah. Were you trying to be sarcastic? ‘Cause that’s exactly it, actually.”

“Yes, I was. Explain, please?”

“Well, Mycroft’s more than just the government of England, now, you know that?”

“Yes. He’s god with a nine to five”

“Inaccurate, but I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“Thanks an awful lot, greatly appreciated.”

“Anyway, wouldn’t it be really nice to have someone– somebody who is, say, responsible, caring, and passionate– with great impacts on international political affairs? Sensible people never become politicians– they have better things to do. If this someone was, say, the husband of a politician, though– Who knows what impact they could have. God knows that Greg would be a better prime minister than nearly every one we've had.”

“Have you planned their wedding, by chance? I heard mention of the word ‘Husband’”

“Only a little bit. I already know Greg’s tastes, and a bit of Mycroft’s. Having some tentative plans to give them once the occasion arises will surely be helpful! It’s only one binder-full.”

“I believe you’ve gone insane.”

“Sherlock, my dear, my darling, my wonderful detective, my love–”

“Stop with the flattery.”

“I have Nothing to do. Nothing. You can’t blame me if I’ve planned a few weddings.”

“A few?”

“Greg and Mycroft.”

“I’ve got that.”

“And Molly and Mary.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“There’s a third.”

“No there’s not.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m a fine liar, and you’re a detective.”

“Whose wedding?”

“That’s a secret.”

“Is there–”

“No! I trust you, I promise I trust you, it’s nothing like that, you’re my best friend. It’s just cringe.”

“It’s Irene and Harry, isn’t it.”

“Uhm. Sure, let’s go with that. Clara deserves better anyway, she’s seeing this coffee shop owner, and actually, Irene and Harry could be good together, Irene could convince her–”

“Convince her? Convince her how?”

“Eww, Sherlock! I don’t want to imagine my sister doing that!”

“I didn’t say a thing.”

“Did too!”

“Either way, you got off track.”

“It was your fault. Off track of what? I forgot what we were talking about.”

“How would Lestrade and Mycroft being in a relationship directly benefit us?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay, so we’ll get better cases, because Mycroft will want to give Greg better cases, and Mycroft controls everything.”

“Good point.”

“We’ll also be able to get more jurisdiction at crime scenes due to Mycroft’s direct involvement, and he’ll want to make things easier for Gregory.”

“This seems mostly like Mycroft liking Greg, and Greg liking us.”

“I didn’t get to the best part. Your mom will stop pestering you about finding a wife if Mycroft starts dating Gregory!”

“Wait, that's true! It’s gonna be so awful for him. That won’t stop them from pestering me, though.”

“You would think so, right? I’ve heard you complaining about your parents doing this so many times, but, get this– If Mycroft and Greg are together they’ll focus on them since they want grandkids-”

“-Because just being together isn’t enough! With straight people, a child is considered a default, but two busy men in their forties…”

“It’s more than enough to keep the attention of a potential grandparent-to-be.”

“You are amazing, John, an utter genius, what would I do without you?”

“Cocaine?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You love me for it.”

“Yeah I do.”

“It’s late, isn’t it?”

“I’ll eat dinner, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

“Okay”

“Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

[Call Duration: 34:16]

Chapter Text

Jan 7, 5pm

John!

You went to work today.

How are Molly and Mary?

I want updates.

Jan 7, 6pm

What’s going on?

I know you’re home from work, and you usually check your phone at least fifteen times an hour unless you’re busy.

I don’t think you would have me silenced, given my situation at the moment.

And there’s not much to be busy about back home.

You’re good enough at crocheting now that you would be able to set down a piece without getting lost, and I’m fairly sure that you would pause the television or put down a book to respond to me.

Jan 7, 7pm

Hi, sorry!

It was a busy day, and I conked out about as soon as I got home- I’ve just woken up.

My phone was dead, too.

Ok.

Sorry if I worried you.

I’m totally fine, promise!

I wouldn’t want you to be preoccupied right now.

I worry about you anyway.

Why?

I’m not there, which has already proven to be dangerous to you, and with the additional complication of not being able to check up on you myself I tend to be concerned for you often.

Well, if you just come home, I won’t have to worry about you getting yourself killed, and vice versa.

A bit more literally on your part.

Ehh, not anymore.

I know you’re alive.

I’ll be fine.

If you say so.

…

Have you talked to Sarah about going part time?

Yeah, I have. 

We did some scheduling, and by next week I should only be working morning shifts- 9am to 1pm

So about 20 hours a week.

That’s good.

What are you planning to do with the extra time?

I want to crochet more, and spend some time with Greg.

And Mycroft too.

Ugh

Maybe I should learn to bake?

I don’t really have much to blog about anymore.

It’s not my fault that you made the entire thing about me.

Well, you’re much more interesting than I am.

I hesitate to believe that.

You’re as insane as I, you just hide it better.

Aww, thank you.

You’re welcome.

Jan 7, 11pm

Hi, Sherlock.

You probably realized this already, but I was lying earlier.

I didn’t want to worry you, or preoccupy you, or whatnot.

Nothing that could possibly endanger you further, etc, etc.

Someone attempted to mug me on the way back home from work. They failed, I knocked them out, and I did fall asleep when I got home, but I purposely kept that information from you.

I didn’t want you to worry, and rather than keep you updated, I decided to hide what happened, which is probably much more concerning in the long run.

I’m sorry.

Jan 8, 10am

I’m glad you told me.

I asked Mycroft what happened, so I knew you were fine, but you are right, it is concerning.

I wasn’t intending to confront you about this, though I am glad you came to this conclusion on your own.

I want you to be able to trust me with your vulnerability.

I do trust you, Sherlock.

Incredibly so.

It was not a matter of trust so much as not wanting to be a bother.

I had not considered that you would worry about me on your own, and so the course of action that I came up with was to make my presence as innocuous as possible to you, if only for your convenience.

I’m sure you’ve realized this now, but I feel much better knowing that you’re in danger than having a false front of security presented at all times, since then I won’t actually know when you’re safe.

Yeah, I realized.

And don't worry about being a bother. It is not an inconvenience to me if you need something.

Okay.

Chapter Text

Can we talk about something else?

Yeah, sure.

You wanted to hear about Molly and Mary?

Yes.

I probably shouldn’t have brought that up, actually. They’re incredibly uninteresting.

The three of us ate lunch together today, and I was mostly ignored.

Molly wore a different lipstick, though.

What color?

Burgundy, kind of?

It suits her.

That’s a good sign.

How so?

No lipstick is her default. She works in a morgue, it’s not a dressy environment.

The bright pink is for when she wants to impress, and, more importantly in this case, be noticeable at all.

I would guess that a subtler tone would be the result of her wanting to dress up- be that due to a knowledge that it will be appreciated, or just feeling like putting in the effort for its own sake. I suspect it’s both, in this case.

Which means that, in summary, Molly is starting to have better self esteem, most likely directly due to Mary’s influence.

Yes.

I am so right.

I knew they were perfect for each other.

They’re not even dating.

You know it too.

I suspect it, and only based on secondhand evidence given by a biased source.

Well, I gave you the same argument about Greg and Mycroft.

So?

Well, you know them better than I do. 

Any evidence I provided was knowledge you already had. 

If you compare my ‘biased secondhand evidence,’ to your reliable firsthand knowledge…

Would you not tell it to me differently knowing I would be able to call your bluff.

No. 

I didn’t even consider the possibility until now.

Anyway, I’m gonna be honest:

I don’t want to make a bad match.

You only introduced them.

And then talked my head off about it for an hour and a half.

Don’t act like you don’t love it.

Anyway, they’re friends now, and maybe more.

This is my responsibility and my vice.

I feel like Eros.

You’re so dramatic.

I wonder how Mike feels?

I’m sure he takes responsibility for the two of us in some form.

Oh, I bet he’s so smug about it.

I doubt that.

Why?

I’m dead.

Oop.

I forgot.

Well he can get to feel smug when you come back home to me, safe and alive, and he’ll see that he has been blessed by the divine power of good matchmaking.

I really could care less about what he thinks.

I like the idea of returning home to you, not home to London. 

It would be like one of those awful commercials in American magazines from the nineteen-fifties.

How so?

I’d trapeze into the house, suit impeccably fitted, hair perfect, and a pastel coloured car parked by the street.  You’d be crocheting in your armchair, probably wearing some or other awful plaid apron with Jazz playing in the background. There would be milk in the fridge, and you wouldn’t guilt trip me about it.

Why must I be the housewife?

Jokes aside, that actually sounds really nice.

Because you’re short.

Oh, shut up.

We could take turns?

With what, the Work?

Well, yes, if we’re taking turns being the housewife.

I don’t do much on cases except follow you around.

You’re already far more competent than Donavan.

Though, now you’ve mentioned it, you are less sensible than Greg.

!!!

Yes, I learnt his name.

[JW  took a Screenshot]

Really, John?

What?

I can see that you took a screenshot.

Aww.

He’s gonna be soo happy though.

Alright, then. Send it off.

God, the things I do to please you.

Not that much, actually.

Maybe if you came back home…

I’m not going to forget.

Just making sure.

Chapter Text

Jan 8, 8am

In Italy now?

Yup.

Killed anybody yet?

Not quite, but I have someone planned for this evening.

Fun!

Thanks!

Working today?

Yeah.

Anything planned with the lovebirds?

Nah. They’re getting lunch but I don’t really like being the third wheel.

I get off at one so I’ll just head home.

Are you getting lunch on the way back?

Nah. Mycroft is probably going to call though.

Really?

He makes a point of checking in.

Seems uncharacteristic.

I agree.

I think he’s curious about Greg.

How do you manage to talk about him every single time in a phone call under the guise of a mental health check in.

Mycroft’ll ask ‘Has there been anything of note?' every single time.

I only ever talk about you and Greg so he knows what he’s going to hear.

You talk about me?

Duh.

What do you say?

That’s a secret.

You just ask him for embarrassing stories, don’t you.

Noooooo…

(Only a little bit)

That still leaves something you're not telling me.

Awfully sorry, dear, but I have to pop off to work. 

My shift starts at nine!

You want me to deduce it, don't you?

Jan 8, 2pm

I’ve found a delivery from that Indian restaurant on the doorstep.

Is it poisoned?

Why would I know if it was?

You know most things.

I had it delivered.

That place is your favorite.

And very expensive.

What is Mycroft for if not financial exploitation?

Running the government, mostly, I think.

Is the food good?

Delicious. Thank you.

How did the phone call go?

Mycroft seemed relieved that I am no longer on the brink of shooting myself through the head, and listened to me talk about Greg for almost half an hour.

What story did you tell?

I mostly talked about how he had the most efficient delegation tactics at the Yard, and how his division has the highest hostage recovery rate of all time.

You know my brother too well.

That I do. 

It’s the curse of a matchmaker.

Chapter Text

Jan 8, 8pm

Have you killed them yet?

Yes.

How was that?

Not too bad. I didn’t need any information from him so I just slipped a bit of peanut powder into his partner's food.

They share food often, he’s very allergic, and giving an allergen to a partner isn’t enough of an oversight for any restaurant to be blamed. It will seem like an innocent mistake and nothing more.

Ooh, smart.

Any more people to kill there, or?

Yes, a couple.
I’ll be here for about a week.

Fun.

…

What?

I want to keep talking to you but I cannot think of what to say.

That sounds rather unfortunate for you.

Since you make a habit of gossiping it means you consistently rely on the actions of those around you for your entertainment.

Like you don’t.

I have heard you complain- Many times- about how the criminals of London are “So boring…”

Tell me, Sherlock.

What would you do if people followed the law?

Break it myself, most likely.

I expected nothing less of you.

Mm.

What are you having for dinner?

Leftovers from the Indian place and instant ramen.

Entirely instant or just somewhat?

?

Do you Just Add Water or do you Technically Cook It

Ohh

The type you boil.

Ah.

How is Albert?

I made him a scarf.

Photo?

Image: [Albert wearing a chunky crochet scarf on top of his head in the same manner as people who pretend to be women online with the application of a dish towel]

Aww.

Have you ever thought about getting a pet for 221B when you get back?

No.

Why?

Well, I think it would be nice to raise something, I guess?

It was really fun to discuss raising Albert, who is an inanimate object with no conscious thought, and therefore cannot be raised.

Do not say that about my son!

We could get a cat, or something?

I know you like dogs, but that would be a bit much for a flat.

If we get a cat I want to name it Beans.

Okie Doki

That’s settled then.

“Okie Doki?”

Shhhh I regretted it immediately I never said that I swear.

Okie Doki

Sherlock!!

Chapter Text

Jan 9, 2PM

Rember my boss, Sarah?

Remember*

And yes, I do.

I dislike her.

Good for you, then.

She just got fired.

Really?
How?
Why?

I didn’t think you would care so much.

I rely on gossip too, apparently.

What happened?

She focused her amorous pursuits on a patient.

Euphemism is unnecessary, Watson.

Oh noo, you last-named me.

You know I only do that cause it annoys you, right?

I figured.

Anyway, elaborate.

Well, there was this kid-

Kid?

Technically an adult, but still weird.

He was nineteen.

Definitely odd.

Isn’t she about thirty seven?

Thirty eight.

So what happened.

He’d been coming into the clinic often for a couple months due to recurring migraines that nobody at the clinic could figure out.

Nobody, really.

Note that for some reason, only Sarah was consulted.

Odd.

Quite.

Anyway, it turned out that Sarah knew the problem all along– he just needed glasses– but she had him keep coming in because she had taken a fancy to him. They ended up doing the do in  one of the checkup rooms– everything was consensual, thank god, but still more than enough to get her fired.

Definitely. 

Have there been any similar incidents previously?

Of course, she has been known to ignore proper HR practices, given that the two of you were an item for some time while she was your boss, but this is of course much worse.

She’s dated younger men before, but nothing this bad. I think she was in a long term relationship with a previous patient of hers, but he had moved clinics so they could be together, so it was never actually something HR took notice of.

Ah. It was going to happen sooner or later then.

Rather, yes.

Someone’s trying to kill me, brb

For fuck’s sake, Sherlock.

Don’t die. 

Love you.

Chapter Text

Jan 9, 8pm

Hi

Hi?

What happened?

Are you okay?

Yes, I’m fine.

Did you say that Anderson thought I was alive?

Yeah, like, a month ago.

Why?

Also, what happened?

Trespassing.

I accidentally ruined their cabbage garden.

Why?

I didn’t try to ruin it.

Why trespassing?

They had beehives. I wanted to look.

You are extremely irresponsible.

Sorry.

Were you in any actual danger?

No, they were just yelling.

Anderson?

What about him?

He thought I was alive?

Yeah. The one time he was right, it seems.

Why?

He thought you were too proud to kill yourself, especially over stuff in the news.

I should’ve known.

He doesn’t actually care about me, so he was unbiased.

You couldn’t afford to hope.

He was right, though.

I guess.

Were there any other reasons?

He just kept connecting, like, all sorts of international events, saying it was you?

Such as?

How police had finally caught the leader of this gang in California after five years of absolute failures, the disappearance of someone who seemed like they were on the path to becoming a dictator in Nepal, I think?

Which gang? 

The mustangs, or something? I don’t know. But they did a lot of human trafficking and stiff.

Shit.

What?

That was me. I did find him.

And Anderson realized that?

It seems so.

Have you spoken to him recently?

No, not since you came back.

I quit letting Greg take me on pity outings.

Do you think you could accept the next invite?

Why?

I need to know if this is a one off or if he actually knows.

And if he does?

What'll we do?

I don’t know.