Sherlock’s face went white, he turned and walked back out of the ward, John apologised profusely and followed him out, leaving Lestrade to talk to the girl.
“Sherlock, are you okay?” John asked him softly, placing a hand on his back.
“Er, I don’t know.” He said, slight panic evident in his voice.
“Sherlock don’t panic. We’ll sort this out. We’ll take her home and talk to her okay?” John reasoned with him and managed to talk him back into coming onto the ward.
“She can go home in about three days. But she needs complete rest, no funny things with asking her questions all the time.” One of the nurses told them, they nodded and went back into the ward.
“Alexa, has the nurse told you? You can come home in about three days, if you tell us your address we can get your stuff and move it in before you come home.” She looked at her feet, avoiding eye contact with Sherlock and John.
“She hasn’t got one John.” Sherlock said softly. “Sorry.” He turned around and put a hand to his head. John smiled.
“He’s right I don’t.” John sighed and nodded.
“Visiting is over, she needs to rest.” Another nurse told them. The three men shook hands with Alexa and left.
“We’ll furnish that extra bedroom Mrs Hudson has, and buy her some clothes and some stuff.” Sherlock said taking long strides forward towards the entrance to Barts. The other two men stopped and looked at each other.
“What.” Lestrade finally said.
“She is under my protection. I will see her provided for.” He pushed the door open and held it for Lestrade and John. “Are you coming?” They both walked forward and out of the door.
The three men hailed a taxi back to Scotland Yard, and then to Baker Street. Sherlock opened the taxi door and went inside, leaving John to pay the driver, thanking him, he climbed out of the car into the cold October air. The taxi pulled off and John headed up the stairs to the flat, he could already hear Sherlock talking to Mrs Hudson about the spare bedroom.
“Of course Sherlock, are you sure she’s going to be safe here though?” she asked, there was no reply.
“Of course she will be!” John shouted as he got halfway up the stairs. Sherlock’s phone began to ring again, when he answered it, he spoke with a voice of authority.
“Yes. Mycroft it’s true. I’m not a child anymore. I know what I’m doing! Goodbye brother….. Please I need to sort this out. Goodbye.” And the phone call was over. “Doubting me, as ever.” He dropped onto his seat and pulled his feet right up and lay on his side.
“We’ll start the decorating later, I’ll go and get some wallpaper and some new stuff. You coming Sherlock?” John sighed, grabbing his wallet from the dining table and pulling his coat around him further.
“No. Important business here, sorry” he put his hands to his head, and they both knew it was time to leave.
“Mind palace.” They both whispered.
“I’ll be about 2 hours Sherlock.” No reply. “Okay goodbye!” John shut the door and headed down the stair case and out, back into the London air. He hailed a cab and headed into central London.
Meanwhile back in Baker Street, Sherlock was getting somewhere with Moriarty. He had been thinking about his mannerisms before he faked his death.
“I owe you a fall Sherlock.” “Falling is just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.” “You know when he was on his deathbed – Bach – he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end.”
“And the dying man jumped out of bed, ran straight to the piano… and finished it.” Sherlock said slowly with realisation.
I am the boy. He is Bach. Hes come to finish the piece. He means to kill me.