Cross My Heart & Hope to Die

The adventures in 221B continue as someone close to Sherlock and Watson is murdered and a mysterious girl turns up on Baker Street just a few days after the funeral. A series of clues lead them to a baffling case of 13 killings. Moriarty? He's dead, but Sherlock is convinced he is connected to the case.

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3. Chapter 3 ~ Home

 

~ Three ~

Home

 

    The door of 221B Baker Street creaked open, the rays of sunlight pouring in as Sherlock entered, John following behind him, stumbling over his loose shoelace. Home. This was home. Mrs Hudson was already back, kettle boiling, still dressed in her black outfit for the funeral. "Oh John, you must have been so heart-broken. Promise me you'll look after him, Sherlock." She said, in that motherly kind of tone that Sherlock sort of resented. It made him feel like a helpless cat being mauled by its overly loving owner. Mrs Hudson's glasses were perched on the edge of her nose so she looked like some old-fashioned librarian from the 80's.

    "No, Mrs Hudson, I'm fine," John began, "I don't need-"

    "Of course I'll look after John," Sherlock said, "In times such as this, even he needs reassurance." He said, continuing up the stairs to the flat. John said nothing and followed Sherlock up the stairs, his untied shoelaces still dragging behind him. Sherlock wondered if he had meant what he said. It was very rare that John Watson needed reassuring of anything. He was a soldier. Technically a doctor, but close enough. He was the bravest man Sherlock had ever known. But given the circumstances, he was happy to oblige to take care of his friend. Mary's loss had struck Sherlock like he'd been hit by a wall with Moriarty's face on it. It couldn't be him, of course, that would be ludicrous. Moriarty was dead. He was sure of it. Sherlock pondered whether to begin investigating as he entered the flat, the air sad and cold. On second thoughts, he said to himself, that would not be wise. 

    Somehow, John knew Sherlock was having a mental conversation with himself. He always did that sort of slow walk and he'd jump onto the table and leap back off again when he'd finished, which Sherlock proceeded to do a matter of seconds after arrival. John rolled his eyes, clearly not amused. He could tell that Sherlock was on the brink of boredom. Not being able to solve or even look at another case for a couple of weeks was really not good for him. His mind had to be active all day every day to even remotely satisfy him. But Mary's death had stopped everything right in its tracks. Even the whole world it seemed. Even Sherlock Holmes, the often unsentimental detective who never ran away from danger, but seemingly followed it. It was extraordinary how Mary Watson could influence John and Sherlock's life when she was dead.

    "I'm, uh, not going back to the house just yet," John said, shutting the door behind him as Sherlock gazed out of the window at Baker Street, "I can't face it. Not now."

    Outside, it was almost summer, although the sky had now clouded over, looking sad and wilted like the chrysanthemums that were placed at Mary's headstone. "I know," Sherlock replied, his voice a deep sound filling the silent air, "Your room is all ready for you."

    John huffed and rolled his eyes, forgetting to thank Sherlock for his favour. Typical Sherlock, always knowing your intentions even before you did. In a way, that made him sort of dangerous. He liked danger and seemed to be naturally drawn towards it, which worried John sometimes. His curiosity was his downfall in most cases. John stopped before he sat down in his usual chair, staring at the photographs on the mantle above the fire which had been lit by Mrs Hudson. Mary sat proudly inside the frame, staring back at him, a beaming smile upon her face. He remembered he had captured that photograph when he'd taken Mary on a dinner-date in a lovely vintage restaurant before going to the Lyceum Theatre in London. Mary had worn a beautiful flowing gown, her eyes sparkling like the evening sun and her hair as blonde as can be...

 

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