Fic for dioscureantwins: Measurable Steps, 2/9

[holmesticemods]

The time went by very slowly while they waited for Scotland Yard to do its work and verify the evidence presented about Sherlock's innocence. The date of the first trial she needed to testify at was fast approaching and she was becoming more and more worried. Mycroft had rather reluctantly agreed to let the two of them stay at her home, but she knew he had increased his surveillance and if she did have to leave she knew full well he wanted Sherlock nice and close, which wasn't going to be an option if Scotland Yard kept taking its time about things.

Finally the morning before the trial Sherlock got a call while they were relaxing after breakfast. The more he spoke to the person on the other end of the line the more she started to think that this was the good news they had both been hoping for. In the middle of the conversation he grabbed her remote and turned on her television, flipping through the channels until he found live coverage of a press conference. He stood up, pulling the phone away from his ear and moving closer. She joined him and saw the headline under the image of the people delivering the press conference. “James Moriarty behind crimes Sherlock Holmes was accused of,” she murmured.

He pointed the remote at the television and flipped to another channel. “Sherlock Holmes found innocent of accusations from Kitty Riley,” he said. Then he flipped to a third. “Richard Brooks proved a fake.” She glanced at him to see he had a small grin on his face. He put the phone back to his ear. “Where is John right now?” he asked the person on the other end, who she assumed was Mycroft at this point. He was quiet for a moment, nodding slightly before he spoke again. “I'll tell him first, then Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. After that you can tell the world I am, in fact, alive.” There was another pause. “Understood,” he said before pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call.

“So it's safe for you to come out of hiding?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“What was the 'understood' bit about?” she asked.

“That I not tell John on the premises of the clinic,” he said. “Mycroft thought it would be ill-advised.”

“Yeah, I would think so too,” she said with a nod. “Do we want to go now?”

“In a little while. Mycroft is having something delivered first.”

“What, exactly?”

“The type of clothing I usually wear,” he said. “I've gotten used to this clothing but I want to look like my old self before I tell the others the truth.”

“I wouldn't, if I was you,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I see a bloody nose in your future, at the very least,” she said. “John's going to be shocked at first, and then I think he's going to be quite angry, and most likely he'll take a swing at you. And I'm very sure he'll make sure that swing connects with your face.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What would you suggest, then?”

“Go in what you wore when you arrived. I think once you have your suits and your coat again you won't go back to the more casual clothing so it doesn't matter if it gets bloodied or dirty,” she replied. “Once you tell him the truth then you can come back and change.”

He thought about it for a moment and then nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Let's go change, then.”

She nodded, heading towards the stairs with him right behind her. Her bedroom was farther down the hall and so she went into her bedroom and stripped out of her pyjamas, tossing them into her hamper. She stood in front of her dresser to figure out what to wear. In an effort to feel more confident she had updated her wardrobe, and so she had items to choose from that didn't make her look quite as frumpy. She selected a tighter fitting blue button down blouse and denim trousers, and when she was done she went into the bathroom to fix her hair quickly. It didn't want to cooperate, so she finally settled for a loose bun at the nape of her neck. When she was finished she saw Sherlock in the attire he had been in the day he had arrived at her door. “I'm ready,” she said.

He studied her for a moment. “You've changed how you dress,” he replied.

She nodded. “Well, you've only really seen me in pyjamas and my dressing gown since you got here. I had thought it might be nice if I looked more sophisticated, not that anyone noticed. I spent all my time around dead bodies, not living breathing men. But it does make me feel better.”

“You looked perfectly fine before,” he said.

“To you, maybe. But it's not like you ever noticed me that way,” she said. “Even at the Christmas party, when I made it a point to dress up, you didn't notice that I looked better than I usually did. You just saw me as plain old Molly Hooper.”

“You haven't been 'plain old Molly Hooper' to me for quite some time,” he said quietly.

She blushed slightly. “Well, that's nice to know, I suppose. Thank you for the compliment.”

He nodded, looking at her for a few moments as she looked back until it appeared he was getting uncomfortable. “We should go now. The sooner we tell John the sooner we can inform the others.”

“If he doesn't give you a broken nose and a black eye first,” she replied as he headed down her stairs with her following. “Because if that's the case we're getting you some ice and getting your nose set.”

“I can defend myself,” he said. “And even if he's angry, this is John. He won't hurt me too badly.”

“Sherlock, he's spent two years thinking you're dead. Two years. And you're about to tell him it was all one elaborate lie. Even if you manage to get out the why I doubt he's going to want to hear it.”

“But it's John,” he said. He got to the bottom of the stairs and turned to look at her. For the moment they were almost exactly at eye level. “He might get violent but it's not as though he's going to attempt to kill me.”

“Have you ever been a soldier, Sherlock? Trained as a soldier?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Because I was out with him one time when he got into an altercation. He had a black eye at the end of it. The other man had three cracked ribs and a radial fracture in his arm when John was done, and that's only because I was horrified at what I was seeing and John stopped before he did even more damage. The other man started it, mind you, and John was simply defending himself, but it was still a brutal fight. He will hurt you, and I don't think you really realize just how badly it can go.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I didn't realize.”

She stepped down to be on the same level as him. “No, I know you didn't. He isn't the same as he was. While you were gone he had to deal with hate mail on his blog, people accusing him of being complicit in your elaborate ruses and other people looking to start fights. He had a reputation by his close association with you that the rest of us don't have, except possibly Greg. So you need to not take this lightly because he is going to be absolutely livid.”

“Then what should I do?” he asked.

“I'll ask him for a cup of coffee and a quick walk in the park near the clinic, just to chat. We did that sometimes before. And then I'll bring him to you. At least that way there might be less people around to get in the middle of this, or possibly more incentive to not do anything that might get him arrested. Hopefully he doesn't get too out of hand because I'm there, though once he realizes I knew the truth he may turn some of his anger towards me.”

“If he lays a hand on you I will hurt him,” Sherlock said quietly.

“I don't think he will. He may yell and get in my face, but I don't think he'll raise a hand to me no matter how angry he gets. And that may be the only thing that stops you from being in a world of hurt.” She moved around him to get her coat. “If I call him now I can meet him somewhere while you wait.”

“Then make the call,” he said.

She nodded and then went back up the stairs to her bedroom. She got her mobile off the charger and went back downstairs, pulling up John's contact as she walked down her stairs. She put her phone to her ear and waited for him to answer. On the third ring she heard a click. “Molly. This is a surprise,” he said.

“Well, I wanted to see if you were up for a cup of coffee and maybe a chat,” she said.

“I have to be at the clinic at nine, but I suppose I can come in later, just this once,” she said. “Do we want to meet at the coffee shop near the clinic?”

“All right. But I'm in the mood to take a quick walk in the park. Always better if I have company for that.”

He chuckled. “That is true. Half hour, then?”

“I'll see you then.” She hung up and looked at Sherlock. “We'll take you to the park first, then I'll go meet him.”

Sherlock nodded. “Then lead the way.”

Molly went around him again, slipping her mobile into her handbag before grabbing it. She opened the door and they both headed outside, and after she locked up she went and hailed them a cab. One pulled over fairly quickly, and she and Sherlock got in. They remained quiet as they got to the entrance to the park, and Molly paid the driver before they got out. “All right. There is a bench on the path, not too far in. Wait for us there, all right?”

“All right,” he said. Sherlock made his way to the park and Molly began to walk the two blocks to the coffee shop.

She spotted John right away, and she opened the door and stepped inside. He'd already ordered a coffee, and she waved at him before getting in line to place her own order. When she was done she joined him as he waited. “Hello, John,” she said with a smile.

“Hello, Molly,” he said. “Been a while since you've fancied a chat.”

“Well, I'm sure you saw the press conference this morning,” she said quietly.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did. All they were doing is confirming what I've known the whole time. It bloody took them long enough.”

“Moriarty did a good job of setting up that smear campaign,” she said. “It was going to take time for Scotland Yard to unravel it all. But this is a good thing.”

“I suppose,” he said, relaxing slightly. “Thank you for thinking I'd want company.”

“You're welcome,” she said, trying to stamp down on the feeling of guilt that threatened to bubble up to the surface. In just a few minutes she was going to upend his life almost completely, and while she knew it was for a good reason this was going to not be pretty. Their orders were finished shortly afterward, and they made their way to the park in near silence. They made it inside and Molly could see Sherlock stand up when they approached. “John, I have something to tell you,” she said quietly as they got closer.

“Something bad?” he asked, not even realizing Sherlock was close.

“No. It's...” She trailed off before stopping in front of Sherlock.

“Hello, John,” Sherlock said from in front of him.

John stood stock still, staring at Sherlock. His mouth opened slightly, and then closed. Then he turned to Molly, then back to Sherlock. “You're alive,” he said quietly when he finally spoke. “You're really alive.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “I faked my death.”

“I saw you fall from the roof. I saw you broken on the pavement. I saw the blood. I mean, I couldn't feel a pulse,” he said. “How could you possibly survive that?”

“There was a trick with a rubber ball,” he said. “I survived mostly thanks to Molly.”

He looked back at her, and then shook his head before moving to the bench and sitting down. “The last two years you've been alive,” he said to himself before looking over at Sherlock. “What in the bloody hell were you doing?”

Sherlock cautiously moved closer. Molly was actually quite shocked at how well John was taking this. She watched as Sherlock sat down on the bench next to him. When John didn't object, he leaned forward and put his elbows on his thighs, resting his chin on his knuckles. “Moriarty was on the roof of the hospital. He told me there was no code, and that he had snipers set on my friends. I told him as long as he was alive he could call them off, so he pulled out a gun and put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. I had to fall, to keep all of you safe.”

“And you knew that, when I went into the lab to tell you about Mrs. Hudson?” he asked.

Sherlock shook his head. “I knew he was going to be on the roof and that that was my only chance to reverse things. But as I just said, it didn't work. I didn't know he was going to kill himself. But I couldn't let him kill all of you, so I did the only thing I could do. I fell from the roof.”

John ran a hand down his face. “I should punch you, you know. I should take a few swings and rough you up enough so you can feel a tiny fraction of the pain I've been through the last two years. I should yell and shout and not listen to reason.”

“So why aren't you doing that?” Molly asked curiously.

“Because when I saw the press conference that glimmer of hope I'd had that I could get a miracle came back,” he said, looking up at her. “When you called out of the blue it got brighter. We aren't close anymore, and while there was always the chance you were calling out of genuine concern I hoped I might get lucky and get that miracle. Then you suggested the walk and I was fairly sure that would be the outcome.” He turned back to Sherlock. “I picked up a few things from you since you entered my life, you know.”

“Your deductive reasoning is sound,” Sherlock said approvingly.

“So it's all over? We're all safe?” he asked.

“Sadly, no. Not all of us,” he replied. “Molly has been threatened, and by extension I have too. Someone knows she helped me, and it put a wrinkle in the game that Moriarty had initiated. She's at risk of being harmed.”

John nodded. “Is that why you came back? To solve this puzzle?”

He shook his head. “No. Mycroft called me back over a week ago for other reasons. The night I arrived Molly had a package delivered to her home that was disturbing. I've been staying with her ever since.”

“And I take it your brother doesn't want you letting her out of your sight,” he said.

“He wants me to stay close. This could be a quick affair, but if the person who threatened her is anything like Moriarty I think we're going to settle into a long wait for there to be any serious developments.” Sherlock sat up and leaned back into the bench. “For the time being Molly is going to assist me.”

“Good, because I don't want to go back to that life, not all the time,” John said before taking a sip of his coffee. “I mean, it was good before. I got a thrill out of it and really, you did save me. But I don't think I can put myself through all of that again. No one's tried to kill me lately, and no one's really tried to upend my life. It's been a nice change of pace, at least when I wasn't mucking things up for myself.”

“I see,” Sherlock said.

“I might help occasionally,” John said, giving him a slight grin. “I'll admit, I did miss it. I still do, sometimes. But it won't be the way it was before. I mean, it can't be the way it was before. You can't have me around every hour of every day, and complain when I don't cater to your every whim. I have a life that I like, for the most part. I think it's about time for me to start becoming an older, more mature man.”

“You aren't that old,” Molly said with a smile.

“I'm older than the both of you,” he said, turning to her and chuckling slightly. Then he looked back at Sherlock. “We need to talk, though. At length. I want to know as much as you're willing to tell me about everything. I have every right to know, considering.”

“Yes, you do,” Sherlock replied with a nod.

“I can cook for the three of us tonight,” Molly said.

“That sounds like a good idea,” John said with a nod before standing up. “I should be off by six thirty at the latest.”

Sherlock stood up as well after a moment. “I'm glad you didn't punch me,” he said.

“Oh, I might do that anyway, depending on what exactly you've been doing while you've been gone,” he replied with a small grin. Then he roughly embraced Sherlock. “I really am glad you're alive, Sherlock.”

Sherlock was surprised, but he rather awkwardly patted his back. “I'm glad you're happy to see me.”

“It's not every day you get a miracle,” he said when he pulled away. Then he moved over to Molly, leaning in the kiss her cheek as she kissed his. “You be safe, all right?”

“I've got Sherlock protecting me. I'm not worried.” She gave him a wider smile when he pulled away. “We'll see you around seven then?”

He nodded. “If I'll be earlier or later I'll call to let you know. Who are you going to see next?”

“Mrs. Hudson, I suppose,” Sherlock said.

John shook his head. “Go see Greg first. He wanted that miracle badly, too. He deserves to know now.” John started to turn, lifting up his coffee to wave at them “See you both around seven.” And then he walked away, back towards his clinic.

Molly and Sherlock looked at each other with slightly shocked expressions. “That went better than expected,” he replied.

“That, Sherlock, is an understatement,” she said before taking a sip of her coffee. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee before we go to Scotland Yard?”

He shook his head. “I can get one afterward. But before I make this trip I'd like to return to your home and see if my suit and coat have been delivered. I would feel much more like myself in them.”

“Of course,” she said as they began walking towards the entrance to the park. “Are you going to attempt to do something with your hair again?”

“Perhaps dye it back to my natural shade and wait for it to grow out,” he said.

“I don't know. I quite like the way you look now,” she said thoughtfully. “You look a bit more...approachable.”

“That's just the clothing I'm in right now.”

“No, it's not that. Well, it's not just that,” she said. “I mean, you've always been striking, but now you don't look so cold and foreboding. I like the shorter hair and the warmer shade.”

“Then perhaps I'll keep them for now,” he replied. “I suppose a bit of change won't hurt. It certainly didn't hurt for you.”

“Yes, well, it wasn't very successful,” she said before taking a sip of her drink. “The whole point of me changing was to get noticed, and that didn't happen.”

“Perhaps it wasn't a drastic enough change.”

“Perhaps. But mostly I think it's because I don't spend a lot of time with people and I certainly don't spend significant time with anyone I'm attracted to, or people who are attracted to me. Though I suppose it's for the best I'm alone right now. Things might get complicated if I had a boyfriend.”

“Because I've taken up residence in your home?” he asked as they exited the park.

“That wasn't what I was thinking of but yes, that probably would pose a problem too,” she said thoughtfully.

“What were you thinking of?” he asked curiously.

“That it was someone else who could get hurt in this new game being played,” she said. “I know you and your brother want to protect me, but if I had a boyfriend I'm not sure if the protection would be extended to him, and that wouldn't be right.”

“We think very differently about things, I suppose,” he said.

“We always have, Sherlock. You're more logical than I am. Logically any man would get upset if another man moved into his girlfriend's home, especially if it's someone she has a history with.”

“We don't have that type of history, though,” he pointed out.

“Anyone who knew me knew I fancied you,” she said with a shrug. “And I'm fairly sure I would have told any boyfriend about that sooner or later. To be honest, I'm just surprised I didn't think of it. I'm usually the one who thinks about how people feel, not you.”

“Jealousy is an emotion I can understand,” he replied. “I don't like it, but I understand it.”

“No one likes feeling jealous, Sherlock,” she said as she reached over to hail them an approaching cab, but the cab drove right by. She hung her head slightly. “I am never really good at that. I'm too short to be noticed.”

“I would think cabs would be more inclined to pull over for a female rather than a male,” he said, reaching out to hail a different cab. This one stopped for them. “Apparently I'm wrong.”

“In this case, yeah. But that's okay,” she said, giving him a grin and getting a faint smile in return. “I'm surprised that you admitted you were wrong about something, though. You have, since the day I met you, insisted you were right about everything.”

“I've miscalculated a few times,” he said, opening the door for her. He said nothing when she slipped inside, and when he joined her she gave the driver her address. It wasn't until the cab pulled away that he spoke again. “I made mistakes about Moriarty, obviously, but I've also made mistakes about you.”

“I suppose the mistakes involving me were much more trivial than the ones involving Moriarty,” she said as she had some more of her drink. “They didn't have life or death consequences.”

“That is true,” he said, settling back into the seat. He was quiet for a few moments as the cab began to weave through traffic. “I would do it all again, you know. Falling off the roof, faking my death...if it kept all of you safe I would do it again. I think the only thing I might have done differently was pat Moriarty down for the gun, but even then I think he would have found a way to die so I had to do what he wanted.”

“He wanted you to play that game, but you outsmarted him,” she said.

“But now there's a new game, and I'm not sure what the rules are,” he said as he sighed. “We're both going to be second guessing ourselves as I try and finish it.”

“Maybe. As long as we don't make a fatal mistake we can always try and correct whatever mistakes it is we make,” she said. “But just remember I can help. I mean, it affects me, so I want to do everything I can to make sure we both get out of this alive.”

“We just need to make sure that we, along with anyone else that gets pulled into it, stay safe.” He turned to look out the window. “I still hate the uncertainty of it all.”

“I know you do.” He didn't respond, and they lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride. Once the cab arrived at her home she paid and they got out. When she opened the door she wasn't surprised to see two garment bags hanging on her coat rack and a pair of shoes near the base. “I don't care whether your brother had someone pick my lock or he had a key,” she said darkly as Sherlock retrieved the clothing. “If he does it again I'll raise holy hell.”

“I'll make sure he understands you're displeased,” he said.

“Do that,” she said with a nod. “I'm going to wait in the sitting room while you change.”

He nodded and then made his way upstairs. She sat in her favorite chair and picked up the magazine she had been attempting to read earlier that morning before Sherlock got the call. She had been reading for nearly ten minutes when she heard him clear his throat. She turned and saw him standing there in a dark grey suit and a crisp white shirt with a familiar looking coat draped over his arm. “I feel more like my old self,” he said.

“You certainly look like you're more comfortable,” she said with a grin as she stood up. “Is that your old coat?”

He shook his head. “A replacement. There was too much blood on the old one. I actually like this one better, though. It's an improvement.”

She moved closer to him, and when she got close enough she took a look at him, a small frown on her face. “This suit looks a little big,” she said after a moment of studying him.

“It's one of my old ones,” he said. “I've lost enough weight for it to be noticeable.” He put on the coat, which she admitted looked like it fit him better. “Apparently there is money in a bank account for me to use to survive until I begin working again. I'll be using part of it to replenish my wardrobe since I doubt anything I didn't bring here with me will fit now.”

“Don't get rid of them, though,” she said. “If you stay with me for a while I'm going to make sure you actually eat and take care of yourself. You'll fit them again soon enough, hopefully.”

“I can make five new suits work well enough,” he said. He flipped the collar of his coat up and she had to admit, aside from the hair being different and the suit hanging a little loose he looked just like he used to. It was a bit comforting to see that. He nodded towards the front door. “We should go see Lestrade now.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said.

She got her handbag and they made their way to the door and stepped outside, and she locked up behind them. He went and hailed them another cab and told the driver to take them to Scotland Yard. Sherlock seemed to want to stay quiet so she didn't start a conversation with him this time. When they got to their destination she paid the driver and they got out. Sherlock strode confidently into the building, walking quickly enough that she had to hurry to keep up. They got to the front desk and the receptionist looked at him in shock. “Where is Detective Inspector Lestrade?” he asked.

“In his office,” she said, her eyes wide. “You...you're not dead.”

“No, I'm not,” he said. “Do we need visitor passes?”

“Yes,” she said, snapping out of her shock. She reached forward and after a moment she held up two laminated badges with clips. Sherlock clipped his to the lapel of his coat and then began walking forward towards the lift.

“Thank you,” Molly said to her before she hurried over to him. He had pressed the button and the door had opened by the time she got to him. “Were you at least going to wait for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I just want to get this done with. Not because I don't want to inform Lestrade that I'm back but because I'm not in the mood to deal with his incompetent subordinates.”

“You mean Phillip and Sally?” she asked as they stepped inside. He gave her a blank look. “Anderson and Donovan.”

“Yes, those two,” he said.

“They aren't working with Greg anymore,” she said as he pressed the button for Lestrade's floor. “Phillip got sacked and the only place willing to give him a second chance was in the States, and Sally transferred to another division after what happened with you. It was the only way she'd ever get a promotion after everything.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Things really have changed,” he murmured. “Who is his subordinate now?”

“Detective Sergeant Jarrod Teague. Phillip's replacement is an American woman named Gabriela Cassetta. She came from the LAPD.”

“I certainly hope they're more competent than the people they replaced,” he said as the doors to the lift shut.

“Jarrod volunteered to work with Greg, and he's quite good,” Molly said. “I think Greg was surprised anyone wanted to work with him willingly, what with the taint that came with having you as his primary consultant. He probably feels quite vindicated right now.”

“He certainly looked that way at the press conference,” Sherlock replied. “Jarrod was the man standing next to him, I take it?”

She nodded. “Yes. He looks tough but he's actually quite polite and very nice, and incredibly smart.” He raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked.

“It almost sounds as if you fancy him,” he said.

“He's engaged and he has an infant daughter,” she said, shaking her head. “But he has manners, which I appreciate, and he has interesting stories to tell about his childhood and his military service. Occasionally he would join Greg and I for a pint after work.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Have you met the other one yet?”

“Yes,” she replied. “She's a bit more standoffish. She's having trouble adjusting to being here, I think. But it was an opportunity for her to advance her career so she took it. She's in charge here.”

“Is there a chance Anderson will come back?” he asked.

“Oh no,” she replied. “Like I said, Phillip got sacked, so even if he wanted to come back to work here he wouldn't be able to. Scotland Yard wouldn't allow it. I mean, he could try and do some freelance work, but generally to do what he did he needed to go somewhere else. He got an opportunity in New York, I think, and so he took it.”

“Good. The man is an absolute imbecile and I'm glad he's someone else’s problem now,” he said.

She shook her head. “I never realized exactly how much you hate him,” she said. “What did he ever do to you?”

“The very first case we worked together he attempted to undermine my contributions,” he said. “He'd almost convinced Lestrade I was wrong. But Lestrade decided to go with my plan and we caught a killer before he murdered again. I've loathed him ever since and continuously been surprised Scotland Yard continued to employ him.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “That would be a very good reason to despise him, I suppose.”

“I just hope the replacements are better when I have to work with them,” he said.

“If,” she said quietly. He turned to look at her sharply. “There's always the chance Scotland Yard won't let you consult again, even though your innocence has been proven.”

“It's in their best interest to let me,” he said in a slight huff.

“You've been gone two years,” she replied gently. “People didn't stop committing crimes while you were gone. Scotland Yard had to get by without you, and they did quite well.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, then,” he said quietly as the doors opened on the floor they needed. He walked out into the room, projecting confidence and the barest hint of irritation because everyone who spotted him turned to gawk. He made his way to Lestrade's office and saw the door was open. Lestrade had been staring at it, and a slow grin spread across his face when he saw Sherlock. “Lestrade,” he said with a nod.

“I was expecting you,” he said as he got up.

“I suppose John told you?” he asked with a sigh.

He shook his head. “Your brother was waiting for me at my home last night and told me the truth, that you were alive and had been taking down Moriarty's organization. He also told me he was the reason I didn't get demoted. I think he almost told me the entire truth. Can't really be sure with him.”

“No, I suppose not,” he conceded. “I can't even tell half the time and I'm his brother.”

“Well, I'm just glad that particular bit of news was true.” He then noticed Molly was at the doorway and frowned. “You haven't been at the hospital lately,” he said towards her.

“I'm on sabbatical for the foreseeable future,” she replied.

“What about your testimony for your cases?” he asked.

“Well, my personal bodyguard will be accompanying me, but I'll be there. An arrangement has been worked out with St. Bart's and Scotland Yard in that regard,” she said with a faint smile.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked. Then he turned to Sherlock. “Did your stunt get her in trouble?” Sherlock motioned for them to go inside of his office. Lestrade moved out of the way and both Sherlock and Molly came in and sat down. Lestrade shut the door behind them and then went to his chair. “What's going on that you don't want people overhearing, Sherlock?”

“Molly's involvement in helping me fake my death has put her in danger,” he said quietly. “I'm working on a few theories, but the two most prominent ones are that the man who died on that roof wasn't James Moriarty or he left behind detailed plans in case it turned out I had evaded his plans for me by not dying. I'm still not sure which theory is more valid.”

“How would he have known she helped you?” Lestrade asked curiously.

“She's a medical professional,” he said. “Even someone in her field has to go through all the training a regular doctor would go through. If the truth had come to light and the person in charge of the criminal organization found out, whether it was Moriarty or someone else, that would be the logical conclusion. Even if it was a stab in the dark they will have realized as soon as it becomes apparent that I am residing with her that she did indeed play a part in helping me fake my death.”

“Christ,” Lestrade said, running a hand down his face. “That's a complication neither of you needed.”

“Trust me, we know,” Molly said with a sigh.

“Today is the first day I've been able to leave her home,” Sherlock said. “As soon as I'm done letting Mrs. Hudson know I'm alive I plan on examining the macabre gift left for Molly the night I returned from my travels.”

“What gift?” Lestrade asked.

“Black roses with the flowers cut off, a decapitated doll with a photograph of Molly's face on the head and a note,” Sherlock said.

Lestrade leaned back in his seat, slightly stunned for a minute. Then he looked as though he snapped out of it. “Is there anything I can do?” Lestrade asked. “Because I want to help keep Molly safe, too.”

“I'm not entirely sure yet,” Sherlock admitted. “I need to see what I can learn from the florist's box and its contents first.”

“Do you know if the hospital is going to let you go back to using a lab there, since you aren't a consultant anymore?” Lestrade asked.

“I don't know,” he replied. “I know part of the reason I was allowed to use the lab was because of the work I did with Scotland Yard, but that wasn't the only reason.”

“Well, I could always use my new clout to get you reinstated as an official consultant,” he said with a slight grin.

“New clout?” Molly asked, slightly confused.

“Apparently the information Scotland Yard received was accompanied with a very strongly worded letter from your brother, Sherlock, insisting that I stop being punished for feeling differently on the subject of your innocence than my superiors. They want to promote me to superintendent, which I'm not sure I want to accept. I like what I do, solving murders, and I'm not sure new duties would allow me to do that.”

“A promotion would be good for you, though,” Molly said. “I mean, aside from the pay raise and the chance to do something less dangerous there's also the chance you'll anger your superiors if you don't take the promotion.”

“Fair point,” Lestrade said with a nod. “But anyway, while they're feeling generous I can convince them to have you reinstated, Sherlock. But only if you actually want to do it. I'm not going to stick my neck out and have my head chopped off in thanks.”

“The cases from Scotland Yard always have been more challenging,” Sherlock replied.

“I'll take that as a yes, then?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Should I extend it to John as your assistant as well?”

“It probably wouldn't hurt, though I doubt he'll do it often,” Sherlock said. “For now, though, Molly will be my assistant. I have things to find out and I can't do that if I'm trapped at the hospital while she does her regular job.”

“Do you actually want to do that?” Lestrade asked her.

“I'd like to try,” she said, nodding slowly. “I mean, Sherlock will be doing most of the work. I'll more or less just be a sounding board.”

“John was more than that for him,” Lestrade said when Sherlock opened his mouth to say something in response. “I'm sure you will be, too.”

“As much as I consider John a good assistant your experiences will be infinitely more valuable,” Sherlock told her. “You studied the science of death. That is something he never did.”

“I suppose that is true,” she conceded. “Still, I'm not brilliant like you are.”

Sherlock shut his eyes for a moment, as though he was trying very hard not to be irritated, and she was almost worried she'd said something that was going to cause him to explode in anger. “No, you're not, but neither was John,” he replied finally as he opened his eyes. “You sell yourself too short, Molly.”

Lestrade looked between them. “I think it's a good time to move on, yeah?” he asked. Both Sherlock and Molly nodded. “What do you need right now to start looking into this threat?”

“Access to a lab, preferably my old one,” he said. “And access to everything that was gathered regarding the man who killed himself on the roof. Evidence, crime scene photographs, autopsy results...all of it.”

“I'll see what I can get and how quickly I can get it,” Lestrade replied with a nod. “Your brother provided quite a bit of information as well, about how you were set up. Do you want that as well?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I gathered the majority of that information, and whatever I didn't Mycroft can give me on his own. But the rest of that is vital.”

“Then I'll start getting to work,” he said, standing up. “Who else have you told the truth to?”

“Just John,” Molly said as she and Sherlock stood as well.

Lestrade's eyes widened slightly. “And you weren't beaten to a bloody pulp?”

“He took it quite well, actually,” Sherlock replied. “When Molly had set things up for our reunion he realized there were very few reasons why she would do things as she did and he deduced that would most likely mean I was not, in fact, dead. He was quite happy to have his deductions proven right.”

“You were quite lucky,” Lestrade said. “He hit a rough spot for a long while. I had to pull some strings and make some promises to make sure he didn't get into serious trouble.”

“This ruse hurt quite a few of you, didn't it?” Sherlock asked thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but it's all right. It's going to take some getting used to, though, so even though we're happy we're still going to have to feel our way around things. It's not going to be the same as before because it really can't be,” Lestrade said. He went over to the door and then held out his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock took it and shook it. “If you're staying with Molly I'll have what I can get delivered to her home.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said with a nod as he let go of Lestrade's hand. He stepped out of the doorway as Molly came up behind him.

“If you need anything, Molly, let me know, all right? I know Sherlock's there, but...” Lestrade said.

Molly nodded and then embraced him. “You'll be the first person I call,” she said softly.

“If he irritates you call me before you kill him,” he said just as quietly, and she chuckled as she pulled away. “I mean it, Molly.”

“I know you do,” she said, giving him a fond smile before she stepped out of his office. “You take care, Greg.”

“I will,” Lestrade said in response before shutting the door to his office.

Sherlock looked over at her and then motioned down the hallway. “What did he say to you, at the end?” he asked as they began to head back towards the lift.

“Just that I should call him if I feel like wanting to kill you,” she said. “I'm fairly sure John made those types of phone calls to him when you lived with him.”

“I'll try my best not to drive you to that point,” he said. “Mostly because I think you could do a more than adequate job of murdering me and leaving no trace.”

“Oh, I probably could, but I'm not that type of person,” she said with a smile. “But I do have more of a backbone these days. I'm not going to let you walk all over me and make me feel worthless and inferior. If you do something that displeases me I'm going to make sure you know and that you don't do it again.”

“I suppose it will be an entirely new experience living with you as opposed to John,” he said thoughtfully. “I know I shared a home with Mrs. Hudson but she had her own area, which means you will be the first woman I've really lived with since my mother. You and I are sharing a much smaller space, and you don't have an entire section of it to yourself. I think it's going to take some getting used to.”

“Yes, it will,” she said with a nod. “It's my home and I have things set up exactly how I want them. And not only that, but I do things women do that you'll simply have to deal with.”

“Such as?” he asked curiously

“For one, I feel absolutely wretched for a few days each month and you'll find no matter what you do I'm in a foul mood, and all I want to do is curl up in bed and ignore the world. I hang my undergarments up to dry in the washroom, for another. I also have all sorts of things in said washroom that I don't want you to touch. If you rummage through my cabinets I may severely hurt you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I already did,” he said quietly.

She groaned. “Why didn't I expect that?” she said, more to herself than him.

“I won't pretend to know what most of that is used for,” he said. “But I was curious.”

“I sincerely hope you don't want me to explain things to you,” she said, glaring at him. “Because those are conversations I refuse to have with you.”

“I think it's definitely going to be a learning experience, living with you,” he said. “Hopefully it will not need to be for very long. Your life shouldn't have to be upended like this, and the sooner I can solve this problem I've gotten you into the better.”

“Yes, I would love to have my home back to myself,” she said. “But I suppose once we've established some ground rules we can manage to live together well enough.”

“We've done well enough so far without ground rules,” he pointed out.

“That was before you told me you went through my things,” she said with a hint of irritation. “So I'm going to come up with ground rules and you're going to follow them.”

“Do I get to have any say in this?” he asked as they got to the lift.

“No, you don't,” she said, pushing the button to call the lift to them quite hard. She should have expected him to go through her things, but if he went through the contents of her washroom she had to wonder what else he had gone through. After a moment she reined in her irritation somewhat and turned to him as the lift doors opened. “Now, onto a new topic. Have you thought about how you want to tell Mrs. Hudson you're actually alive?”

“Preferably in a way that doesn't send her into cardiac arrest,” he replied as they stepped inside the lift.

“So the answer is no?” she asked.

“I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “John took it well, Lestrade already knew, so there's always the chance this third revelation of the day won't go as expected either.”

“That is true.” She reached over to push the button for the ground floor. “I'd say this is one where you should do it gently. I mean, it's going to be a shock regardless, but...” She trailed off. “I don't even know how to verbalize what I mean.”

“I understand, though,” he said. “If I don't want her to be panicked I should do it in a way that doesn't make it quite as shocking. “

“More or less,” she said with a nod as the doors closed. “I can call her and see if she's at home, if you want.”

“I would appreciate that,” he said with a nod of his own.

She reached into her handbag and dug out her mobile, and then she scrolled through her contacts until she found Mrs. Hudson's home phone number. Mrs. Hudson didn't have a mobile, so if she didn't answer then that meant she wasn't home. Finally after three rings there was a click on the other end. “Hello?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” she said.

“Molly! It's quite lovely to hear from you, dear. How are you?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“I've been better,” she said. “But it isn't too bad. How are you?

“Oh, I'm doing well enough. Trying to keep myself busy.”

“That's good to hear,” Molly said. “Are you free right now? I thought I could come over and we could have some tea and chat.”

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Hudson replied. “Does this have to do with the news from this morning?”

“A bit, yeah,” Molly said. “I mean, it was a good thing, but a bit of a shock to those of us who knew him.”

“Well, I never believed the accusations, so it was only a shock that Scotland Yard actually got off their arses and confirmed what most of us who knew him have known from the start,” she said, with just the barest hint of anger in her voice. “But that's neither here nor there. I'll be here for the next few hours. Feel free to come over and we can enjoy some tea and each other’s company.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “I'll see you in about twenty minutes or so.”

“All right. I'll be waiting,” Mrs. Hudson said.

Molly hung up at that point and looked over at Sherlock. “Well, she was quite happy about the press conference this morning,” she said. “She basically said it was about time Scotland Yard went about proving your innocence.”

“Well, they needed the information I had gathered,” he said. “That wasn't all of what I was doing while I was gone, but that was a large part of it.”

“How much are you willing to talk about what you were doing?”

“A bit,” he replied. “I mean, I may go into a few details, but generally I don't want to dwell on it. I'll answer as many of John's questions tonight as he wants, but after that I'd prefer not to talk about it. I want to put it behind me.”

“Then I'll listen tonight and leave it at that when you're done,” she said as the lift stopped. The doors opened and they stepped out, and both of them unclipped their visitor badges and left them with the receptionist, who watched Sherlock with slightly wide eyes. He scowled at her before they left. “You need to get used to that.”

“It's an annoyance,” he replied.

“But it's also a really big shock,” she said. “People are going to stare and they're going to ask annoying questions and generally it's going to take some time for people to get used to you being alive and not dead.”

“I can handle it from those I'm close to, not that there's been much of it this morning, but constantly having that reaction from the public at large is going to grate on my nerves.”

“Give it a few weeks and I'm sure it will stop,” she said as they got to the doors of the building and went outside.

“I hope so.” He made his way to the curb and hailed them a cab. They got inside and this time he gave the address. Traffic was light at the moment, and they made it to Sherlock's old home in just over fifteen minutes. Molly got out first, followed by Sherlock. He stood on the curb, staring at the door for a moment. “It's strange to be home,” he said quietly.

“Soon enough you'll get to stay here again,” she said, moving towards the door. “You and I won't be living together forever.”

“I know,” he said. He joined her at the door and after a minute moved to open it. It was locked. “The door is usually never locked when she's home.”

“There were some problems,” Molly said, raising her hand to knock. She put her knuckles to the door. “People who were quite ghoulish wanted a piece of you. Your brother basically put the kibosh on that by taking your belongings out of the home, but I'm fairly sure a few things of yours are missing anyway.”

“Will I get to have my belongings at your home?”

“I don't see why not,” she said after a moment's thought. “If you're going to end up staying with me a while it would be better for you.”

Sherlock was going to say more when they heard the door unlock. After a moment it opened, and Mrs. Hudson gave Molly a smile before registering there were two people on her doorstep. She paled slightly when she looked at Sherlock. “But...” she said in a confused tone of voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” he said quietly. She looked at him for a moment more, and then she fainted. Sherlock pushed the door open, concern on his face. Molly came in as well, her eyes wide. He squatted down next to Mrs. Hudson and checked her over. “If things haven't changed much there is a first aid kit in the kitchen, under the sink. John insisted. There are smelling salts in it.”

“I'll go get them,” she said with a nod, stepping over Mrs. Hudson and moving towards the stairs. She went up them quickly and made her way to the kitchen. She hadn't been there in quite some time and it looked dark and unused. She made her way to the kitchen, flipping on a nearby light, and then moved to the sink. She opened the cabinet underneath and saw what looked like a first aid kit. She pulled it out and after a brief pause took it all out to Sherlock.

Sherlock opened it and quickly pulled out the smelling salts. He opened up a packet and then waved it under Mrs. Hudson's nose. After a moment her eyes fluttered open and she sat up more. “You're really alive,” she said quietly when she looked at him.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I am,” he replied.

She was quiet for a full minute before she reached over and hugged him. He was surprised, but after a few seconds he embraced her back. “I'm so glad,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied. She let go a few minutes later and then he stood up, offering her his hand. She took it and stood up. “Do you feel sore at all?”

“No, just a bit out of sorts, but I'll be fine,” she said. Then she looked over at Molly. “How long have you known he was alive?”

“Since the day he fell off the roof,” she said. “I helped him fake his death.”

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened. “I never would have guessed you knew for that long. It never appeared as though you were keeping secrets when we would talk.”

“I have quite a good poker face,” Molly said with a slight smile. “And it was important I keep it a secret. As much as I wanted all of you to know I couldn't say anything because it would have put Sherlock in danger.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Hudson said with a nod. “Well, I'm glad you're able to tell us now.”

“I am as well,” Molly said as her smile grew.

Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock and then embraced him again. “You don't know how happy I am that you're back. This place has been so lonely without you and John.”

“I won't get to come back for a time,” he said as he embraced her back again. “Right now I need to reside with Molly. But hopefully when this is over I can come back here.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked as she pulled away, giving the two of them a concerned look.

Molly nodded. “Someone threatened me,” she said. “Sherlock is staying with me to keep me safe.”

“I'm so sorry, dear,” she replied, moving over to embrace her this time. Molly embraced her back, and then Mrs. Hudson pulled away and looked at her. “Are you safe at home?”

“Safe enough,” Molly said, looking over at Sherlock, who nodded. Then she turned back to Mrs. Hudson. “I'll be fine. Sherlock will make sure of it.”

“You'd better,” Mrs. Hudson said to Sherlock as she pulled away from Molly completely. “I'll be quite cross at you if you don't. I care about Molly just as much as I care about you and John.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, giving the older woman a warm smile.

“I promise I will keep her safe,” he replied.

“Good,” Mrs. Hudson said with a nod. “Now then. I had already started to make the tea. Why don't we see if it's ready and then we can chat?”

“I think that sounds lovely, don't you, Sherlock?” Molly asked.

He nodded. “I would like to do that very much.”

“Then let's go check the tea and you can start telling me what you've been doing,” Mrs. Hudson said as she led the way to her part of the home. Sherlock followed first, with Molly right behind him. The reunions that day could have gone quite differently, and despite the scare with Mrs. Hudson it appeared as though it was going to go quite well, and she was pleased by that.