Disclaimer, Rating, Summary, Credits and all Notes: Please see Chapter 1.

Holmesian Logic

Part 2

Chapter 8

Both their phones chimed simultaneously, and Greg raised his eyebrows as he finished off the last of his tea, both of them knowing who the text had to be from.

"Hum…he's at the de Beers diamond exchange…" John told Greg…"Jewellery heist is a bit unusual I suppose."

"Uh-uh," Greg said as his phone pinged again. "From Dimmock...there's a body…and a supposedly cursed antique necklace on loan from Russia that was there for cleaning and maintenance…"

"Let me guess, which isn't there anymore."

"Right…Nicked, with prejudice – the body is one of the senior site managers…"

He stood up and took their crockery back to the counter for Mrs R.

After their impromptu doorstep interview which Sherlock had ended by refusing to answer more questions they had gone inside to find a far more composed Mrs Hudson. He had gone one step closer to really forgiving the great bit arsehole when Sherlock, without prompting or discernible hesitation, stepped forward and hugged Mrs Hudson tightly, albeit briefly. His repeated explanations about mammal to mammal communication as his online buddy Detective Williams called it must be sinking in.

The website and his blog had crashed under the weight of 'site traffic' although he hadn't felt guilty about making everyone wait a couple of days for his first 'new' blog. Given the vituperative abuse unleashed on him in the aftermath of Sherlock's death he had had no qualms about naming and shaming trolls or being forthright in his opinions. He had also needed time to rephrase Sherlock's explanations into a more flowing narrative and of course redact sensitive elements – Mycroft Holmes and Irene Adler, for two, had been excised from the picture – and to bolster up Sherlock's version of the police and press involvement. As they knew, there was no way that Kitty Riley or Superintendent Braithwaite could admit they had been completely duped by James Moriarty, but fortunately their squirming embarrassment had been mistaken for bashful modesty in the finest British manner.

He had also been delayed in that first 'resurrection blog' because within twenty-four hours he'd endured a very unpleasant visit from Daphne, who had ranted for fifteen minutes non-stop about her surreal experience of that morning when she had ended up walking – walking – to Baker Street in the absence of any and all vehicular transport being available at all or not breaking down if it was there.

These days he had to admit it felt good to receive some civvy street respect. Before Sherlock's 'death' everyone, including those who should have known better, treated him as little more than a walking Dictaphone, or Sherlock's bought-and-paid-for cheerleader.

Sherlock's obvious sincerity over the fact that John Watson had been the one member of what the press termed his 'inner circle of supporters and gatekeepers' who had been as deceived as everyone else had softened the public perception, as had his magnanimity in not letting the situation damage his friendship with Sherlock. Now wherever they went instead of 'You're Sherlock Holmes! Help!' it was 'Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson! Help!' the public acknowledgement of his existence nowadays was admittedly gratifying.

Yet again, his and Greg's phones pinged. "Text him that we're on our way, will you?" John asked exasperatedly as he buttoned up his coat for the outdoor chill.

"He says you need to come and be the charming distraction, stat," Greg drawled. "The woman who technically owns the necklace is on the scene and isn't impressed by the dilettante amateur Sherlock Holmes contaminating a crime scene and wants real policemen there."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, he says come and get her out from under his feet asap."

"Hang on, 'technically' owns the necklace?"

"Apparently the necklace is held in a family trust – can't be sold or broken up for the individual gems, blah blah. Under the terms of the trust the firstborn daughter of the firstborn daughter from generation unto generation can wear the necklace throughout her life from the age of eighteen years to eighty years at which point the necklace is then passed to the firstborn daughter of the next generation and so on."

"Sounds like a second rate historical romance B-movie plot synopsis. Right, let's go. What's the name of this superlative judge of character and clearly discerning woman who is apparently intelligent enough not to be impressed by the swirling greatcoat and those cheekbones?"

"Hang on…one…Mary…Morstan."

The end.

2013 The Cat's Whiskers

All rights reserved

Author's Note:

I apologise for having to post these last three chapters all at once, as I have been working constantly even over Christmas. C'est la vie! However, I am aware that Sherlock starts again on New Year's Day, and from the trailers/teasers, this is already an AU.

Whilst I am pleased I was able to get down in writing my idea of how Sherlock Holmes faked his own death, and to be able to clear up the continuity errors and inconsistencies in the very first episode, I do not think I shall write any more stories in this fandom unless the Plot Bunny goes nuclear. I hope you liked my idea of how it was faked. And, for what it's worth, I think Sherlock's Moriarty was how the character would hopefully have been had Sir Arthur Conan Doyle created him as one, rather than just making the name a convenient cipher to get rid of Holmes at the Reichenbach Falls. Colonel Sebastian Moran of course was a far more pervasive villain in the series.