35. The End of the Beginning

Light had already filled the bedroom when Sherlock woke up. He shivered in cold; the sheets were on the other side of the bed and there was no John beside him. Confused, Sherlock looked up at the empty bed. Where was John? He racked his brain, trying to find out whether John had told him he needed to be somewhere, but he could not remember anything. He jumped up from his thoughts when he heard his mobile phone. He reached for it and read the text message John had sent him half an hour previously.

Got a job interview today – forgot to tell you. I made you breakfast. Love you.
JW

Sherlock frowned. A job interview? Why would he need a job? Did he want some space from Sherlock? Sherlock shrugged, admitting they were a little behind on their rent.

Good plan, a little money is never a bad idea. I miss you. This bed is cold without you.
SH

Sherlock smiled as he hit the "send" button. This was nothing like him, sending text messages like that. He did not care, though; John made him happy. He lay back down into the white, fluffy pillows and waited for John to respond.

You're still in bed?
JW

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Was that all John had picked up on, or was he just playing with him? Either way, Sherlock hastened to reply.

Yes, and I miss you. I wish you could join me. In bed.
SH

There. That should do it.
Sherlock pulled the covers up to his chin and rolled over. He was lazy, and he had every right to be. There was nothing on today, not a single case. He hadn't anticipated that John might be away for a big part of the morning. Sherlock sighed in boredom and glanced at his phone again.

Sherlock! My interview's about to start, soon they'll think I have a permanent blushing syndrome or something.
JW
ps; I wish I could join you, too.

Sherlock smiled again. He pictured John with his adorable scarlet cheeks, looking down at his feet. Sherlock buried his face in the pillows as he waited for the giggles to die down. God, he had never giggled before in his entire life – John was infectious.

Tell them your hot boyfriend is texting you. That should do the trick, I imagine.
SH

Sherlock decided to get dressed, and eat a little bit of that breakfast. There was no case to stop eating for anyway, though he would never admit to John that he was a little hungry.

Sure, and they'll never hire me. They've only got weekend spots anyway, it's all just for the money... Oh, I've got to go, it's my turn. Will text when it's over.
JW

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realised it had bothered him so much, that John had gone to a job interview without telling him. He replied quickly, hoping John would still be able to read it.

Good luck. I love you.
SH

What to do in the meantime? He could continue with his experiment from last week – but that was almost finished and he wasn't really keen. He wouldn't go and look for a case, not without John, at least. Absentmindedly, he picked up his violin and started playing. He'd gone through five long, intricate songs before his phone buzzed again. Sherlock dropped his violin instantly and almost dived for it; it was on the armrest of his leather seat.

Thank you. I've got the job, but like I said it's only weekend work. It won't take much of my time and I'll be able to go with you on our cases. I love you too.
JW

Sherlock pouted his lips. He didn't like the fact that John started working again, but he had to be honest with himself; their latest cases hadn't given them a lot of money and Mrs Hudson was already trying to talk to them about the rent. Sherlock's cheeks turned a very light shade of pink when he read the last four words and soon he was giggling again, a broad smile on his face. What was wrong with him that had him giggling like a schoolgirl? Sherlock shook his head and pressed the "reply" button. His fingers flew over the keys as he wrote down his thoughts.

Good. I won't be able to live with the fact that you have to go to work every single day. I already miss you at the thought of it.
SH

When will you be home?
SH

John sighed and rolled his eyes at the latest two texts of his boyfriend. Sherlock was such a possessive child sometimes; of course they needed money, they barely managed as it was. John deliberately applied for this job, since there was only room in the weekends. He knew that deep down, he wouldn't be able to be away from Sherlock all day. It would mean that he wouldn't wake up in Sherlock's arms, and that Sherlock would have to do most cases by himself. John shuddered; he didn't want to let Sherlock do all the dangerous stuff without him.

In a bit.
JW

Oh, no – it might take a while. I can see Mycroft's car. Damn that brother of yours.
JW

John sighed and walked up to the man that stood behind the black, shining car. 'Mycroft?' he simply asked. The man nodded and went inside the car. John rolled his eyes and got in as well. 'What is it he wants this time?' he asked. There was no reply, but John hadn't expected there to be one. His mobile phone buzzed and John looked, curious to see what Sherlock's response was.

What does he want? I'll kill him if he hurts you.
SH

John's face showed a deep expression of affection when he'd read the message. Sherlock was worried about him, that much he could tell. John fought the urge to make a cooing sound, for that would just attract unwanted attention.

Why would he hurt me? And thank you, by the way. I'll be fine, Sherlock.

JW

The reply came almost immediately, and John was getting uncomfortable from the stares that he got from the rear-view mirror. He didn't hesitate to text back.

Because he feels the need to protect "his little brother". The papers are full of the news of us, perhaps he wants to have a word with you.
SH

I'll be fine, Sherlock. I'm sure. Have you finished the toast I left you?
JW

Was that so? Was Mycroft concerned about Sherlock? Did he want to have a word with John, to make sure he was treating him well? John had difficulty believing it, but then, John wasn't the only one who had changed after Sherlock's "death". Mycroft had become aware of the fact that Sherlock was in fact his brother, that they shared the same name, the same DNA. Even through their little fight, feuds, disagreements, resentments, whatever they called it – they had a sort of bond, and Mycroft being the more human of the two (or so it had seemed to John before he had seen Sherlock's emotional side) would want his little brother to be alright, wouldn't he?

The car stopped and John turned off his phone. He wanted to focus on Mycroft, and Sherlock's texts would be distracting him. He'd turn it on as soon as he was in the car, back home.

John followed the familiar route to Mycroft's office and politely knocked on the door. The room was in total silence, as always – it unnerved John, to say the least – and the soft but threatening voice of Mycroft said; 'Come in.'

John came in and found Mycroft on one of the comfortable seats. The other was placed opposite him, obviously meant for John. John sat down and watched the front page of the newspaper Mycroft was holding. They were on it, a big collection of photographs taken from a few days ago to present day. John saw himself lying in the grass in Hyde Park with Sherlock on top of him, he saw them walking hand in hand on the streets, he saw them coming out of their flat, he saw them in a restaurant, occasionally kissing.

'What do you want?' John asked in a brisk voice. He knew Mycroft was reading the article about them.

'Well, John.' Mycroft folded the newspaper and laid it on the table beside him, next to a glass of red wine. 'I wanted to talk to you about my brother.'
'Isn't that what we always do when you kidnap me like this? I've got a phone, Mycroft, as I've told you many times already.' John felt his cocky anti-Mycroft attitude rise again.

Mycroft grimaced at him disapprovingly. 'I want to make sure you are not distracting Sherlock from his work. And I want to know if you treat him well.'

John kept himself from rolling his eyes. 'Why don't you just ask Sherlock? He could provide a better answer.'

'I want to hear it from you, John.'

John frowned. 'Look,' he said, leaning forward, elbows on knees. 'That last case, with the stolen documents, was solved in two days. Thanks to us, you've still got your job. I agree, it might have gone a bit quicker if Sherlock and I weren't together, but you can't expect him to act like a bloody machine all the time. However unbelievable it might seem, your brother is a human being.'

Mycroft didn't know what to say; John had never been so angry at him, nor had he ever been so right.

'And to answer your second question, yes, I do treat him well. I've made him breakfast today and I have asked him just moments ago whether he has already eaten any of it. I force him into eating something when we go out, I take him to bed with me – to get enough sleep –' John was too angry to be annoyed by his own blush, '– I make sure he stays off his cigarettes, drugs and whatnot. I won't leave him alone when we're on a case because I don't want him to hurt himself. Understood?'

Mycroft nodded, taking a deep breath. 'John, I understand. But I never thought you'd be hurting him – '
'Don't bother,' John said, starting to get up. He reached the door when Mycroft's voice came, soft and concerned; 'Do tell him that I care about him, would you?'

John stayed at the door, looking at the profile of Mycroft Holmes. His head was slightly tilted and his eyes were fixed on his newspaper, but John knew for sure that his grip was trembling. John felt a sudden pity for the man, after all he had lost his brother and now he turned out to be alive, there still didn't seem to be any development in their relationship.

'I'll tell him,' he answered softly before closing the door behind him.

I've eaten them all, John. Wasn't much.
SH

John? Please reply, what does Mycroft want?
SH

John...? John! Answer me right now!
SH

That's it, I'm coming.
SH

John swore and replied as soon as he read that last text. He smiled through his annoyance, for Sherlock's concerns were quite endearing. John already recognised the streets they were driving through and knew he'd be home soon. He hoped Sherlock hadn't already left the flat.

No, Sherlock, it's fine. I'm already on my way home.
JW

John waited nervously for Sherlock's reply. When none came, he sighed and dialled Sherlock's number. Oh, Sherlock...

Sherlock was just grabbing his coat when his mobile phone rang. Impatiently, he picked it up and answered it. 'Sherlock Holmes,' he said curtly. It was Lestrade's voice that answered.

'Sherlock, listen to me. Can you and John come to the Yard as soon as possible?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes in utter frustration. 'As soon as possible is always possible. Probably won't be for another half hour or so, because my bloody brother has abducted John again!'

'As soon as possible is fine, Sherlock. It's just that...'

'You sound a bit distressed,' Sherlock interrupted him. 'Difficult day at work, I presume? What do you need for us to do, I might be able to prepare a little before John comes home...'

'You know that Joe Beck bloke? The killer in the Smiley Murders?'

'Yes,' Sherlock answered.

'Well, they let him out of prison yesterday, for he showed good behaviour and, well... the whole case was unfair against him anyway.'

'That's good news, Lestrade. What do you need us for, then? Do you need us as witnesses or anything like that?'

'No, no...' Lestrade sounded hesitant.

'Then what is it? You sound awful, Lestrade.'

'There's been another murder,' Lestrade managed.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks. 'A murder?' he asked. Surely, not...?

'Yes. Found a few hours ago, same circumstances. Smiley carved in the victim's stomach. Since we caught the entire Riot Army during that Bach festival – except for Moran – '

'Moran can't have done it,' Sherlock answered abruptly.

'We know that. But it is suspicious that only a few hours after Beck has been released, another murder has taken place under the exact same conditions. Beck is our only suspect; we're looking for him now.'

John groaned and he pushed the "cancel call" button. Sherlock was already talking to someone – great. That never happened before. Maybe he had called Mycroft in anger and made things worse. John rubbed his forehead with his left hand in exasperation. He really hoped that Sherlock was still at the flat.

John practically jumped out of the car when they reached 221B. He burst through the door and hurried upstairs, and to his relief found Sherlock on the sofa, coat in hand. After a while, John noticed that something was wrong with him and he sat down next to the tall detective.

'Sherlock, is there something wrong?' he asked, his hand touching Sherlock's lightly. Sherlock didn't answer him but shut his eyes tightly. He shook his head and took John's hand. Finally, he met his eye.

'It's Joe,' he said, and his voice sounded strangled. Something was bothering him.

'Joe Beck?' John asked, surprised. 'Haven't heard from him in a while. Has he been released yet?'

Sherlock nodded.

'Good,' John said. 'I'm starting to like that guy, you know. Showed genuine concern when you were not well.'

'John, he's the suspect of a new murder.'

John stared at Sherlock in confusion. 'Joe wouldn't murder anyone. Not anymore, that is.'

'Yes, I know, John! But they haven't got other suspects, and frankly, they're right in that.' Sherlock seemed at a loss.

'But you do,' John stated. Sherlock's hand was still in his and he brushed the soft skin gently with his thumb.

'It can't be anyone else but Moriarty,' Sherlock spat. 'He's just playing with us again and he knows we've started to like Joe.'

These words might have seemed strange in John's ears, coming from Sherlock's mouth, but John knew exactly what Sherlock meant.

'Well, we can't let him have what he wants,' Sherlock muttered. He sprang up from the sofa, pulling John with him by his hand. His voice grew louder as a grin spread across his face. 'We will beat him John, we will beat him together. The game is once again on.'

Oh God, I actually just realised that this is the last chapter and it's the shortest one. Perhaps we should've put more Johnlock in there...? Ah well, it was the only way we could think of to end the story. And it's been a magnificent ride, hasn't it?

We still can't believe that the story is over - again. We felt really weird while finishing writing it, it was our first story which has actually finished. And it's our first attempt at a fanfic, and I believe we managed quite well. The sequel will be so muh better, thanks to your tips and lovely feedback.

Now, we obviously have to talk about the sequel and the other fic I announced in my last AN. That one's up first. We haven't yet titled it, but we are about 30/40 odd pages along at this point. It will be about Sherlock, John and their son Hamish... And Moriarty. I won't say any more, so if you're interested, I hope it will be up here soon. Can't promise anything, but at least I'm not Moffat who keeps you waiting for over a year.
Then there is the sequel to this - No name yet, but it will definitely be announced. We will pick up the storyline, and they will embark upon the case of the new Smiley Murders. There will be Johnlock, as ever, and as promised, they will go a bit further than teasing in it, but we're not sure yet how exactly we're going to describe this... BUT, very important, our school has started this week and we're in our second to last year. We will get very busy, and we might not update regulary. This applies to bith fics. We're very sorry in advance... :(

And last but not least, a massive thank you! We hadn't expected to get much feedback, but all the alerts and reviews made us very happy indeed. So thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favourising (if that's a word) and subscribing. And of course a special thanks to LondonFan who translates our story into German - the link is on our profile page.

Until the next time...
xxx Hedgehog and Otter