You awoke the next morning to see sunlight streaming in through Sherlock's window, dust particles danced in the light, settling over the room. You yawned, feeling really refreshed. You'd had a full nights sleep with no interruptions for the first time in months. You felt completely ready to seize the day, or whatever people said. You glanced towards the door to see it was shut, so you assumed Sherlock was up to something and didn't want to wake you. You rolled out of the covers, stretching. You searched the room for your clothes, but gave up, just pulling on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns instead. You tied it tightly around your body as you lazily made your way to the door.
You parted the door, listening for a moment before you walked out. You saw Mycroft sitting across from Sherlock in the lounge, that was a change. Seeing them both in the same room was rare for a second day in a row. They looked as if they were both highly concentrated as Sherlock bent over towards the coffee table that separated them and pondered his next move. With a delicate move of his wrist he easily removed the piece he was after in their game of Operation. You smiled as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and looking over at Mycroft.
"Morning." You smiled at Mycroft before you kissed Sherlock on the temple, pulling away before keeping your hands rested lightly on Sherlock's shoulders. Mycroft looked up at you in surprise, a small smile taking form on his lips before it disappeared just as fast as it was there.
"Sherlock, the red suits you." You turned your head sideways as you glided your hands down his shoulders. He was wearing his normal attire with a silky, red dressing gown thrown over it. The dressing gown was one you hadn't seen before, but you liked it. He hummed a response as he looked over to Mycroft seriously.
"Your move." You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt his and Mycroft's game so you set off to your flat, if Mrs. Hudson hadn't touched Sherlock's flat, she hadn't touched yours either. You figured it was time you started moving your things up to 221B. When you entered your flat, you saw a box sitting on the coffee table in front of your couch. You studied it, seeing your old chess set poking out of the top.
Molly had kept everything from your office and dropped it off at your flat. You smiled at it, happy Molly was one of the people that had helped you through this mess right from the beginning. You left the box, knowing that soon you'd be carrying it back into Barts. You were applying for that job. You missed Barts, you missed Molly, you missed everything at this point. The good and the bad. You were excited to get back to work again with two amazing people: Mark and Molly. As much as you were excited to get back to Barts, you were even more thrilled to get back on the streets with Sherlock. The adrenaline of solving a case with Sherlock was a feeling you couldn't even come to describe. You missed it.
You set off towards your room, not really interested in keeping anything else in your flat other than your necessities. You scanned through your closet looking for something to wear. You were surprised that all your clothing was exactly the same as when you'd left it. You got dressed, draping Sherlock's dressing gown back over your body as you set on packing. You started with your clothes, as they would be the easiest thing to pack up quickly. They'd need a wash, but other than that they were fine.
After dumping all your clothing items into a couple boxes you'd kept in the back of the closet, you started carrying them up the stairs towards 221B. The door was already opened, so you walked through, not able to see too much over the top of the boxes. You dropped them down next to the door, leaning in the doorway. You looked up to see Sherlock and Mycroft both studying you. You looked between them with an unknowing look as Sherlock cracked a smile, looking towards his brother. You couldn't help but laugh as you gazed at Sherlock, he had a winter hat of sorts perched on his head. It was woolen and had ear flaps, along with two little bobbles attached on strings.
"Did I interrupt something?" You questioned with a grin, it was obvious they'd been talking about you just a moment before.
"Not at all." Mycroft spoke quickly as he turned away from Sherlock, making his way towards the fireplace. You looked to Sherlock for answers and he just smirked at you with the hat still perched on his head. You looked to Mycroft, who Sherlock had obviously mentioned a sore subject, that was an easy one to guess.
"I see. You think Mycroft's lonely?" You asked, studying Mycroft as he tensed under your words. Your guess was right on point.
"I'm not lonely." He said, probably for the second time since Sherlock had brought up the same thing. Ah, of course Mycroft would be the one to deny he was lonely, but he was. He was always around people he worked with, and occasionally family, but he never had a connection. A connection like the one you and Sherlock had. Or friends.
"How would you know?" Sherlock stepped close to him, glancing back at you. Mycroft looked from Sherlock to you before he rolled his eyes. Sherlock pulled the hat off his curls, stepping away from Mycroft. You laughed as Mycroft gave you a wide eyed look as he set off towards the door.
"Yes. Back to work if you don't mind. Good morning." He spoke as he walked past you. You turned to see Mrs. Hudson cleaning in the kitchen and Sherlock looked over to her, giving her a wink. She giggled as she turned back to her work with a wide smile.
"Right, back to work." Sherlock spoke as Mycroft started down the stairs, exiting that flat. You turned to see Sherlock had pinned up many photos over a map along with articles above the couch, you recognized who the people must be after scanning them for just a moment.
"Are these your rats?" You questioned, standing by his side as he looked over the photos. He nodded, stepping forward as he looked over them. Sherlock had already explained to you the best way to know if something was going on in London. There were people he'd kept track of, people who'd most likely be up to something no good. If one of them skipped routine, it would immediately send a red flag that something wasn't quite right. There you could hopefully find the source of this terrorist attack Mycroft was so worried about. So, Sherlock put his homeless network on the case and had been getting updates frequently. It was a rather genius idea, but so far nothing had come up. Everyone of your rats that you'd gotten information on, hadn't done anything out to routine. He'd marked out some of the people, trying to narrow down the search.
"Is that what Mycroft wanted?" You watched as Sherlock marked out another face before he hummed a reply, nodding back at you. You scanned the images with him, seeing that there weren't many people left to check in on. Sherlock's phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket hurriedly, scanning it over. Once he looked at it, he stepped up onto the couch to mark off another face. You frowned, that just left you a little less closer to figuring this all out.
"You know, you should both really talk to John." Mrs. Hudson spoke, looking both at you and Sherlock. Not interested in that topic, you continued to scan Sherlock's work. Thoughts bounced around in your head as you quickly became bored. The charts that scattered the walls seemed to beam down that there was nothing there for you to find. You felt like they were mocking you. If there was nothing, that meant it would quite possibly mean whatever you'd been looking for hadn't happened yet, you'd have to wait it out. One of them had to act out at some point.
The light weight of Sherlock's hand resting on your shoulder brought you back to reality. Your eyes refocused on the wall you'd been blankly staring at, it was ennui. Fluttering your eyes open and closed a few times, you looked over to Sherlock. His face was slightly creased, his lips parted in the slightest. It was a look that showed he was perhaps onto something. His face soon cleared and his eyes focused on you.
"Message Molly, tell her we need her help." His hand slipped from your shoulder as he paced to the window, he parted the curtain the slightest as he looked out onto the street. He was anxious to get his mind onto other things, thank god. You weren't sure how long you'd last sitting in the flat, organizing clothes and moving was not your métier for good reasons.
"Please tell me this means we have a client." You said, interested in what Sherlock had found for the two of you to work on to pass the time. He motioned you to message Molly once more and you dug your phone from your pocket, typing her a text. You hit send and turned back to Sherlock, who was still scanning the street.
"If we're inviting Molly, this better be a thank you for all that's she's done for us and not an attempt to replace John." You told him, knowing his motivation behind inviting Molly on a case.
"I'm not trying to replace John." You shook your head at him and he turned to look at you, his face emotionless. "I'm not." He defended and you held up your hands in a defensive gesture. He rolled his eyes at you and you couldn't help but crack a grin at him, he missed John. He wasn't going to admit it, but he did.
"He'll come around, I'm sure." You nodded in thought, John was obsessed with danger. It was why he had started following you and Sherlock around in the first place, of course he'd find his way back. You hoped it happened soon, you missed him too.
"He already made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with us." Sherlock spoke, his features not showing how he truly felt about the situation. You reminisced at the thought of John eventually coming back, you knew he would. Sherlock, however, seemed to not be believing it. You knew he was having trouble wrapping his head around the fact John wanted nothing to do with the two of you the last time he saw you, but you studied humans and knowing enough about them, they always returned to old habits, no matter how much it pained them. Science showed John would be back eventually. He was probably in the stage of denial now, telling himself he didn't miss the two of you at all, soon enough that would become acceptance and he'd show up right on your doorstep.
"If that's what you believe." You leaned your head into your hand as you looked over Sherlock's stance that read his annoyance towards you. You just knew he was annoyed because you were right, as usual.
***
"You wanted to see me?" Molly shyed her way into the room and you looked up at her from your spot on the couch.
"Yes." Sherlock spoke as he turned to look at her from the window. He took a small step towards her, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he tried to find a way to ask Molly to join in on your crime solving. "Molly, would you..." He looked down, clicking his tongue as he looked up in thought. Oh lord, you thought, rolling your eyes at him.
"What Sherlock is trying to ask is if you'll help us." You told her, closing the book you'd been absently scanning for the past 20 minutes at least. She looked over to you, confusion setting in over her features.
"Help you what?" She looked from you to Sherlock and Sherlock raised a finger, finally able to spit out what he'd been trying to ask before.
"Solve crimes." He told her.
Molly seemed nervous about helping you and Sherlock at first, but you assured her she would be fine. You didn't want to tell her Sherlock was trying to replace John. By the time your first clients had come, she was already asking what she should do to play the part of John. You were glad you didn't have to tell her and she'd figured it out on her own. Sherlock told her that she shouldn't be John, but be herself and you sat back silently, knowing Molly couldn't give him what he wanted. Whether Sherlock knew it or not, he missed John's input. Enough to go to the lengths and try to replace him without even realizing it. At least Molly seemed happy to be invited by Sherlock to help.
The first set of clients went fast, it was a married couple who claimed neither of them had emptied their bank account, but someone had stolen all their money. It was an easy case, too easy. The husband was the one who emptied the account because he was having an affair on his wife, and he'd clearly spent the money on lavish things such as botox. You'd given the wife a card for one of the best lawyers you knew and sent them on their way. Molly sat back quietly, taking notes as you and Sherlock worked.
The next case had been even easier, and drove you practically insane. It was a girl who had been brought in by her step father. She was crying upon entering the flat and you knew it was going to be a rough one. She'd been talking to a man online for months and they'd started dating, but one day the emails stopped. It broke the girl's heart and she swore off dating, staying home with her father, who took her wage as it came in. It was obvious the father had posed as his daughter's online boyfriend, just for the money. You had a few choice words to share with the man before they hurried from the flat, the daughter twice as hysterical as she'd been when she first showed up.
Running bored with client cases, you lounged on the couch, looking at the fireplace as you dangled upside down. You puffed up your cheeks, noisily blowing out air as you thought of what else you could do. You lightly kicked the wall with your foot and you sat up, remembering the article you saw on the papers the other day.
"Hey, remember that skeleton article-" Before you even finished your sentence Sherlock was already phoning Lestrade.
Lestrade agreed to take you to the crime scene as he wanted to get both yours and Sherlock's opinion on the case. No one had even come close to figuring it out. Once you arrived he peeled off the police tape to let you through the door.
"This one's got us all baffled." He sighed, turning the door handle that led down into a basement.
"Hmm. I don't doubt it." Sherlock commented as you and Molly followed him down. Once you entered the basement Lestrade stepped through a section in the wall were the drywall and bricking had caved in. You ducked through it, brushing off your coat as you studied the scene. Lestrade flipped on some lights the police had set up to help them navigate the room as there was no natural lighting.
What you saw was rather interesting. In the middle of the room sat a desk, behind the desk in an office chair sat a skeleton in a tux. The room appeared to be very old, and everything around the skeleton was coated in a thick layer of dust. You hummed, approaching the skeleton to take a closer look.
You and Sherlock both quickly got to work as Sherlock pulled out his magnifying glass, getting a closer look at the material that the skeleton's clothes were made out of. You scrunched your nose as many different scents hit you all at once.
"What is that, cedar wood?" You pondered, sniffing again. "New mothballs and... carbon particulate?" Sherlock took a couple sniffs along with you and nodded.
"And?" He questioned, looking over at you. You looked at him, taking another deep sniff as you narrowed out each individual sent.
"Fire damage." You concluded. Sherlock stood, opening his phone as he held it up for a moment. Molly smiled from the across the room, looking up from her notes to look back and forth between the two of you.
"What is it? You're onto something, aren't you?" She asked, watching as Sherlock scanned his phone. You bit your lip in thought as you turned around the room, before looking again at the skeleton.
"Maybe..." Sherlock spoke, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Shut up, John." He whispered quietly, shaking his head to the side. You looked up from the skeleton to grin at him.
"What?" Molly asked, not hearing what Sherlock had just said.
"Hmm?" Sherlock looked up at her, walking around the desk to where you were standing. "Nothing." He quickly told her, lifting the skeleton's coat up slightly. You were so bringing that up to him later, you thought as you circled to the front of the desk, noting the things laid out in front of him. They didn't seem of much importance.
"This is gonna be your guys' new arrangement, is it?" Lestrade spoke to the two of you softly. Of course he was referencing Molly. You glanced up at her to see she was looking around the room, still jotting down notes.
"Just giving it a go." Sherlock explained, all his focus on the skeleton.
"Right. So, John?" Lestrade pushed further as he leaned over Sherlock's shoulder.
"He's not really in the picture anymore." Sherlock explained, straightening up as he stepped back from the skeleton, tucking his magnifying glass back into his coat pocket.
"They broke up." You joked quietly to Lestrade. "But don't worry, they're both just being petty. John'll be back soon enough." Lestrade cracked a smile at that and you turned to see Sherlock giving you a dark look. You gave him a wide grin.
A soft rumbling slowly began in the distance and you looked to the ceiling as the room slowly began shaking, causing debris to flour down onto the ground.
"Trains?" Molly asked as she picked up her pen, pausing from taking notes.
"Trains." Sherlock nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. He squatted down scanning the skeleton again, intently. Molly walked past the two of you to give the skeleton a look herself. She stood on her tiptoes as she leaned over the skeleton, studying it's jaw bone.
"Male, 40 to 50." Sherlock walked up behind her and she flinched, stepping out of the way. "Oh, sorry, did you want to..."
"Uh, no, please, be my guest." Sherlock gestured for her to continue. You watched him as he shook his head to the side again. "Shut up!" He growled louder this time. Which earned him concerned looks from both Lestrade and Molly. You just chuckled as you watched him bend down, looking over the desk.
"It doesn't make sense." Molly spoke, standing back from the skeleton as she shook her head with a baffled look on her face.
"What doesn't?" Lestrade asked from his spot against the wall, watching the three of you work.
"This skeleton, it can't be any more than-"
"Six months old." You interrupted her, nodding as you already knew that. Your eyes panned to Sherlock as you heard a clicking noise and he reached into the desk, pulling out a dusty book. He blew it off, sending dust into the air before he turned it towards you. You scanned the title, raising your eyebrows. He tossed it onto the desk and Lestrade took a step forward, scanning it.
"'How I Did It by Jack the Ripper.'" He read with a confused look. You nodded looking down at it.
"That's impossible!" Molly exclaimed, not able to understand how the puzzle pieces fit together.
"Welcome to our world." Sherlock said as he began organizing through his tools. He mumbled as he packed them away, shaking his head. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you." He said as he finished putting his things up and headed towards the door.
"I will!" You spoke excitedly. "The corpse is six months old. It's dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years, in a case facing southeast, judging from the fading of the fabric." You placed your hands behind your back as you looked to Sherlock, knowing he'd want to add more.
"It was sold off in a fire damage sale... a week ago." He said distractedly as he pulled out his phone, showing it to Lestrade.
"So the whole thing was just a fake?" He asked in disappointment.
"Yes." Sherlock turned back towards the exit, already ducking through the bricks in the wall. You quickly followed behind him.
"Looked so promising..." Lestrade sighed, looking over the corpse with a frown.
"Facile." Sherlock called back, climbing up the stairs.
"Why would someone go to all that trouble?" Molly asked loudly.
"Why indeed, John." Sherlock replied, hurrying up the steps.
"You do miss him!" You pushed his shoulder as he opened the door to exit the house. He turned back to you with a glare, knowing you'd caught all his slip ups. "You can't even get his little comments out of your head, can you?" You laughed, following him outside.
"Shut up." He sighed, looking up and down the street.
"Fine, after you admit it." You grinned cheekily, crossing your arms at him. He groaned knowing you weren't going to give in any time soon.
"Sure, whatever, I miss him." He spoke quickly, just to get it over with.
"I didn't buy that." He groaned, turning away from you. "I'm just trying to annoy you." You smiled, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.
"You're succeeding." He pouted.
"Then let's get your mind off of it; thought we could return this one to one of the clients." You pulled the hat that Sherlock had been wearing earlier from your pocket as you tossed it to him. He caught it looking down at it thoughtfully. It was better than nothing.