It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

98 - Forget Forgive

A/N - The penultimate chapter!!!

The song "Forget Forgive" has been inspo for this chapter for like A FULL YEAR - A YEAR - I HAVE WAITED SO LONG

Ahhhhhhhhhh

Warnings - some swears but literally like 2 if I remember correctly

Other than that, there are probably a gazillion typos but I DON'T CARE I CAN EDIT LATER HEKK YEAH BABY WE ARE ALMOST DONE

(Note: I will not know what to do with myself after I finish this 😂)

Okay, enjoy!

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Once John had finished accusing Mycroft, Sherlock requested him to come to Bart's. John would have walked to keep under the radar but the hospital was far away from where he had met with the elder Holmes and so had sneakily caught a cab instead. He raced up the stairs though instead of using the elevator and burst into the lab, finding Sherlock sat on the floor against one of the desk, throwing a ball against the other.

"Got your message."

The detective caught the ball again, holding it tight, absentmindedly fiddling with it as he spoke, "The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it - beat Moriarty at his own game."

"What d'you mean, 'use it'?"

"He used it to create a false identity," He looked up at John, "So we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook."

"And bring back Jim Moriarty again?"

"Somewhere in 221B," Sherlock said as he stood, resting his arms on the desk, "Somewhere - on the day of the verdict - he left it hidden."

"Uh-huh." John nodded, moving to stand beside his friend, "What did he touch?"

"An apple. Nothing else."

"Did he write anything down?"

"No." Sherlock huffed.

Before John moved away, he tapped his fingers on the desk top. Sherlock heard this, had looked at his friend's hands when he had done it and then looked at his own as he tapped on the table. Moriarty had tapped his fingers on the side of his chair and Sherlock knew he found it odd on the day so...

He tapped on the table again, in the same rhythm as Moriarty had.

A few lines of binary, given to him not by a note or words, but through the mere action of tapping.

He looked at John, sliding his hands off the surface and turned away.

You want to keep him safe, don't you?

Yes, of course he did. John meant everything to him as the second person to ever be amazed by his talent rather than pissed off by it. He was a good man, a good friend, and he never wanted anything to happen to him ever.

Then don't tell him.

Sherlock took his phone out and typed out a message:

<Come and play. Bart's Hospital roof. - SH>

<P.S. Got something of yours you might want back. - SH>

* * * * * * *

As dawn broke, an orange eye peeking through wintry blue clouds, the two men could still be found in the vacant lab. John had fallen asleep long ago, his head in his arms but Sherlock couldn't sleep at all and had instead been conversing with Mind Palace Elizabeth. She was sat on top of the desks, her knees brought up to her chest whereas he sat on a chair, resting his legs on the desk as he continued to play with the ball.