Clique of 221B

Chapter 6: Clique of Ours

Things have been going well. Over the past few days you've been introduced to John's wife, Mary, who will be having their first daughter soon. She is really nice, and you've both got a lot of things in common which has led to many late night conversations about both your pasts. You've also met Molly Hooper, a pathologist who works in the morgue at St Bart's, she's quite shy but is very kind now that you've talked to her a couple of times. After a few visits to Scotland Yard, you and Greg Lestrade have also become friends. After a lot of insistence you've moved out of 221C due to the damp and into John's old room upstairs. Today you, Sherlock and Mycroft have a top secret meeting about the Magnussen incident. You obviously weren't there but Mycroft gave you a file so you know pretty much everything that happened. You and Sherlock walk downstairs and climb into one of Mycroft's cars. He said he'd already be there and waiting for you both.

"What you're about to see is classified beyond top secret, is that quite clear? Don't minute any of this," Mycroft says, looking towards Lady Smallwood's receptionist, Vivian Norbury her name is I think. She's sat behind Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin. Sherlock is sat facing them from a chair in the middle of the room. You're stood  at the side of the room but near Mycroft.  "Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room, code names Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock, Love and Mográ will ever know the whole truth." You glance towards Sherlock who has his head down focusing on something in his hand. "As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus Magn... Are you tweeting?!" He seems to have noticed Sherlock's lack of focus as well.
"No." Sherlock answers quickly. He attempts to hide his phone but everyone hears the sound of a tweet being sent.
"Well that's what it looks like," Mycroft replies.
"Of course I'm not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?" Sherlock rambles on.
"Give me that!" Mycroft reaches for Sherlock's phone. Sherlock clings onto his phone as Mycroft tries to pry it out of his hands.
"What?! No, get off! What are you doing?"
"Give it here!" You try your hardest not to laugh at the struggle between the two of them. Mycroft finally pulls the phone away from Sherlock and scrolls through it, reading aloud, "Back on terra firma."
"Don't read them out."
"Free as a bird." Oh God, this is some quality content. You subtly take out your phone, open Twitter and search for his account.
"God you're such a spoilsport."
"Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock? And don't tell me you're at it too." He adds to you just as you press 'follow',

"Of course not." You reply as Sherlock's phone pings and Mycroft gives you the 'are you kidding me?' face.

"What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?" Sherlock asks him.
"#ohwhatabeautifulmorning" He reads off the phone. Now I'm sure I'm going to laugh. Who would of thought I'd ever hear Mycroft Holmes say hashtag. Sherlock sighs.
"Look, not so long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death, my death, and now I'm back, in a nice warm office with my big brother and... Are those ginger nuts?" He looks excitedly at a plate on the table, springs up and skips over there.
"Oh God," Mycroft sighs.
"I love ginger nuts." Sherlock grabs a handle of the biscuits.
"Our doctor said you were clean." Lady Smallwood says.
"I am, utterly." He spins and walks back towards his chair. "No need for stimulants now, remember? I have work to do." He starts munching on the biscuits.
"You're as high as a kite!" Sir Edwin accuses. He's not. He's just crazy. And you don't have to live with him.
"Natural high, I assure you. Totally natural. I'm just glad to be alive!" He starts singing dramatically and waving his arms around in the air. Oh joy! "What shall we do next? What's your name?" He continues pointing at Lady Smallwood's receptionist.
"Vivian," she answers nervously. Knew it.
"What would you do, Vivian?"
"Pardon?"
"Well, it's a lovely day. Go for a stroll?" Lady Smallwood shakes her head in disbelief and Sir Edwin covers his face with his hands. You think this is bad? He's not that bad really, he's just trying to annoy them probably, and I don't blame him. "Make a paper aeroplane? Have an ice lolly?" He's still eating the biscuits, how many did he take?
"Ice lolly, I suppose."
"Ice lolly it is! What's your favourite?" She glances around nervously,
"Well, really, I shouldn't..."
"Go on." Sherlock encourages her.
"Do they still do Mivvis?" I would have gone for a chocolate Magnum but each to their own I suppose. Or a Mini Milk, God I used to love those.
Lady Smallwood interrupts, "Mr Holmes."
"Yes?" They both say simultaneously. You smile. Mycroft looks at Sherlock, then lowers his head in exasperation.
"We do need to get on," she says.
"Yes, of course," Mycroft answers. He points the remote control at the screens behind you and plays the video footage. Sherlock takes his phone from Mycroft and waves it around dramatically before sitting down in his chair, tucking the phone his jacket.
"Do your research." The on screen Sherlock says. The video shows a distant shot of Sherlock walking towards Magnussen. "I'm not a hero. I'm a high functioning sociopath." As someone conveniently runs across the camera they briefly block out the view and Sherlock can be seen with his hand still lowered, and a gunshot fired. Magnussen falls backwards and Sherlock can be seen dropping John's pistol and instantly raising his hands. Behind him, John stares at Magnussen before following Sherlock's example. The footage jumps back a couple of seconds and shows us footage from the angle of a rifle which shows two red dots on Magnussen's face as he stands upright on the patio. A gunshot rings out and Magnussen falls out of view. The footage keeps showing Magnussen being shot without Sherlock raising his gun.
"I see. Who is supposed to have shot him, then?" You ask.
"Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that's who," Sir Edwin answers.
"That's not what happened at all." Sherlock remarks. Well we know that Sherly. He takes yet another bite of biscuit.
"It is now," Mycroft says.
"Remarkable. How did you do it?" Lady Smallwood asks. Calm down, it's not that amazing.
"We have some very talented people working here. If James Moriarty can hack every TV screen in the land, rest assured we have the tech to doctor a bit of security footage," Sir Edwin tells her. He continues talking but you stop listening and look at Sherlock. He tosses a piece of biscuit towards his open mouth. It misses and falls down the side of his lap, he scrabbles around trying to recover it. You shake your head and smile at him. You bring your attention back to Sir Edwin who's still talking, "That is now the official version. The version anyone we want to will see." Lady Smallwood turns to Sherlock,
"No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon. You're off the hook, Mr Holmes. You're home and dry." Mycroft crosses his arms and looks at Sherlock sternly. Probably trying to get him to thank her or something?
"Ok, cheers." You sigh. It's not like Sherlock to follow the advice of his brother. But that's as close as it'll get I'm afraid. He puts the last bit of biscuit in his mouth and holds it in his mouth. He then jumps up and starts to button his jacket. He reaches for his coat and shrugs on the first arm before stopping to listen to Lady Smallwood.
"Obviously there's unfinished business. Moriarty," she says. Sherlock's answer is muffled through the biscuit,
"I told you. Moriarty's dead." I hope so. But this wouldn't be the first time.
"You say he filmed that video message before he died," she continues. Sherlock keeps on chewing his biscuit before answering,
"Yes."
"You also say you know what he's going to do next. What does that mean?" Sir Edwin interrupts, pointing at Sherlock, "Perhaps that's all there is to it. Perhaps he was just trying to frighten you." Sherlock shakes his head,
"No, no. He would never be that disappointing. He's planned something, something long-term, something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No – better than that. Posthumous game." Lady Smallwood responds to his little speech,
"We brought you back to deal with this. What are you going to do?"
"Wait."
"Wait!?"
"Of course wait. I'm the target. Targets wait. Look, whatever's coming, whatever he's lined up, I'll know when it begins." He walks towards the door, pulling his other arm into his coat.
"I always know when the game is on. D'you know why?"
"Why?" Here comes the bloody catchphrase.
"Because I love it." There you are! That's as discreet as he gets! A psycho killer's supposedly back from the dead and Sherlock's happy as Larry about it. Cue the theme tune!