fossilised | For John Watson

For John Watson

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

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[Sherlock shrugs, not particularly repentant about that.]

If there'd been a bomb, no doubt Scotland Yard have enough deductive ability to have noticed it.

Is that Sherlock? [Lestrade growls.] You can't just-- no, you know what? Forget it. John, I found Caroline's body, there was nothing on it. There was another body too, armed, looked professional. We sent two of the passengers to hospital, Molly as well, the rest of them are at the station giving statements.

[There's a tension John hadn't realized he was holding that loosens with the knowledge that Molly is safe. That other body, though...]

I think there was a man outside the carriage when Jim had me in there. I was testing him about getting off because I didn't believe him about the bomb, not really, and I saw... some one out in the dark. Or, well, he sort of alluded to them being there. I dunno how he'd have been killed, though. Unless Molly and the passengers did something? Or maybe it was from earlier if Caroline gave them any trouble?

[Oh. Right.

Sherlock points to himself and mouths "it was me". He doesn't expect that John will have any issue with him killing someone quite clearly in the criminal category, but he'd rather not get arrested by Lestrade.

Lestrade makes a mildly irritated hum, but he doesn't have more information to add.]

I might have been able to tell you more, if our mortician wasn't out of commission for work.

[Thanks for that, guys.]

[John makes note of the admission and nods after a moment. That's going to be a mystery that remains a mystery, then. With any luck, Sherlock's own work as an investigator means they won't need to worry about an inquiry for him. And if Lestrade does find anything... his relationship with Sherlock might mean he'll overlook it.

Anyone working for Jim had to be a very bad man, indeed.]

Right. Um... might be a lower priority sorting that out than... other things. What can we do to help? Apart from sitting still, I mean. [Given everyone here knows that isn't going to happen.] Sherlock has some ideas about what Jim might try next.

You know that I ought to have you both arrested, don't you?

[He's used to being annoyed by the antics of these two, but they really have gone above and beyond in this particular instance.]

Caroline obviously isn't going to be making trouble for you any more, so sitting still, healing, and keeping out of my way, are exactly what you should be doing right now.

[John doesn't say Lestrade would have to find them first, but he's thinking it. Probably best not to invite the challenge, though.]

Detective Inspector, I'm still being investigated for war crimes, unless someone's called to say those charges are being dropped. And it's been Sherlock's work that's led us to the next clue each time. This man--Moriarty, if that's even his real name--he's obsessed with Sherlock. Caroline? Me?

It's been a way to get to him. I don't know why, but he's a stalker. Our best chance to draw him out is to use Sherlock.

The war crimes... that's out of our hands, John, I'm sorry.

[Lestrade does at least lose some of the edge in his voice there, he does feel for John in that regard.]

It's a military matter, all I can do is send over the evidence that it was likely part of this campaign against you, which I've done. Other than that, the police have no jurisdiction. But Moriarty is something I can deal with. Me. The police. Not you. Not this time.

[This really isn't a fight worth having out on the phone. It's not going to come to anything.]

Good luck, Lestrade. We'll be in touch if there's anything that comes up on our end.

[He hangs up before the other man can yell at him for that.]

So. Mycroft?

[Sherlock rolls his eyes as John hands up the phone. Honestly, sometimes Lestrade can be pig-headed in his stubbornness.]

I suppose we must.

[His nose wrinkles in distaste.]

You ought to wash as best you can in the meantime.

[They're in the running for the most pig-headed, themselves, really. John just happens to believe he's in the right to be so here. And there's no stopping Sherlock, so why bother trying at this point? The sooner this is all over, the sooner he can avoid being charged with war crimes after his sister's murder and Molly's near murder. Multiple times. Sherlock will probably be kidnapped and/or almost killed again, but that's at least expected.]

Yeah.

[He hands the phone off to Sherlock and will try to wash up while the man deals with his big brother.

Said big brother sounds extraordinarily smug when he picks up.]

Brother-mine, so good to hear from you.

[Urrrrggggghhhhh.

Sherlock's mental groan is so loud that he almost expects others to actually hear it. He's already regretting calling Mycroft at all, and is genuinely considering hanging the phone up without saying anything.

But the problem is, they actually need him. For now, anyway.]

Must you aggravate me immediately?

[Why couldn't he be cursed with an alcoholic deceased sister, and John could have Mycroft?]

[Mycroft brushes off his little brother's whining.]

Some trouble, Sherlock? Something you need help with?

[He knows why Sherlock is calling him, but is does feel so good to make him say it sometimes.]

[He should have just texted.

At least Mycroft can only be somewhat annoying in text form, but this oozing smug tone is punishment in and of itself. Still, it had to be a call, he is trying to butter his brother up, after all.

Even if he doesn't want to.]

Moriarty.

[Yes, he needs help. Happy now?]

I want the files you have on him.

[And don't even try to deny they exist.]

Classified information.

[He's waiting for an offer.]

Not from you, and not from me.

[Don't make him dance to this tune, he's so not in the mood.]

[Guess who hasn't been in the mood for your petulance for the last week?]

You'll stay at the hotel I've booked.

[It's time to negotiate.]

Ah, yes, so we can be a sitting target rather than a moving one. Excellent suggestion, Mycroft.

[Sherlock couldn't possibly force more sarcasm into his voice. But the negotiations have begun, so he'll counter.]

I'll work two of your boring cases next year.

Four.

[They're going to get to three and be done with it. Mycroft would prefer to have a protected perimeter, but needs must. He'll just work on getting a protective tail on Sherlock. Or at least on John. The doctor will lead him to his wayward little brother every time, no doubt.]

[Sherlock resists the urge to hang up on his smug brother, but they really need that information, so...]

Three. Now send a courier with the files you have, don't bother pretending that you haven't traced my phone by now to know where we are.

Always a pleasure doing business with you, little brother.

[That seems like it might be it, but after a beat he adds.]

Do be careful, Sherlock. You were never very good playing with fire.

[There's a certain something to the way he says that, but he hangs up before Sherlock can respond.

John comes out of the bathroom looking pained, but sorted for the moment.]

Good news?

[Damn it.

He stares at his phone for a minute, contemplating ringing Mycroft back just so that he can have the pleasure of hanging up first, but he'd probably do something petty like refuse to send the files in retaliation.

So he just turns his attention to John for the moment.]

No news involving Mycroft is good news.

[Hmph.]

But yes, he'll be sending what information he has over by courier. You'll be needing to work two cases for him in the future as payment.

... What? He... Mycroft wants me to work a case for him?

[Considering their current relationship, color John extraordinarily perplexed.]

Uh. Okay. I mean, presuming we survive and I'm not in military prison. Should we get breakfast while we wait? Or... whatever time it is.

[He looks around for the clock, then sighs.]

I'm worried about more bombs. D'you think he'd use them to lure us out now he's killed his Alphabet Killer?

[Oh, John.

His lips quirk ever so briefly at how easily his friend has been fooled. Of course Mycroft doesn't want him, can he really not see through such a blatant lie? At least it works in his favour. He doesn't have to work for Mycroft, and he gets the information he wants.]

It depends entirely on what his plan is for how this game ends, but I suspect that whatever he does won't be subtle. He's flashy, he wants people to notice.

[John has bigger concerns on his mind than Sherlock's capricious elder brother and his actual whims. Mostly, he assumes the man wants him to do something absolutely menial as punishment for all of this.]

Clearly he wants to kill you. Because you're... what? His only worthy rival. [A pause.] Don't let that go to your head, by the way. You're still a smartarse who got himself kidnapped and needed a new set of pants by the end of it.

[He grins, quick and sudden. He does enjoy John, that odd mix of awe at his abilities and teasing of his less fine moments.]

He may not be wrong, from what I've seen of him so far, he might be someone actually worthy of my time and effort. But I certainly won't be letting him kill me, though it may have to end with one of us dead. I doubt imprisonment will prove too much of a deterrent for someone with so much intelligence and reach.

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