Since you guys have been so brilliant I decided to put up another chapter. Hope you enjoy it! :)
John raced down the street behind Sherlock. As soon as they found out Rose had snuck out the window they began searching for her. They'd been to the restaurant first, then the alley where she and Sherlock had watched the man gunned down and now they were going God knew where. They weren't even sure she was meeting Moriarty, well, he wasn't sure, but Sherlock seemed positive.
"Do you even know where you're going?" John asked when they paused next to a building while Sherlock looked around as if he was deciding which direction they should run in next.
"Of course I know where I'm going, John," Sherlock snapped.
"We've been to the restaurant where the photo was taken. To the alley where I discovered it."
"And now we're going to check the market where she ran into him."
"Are you sure she's meeting Moriarty?"
Sherlock shot him a look that seemed to say don't be an idiot.
"Fine," John continued. "You win. How much further?"
"And here comes my prize," Sherlock said.
John looked in the direction Sherlock was gazing and…there was Rose running down the street with…Mycroft? He did a double take. Yep. Mycroft Holmes, expensive three piece suit, running down the road hand in hand with Rose Tyler. What the hell?
"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked and John could hear the same shock mirrored in his friend's voice.
"What the hell's going on?"
Instead of answering, his friend stepped out of the shadows, directly in their path. John followed. Rose and Mycroft came to an abrupt halt.
"Sherlock," Rose said in surprise, releasing Mycroft's hand, but the detective's gaze was focused on his brother.
"Mycroft," Sherlock said in an almost accusing tone.
"Sherlock," the elder Holmes greeted, straightening his suit.
"Does someone want to tell me what the hell's going on?" John insisted after a few tense minutes of silence.
"Yes, well," Mycroft began, taking on that authoritative tone. "It seems while you two were doing whatever it is you do, Ms. Tyler saved my life."
"What?" John asked, taken back.
"Moriarty," Sherlock said, as if it should've been completely obvious.
"Isn't it obvious?"
John glanced from Rose to Mycroft then to Sherlock.
"No, not really."
"Moriarty kidnapped Mycroft, sent Ms. Tyler a message informing her, she snuck out to rescue my brother, a feat she obviously accomplished."
"Oh. Right," John said, trying to figure out how Sherlock got all that from watching Rose and Mycroft run down the dark street.
"Precisely," Mycroft said.
Oh, yes, precisely. John rolled his eyes.
"If Moriarty kidnapped Mycroft why didn't you tell us?" John asked.
"Because he wanted me in exchange for Sherlock's brother and I didn't think you two would go along with it," Rose explained.
"You were going to trade yourself for him?"
She's right. He wouldn't have gone along with it. Sherlock probably would have, or, at least, would have used her in some trap to catch Moriarty.
"I had a plan and, as you can see, it worked out."
She had a plan? She was as mad as Sherlock. He shook his head and glanced at his friend. Wait. Was that…a smile? That's it the entire world's gone round the bend!
"I don't know about you three, but I could use a cuppa," Rose said.
"I could use something a bit stronger," Mycroft said, falling into step next to her. "And I did want to get a look at that device."
John and Sherlock followed.
"Device?" Rose asked, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
"If I were you, Mycroft, I'd delete all knowledge of that device from my memory banks," Sherlock said, striding up on Rose's other side and offering his arm.
Wait. Offering his arm? What the hell's going on? John shook his head. Must be a dream. This can't actually be happening.
"Why's that?" Mycroft asked.
"I believe it's the least you can do for the woman you owe your life to," Sherlock replied.
The elder Holmes seemed to consider his brother's proposal.
"Yes, I suppose you're right."
"I'm always right."
John thought about pointing out that his friend was always right except when he was wrong, but changed his mind. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his mind. One in particular about a blonde who, in the span of less than two day, had been to dinner with Sherlock, witness a murder, drawn the attention of a notorious criminal mastermind, met said criminal mastermind, moved into the basement flat in their building, and rescued Sherlock's brother. Where had she come from? Who was she really? And, more importantly, why did Sherlock seem different around her?
Thank you to all my brilliant readers!
If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)