sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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It was well past 3 a.m. when Sherlock received a text.

Beautiful craftsmanship. All you ever needed to do was respond to the advertisment, Darling. Then, I'd have had someone bring it down to the newspaper. I would love to see that tearful reunion. I bet the reporters there would, too. Everybody loves a love story. Jim Moriarty X

Sherlock ignored the text and attempted sleep. He showed it to John over breakfast... though he still felt uneasy about Lestrade. If Scotland Yard was involved, there would be no way to limit the publicity. In spite of his insistence that the people who really mattered in his life would understand, Sherlock refused to believe John. He had only to look as far as his older brother for confirmation.

"I doubt he does truly understand, Sherlock, but, you know we... we care about you. We... love you, and it doesn't matter."

Sherlock simply shook his head.

"How long ago was that, Sherlock? Has Mycroft said one word about it, ever? Even when he was sorting through that footage? Tracing Clay's steps? And he didn't even tell Lestrade what he found, so the decision could be made by you. Even though he probably considers your relationship, well, impossible, he's doing nothing to prevent it."

"I am well aware that the overwhelming majorityof people would consider a romantic relationship with an inanimate object impossible. I wouldn't waste my time trying to convince anyone that that is not the case."

"Which would imply that, you don't consider it impossible? Or that you don't consider it...him...an inanimate object?"

Sherlock cocked his head and smiled at the perceptiveness of the question.

"In Quantum Animism, everything is made up of energy... constantly moving, vibrating, spinning, acting and reacting... and energy is life. All things at that level, every system, has an inner life, a conscious center, from which it directs and observes its action. To be an Animist is to believe something "alive" that others would dismiss as "inanimate"... and a part of a greater, living biosphere. Universe, even. Objects are made of the same things that I am made of...though it's certainly true they communicate in different ways."

"So you do communicate. I...had wondered."

"It's not one-sided. And he doesn't much like Mycroft either." Sherlock permitted himself a quick smile.

"I'm not surprised, given the fact that all the times they've been in the same room, he has tended to be rather... discordant."

The smile grew. "Your observational skills are better than I had anticipated, John."

"But he likes Christmas? Just going by the brightness of the carols."

"More than I do. Happy memories."

"Memories?"

"Flashes of images. He is older than I. Victorian Christmases. Dickensian. Always gaslights and snow-covered streets."

"In England?"

"Mostly, yes." Sherlock examined John with an intensity generally reserved for experiments. "This. This conversation. Doesn't bother you?"

"Surprisingly, no."

Sherlock felt ridiculously happy. It was short-lived, though, as the reality of the situation came to the fore again. He fought to maintain his composure, eyes glassy.

"Moriarty doesn't want to kill me, John. I'd be safe if I just walked down to the newspaper office and got him. I've thought about it numerous times. There'd be photographs, but it'd be worth it. To have him safe. It might not affect the work as much as I think. I could just be viewed as...highly eccentric."

"We know where he is, Sherlock. We know Moriarty is intent on seeing your reunion. I say, let's not let him win this round. Let me bring him back to you."

******
Another late night text.

So, Galatea and I were wondering if your doctor will be considering a daring rescue. Bit of an extreme gesture to retrieve a Tottenham Road pawnshop purchase, no? Is it a bit like picking up take-away for you, or does he know just how special this particular dish is? Sorry, sweetheart. Only the owner can file a claim for lost items. D: Jim

_{OP here}

Jim is such an arse! *slaps him* (I say this and yet roleplay as him . . . xD)

Ahhhhh, I love this.

And I really like that you chose quantum animism instead of more of a folk 'genre' because of how Sherlock is, so science-oriented.

And his violin is as old as ACD!Sherlock! =D

(Mycroft says 1742. I say, no, Mycroft, 1895.)

Always 1895, Mycroft!
If I got any of the physics wrong please let me know. I never took it, but really, really should have, so I'm kinda playing catch-up. Jim is so fun to do, isn't he?
I hope to get the middle done this weekend.

[arrrgh...this part going remarkably slow! Posting in smaller bursts to keep it going...]

Already in position across from the newspaper office, Sherlock gave a terse nod to John before picking up the phone.

On my way. SH

Newsroom hallway. Second floor. I'll be there, with bells and brass knobs on. -Jim

No time to lose, then. He needed to be seen entering the building by any henchmen positioned on the outside, but not seen exiting, and he had to get there before Moriarty. He was counting on his adversary's need to make a late, more theatrical entrance, (after Sherlock would have been building up anxiety waiting). He was confident he wouldn't show until his men were in place, but perhaps they already were. He wore the most incongruous outfit (compared to his normal dress) that could still fit under his clothing... shorts and a tank top layered underneath his usual tailored shirt and trousers... a bright yellow head sweatband, trainers, gym socks and a full plastic water bottle shoved into his coat pockets. He was grateful he had long ago strategised a greatcoat as a sort of visual trademark which had a dual purpose of concealing all sorts of items.

In building. Good. He headed to the lift and pushed the button just shy of the top floor (there might be some of Moriarty's agents on the top, searching for roof access). He popped out a frosted plastic ceiling tile and discarded his current wardrobe within the lift, next to the light fixture, relying on people's natural hesitancy to look straight up, then donned the replacement footwear and band. He exited the lift and took the stairs back down at a run, wetting his hair slightly with the water bottle so he would look like any other sweaty jogger when he exited the building.

Once outside, he bent down to stretch his calves, then took a gulp of the water, holding the bottle at a high angle, close to his face. He stayed in place long enough for anyone observing from the roof to notice, and subsequently dismiss, him. Then he went to the Underground station across the street, drinking water as he walked, looking exhausted from his theoretical run.

At the station, he grabbed a newspaper, turned to Sport, and sat on a bench, waiting. He gave his bollocks a quick scratch for good measure, and concentrated on being as un-Sherlock Holmes as possible

When Jim entered the newspaper office, violin case in hand, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find John Watson leaning against the wall in the hallway, his arms crossed.

"I suggest you give me the case."

"Oh, Johnny. Or else? I already told Sherlock. This particular item needs to be hand-delivered," he sang the rest of the sentence, "with love, from me, to you."

"The streets have been blocked around this building. You can't just duck into a car and drive off. I will follow you right out of here and I will get what I came for. If I have to injure you fatally in the process, so be it."

"I always considered the possibility of a no-show. And I don't think you'd harm me. First off, because it is the middle of the afternoon in the heart of London, but, even more importantly, because you owe me. If I wasn't back on the scene, we both know your bestie's plane wouldn't have turned around and he would have toasted the new year with vodka in Siberia and you would have never seen him again." John broke eye contact. "So. You will let me out of this building unharmed. Just so you know, laser trackers are terribly difficult to see in the daylight, but we both know there's no good reason to take out the queen when the match has just started. This is just me having a little fun. I will walk to the Underground, and you will let me."

Moriarty headed out of the building as John trailed behind. When he had descended the steps, John didn't follow.

Sherlock watched as Moriarty and the case boarded train number 347 on the District Line, northbound. Once the car was in motion, he dropped the paper on the bench and headed outside.

On the train, Jim glanced toward the back of the car to be sure that Clay had followed him. Once confirmed, he ignored him. A dark-haired woman was going from car to car, frantically calling for a child named Marcus. Jim's man eyed her suspiciously until she returned, pulling what must have been Marcus by the arm. Jim scrutinised each person in the compartment; he didn't have Sherlock's level of skill, but he was able to spot someone armed easily enough. Finding no one, he relaxed.

Well, home then. He was sorely disappointed that all he met with was John Watson's pseudo bravery and stupid theatrics.

The train didn't leave the stop. Instead, the conductor announced that the car was being replaced, and all passengers should exit at this time. Jim Moriarty didn't move a muscle as the other passengers shuffled past. He sat, waited, and spoke out loud as they disembarked, like a stewardess thanking passengers for the flight. "I was only trying to get Sherlock to play. So much fuss over this." He tapped the case. "Honestly. I'm just trying to be helpful. Secrets can be so toxic to your friends and family. Sherlock needs to" he grinned broadly, "let it go."

Mycroft came into view and took the seat next to Jim. Clay sat across from the two.

"I believe you have something which belongs to my brother."

"Pleasure to see you again. Friends and family present and accounted for and very much aware. Just as well. I'm not really sure what to do with this old thing. Give him his love, would you?"

Eeep, I love his disguise! XD

And Mycroft? Eeep!

(Keep up the good work. 'Still lovin' this. =) )

Gotta admit..the disguise was fun! And it's nice to have a bit of big brother Mycroft (especially since he's been such a bad guy in my recent fics). Last chapter is up.

Just yay yay yay. =D

Thank you so much! :D

[It was a pleasure to write this awesome prompt and I very much appreciate the amazing support! Thank you! Going up on my AO3. Small, friendly surprise in store ;) ]

Sherlock was once again dressed in his usual attire. "He's safe." He'ssafehe'ssafe.

"I've checked the contents of the case. Everything is present and accounted for. I didn't touch anything inside, just a visual confirmation. The string, of course, is missing. Everything else appears to be... unharmed." Mycroft placed the case on the sofa. He held out a small paper bag. "New E-string. And new rosin. It was cracked."

Sherlock's hand moved slowly as he accepted the offering. He was about to speak when Mycroft nodded, turned and headed out the door. He stood there for a moment at the doorway before retreating to his chair.

"John, I... have not been forthright. I apologise for the deception. I was, perhaps, a bit more protective of myself than I needed to be. I'm... not attracted to the violin."

"I can see it in your eyes, Sherlock. It's all fine, you don't have to hide anything. I don't think I can truly relate, but, I can at least try to understand. I'm so sorry I mocked you before. And when I thought I understood, I really didn't. I sometimes run across similar situations at conferences." Sherlock frowned. "No, hear me out. In Dublin, they mentioned there were over 500 types of paraphilias, all seeing the world through whatever sexual lens, and nearly all of them are considered perfectly healthy. If it isn't a challenge to consent, it's all fine, and I mean that."

"I appreciate that, John, but, I'll show you. Would you hand me my violin?"

John paused a moment, puzzled, before opening the case and doing so.

Sherlock took it, and began an aggressive pizzicato, holding the violin like a small guitar. "Still trying to process. It does help me think."

He watched them together for a moment. It wasn't what he'd expected. If this was his lover, it sure didn't seem like it. Was he witnessing a quarrel?

He continued to play as he spoke. "I need to think about...what to say. I failed him. If I had used extra precautions, treated him differently than other valuable items in flat, I would have just drawn more attention to him. As it was, he still wasn't safe. The string...he came so close."

He carried the violin back to the case lying on the sofa. Still holding the violin in one hand, he opened it, and his hand seemed to shake slightly as he raised the top. He placed the violin in the case gently, and then crouched down on his knees, staring into the still-opened case. Bringing himself to eye level, with his bow.

It wasn't an expression he was used to seeing, the look on Sherlock's face as he lifted the clip which anchored him. Fear, remorse, gratitude. He ran a finger down the length of the wood and stopped. He meticulously examined the frog, then the tip, adjusted the ferrule, and when satisfied all appeared to be in working order, he glided his fingers as if he was touching each individual strand of hair, though he was careful not to make actual contact. John got the impression he might not like that type of touch, or ... maybe he wasn't ready for it yet? He was definitely intruding on this scene. As he turned away and ascended the stairs, he heard a quiet "Thank you, John." He chose not to respond.

On the way up, he heard music...tentative and uncertain. Then more confident. Flowing. Until finally it was smooth and harmonious and beautiful and... private. He went up to his room and closed the door.

hope I didn't annoy with the slight twist...was shooting for adorable ending OP had requested and I thought it made it more fun this way, (especially since OP was ok with object being any object)

Ohhhh, I love this so much. It is an excellent fill. On AO3 you say? Well then. *wanders off to find it and give you kudos and love*

AO3 works/1550864/chapters/3285761
Oh thank you.... You are awesome! I am cleaning up bits and pieces as I put it up.

_{OP here}

Awwww, so sweet! Thank you so much for writing this, I enjoyed it immensely. =)

OP, thank you so very much. I really enjoyed writing it, and your feedback really kept me going :)

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