BBC SH - Reunion - MycroftThe Diogenes Club was old. The dark wood panelling and the high ceilings marking it out as a relic of a bygone era.
Rather like many of its inhabitants.
And like every old thing, it was a bit battered around the edges.
Normally, Mycroft Holmes saw the grandeur and the glory of the building's past.
But today, in the gloom of January with the rain pattering with insistent consistency against the window, Mycroft found it hard to ignore the flaking paint and chipped wood surrounding him.
But then again, the entire world seemed a little bit tarnished now.
He sat in the window seat, a glass of brandy cradled in his lax fingers, gazing numbly down at the hooded and umbrella-d figures hurrying along in the street outside.
The door opened and closed quietly; informing him that someone else had entered The Stranger's Room.
He raised his brandy to his lips and gave it a sip.
The figure moved towards the window, following Mycroft's line of sight.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then a low voic
And Found"I'm afraid I'll lose you, Sherlock..."
Where did this come from? Everything had been perfect between them up until now.
John seemed to have been enjoying himself. Their midnight sprints through the street, the pranks they'd pulled on his brother (make sure you observe before eating a doughnut that's clearly been filled with mayonaise instead of custard next time, Mycroft,) their early morning dinners, late night breakfasts- surely John loved every minute of it? How could anybody not be addicted to such a fast-paced life?
John isn't just 'anybody.'
But how does he not see that?
How can he call himself boring when he's one of the most anti-pedestrian people in the country? In the world?
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Exactly. Brilliant. Pure brilliance. Mystery solved, my Dear Watson.
"You broke me."
John's brow furrowed and his nose cr
LostThe two men were relaxing on the leather sofa, the sun seeping in through the moth-nibbled curtains. Particles of dust floated aimlessly through the air.
It was a lazy Wednesday.
No good programs on the telly.
The overall atmosphere was quite dismal and warm.
Sherlock paused before responding.
Nothing to deduce. Nothing to pick apart.
"Why? You afraid I hid another cow appendix in your dresser? 'Cause I didn't."
John smiled faintly at the joke. Even though it wasn't a joke. There had been a cow appendix in his dresser before. He wasn't very fond of it.
"No, no...it's not that."
Sherlock leaned his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. "Let's see...you've been abducted, covered from head to toe in semtex, run through the streets of scary-ole-London at midnight while being chased by the police, been in the army, shot and killed a man...what does that leave?"
John looked blankly over at the window, gripping Sherlock's arms he had wrapped around him tig
BBC SH - Reunion - LestradeHis phone rang.
Lestrade sighed and reached for it, noticing how Donovan looked over her shoulder at him from where she was driving the car. "Hello?"
"Sir," He recognised Evelyn's voice. Young, relatively new, he had recognised her potential when she first joined and helped her learn the ropes. As such Sergeant Evelyn 'Evie' Makepeace was fiercely loyal to him.
Even now after everything that had happened.
He sighed. "I'm not 'Sir' anymore Evie. I'm just Greg, remember?"
To her credit, Donovan tried not to look too smug at that.
"Whatever you say, Sir." Evie said, slightly darkly. "You need to get back, Sir. Fast."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Someone you need to see."
" . . . You'll want to see for yourself, Sir."
"Wha . . . Look, alright . . . We're an hour and fifteen minutes away. Tell whoever it is they might want to go away and come back later."
There was a pause.
"He said he'd wait."
Lestrade frowned. That did sound odd. Informers never lingered long at the Yard for fear they mig