Archive of Our Own ^beta

John didn’t look up as he heard their back door open and the sounds of Sherlock making his way into their kitchen along with the usual muttered curse as he hit his head on the low archway between the kitchen and the hallway. He took a sip of the soup he was making. Hmm bit off. Wonder if Sherlock will know why...

'Gloves off the table.' He said. The guilty silence behind him made him sigh as he turned. 'You were wearing gloves, right?’

‘Of course.’ Sherlock said; and only John’s long familiarity with his partner allowed him to detect the slight pause that indicated he was lying.

‘They’re still in the shed by the hives, aren’t they?’ Sherlock’s eye twitched and he dropped the last of his beekeeping supplies on the kitchen table which caused John to glare. Without comment Sherlock moved them so they were on the floor beside his violin case. John decided the argument about putting things away wasn’t worth the sulk and turned back to his soup.

‘Your trust in me is underwhelming.’ Sherlock said as he stepped around John to taste the soup. ‘Needs more salt.’

John passed it over to him. ‘My distrust is based on years of knowing you. It’s well founded.’ He gave Sherlock a quick peck on the cheek as the man took over cooking. After a moment John followed it with another kiss on Sherlock’s sensitive neck, causing his partner to jump.

‘If I ruin dinner, you’re not allowed to yell.’

‘Would I do that?’ John knew Sherlock could hear the smirk in his voice even as he left the kitchen to find his laptop.

‘Under the coffee table.’ Sherlock called out. John paused and tried to remember when he had put it there. ‘Those things were here yesterday and you hid it from them.’ Sherlock prompted, jogging John’s memory.

‘They’re perfectly sweet children.’ He said while he tried to hide his agreement with Sherlock’s description of their next door neighbour’s Kelly and Tommy’s three somewhat devil like children. Sherlock huffed but didn’t argue the point further.

‘Thank you dear.’ John said as he bent down to fetch the computer. John ignored Sherlock’s muttering about illogical pet names and how if anyone was a dear it was John, knowing he understood what John was actually thanking him for. John took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled up his email out of habit, though he expected there to be none, as per usual since Sherlock’s sudden retirement two years ago. He always felt a tinge of regret when he found an empty email. He was therefore surprised to see he had an email, from an Annie Phelps. The name struck a memory and he stared at it trying to recall where it was from.

Sherlock quietly placed a bowl of soup beside him as he took the seat across from John. He didn’t say anything, just watched John mouth the name as he thought.

After five minutes of this, Sherlock raised an eyebrow. ‘Stop being an idiot John and open the email. She’ll identify herself within it.’

John gaped at his partner. ‘How-’ He checked himself as Sherlock raised an eyebrow and tried to see it from his partner’s perspective. ‘I’m looking at my computer confused and I always bring my email up first, so it’s an email bothering me.’ Sherlock nodded. ‘I’m mouthing something -a name- so it’s the identity that’s confused me and you know she’s female because-?’

‘You’re mouthing a woman’s name.’ Sherlock smiled, his small proud smile that always warmed John when he saw it. ‘But otherwise you got nearly everything of importance.’

‘Give me another twenty years and I’ll be able to do your old job.’

‘Oh, ten years; fifteen at the most.’ John playfully swiped at his partner and Sherlock only just got his arm out of the way, somehow managing to not spill a drop of soup in the process.

Laughing, John opened the email. ‘Phelps! Of course!’ He scanned the first line of the email. ‘Well, his wife at least.’

‘Friend from Uni.’

John eyed his partner. ‘You’re fishing.’

‘I never fish.’ Sherlock said with a huff, straightening himself into his most imposing pose.

‘You never make general statements either.’ John said in an amused tone. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll bite. Percy Phelps was someone I met while at University, he was doing a law degree at...well I can’t remember where. He hung out in our favourite bar because it was cheaper and joined us once for a drink. And then again and aga-’

‘I get the picture John.’

John shook himself from the last remnants of his memories. ‘Sorry. Got caught up. Percy is a good guy and could drink all of us under the table.’ He huffed a laugh as he remembered the last time they had caught up. Percy hadn’t lost his talent in the years since University.

‘Hence the nickname ‘Tadpole’.’ Sherlock said, which caused John to narrow his eyes at him.

‘You’ve already read this.’

Sherlock looked at John blankly, but John saw the spark of amusement in his eyes. ‘Why would I read something as dull as an email from an old drinking pal?’

‘Because you’re a snooping bastard.’ John’s eyes moved down the screen and his face fell. ‘Oh.’

‘John?’

‘Percy had a stroke.’ He saw Sherlock biting his lip, his usual sign of distress. John imagined, from his experience, that it was because of the amount of sadness suddenly in John’s voice. He reached across and grabbed at John’s hand, offering comfort in his usual silent but understanding way.

‘His prognosis?’

‘Better than it was. He still can’t talk and he’s lost control of the right side of his body. But at least he can move.’ John squeezed Sherlock’s hand gratefully.

‘Does she want you to visit?’ Sherlock’s fingers started to twitch, a usual movement when he was moments away from going into his mind palace. He also had that glint in his eyes, one John remembered from their case solving days when Sherlock was thinking up another mad plan. Wonder what he’s planning now.

‘Well, yes and no.’ Sherlock’s looked bemused and John clarified. ‘She does think it would do me good to visit but also she wants our help.’

Sherlock blinked. ‘With what?’

‘A case!’ Sherlock frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something and reconsidered, leaving him with his mouth open as he thought. John just sighed.

‘You opened the email, saw it wasn’t from a ex of mine and didn’t read the rest. You’re lucky I love you, you jealous twat.’ He shook his head while berating himself for not realising it earlier when Sherlock was as surprised about the stroke as he had been..

‘If you’re going to keep insulting me, I see no reason to take your case.’ Sherlock sniffed and left the table.

John just rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I’m going to go no matter what.’

‘Of course you are. Go pack our bags, I’ll have a taxi here in an hour. Call those creatures’ mother, she might be suited to looking after my bees.’

John smiled, surprised but delighted Sherlock would leave his bees for him. He shook his head to clear it and went to find Kelly’s number. He paused in the doorway as a thought occurred to him.

‘Hang on, you don’t even know what the case is? We’re retired. Why are you taking it?’

Sherlock looked bemused. ‘It’s important to you, is it not?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Then why would I not take it?’

********

Sherlock had to admit, as he read over the case in the taxi, that he might have taken this case even if John hadn’t had a connection to it as it was nearly interesting enough to be worth coming out of retirement for.

Percy Phelps had, until recently, enjoyed a long and successful career at the foreign office in a department headed by his uncle, a man who should have long ago retired but according to Annie was still as sharp as ever. This uncle had given Percy a memory stick of important documents the same day Percy had had his stroke. The stroke had occurred that night, in Percy’s office and been witnessed by his brother-in-law and his secretary. In the confusion, the memory stick had vanished and no trace of it had been found since.

Sherlock would have instantly suspected the brother or the secretary if their homes, offices and finances hadn’t already been under extreme scrutiny, though he was going to have to look those over himself. And Annie had noted that both her brother Joseph and Percy’s secretary Mary had observed that Percy was distressed and already tearing his office apart when they had entered.

A case where an extremely important file had vanished, no suspects and the only one who knew anything unable to speak? Yes, this case was at least a seven.

********  

‘Nice house.’ John commented as their taxi from the train station pulled up the driveway of Percy’s Woking home. ‘He’s done well for himself.’

‘You expected less of a politician?’ Sherlock said with a snort of disbelief. Though it did say something about this Percy if a good friend of his like John wasn’t aware of his wealth...

‘Hush you.’ John said with a swipe at his partner, scattering his thoughts. ‘We’re meeting Annie here and she’ll take us with her to see Percy.’

Sherlock shivered at the thought of being in a hospital and nearly commented that he didn’t need to visit it or see Percy but he bit his tongue at the last moment, realising that saying so would upset John. Instead he merely nodded and jumped out of the taxi as it stopped, causing the driver to start ranting. Leaving John to pay the irate man, Sherlock grabbed their bags and headed for the door.

A short, dark haired woman answered, barely waiting for him to knock before she opened it. ‘John?’

‘Sherlock.’ He corrected gently, seeing the moment she began to beat herself up over the mistake.

‘Of course, I know your faces from the telly but I’m so-’

‘I understand.’ Sherlock cut in. ‘I don’t mind.’ He wasn’t surprised to realise he wasn’t lying; he was actually pleased to be mistaken for as good a man as John even for one moment.

‘Annie?’ John asked, holding out a hand. ‘I’m John, I’m so sorry we had to meet like this.’

‘As am I.’ She said sadly. ‘Do you mind if we just leave your bags in the hallway? I’m anxious to see my husband.’

Sherlock’s gaze became searching. ‘Something has changed. Your husband’s condition improved.’

Her smile was tight but there and the signs were so obvious that even John would be able to tell that that was a new occurrence. It didn’t quite reach her brown eyes but there were signs it might soon. ‘He moved his right hand. It’s not much, but he’s getting more control and the doctors are hopeful he’ll start being able to relearn how to talk soon.’

As she spoke, she pointed them into the hallway. Sherlock walked past the living room and dropped their bags under a bunch of pictures on the wall by the stairs. John was glaring at him for the mishandling of their bags but he didn’t say anything and followed Sherlock and Annie to her car so Sherlock knew it wasn’t that important.

********

The hospital was relatively fancy for a hospital; a brick building surrounded by lovely flower gardens and decent amounts of parking just across the road. Inside however, it was just like any other hospital; all light grey walls and seemingly endless corridors. Annie led them through these corridors with surety, taking confusing turns and elevators without so much a moment of hesitation.

John wasn’t watching Annie though. His eyes were on Sherlock and the way each door made him twitch and how he looked away from each nurse. Sherlock didn’t like hospitals anymore, though John didn't mind them even if he maybe should have.

‘You can go outside.’ John whispered as they took what Annie said was the last elevator. ‘You’re not weak if you sit this out.’

‘I’m fine.’ Sherlock said but his hand moved from its dead grip on his coat to a strong grip on John’s side, his fingers brushing the scar they both knew was there. After a moment John twitched his side away and replaced it with his hand, a slight frown on his face at the reminder.

But he squeezed Sherlock’s hand as the elevator dinged and they released each other as they followed Annie to Percy’s room.

Percy made a happy noise as John entered the room. Only John’s training stopped his face from becoming a horrified grimace. Percy looked nothing like when John had last seen him, no more than six months ago when John had come up to London to have a drink with the man in celebration of his first grandchild. The colour had gone from his already very pale face, and he had lost so much of the weight he had scarcely had to spare in the first place. The contrast between his black hair and his skin only made him seem more like a corpse though John was delighted to see some of Percy’s familiar spark in his blue eyes. He was lying in bed, a few monitors attached to him and button to call a nurse by his left hand.

‘Hey Tadpole.’ John said, slipping into the seat by Percy’s bed. Annie muttered something about finding a doctor and left the friends alone. Sherlock paused in the doorway, unsure on if he was meant to follow.

‘John?’ He asked, having long learnt it’s best to ask if he’s unsure on a social convention.

‘Come in Sherlock. Percy, this is my partner Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Percy.’

‘Charmed.’ Sherlock said dryly, as he eyed the bed and frowned at it, before moving away with a disgusted sounding huff, clearly deciding to stand. ‘John’s mentioned you.’ He said, though his tone was such that John knew he didn’t recall John ever having mentioned the man.

Percy made a noise and John smirked. ‘For a talented liar Sherlock, you’re pants at it when you’re not working.’

A second, confused noise, came from Percy. John blinked then realised what he implied. ‘So Annie did tell you we’re here to help?’

Percy nodded, slowly.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was it the police who interrogated you after you woke?’

Another nod.

‘You became distressed when you could only nod or shake and they kept asking questions that you wanted to say more on. You wanted to help but they didn’t ask the right questions.’ Percy’s head was bouncing up and down as Sherlock spoke.

‘Sherlock?’ John asked as his partner marched in and took a seat on the corner of Percy’s bed.

‘In a minute John. Percy, did you tell anyone about the memory stick?’

Percy shook his head.

‘Did you keep a lot of memory sticks in your office?’

After a moment Percy shrugged his shoulders.

‘Did your brother-in-law often drop in?’

Another shrug but this time Percy frowned. But before Sherlock could ask another question, the door to the room flew open and a man who John assumed was the one in question walked in. He had the same hair and eyes as Annie though he was a lot taller, nearly challenging Sherlock for the title of tallest in the room.

John narrowed his eyes; while he hadn’t met him, he wasn’t too fond of Joseph. He was sure that Percy had spent much of their last meeting ranting about his ‘useless’ brother-in-law but to be fair to Joseph, the details of that night were a little fuzzy. It had been the first time John had had been allowed alcohol in months, he might had let Percy get him drunker than he should have. Thank goodness for Mycroft’s spare couch.

‘Oh. Who are you two?’ Joseph asked. A breeze through the open window knocked a sheet of paper off Percy’s bedside table and John was relieved at the excuse it gave him to not answer as he fetched it.

‘Sherlock Holmes.’ Sherlock offered his hand, somehow managing to make himself seem taller as he moved to stand before Joseph. ‘That is my partner John Watson.’

‘Didn’t you two retire?’ Joseph asked, shaking the hand.

‘I’m an old friend of Percy’s.’ John said with a tight smile. ‘I came to see how he is. You must be Joseph.’

‘Heard a bit about me then? Black sheep of the family, I’m told.’

‘So am I.’ Sherlock said with the same tight smile as John. ‘And look at me.’ He turned to John. ‘Coffee?’

‘Please.’ Sherlock nodded and left the room; after a moment Joseph followed him.

‘Now.’ John turned to Percy. ‘Let’s see if I can guess where your lovely daughters are. Is Jessie still in Edinburgh?’

********

Joseph was following him.

Sherlock ignored him, preferring to carefully borrow some of the good coffee from the doctor’s lounge after his hunt for decent coffee turned up only rubbish. He was looking for sugar for them both when Joseph finally spoke.

‘I don’t think that’s for us.’

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. ‘If that was the case it wouldn’t be out in the open.’ He located the sugar packets and added half of one to John’s cup while putting the rest of it and another four in his cup. He pondered if next week he should up the sugar in John’s coffee to a whole teaspoon, this was a gradual process but he hadn’t noticed so fa-

‘Are you really only here so those two can catch up?’ Joseph asked, clearly not fond of being ignored.

‘Should I be here for another reason?’

‘The memory stick?’

Sherlock sighed. ‘Oh that. Easy enough, Percy sold it and this stroke is a lucky coincidence.’

Joseph laughed. ‘You’re losing your touch if you think Percy sold any secrets.’

‘Oh?’ Sherlock offered a cup of coffee to Joseph and the man took it, slipping it as he spoke.

‘Percy is as straight as they come. Took me and Annie years to convince him it was okay to use his travel budget for short trips.’ He shook his head. ‘He’s as nervous as they come, terrified he’ll do something wrong. Percy hasn’t got a clue how to live.’

Sherlock hummed in reply. Joseph didn’t need much of a push to keep talking at this point.

‘I was there you know; when he had his stroke. I’ve never seen him as upset and I was there when both girls were born. God he was a nervous wreck then and this time...wow.’

‘He was throwing things around, I presume?’ Sherlock prompted.

‘Trying to push the table aside actually. But by the state of the room I think he had already thrown things around.’

‘Did he mention what he had lost?’ Sherlock had finished the last of his coffee and moved onto John’s, making a mental note to fetch him one later.

‘Didn’t get much of a chance to. He collapsed moments after we walked in. I found out from his uncle later, when the doctors told us Percy was going to make it.’

‘We?’

‘Mary and I. Percy’s secretary.’

‘Friend of yours?’

‘Yeah, she’s a nice girl. Always good for a talk when I’m in London.’

‘And a bit of sex too?’’

‘Sometim-Hey!’ It seemed to dawn on Joseph that Sherlock had been playing him and his eyes narrowed.

Sherlock only smirked. ‘Thank you for your cooperation.’ He walked off, leaving the gaping Joseph.

********

‘Oh good, coffee.’ John said as Sherlock returned to the room, still mulling over his conversation with Joseph. ‘I thought you had gotten lost. Which one is mine?’

Sherlock blinked then looked at the two empty cups in his hands. He looked back up at John who sighed at the look on his face.

‘You drank them both.’ Sherlock turned on his heel to go fetch another cup. ‘No, don’t go. I’ll do without.’

‘We’re leaving anyway?’ Sherlock asked, remembering at the last moment to make his demand a question.

‘Oh. Where to?’

‘London.’ He found himself mentally running through the train timetables and debating if staying in a hotel would be preferable to a late return here.  He hid the grimace when he realised it would be and factored in a quick trip to Percy’s home to retrieve their bags.

John sighed again but nodded, then turned to Percy who was watching them with a smirk. ‘I’ll be back. I promise.’ Percy grabbed at his sleeve as John got up and made a sad noise. ‘We’ll find your memory stick.’ John added while Sherlock looked away to hide his thoughts on the matter.

********

It felt just like old times, following Sherlock into a taxi without a clue where he was going or if there was danger coming. John tried to suppress the elation he was feeling. He was retired, he didn’t want this anymore. He-

'You’ve not asked where we’re going.' Sherlock broke into John’s thoughts. They were sitting on the train to London and sharing a seat. They hadn’t been until a few people had stared at Sherlock, who was still attractive even with the lines on his face and white streaks in his hair. John had curled up against Sherlock to subtly warn them off before the distracted detective had noticed; although John doubted he would have, being as he was currently seemingly fascinated with staring out the window.

'Figured you would tell me when I needed to know.' John said with a shrug. No need to spoil this feeling, he thought but kept to himself.

Sherlock softly huffed, as if in agreement with John’s new outlook. 'I thought we could drop in on this uncle of Percy’s. I need more data on this memory stick.'

'Oh Lord...umm, what was it. Holdhurst?'

Sherlock’s neck snapped, he moved it so fast. 'Lord Holdhurst?'

John blinked. 'Yes? I think so. It was something fancy, I remember Percy mentioning him. He’s been in the job for ages. Percy complained about him grooming Percy for his job-'

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. 'Percy complained?'

'Said it was favouritism.' John was slightly annoyed; he was beginning to feel left out. He had forgotten what it felt like to be on a case with Sherlock.

'Interesting.' Sherlock said and went back to staring.

After a moment, John sighed. Why do I miss this? Thank goodness it’ll be over soon. He tried to suppress the disappointment he felt at this thought. They had retired two years ago, a decision made with consideration to the injuries John had received and their age. It had been a mutual decision.

John decided to ignore the voice whispering that an unconscious man was unable to make a decision. He’d agreed afterwards.

********

'Lord Holdhurst.' Sherlock said with a slight bow carefully calculated to inflate the man’s ego as the elderly man’s secretary let them into the room. He saw John frown out of the corner of his eye but was pleased when he followed suit.

Lord Holdhurst didn’t rise, just tilted his head slightly at them. 'Please call me Lord Holdhurst.'

John visibly stumbled but Sherlock just smiled mildly. 'Of course Lord Holdhurst. I am Sher-'

'I know who you are.' Holdhurst snapped. 'I only agreed to meet with you because of your brother.’

Sherlock hid the flash of anger at that statement. He had a decades long career, and still his brother’s name was needed to open doors. ‘Of course. I’m merely here on the behalf of your nephew-’

‘Percy?’ Holdhurst’s tone changed, now slightly concerned. ‘He is alright?’

‘Fine. Much improved, though I’m sure his wife is keeping you updated.’

Something flashed across Holdhurst’s face. ‘His wife and I do not...I slip her mind sometimes, when it comes to updates.’

‘Liar.’ Sherlock muttered.

‘Beg your pardon?’

Sherlock gave Lord Holdhurst a carefully planned smile and saw John look away, suppressing a genuine smile.’I asked when was the last time you saw him.’

‘Percy? The day of his stroke- I remember getting the call that night and wondering what had happened to the memory stick. I went straight to his office the next morning to find it.’ As Lord Holdhurst was talking Sherlock took a seat in the only chair in front of the man’s desk. He heard John sigh, then felt John place his left hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as he stood behind him.

‘And it was then you who reported the memory stick was missing.’

Lord Holdhurst nodded. ‘Yes, though from what the police have told me Percy had misplaced it the night before. I thought there had been a robbery, the office was that chaotic but I’m told it was Percy who had done it.’

‘While looking for the memory stick.’

‘While looking for the memory stick.’

Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘What was on it?’

Lord Holdhurst’s eyes narrowed. ‘Classified.’

‘I’ve clearance.’

‘I highly doubt that.’ He sniffed and Sherlock could see the signs of his offence at the mere thought that Sherlock would consider whatever mere clearance he had to be high enough for this.

‘So the memory stick was encrypted then?’ Sherlock asked and Lord Holdhurst was taken back.

‘No. My nephew has issues working the decryption program so I rarely bother on files just between us.’

‘That’s not very clever.’ John commented mildly. ‘What if someone got their hands on them?’

‘They don’t.’

‘Seems like they have.’ John said with a disarming smile.

‘You would think that but there’s been no chatter of these plans being sold and trust me, we’re looking. My retirement has been held up until after the files are found.’

John looked surprised. ‘You’re retiring?’

‘Yes. Today was supposed to be my last day but well… plans change.’ He offered John a small smile that Sherlock instantly recognised as fake. From the momentarily tightening of John’s fingers on his shoulder, so did John. ‘You know how it is.’ Lord Holdhurst continued.

‘I’ve an idea, yes. My retirement was a touch more impromptu.’ Sherlock blinked at the statement but decided to think on it later.

 ‘How fortunate for you.’ Lord Holdhurst poked at a pile of paper on his desk. ‘Much less paperwork, I’m sure.’

‘Didn’t Percy handle that?’ Sherlock asked. ‘He was training to take over.’

‘Well, yes. But I always checked it over.’

Sherlock nodded. ‘Of course. Just like those files?’

Lord Holdhurst looked confused. ‘No, the translation wasn’t done-Oh.’

Sherlock smiled, taking care to make it fake enough to make Lord Holdhurst nervous. ‘Thank you Lord Holdhurst, we’ve got all we need.’ He bowed his head slightly then rose and left, John a step behind him.

********

‘Where to next?’ John asked as they got into a taxi.

Sherlock grinned at him. ‘Mycroft.’

‘Never thought I would see you go visit your brother willingly.’

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve seen it a dozen times,  we come up to London every Christmas.’

‘Not the same Sherlock, you know what I mean.’ John bit down the sudden irritation that surged through him, absently wondering where it had come from. He’s said far worse…

Sherlock eyed him. ‘I do indeed. It saves time, seeing him now. Otherwise he’ll show up at our hotel and while I won’t mind what he sees I’m sure you’ll find some objection-’

‘Sherlock!’ John cried, gently slapping his partner’s shoulder. ‘If you’re not careful I’ll make you sleep on the floor.’

‘I would like to see you try.’

********

Mycroft didn’t stand as Sherlock stormed into his office but Sherlock could see the surprise in his eyes.

'Brother. I didn’t expect you here.'

Sherlock threw himself into the chair across from his brother and he heard John’s huff of laughter behind him as John pulled a third chair towards the desk.

'I thought I would save you the trip. I’ve no interest in you poking around in my hotel room.' Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'Of course Sherlock.' The brothers stared at another, unwilling to concede first.

'Lord Holdhurst.' John suddenly said, breaking into the silence. Both Mycroft and Sherlock jumped slightly and with a single glance agreed it was not to be mentioned again.

'Yes John?' Mycroft asked.

'What do you know about him?'

'He’s a well respected man, capable if slightly outdated but who in this world is not. Not all of us have the option of retiring before our prime ends.'

John flinched. John flinched like Mycroft had struck him. Sherlock felt his mind begin to fixate on that and with a huge effort, dragged his mind to the conversation.

'Well, why hasn’t he continued to retire now?'

Mycroft blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Oh John, once again, you ask the right question. ‘Lord Holdhurst is under the impression his retirement is on hold until such time as these files are found.’ Sherlock examined his brother’s face. ‘He wasn’t lying but neither are you. Curious.’

He bowed his head as thoughts began to fly through his mind, connections begging to be made even as they slipped just out of reach-

John’s phone went off. Both Mycroft and Sherlock raised their heads to glare at him. John rolled his eyes. ‘If that was going to intimidate me, I would have left in the first week. I’ll be right back Sherlock.’

‘There are some days I wonder what you see in your doctor.’ Mycroft commented softly as John left. ‘Today is not one of those days.’

Sherlock smirked but right then John dashed back into the room. ‘John?’

‘Sherlock come on, we have to go.’ Sherlock didn’t move so John grabbed his coat and moved to pull Sherlock from his chair. ‘Come on, now.’

‘Something’s happened at the hospital.’ Sherlock declared as he allowed John to manhandle him, much like he used to do to John when the man wasn’t moving fast enough for a case.

‘Yes. Percy’s been attacked and Joseph is missing.’ John took a deep breath and dragged Sherlock out. Mycroft called out a goodbye as they left but Sherlock doubted his partner heard. ‘Sherlock...Annie was in tears. It looks like...like-’

‘Like Joseph was responsible for attacking Percy.’

********

The hospital was in a state of chaos, far beyond the organised chaos that was its usual method of running. Police surrounded every exit and as they made their way to Percy’s room they passed at least a dozen security guards all of whom seemed to be searching for something. These combined to increase the fear John was feeling for his friend and each step only made his anxiousness raise.

Sherlock noticed, he had to have noticed, and walked a step in front of John almost as if to protect him from any bad news that might be coming.

‘John!’ Annie cried as the pair approached Percy’s room. John moved past Sherlock and pulled Annie into a brief hug, taking comfort in the fact she was not crying and seemed no more tense than she had been before.

‘Mrs-’ Sherlock started.

‘Annie, please. Please.’

Sherlock nodded slightly. ‘Annie. How is your husband?’

She released John and sighed. ‘Alive. Alive. They won’t know if he’s any worse until he wakes up but the doctors seem hopeful.’

‘What happened?’ John asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her to a nearby seat. He ignored Sherlock’s slight huff and hid a smirk when his partner flounced in the chair beside Annie.

‘I’m not sure.’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘I left for one moment, to get a drink. I came back and Joey was gone and Percy was...was…’She sobbed once before taking a deep breath.

John gently squeezed her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. It’ll be okay.’

She huffed. ‘You can’t know that.’

To John’s surprise it was Sherlock who spoke. ‘John never makes promises he does not make every effort to ensure.’ He met Annie’s eyes then rose, and entered Percy’s room.

John watched him go, torn between staying with Annie and helping Sherlock. Annie shrugged his hand off her shoulder. ‘Go on. There’s a detective in there-’

John’s eyes widened. ‘Oh God.’ He stood in one fast moment, and with a last sympathetic look at Annie went to save the detective from Sherlock.

********

Sherlock barely spared a glance for John when he burst in, already involved in his argument with this ridiculous detective. If he was actually a detective, Anderson had more intelligence than him.

‘I’m sorry we don’t release information about an ongoing investigation to the public, Mr…?’

‘Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.’ Sherlock said, watching his foe for signs of recognition. Yes, there, a flicker.

‘Sorry but I just can-’

‘I don’t need you to tell me anything but I’ve been informed it’s more polite to ask. Now, tell me all about the attack.’ He looked over at John. ‘Please?’ He added, hiding the smirk that threatened to bloom across his face at John’s pleased nod.

The detective, a man whose name Sherlock had forgotten the moment he said it, looked less than impressed. ‘I’m sor-’

‘Oh shut up then, if you’re going to be stubborn.’ Ignoring John’s hissed ‘Sherlock!’ he turned his attention to the scene.

Crime scene. With John’s friend. Sherlock found that he had to take a deep breath before observing the room, if only to clear away the smiling memory of Percy.

He wasn’t moving now. Marks on his face and wrist, someone tried to smother him but he fought back. Managed to get him off? Sherlock shook his head, no that doesn’t fit. Percy hadn’t the strength-

‘How many people were in the room?’ Sherlock demanded, turning on the bemused detective.

‘Two? Percy and his brother-in-law.’

‘Wrong. There’s clear signs that man,’ he indicated Percy, ‘was smothered. He’s not dead, so someone fought the attacker off. Who was it? The pixies?’ As he talked, he turned and noted the rest of the room, but there had been far too many people through it to leave any definite evidence as to the identity of the third person. Imbeciles. Just because it’s the easiest explanation doesn’t make it the right one.

‘Sherlock.’ John said gently then he took a deep breath. ‘Sherlock.’ He repeated more insistently.

‘What?’

John pointed at the window. ‘Wasn’t that open?’

Sherlock eyed the window. ‘John. John you’re brilliant.’ For a moment he thought about kissing John but it quickly dawned on him it might not be appropriate.

‘Wait, what? Why is the window important?’

Sherlock rolled his eyes and began to speak. ‘Your theory- and calling it a theory is a stretch- is that Percy and Joseph were in here, probably having some kind of fight. Non-verbal but a fight nonetheless. Suddenly Joseph snapped, thinking to smother his brother-in-law and pretend it was the stroke that did him in. Not very rational but it was the heat of the moment. Only Joseph was such a complete idiot that he gave up when Percy lost consciousness.’

‘It’s a working theory!

‘It only fits some of the facts! Fact. Percy fought his attacker. Fact. Percy does not have the strength to fight his attacker off. Fact. Percy is not dead so his attacker must have been interrupted. Fact, Joseph was in the room. Fact-’ Sherlock moved to the right wall and bent down, picking up a small button. ‘This is Joseph’s button.’ He ran his eyes more carefully over the wall. ‘Fact. An open window is now closed. Fact. Annie was out of the room for no more than ten minutes. According to you this is enough time for her husband and brother to get onto a topic that caused enough distress for Joseph to forget his location, try and kill Percy and escape without being seen.’

John snorted. Sherlock smiled at him. ‘Yes John, I know.’

‘Know what?’

‘It’s a bloody ridiculous timeline.’ John said. He met Sherlock’s eyes and Sherlock could swear there was a joy in them, that had been not missing but greatly reduced for a long time.

‘Time to get a better one.’ Sherlock whispered. ‘Annie leaves the room. Moments later, someone or more likely more than one invade Percy’s room, intending to either kill or kidnap him. Only there’s someone else in the room, Joseph, who had been out of sight of the window. He fights back, loses a button in the fight. Someone holds a pillow over Percy’s face, begins to smother him. In order to save his brother-in-law, Joseph stops fighting. Realising the fight might have been heard, the intruders go to take Percy. Only he’s plugged into machinery and they’ve already lost valuable time. So they take Joseph instead, figuring they’ll find a better plan once they’re clear.’

‘You cannot possibly know all that.’ The detective said as Sherlock finished.

‘There’s a security camera oh, back carpark I would think, that should have caught at least one glimpse of them.’ Sherlock nodded at John and the pair turned to leave.

‘Wait, why didn’t people see them? As they left?’

Sherlock sighed. ‘Because people are idiots.’

********

‘Sherlock, where are we going?’ John asked just moments after they left the room.

Sherlock didn’t reply but did quickly glance at John. He’s questioning me more. He hid his smile. Just like old times. Why did we give this up?

The memory of a flash of blood and John’s life slipping from his grasp was enough to banish that thought.

‘Sherlock.’ John repeated in the tone of voice that Sherlock couldn’t-wouldn’t- ignore.

‘To see Mary. I googled for her name and she lives not too far from here. Should be at home, seeing as she has no work to attend and her boyfriend is missing.’

Something in John’s face twisted for a moment. But before Sherlock could ask what was wrong, John had pushed past him, headed for the main road to find a cab.

With a shrug, Sherlock followed.

********

Mary was a kind woman, letting them into her flat almost instantly after John had introduced them. She was of an average height, red hair cut to her shoulders and brown eyes soft. She offered them tea while they made themselves at home in her lounge chairs and didn’t say a single words as she dragged a chair from the kitchen to sit on.

Objectively, John thought she might be pretty but from the way her eyes had lingered on Sherlock after he was introduced, he figured it wasn’t her beauty that had led to Percy hiring her.

Something in him viciously wondered what she had seen in Joseph but he squashed the thought. I’m sure a lot of people have thought the same thing about me and Sherlock.

Sherlock, who seemed to be in his element again because of this case. Whose eyes seemed brighter, his smile coming a touch quicker and his mind shining brighter than it had in years. Since they retired.

Since Sherlock retired and John, ever faithful, had followed. John sighed, noting that Sherlock and Mary seemed involved in their conversation and tuned it out again. Sherlock would fill him in later, he would follow and it would be as old times.

‘John?’

He jerked. ‘Yes?’

Sherlock eyed him. ‘You seemed distracted.’

John looked down. ‘I’m worried about Percy.’ He lied.

Mary startled. ‘Percy?’ She looked at John’s worried face and it dawned on John Sherlock had kept the recent events from her and judging by the grimace on his face, he had not planned on telling her at all. ‘What’s happened?’

John took a deep breath. Briefly he remembered a Sherlock who would not have even tried to spare a person’s feelings and longed for him but the feeling passed. ‘There was an attack at the hospital… Percy...Percy...They won’t know how he is until he regains consciousness.’

‘Oh God.’

John bit his lip. ‘They think Joseph did it.’

‘No! Never! He loves Percy!’

John blinked. ‘Really?’

Mary looked a touch sheepish. ‘He doesn’t hate Percy.’ She corrects. ‘He thinks he’s good for Annie and the girls. I mean, I’ll admit Percy is a...weird sometimes. Always worried about something. I can’t imagine he’s easy to live with. Why, I remember once he was terrified because he came back to the office and found I wasn’t in the reception!’

Sherlock’s attention was suddenly on her. ‘Did that happen often?’

‘Umm, once or twice. I, well, I like to sit in the lunch room at lunch. And Joseph joins me sometimes. You can see the office doorway from there, it’s not a huge deal.’ She looked down.

‘Yes. Did you do that the day of the stroke?’

‘I can’t recall.’ She shrugged.

‘Of course. Thank you for your time.’

She nodded and rose. Sherlock paused in the doorway, turning back to look at her. ‘Who regularly visited during lunch breaks?’

Mary frowned. ‘No one really. Percy always left the office then, there was no point in visiting. Even Lord Holdhurst stayed away after that first week.’

‘First week?’ John prompted.

‘He came every day for a week and always missed Percy because he came around lunchtime.’

‘I imagine he met Joseph a few times that week.’ Sherlock smirked and for a moment John felt like slapping him.

Mary stood tall. ‘Yes he did. Joseph is good company during lunch, he always brings me a lovely cup of coffee.’

‘Very good. Come on Sherlock, let’s not impose any longer.’ John grabbed the back of Sherlock’s coat and all but dragged the now annoyed detective away.

********  

‘You’ve got a theory.’ John declared as they sat in a taxi on their way back to Percy’s home. Sherlock had decided they needed to either wait for a ransom or for more facts to come to light and John had declared that everyone should get some sleep while they wait.

‘Several.’

John waited but Sherlock didn’t elaborate, didn’t even spare a glance for him. Just like old times. He thought as he turned with a sad sigh to watch the scenery go by. I’ve missed this but now I have it...I miss Sherlock. He smiled as thoughts of the last two years filtered through his head; lazy days with tea and naps instead of running after smart arses and Sherlock’s eyes shining as they shared a bed and he recounted what his bees did coupled with his intense focus as John shared his day. Most of all, the feeling of Sherlock’s incredible attention and love always, always focused on him.

But now, Sherlock’s focus was on the case, his eyes shining in delight for his brainwork not John. Not John. It was an uncomfortable feeling to realise he was jealous of a case. It was even more to realise that, despite the lack of consultation, John was glad to have retired when they did.

I want to be retired again. I want to help Percy but I don’t think I want to be here anymore. John looked over at Sherlock to see if he was still thinking and was relieved to find his head was still bowed and his eyes mostly closed.

One last case. Then we can go home.

John didn’t think about what would happen if Sherlock decided differently. He would follow Sherlock anywhere after all.

********

‘Do you have your gun?’ Sherlock suddenly asked much later back at Percy’s house where they had settled in for a long night, in a much more comfortable room than the hotel room he had originally planned for. He had stopped his pacing of Percy’s guest room to look at John. John, who was just finishing off a text to Annie telling her to stay at the hospital if she wanted and not to worry about the house as they were there to watch it now, didn’t look up but did frown at Sherlock’s question.

‘My gun?’

‘Yes, your gun. Projectile weapon, extremely dangerous and lethal when in your hands. Do you have it?’

John did look up at this. ‘My gun? The one that I handed over to Mycroft when we retired, as we weren’t likely to need me to be shooting bees?’

‘You actually did that?’ Sherlock asked, his voice slightly confused.

‘I thought you wanted me to do that. Why else would your brother com-’

Sherlock growled. ‘Interfering prat.’

It dawned on John what had happened. ‘Oh. So your brother wanted my gun for…?’

‘Safety. I think he thought I might...utilise it in boredom or-’ He looked away and John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memories of those first weeks when he was in hospital. To be honest, there wasn’t much to remember but he could clearly recall Sherlock’s begging…

‘Well then.’ John said, hoping to break the suddenly tense room. ‘Lucky I did keep my spare, which is in the bottom of my bag.’

Sherlock beamed at him. ‘You’re amazing.’ He whispered as he swooped in to kiss John. The kiss lasted for a minute, two minutes. Then Sherlock pulled away and with a small sigh gave John a second reluctant kiss before he moved away, leaving John with a pile of papers taken from Percy’s personal office. He turned on work with a file from an envelope with what John recognised as Mycroft’s handwriting on it.

With a soft smile, John went to work.

********

‘So?’ John asked later that night. At some point in the last few hours he had moved to the bed and given up on the papers Sherlock had thrust at him, preferring instead to curl around a pillow and watch Sherlock continue to pace. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Hmm?’

John rolled his eyes. ‘Where is Joseph?’

‘With the thieves of the memory stick. They seem to think having a hostage will make their payment more valuable.’ Sherlock said absent mindedly

John blinked. ‘What?’

Sherlock looked up. ‘Thinking aloud, don’t mind me.’ John opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock swooped over and covered it with his hand. ‘No John. I’ll tell you soon. Get some rest now, it won’t be much longer. I promise, I’ll wake you when we’re needed.’

‘You've said that before.’ John said through a yawn.

‘I mean it this time.’

John felt himself drifting off. ‘No you don’t.’ He whispered as he fell asleep. Only Sherlock’s sigh told him that he had said that aloud.

*********

John asleep was a sight to behold. He shuffled, he snorted and various parts of his body moved at various times, especially his eyes. Sherlock loved watching John sleep, it was a highlight of his day even if John did insist Sherlock joined him in sleeping long before he had gotten his fill of John’s sleep. Not that he would ever not want to watch John sleep. Perhaps John had a point.

But anyway. John was asleep now, his eyes flickering in REM sleep. And Sherlock couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t make himself think the case out.

It didn’t use to be this hard to stop watching. He thought. He tried to turn back to the financial records in his hand, to see the inconsistencies that should be there but John rolled over and his attention snapped back to him.

Ah, but back then it was the habit to stop. A little voice in his head observed. Now it’s a habit to watch, to be there. You’ve indulged too much.

He couldn’t think like this. Not with John right there. He was moments from a break, he nearly had him but… Sherlock eyed the clock. Two hours until he would need to wake John. There had to be somewhere else in the house to think.

********

It took a moment for John to realise something was missing as he woke. He blinked awake and realised his bed was cold. Where’s Sherlock?

Yawning, he looked around the room. And froze when it dawned on him there was no one else in the room.

‘You bastard.’ John said. ‘You fucking bastard.’ He rose from his bed and began to search for his trousers.

‘Do you mean me?’ Sherlock asked from the doorway where he was balancing two cups of tea and a plate of toast.

Something like relief surged through John. ‘Do I know any other bastards?’

‘None you fuck.’ Sherlock said with a smirk. John collapsed back into bed and Sherlock walked over, passing John his tea and dropping the plate on the bed. John took a slip and hid the sigh when he tasted the sugar. Sherlock kept forgetting he didn’t take it and he didn’t want to insult the poor detective by pointing it out.

‘I woke up and you were gone.’ John said after a moment.

‘I thought you might want tea.’ Sherlock said sheepishly. ‘And get dressed, we’ve a case to solve.’

John stared at his partner then smirked. ‘You’ve solved it, haven’t you?’

Sherlock only smiled mysteriously. John rolled his eyes and muttered about smug bastards as he raced through his morning routine.

********

Sherlock noticed how John didn’t say anything, didn’t comment on anything on the way to the hospital and just silently followed behind him. But Sherlock was wise enough to realise this was not the place to comment on John’s unusual behaviour.

There would be time after the case to work everything out.

‘Sherlock? John?’ Annie asked as the pair walked into Percy’s room. She was there just as Sherlock had asked, along with Lord Holdhurst and the still unconscious Percy. The police detective from the day before was hovering the background, looking very confused at the situation.

‘Annie.’ Sherlock said with a slight bow, taking her hand gently. ‘How is he?’

‘Better, the doctor’s say. He wasn’t- He wasn’t- He wasn’t without oxygen for too long.’

‘You can thank your brother for that.’ He dropped her hand and turned to Lord Holdhurst. ‘Now, for another matter. I have located your missing memory stick.’

‘You have?’ The old man sounded mostly delighted at the news.

‘Sherlock?’ John asked, his tone slightly angry. It was clear he thought Sherlock had gone to retrieve it last night without him.

‘Well.’ Amended Sherlock. ‘I know who stole it and an approximate location for it.’ He paused as he heard footsteps coming up the hall. ‘You’re late.’

‘I am on time Sherlock. You cannot call me late if you gave me a different time to the others.’ Mycroft said. He nodded hello at John who nodded back with a raised eyebrow.

‘Would I do that?’

‘Yes.’ John and Mycroft said.

‘Mr Holmes?’ Lord Holdhurst asked, clearly confused.

‘Oh, yes, my apologies. The memory stick.’ Sherlock turned to Lord Holdhurst. ‘I know exactly where it is but then, so do you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Lord Holdhurst said at the exact moment Annie said ‘What?’

‘You hired three men, or two very expensive ones could go either way, to break into your nephew’s office and steal a memory stick. You were going to sell it I imagine, take a sudden retirement and then disappear while the police investigated your nephew for the crime.’

Lord Holdhurst began to laugh. ‘That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! You’ve no evidence for it.’

Sherlock smirked the thrill of being right beginning to surge through his veins. ‘Oh but I do. John?’

‘Yes?’ A very confused sounding John placed his hand on Sherlock’s elbow.

‘When we retired, who knew beforehand we were going to retire?’

John shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Anyone you told I guess? We sort of left London fast, retired later.’

Sherlock blinked. That was not quite how the events went. ‘John-’

‘Was there a point to that Sherlock?’ Mycroft asked.

Still staring at an increasingly confused John, Sherlock answered. ‘When we retired Lestrade threw a party for us, though it was delayed due to John’s injuries. But it was well known we were going, John had been speaking of retiring for months.’

‘Jokingly for the most part.’ John said, breaking his gaze from Sherlock’s. ‘But I see what you mean. Annie, when was Lord Holdhurst retiring?’ Yes. Thought Sherlock. John, you’ve got it.

She blinked. ‘He wasn’t? I remember Percy complaining about it. How everyone was treating him like the boss even though his uncle was still very much there.’ She sniffed. ‘Percy never wanted to be the boss, he was- is- happy where he is.’

Got you. Sherlock thought, at the look on Lord Holdhurst’s face. ‘So the fact that yesterday was to be his last day at work would be a surprise to you?’

She nodded as Lord Holdhurst rolled his eyes. ‘So I kept my retirement a secret. That does not make me a thief.’

‘Just suspicious.’ John quipped with a shrug.

‘There’s also your financial records-’

‘Those are clean!’

Sherlock nodded. ‘Perfectly clean. There is not a single suspicious payment on them, nothing at all unusual or noteworthy. Nothing. By your records you should have a quarter of a million quid saved somewhere because all you do is pay your bills.’ He turned to John and pulled the bag off his partner, quickly locating the file. ‘Your card only pays for your groceries, your-’

‘I don’t like spending money.’ Lord Holdhurst cut him off.

‘Obviously. Took me an hour to realise what was happening. Your pay is deposited fortnightly and withdrawn then used to pay bills. The rest goes into this-’ Sherlock threw a file down on Percy’s bed, ‘-an offshore bank account. Took me ten minutes to track it to this man.’ He pulled a pair of photos from the bag and they joined the file on the bed. ‘Charles Tangey, hitman for hire though he and his wife-’ Sherlock indicated the woman in the second folder, ‘-are well known for taking on any odd job that will pay well.’

‘You’re lying.’ Holdhurst said in a whisper.

‘You wish I were. You knew Percy was never in his office during lunch, Mary told us that. You arranged for these two to break into his office and steal the memory stick with plans to sell it for a rapid boost to your sudden retirement. I doubt you cared it was framing your nephew for the crime.’

‘Where is it?’ The police detective suddenly asked and Sherlock turned to look at him. ‘If it was stolen on Lord Holdhurst’s orders, why hasn’t it been sold?’

‘An excellent question.’ Sherlock said. ‘You might make a halfway decent detective yet.’ Ignoring the offended look on the man’s face he turned back to Holdhurst. ‘Care to tell them? Or shall I?’

‘Go ahead.’ Holdhurst said coldly, though Sherlock noted how he was eyeing the door carefully.

‘Tangey was too clever for you. He saw what was happening in the media and refused to hand over the memory stick without further payment. Probably double the original amount or a cut of the sale, something boring like that. And you refused.’ Sherlock felt his glance turning cold and held out a preemptive hand to stop John before he continued speaking. ‘Even when they threatened your nephew and kidnapped his brother-in-law, you refused.’

To his surprise it was not John he should have stopped. Annie lunged for her uncle-in-law and only the detective’s quick reflexes stopped her reaching him.

‘You bastard.’ She screamed, before following with a string of swear words that were threatening to make Sherlock blush; quite a feat after years of listening to John.

‘Tell us where Joseph is.’ Sherlock said quietly, once Annie’s tirade had dried up.

‘Surely the Great Sherlock Holmes knows?’ Holdhurst taunted. ‘Or are you inept now, made redundant by retirement and no better than I?’

‘And that, I believe, was a confession. Mycroft?’

Mycroft smiled, a dark smile of promises. ‘It is enough for me. Thank you Sherlock, I will take over from here.’

‘And Joseph?’ Annie asked, having pulled herself from the policeman’s grasp. ‘Will you find Joseph?’

Mycroft half bowed to her. ‘With ease.’

********

‘Coffee?’ Sherlock said, breaking John from his thoughts a half hour later. He was currently sitting in the hospital’s waiting room, having left Percy’s room to give Annie some privacy. Mycroft and the police detective Forbes had escorted Lord Holdhurst away and Sherlock had vanished.

Only to reappear now. With coffee. ‘Thank you.’ John said, and took the cup. One sip confirmed it still had sugar in it.

‘Mycroft just texted. Joseph was recovered in the flat of the Tangey’s, and the couple were arrested just outside the building.’ Sherlock sat down in the seat beside him.

‘Once there was a time you would have gone after those two yourself.’ John noted.

‘Once. Not now. I do the rest of their job, I might as well leave something for the police to do.’ Sherlock smirked and John offered him a small smile in reply.

‘You’re mad?’ Sherlock asked after a long silence.

‘No. Just confused.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you were confused.’ John said, looking away from his partner. ‘At least I think you were. When I spoke about retiring, you looked as though what I was saying was news to you.’

Sherlock grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn, making him meet Sherlock’s eyes. ‘Because it was. I was under the impres...I thought… I didn’t realise you felt...’ He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

John sighed. ‘I want to be by your side. Always. If that meant I retired a little earlier than planned, I was happy to do so.’

Sherlock frowned. ‘You spoke of retirement. An average of five times a week for the previous six months. You were even researching in the area of our current home the day before...’

He looked away even as the full situation dawned on John. ‘Yes, I was. Then I got injured and awoke to a world where I had retired. I just felt left out of the decision and this case reminded me how much.’

‘Do you want to go back?’

John considered the idea, trying to ignore the look of fear hiding on Sherlock’s face. ‘No.  And it took this case for me to realise it. I like being retired, being the focus of you. I don’t think I could handle being mistress to your work again.’

‘You were never my work’s mistress.’ Sherlock met John’s eyes again. ‘It was always yours.’

‘God, that’s gotta be close to the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.’ John said with a laugh.

Sherlock just smirked and kissed him.