Vague Shadows

“I hope we’re not too late,” John breathed as the cab rounded the last corner. I already had my seatbelt off, and my hand rested on the doorhandle.

“It’ll be okay,” I promised. “She’ll be okay. She’s Mrs. Hudson. She’s always okay.”

The cab came to a halt, and the two of us exploded from the back seat. John raced ahead of me and raced through the door. I came inside just as Mrs. Hudson turned round to look at us. This was the wrong time to point out that I had, in fact, been right- Mrs. Hudson was indeed okay.

“Laicee, John, you made me jump,” she chuckled as the two of us stared at her incredulously. She was not shot. She was not bleeding out on the entryway floor. She was smiling at the two of us, almost a little put off by our startled gaping. “Is everything okay now, with the police? Has Sherlock sorted it all out?”

It was at that moment that John and I both stopped breathing. We looked at one another; our faces said the same thing. It had been a setup.

“Oh my god,” John breathed; he locked eyes with me as we turned away, and then in another instant we were sprinting down the sidewalk after a taxi. I jumped in one side as John wrangled a man away from the other door.

“St. Barts,” I snapped as we both slammed our doors. The driver hesitated just a moment too long for my liking. “NOW!

The taxi roared down the street, the man driving frantically as I glowered at him in the rearview mirror.

“What do you think-“

“Just don’t,” John interrupted me, his voice tight from the anxiety growing in both of us. I cut off; I couldn’t press it anymore. The taxi couldn’t drive fast enough.

***

The moment the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital, John’s phone went off. I threw a handful of money at the cabby, and he took off the second we were out of the backseat.

“Hello?” he asked as we jogged for the front door. “Sherlock? You okay?”

I watched John as we hurried, observing his facial expressions. I could just hear the murmur of Sherlock’s voice on the other end.

“No, I’m coming in-“ John began to say; I could heard Sherlock say urgently,

“Just do as I ask!”

John abruptly changed the direction of his walk, going back the way we came, and I followed suit. We glanced at one another, brows drawn in anxiety. Something wasn’t right.

“Where?” John asked, his voice taking on a quiet, concerned tone. On the other end of the phone, I heard him say,

“Stop there. Put the speaker on so Laicee can hear as well.”

John pulled the phone away from his face and hit the speaker button. I pressed my shoulder to John’s.

“Sherlock-“

“Okay look up. I’m on the roof.”

Slowly, we turned. I could see Sherlock’s silhouette standing on St. Bart’s, and my stomach dropped.

“Oh god,” John breathed.

“Sherlock?” I asked quietly, trying to keep the nerves from making my voice quiver.

“I-I can’t come down, so we-we’ll have to do it like this.”

“What’s going on?” John pressed; I could feel my heart pounding heavily against my chest. It wanted to break free and rush to Sherlock’s help, just as I did. But I forced myself to stay beside John.

“An apology.”

I could feel John tense beside me.

“For what?” I asked, this time my voice shaking just a bit.

“It’s all true.”

“What?!” John and I both gasped; not out of anger, out of confusion.

“Everything they said,” Sherlock murmured, his voice a rough tone that swept through me and made me ache with sadness. “I… invented Moriarty.”

“You’re lying,” I said quietly as John stared up at Sherlock, disbelief in his eyes.

“Why are you saying this?”

I could hear the choke in Sherlock’s voice. I saw his face tense, even from the ground, and my heart constricted.

“I’m a fake,” he said softly, his voice breaking at the end.

“No,” I argued immediately.

“Sherlock-“ John tried; his voice cut off before he could keep talking

“The newspapers were right all along,” Sherlock continued; I could hear the tears in his words. This couldn’t be true. Sherlock was not a fake. “I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly… In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you… That I created Moriarty. For my own purposes.”

“Stop it,” I told him, tears breaking my words.

“Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met, you knew all about my sister. Right?”

“Nobody could be that clever.”

“You could,” John insisted, his voice stronger than mine could be right now. I stared up at Sherlock, the man I had learned to love and admire, and I knew that he was lying. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met. Sherlock was not a fake.

I heard Sherlock give a watery laugh, and I could feel both John and myself tense from the sadness we felt.

“I researched you,” he told John softly. “Before we met, I discovered everything I could to impress you.”

“Sherlock, stop it,” I said, a tear running down my cheek. I brushed it away angrily. “You knew me, knew my mother-“

“I’m Mrs. Hudson’s friend,” he told me. “Of course I knew Jenae Bennett.

“No, shut up,” I snapped. “You knew-“ I broke off and took a breath. “You knew about my father, and the things that I’d never told anyone else-“

“It was a trick,” he whispered. More tears fell down my face. “Just a magic trick.”

“No,” John said, his voice gaining strength as he talked. “No, alright? Stop it now.”

“This is enough, Sherlock,” I said to him, beginning to walk forward. John followed. I hadn’t taken two steps before Sherlock reached out his hand urgently to us.

“No! Stay exactly where you are! Don’t move!”

“You’re alright,” John promised softly, lifting his hand to Sherlock.

“Please come down, Sherlock,” I asked him, backing up to where we’d been. I heard Sherlock begin to cry harder, sucking in quick breaths.

“Keep your eyes fixed on me!” he begged; my stomach tightened. “Please, will you do this for me?”

“Yes, of course,” I promised, beginning to shiver from anxiety. All I wanted was to see him back down off the ledge, to stop this, stop this game-

“Do what?” John asked; his voice was tight. He was just as worried as I was.

“This phone call…” he said quietly.

No, I gasped to myself. No no NO-

“It’s my note.”

“A note?” I breathed, my whole chest constricting.

“It’s what people do, don’t they? Leave a note.”

“What-“ I whispered, my heart pounding painfully.

“Leave a note when?” John choked out.

“Goodbye, Laicee,” Sherlock whispered. My vision swam.

“Sherlock, please-“

“No, no-“ John began as tears began to pour down my face. John was shaking.

“Goodbye, John,” Sherlock said, and he lowered the phone from his ear.

Sherlock tossed the phone to the side.

“SHERLOCK!” John bellowed.

“STOP! SHERLOCK, NO!” I screamed, my voice echoing off the buildings.

And then Sherlock put his arms to the side, and as I screamed, as John whispered Sherlock one more time, it was over.

My world slammed to a halt the moment Sherlock hit the ground.