Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

Sherlock stood in the window of the hospitable playing a familiar melody on his violin that John had brought for him. Molly sat in a chair beside her sister’s bed, slowly nodding off. Between Sherlock’s playing and her own lack of sleep she found herself slowly being drawn away into unconsciousness. John was in the hall watching them through the open door. It had been a week since he got a call from Mycroft saying that Hanna had fallen into a coma. In that time Sherlock, as far as he could tell, had not left her side for anything.

“John?” Mary whispered walking up to him with two cups of coffee. “Any change?”

“No- wait, why are you here?” he looked at his watch. “Oh… our lunch date-I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, John,” she smiled handing him a cup. “Your friend is in the hospitable. You are needed here. Our date can, and will be, rescheduled. ”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around her, “I love you.”

She smirked, “I know. So, how is she?”

“There is no change,” he said looking back into the room. “The doctors can’t explain it, she just shut down.”

“And what about him?” she asked nodding towards Sherlock. “How is he handling it?”

John rolled his eyes, “I don’t know. He just stands there playing that song.”

“Always the same one?” she asked.

“He would never play her anything else,” John sighed taking a sip of coffee. “That song- that lullaby- it means more to them. They are each other’s Incomplete Lullabies.”

Mary nodded, “Oh, I get it now.”

“Really?” John asked, “Because I thought I did a shit job explaining that.”

“John Watson you are hopelessly blind to what is right in front of you,” she laughed lightly. “Sherlock’s not just playing that song because, to him, it’s about her. He’s doing it so that she knows he’s there.”

John looked up, his best friend stood with his back to the bed where his Lullaby lay. If Hanna could hear them, she would hear that song. She would know he never left her. She would know-

“Doctor Watson,” a new voice echoed and the music stopped.

“What are you doing here?” John asked Mycroft as he and Anthea approached.

“Hanna represents a significant investment,” he shrugged. “I came to check that she was taken care of.”

“How thoughtful,” Sherlock said from the doorway. “Your successor will be fine, now if that’s all-” he slammed the door closed making Mary jump at Johns side. There was a moment of silence before they heard the violin begin to play again and Mycroft let out a long breath.

“I see you get along about as well as you always have,” John rolled his eyes. “Now what are you really here for?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow but it was Mary who questioned him, “What do you mean? He just said why he was here.”

“If he just wanted to make sure she was taken care of he would have sent someone,” John explained to her without breaking eye contact from the eldest Holmes boy. “So what is it?”

Mycroft smiled, “Miss Hooper may be on the path to recovery but she is far from being her normal self.” He said holding out his hand for a file that Anthea retrieved from her briefcase. “She has one more secret that
only a handful of people know.”

John raised an eyebrow, “And?”

He held out the file and John took it, “I’m telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s time my brother found out,” Mycroft sighed, “and Hanna won’t tell him on her own.”

John opened the folder, “These are her medical records; is she sick?”

“Just read it Doctor Watson,” Mycroft sighed digging through his pockets. “When you’re done you’ll need this.” He pulled out an old iron key with his surname across the bow.

“A key?” John frowned, “what to?”

“The address is Queen's Rd, Croydon, Greater London CR0 2PR, United Kingdom; you’ll know what to look for.” He said turning around. “Afternoon.”

~*~

Lestrade stood behind his desk, his eyes cast down to the same papers he’d been looking at for weeks. The Ripper had dropped his second victim in London and then seemed to have gone into hiding. Not unusual for him. He sometimes waited years between kills. For him there was no time-table, all they could do is wait.

But the anagram, the letters that Sherlock found, was frustrating. It was a clue, a tip as to who this guy was and they couldn’t make head or tail of it. “It’s probably incomplete,” Sherlock said over the phone as he refused to leave Hanna’s side. “You won’t be able to work with it until we get all the other letters.”

“That could be anything from one more to twenty!” Lestrade shouted. “I need more than that.” but Sherlock couldn’t help, well he could but he wouldn’t. He had something more important to do right then and as much as Lestrade hated it, he knew that he couldn’t force the Consulting Detective to help him.

That was two days ago, and right now, Lestrade was seriously considering forcing the genius into complacency. Eight more people that he swore to protect were on the line and Sherlock was just wasting away at the bedside of a woman who may never wake up.

“You seem troubled.” His head snapped up to see that very same woman standing in the doorway of his office. “I wonder why that is.”

“Hanna?” he asked, his voice was hoarse and uneven as he lock his eyes onto her.

“We’ve been over this,” she rolled her eyes in annoyance as she walked into the room on her ridiculously high heels. “It’s Ann.”

Lestrade swallowed, “Right, sorry.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she raised one smooth eyebrow as she pulled her blond hair over her shoulder and started playing with the ends.

“Well you were in a coma last I heard,” he swallowed.

“I know,” she sighed in disappointment as she took a seat. “Fooling them is really too easy, all I have to do is wait for Holmes to fall asleep, attach the heart monitor to Molly and then walk out.”

“Why would you do that?” Lestrade asked sitting down in his chair. “Why would you do that to him?”

“Boredom,” she shrugged. “He provides the most interesting game.”

“Hanna-“

“Ann,” she corrected him with a severe face. “Make that mistake one more time and I’ll be forced to do something very naughty.”

His eyes widened and he leaned back in his seat, “What happened to you?”

She frowned, “How unfortunate, I thought out of everyone you would understand. Not Holmes, not Watson, you.”

“Understand what?” he asked in desperation, “I don’t understand anything right now, more so than usual.”

“Exactly,” she said. “You are lost, you want to help but you don’t know how and because you don’t know you can’t. Not doing something is killing you.”

“Hanna-“

“Strike three,” she smiled, “you’re outta here.” There was something in her eyes, a sort of wild gleam that sent fear rippling through the inspector.

“Right- its Ann,” he said quickly as she stood up and walked around to his side of the desk, kicking off her shoes as she went, “I'm sorry, it won’t happen again-”

“Lestrade,” she approached him, hiking up her pencil skirt as she went. She straddled him in his chair and ran her fingers over his cheeks, “Shut up.” And then, much to his surprise, Ann kissed him.