Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

Sherlock didn’t believe in Angles. He didn’t believe in anything that he couldn’t see with his own eyes and he most certainly didn’t believe that a person could be completely good. Everyone had a dark side and everyone was capable of evil. At least that’s what he believed; until he met Hanna. When he first came in contact with her he was blinded by what seemed to be a white soul. A being with a dark past but still managed to be good. She made him believe Angles.

Sherlock didn’t believe in Demons. If Hanna was good then Ann was not. She moved only for her own desires. She worked for Mycroft only in theory; she did as she pleased and no one would say otherwise. The teasing, the flirting she wove throughout their reunion was designed to seduce and destroy. She was trying to destroy the purity with which he viewed Hanna. She was trying to kill the one thing he held most dear. She made him believe in Demons.

Sherlock didn’t believe in Heaven. And then he got Hanna back. For a few short days after she woke from her coma everything was perfect. For a few days she was alive and vibrant. They would talk about anything and everything and they were completely immersed in one another. She would challenge his emotions and pull them into his once logical thought process. A thought that once disturbed him but she, somehow, made it reasonable. She showed him how to control emotion and logic and use it to his gain. She made him believe in Heaven.

He didn’t believe in Hell. And then, slowly, the darkness of Ann stated to taint the once snow white soul he’d come to adore. He saw it happen as she began to withdraw into herself. Nothing he did or said made a difference. He couldn’t get through the new walls she’d put up and he never felt so isolated from her. She made him believe in Hell.

Now, as he sat in the cab on his way back to Baker Street, he felt his world shaking as one of his basic points of knowledge about her was crumbling away. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the numbers. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello-” Molly began but he cut her off.

“Was Hanna adopted?” he asked and there was a moment of silence on the other end.

“What?”

“Was Hanna-”

“No I head you the first time,” she said cutting him off now. “I'm just surprised it took you this long to figure out.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean we look nothing alike,” She ignored him. “No one else is near as smart as her. It’s tradition in my mom’s family for the kids to have names that begin with M; you worked that out when we first met-”

Sherlock hung up on her. Hanna Hooper was adopted, of course she was. Like molly said, he should have seen it and now that it was confirmed he didn’t understand why he hadn’t before now. It was all there, literary right in front of his face, and yet he might as well have been blind. He’d thought he’d been two steps ahead, in his understanding of His Lullaby, but he was always four steps behind.

“Sir?” the cabby questioned drawing him out of the thoughts. “We’re here, 221B Baker Street.”

He looked out the window, “We are. The question is, what version of Baker Street am I walking into: Heaven… or hell”

The driver frowned, “are you on something, Mister?”

Sherlock met the young man’s eyes before rolling his own and stepping out of the car. He walked slowly across the pavement to the door which was unlocked. He entered the landing and paused. Mrs. Hudson was asleep as it was the middle of the night. John was out; he stopped at the bottom of the stairs to talk to someone before making a hurried exit.

“Who was he talking too?” he pondered aloud before sighing and shaking his head as he berated himself, “stupid, stupid. Obvious.” He took off his coat and hung it up on the banister before making his way up the stairs.

The living room was, nearly, as he left it but one thing had changed in the most drastic of ways. The Hanna that he left had vanished. Gone where her jeans and cardigan and instead she was dressed in a small black dress that hugged her curves. A pair of black strappy heals sat on the floor a few feet away from her, discarded in a moment of anger. But the thing that drew in his attention was the new length, or lack thereof, Hanna’s hair. The silver and cooper locks that once reached her lower back now lay scattered across the floor and what was still there barely reached her ears.

“So who are you?” he questioned stepping into the room. “Hanna? Ann? Or are you someone new?”

“D, all of the above.” She said quietly, not looking away from the falling snow.

“Ah.”

She sighed turning to look at him, “I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, “my help?”

“I’ve nearly solved the case,” she said. “But I find my observation skills are… lacking.”

“You’re going blind again.”

“I told you I was nearly out,” she muttered turning away again. “I thought I had enough to last me through the case and then I would be done. But when I went to get some… it was all gone.”

“How have you been working on the case?” he asked with a calm expression. “You were catatonic.”

She looked over her shoulder but her eyes were cast down at the ground. “Not for all of it.”

“So you lied,” he said slipping his hands into his pockets.

“I had too-“

“No that’s my job,” he said, his face turning very serious. “I lie to the people around me; I use them to solve the case. You-“

“Sit idly by and wait for you to save me?” she asked meeting his silver eyes with her own dangerous look as she turned to face him.

“Yes.”

“I did that once,” she growled as he took a few steps forward. “People died.”

“PEOPLE ALWAYS DIE!” he shouted. “It’s what they do!”

“That’s not good enough for me!” she countered, taking a few steps of her own; her eyes shining with tears. “And the sad thing is… you know that about me.”

“How am I supposed to know anything about you?” he demanded. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. Between Hanna and Ann I lost track of what I did or did not know about you.”

She reached forward to place a small hand on his cheek, “No you didn’t. You just don’t believe in me like you use too.”

He didn’t move he didn’t speak; he just stared into those blue eyes as she cracked a half-smile.

“I believe in you Sherlock,” she said running her thumb over his cheek bone, “I believe in everything you do. The only question is: can you believe in me too?”