Never Meant to Change

“Are you sure about this?” I asked as I stared blankly out the window of 221B Baker Street.

“Well somebody’s got to dismantle Moriarty’s network.” The detective replied while shrugging on his coat.

I nodded silently in comprehension.

“Are you going to tell John?” I questioned, turning inquisitively towards the genius.

Our eyes locked.

“No.” Sherlock replied after a moment’s hesitation.

I hummed in interest.

“You’re an idiot.” I muttered as I looked intently at the younger Holmes brother.

The man paused, dropping his gaze. His pale blue orbs burned holes into the red carpet.

I recognized that look.

It was the look that only Jim Moriarty could bring out in him.

At times like these, I knew that there was nothing I could say to persuade him out of it.

“How long?” I opted to continue on with my interrogation instead.

“Don’t know. Could be years.” The man admitted.

I whistled.

“And I’m not allowed to say anything to him? Nothing at all?” I asked for clarification.

A curt nod was all I got.

“Alright Sherlock,” I sighed in defeat, “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

Walking him to the door, I leaned my shoulder against the wall and silently looked up at him.

“What?” The genius asked a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

John, Sherlock and I have been solving crimes for as long as I could remember. Now, with Sherlock faking his death, who knows when the next crime we solve together will be.

Shaking my head I smiled and responded, “Nothing.”

The detective fixed me with a peculiar look. Usually, he could read me like a book.

But not today.

Not the day before his death.

“Audrey,” Sherlock started.

I looked curiously up at the man.

He looked uncomfortable in his own skin as he tried to find the right words to say.

“My, oh my, Sherlock Holmes lost for words.” I teased lightly.

The genius rolled his eyes at my childish mockery.

“About John…” Sherlock began then trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll take care of him.”

The detective fixed me with a look of gratitude and turned to leave.

It was in that moment that realization finally sank in.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes was leaving.

The man that I had spent the majority of my life with could be gone for an eternity and I would never be able to see him again.

This thought grew in my mind as fast as wildfire and I did something that I haven’t done in ages.

I panicked.

“Sherlock,” I called out to him, my voice strained and full of uncertainty.

The Holmes boy turned to look at me.

I bit my lower lip. I didn’t know what to say to him. I so desperately wanted to tell him to stay here with us forever; to forget about Moriarty and his dangerous games. However, that would be selfish of me.

Suddenly a shadow loomed over me.

I looked up to find Sherlock staring intensely at me. His eyes have gone from a clear blue to a stormy gray.

The detective leaned down, placing his lips by my ear.

“Thank you Audrey Benet.” Sherlock breathed, “Thank you for everything.”

He placed a fleeting kiss on my left cheek and then he was gone.

*~*~*~*

It was around nine in the evening when John called me up, asking me to come to some coffee shop down on Crawford Street.

He said it was an emergency.

So, I rushed down there and guess who I saw sitting there in his long infamous black coat with his collar turned up?

That’s right Sherlock bloody Holmes.

I nearly cried when I saw him. After all, it had been two long years.

“Hello Audrey.” He greeted.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his shoulders.

I felt him tense at the unexpected gesture but after a bit, he relaxed and tentatively patted me on my back.

“Thank God, you’re alive.” I whispered, pulling away to get a better look at him.

His curly brown hair was as messy as ever and his eyes were still the same clear aquamarine colour. He had lost some weight, but other that, he was still the same smart ass detective that I knew.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, where are my manners,” I sniffled while taking the only available seat beside Sherlock, “Hello John, Mary. How are you guys?”

“Oh I’m great, thanks for asking.” Mary responded cheerily.

John, looking like he was about to explode, grounded out, “I’ve been better.”

“Now that we’re all here, let’s get started shall we.” Sherlock said happily then continued to explain, “I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I’d invited Moriarty on to the roof. I wanted to avoid dying, if at all possible. The first scenario involved me hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling –”

“You know for a genius you can be remarkably thick.” John interjected rudely.

“What?” Sherlock asked confusion written all over his features.

“I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock,” John elaborated, “I want to know why.”

“Why?” The detective repeated, surprised by such an elementary question, “Because Moriarty had to be stopped.”

I nudged the genius and he turned to look at me, eyes swimming with puzzlement.

“Not that kind of why.” I said gently.

“Oh,” Sherlock breathed, “Why as in…” he trailed off gesturing to John.

Watson nodded.

“I see,” Mr. Holmes muttered, “yes, why…” He thought for a bit then said, “That’s a little more difficult to explain.”

John sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ve got all night.” The blogger said stubbornly.

“Actually, that was mostly Mycroft’s idea.” Sherlock admitted.

“Oh, so it’s your brother’s plan.” John said in wonder.

“Oh, well,” Mary piped up, “he would’ve needed a confidant.”

At this John gave Mary and incredulous stare for siding with his ex-friend.

“Sorry.” Marry said, realizing what she had just done.

“But he was the only one?” John asked then emphasized, “The only one who knew?”

“Couple of others,” Sherlock revealed reluctantly then added quickly in his defense, “It was a very elaborate plan – it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities –”

“Who else,” John sighed in despair, “Who else knew?”

Sherlock hesitated.

“Go on,” I said, “It’s OK. Tell him.”

“Audrey.” The detective admitted.

John rounded on me.

“You knew about this? And you didn’t bother to tell me?” Watson fumed, eyes burning with fire.

“John.” Mary called softly.

“No, it’s fine.” I said then turned to Watson, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you John, but it really wasn’t my place to say. Sherlock made me promise not to say anything. You have to trust him John. You know he always has his reasons.”

“I trusted him alright.” John cried angrily, “Clearly the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“John.” Mary tried again to calm her agitated lover, “Audrey’s right, just hear him out.”

Upon this, Watson calmed down a bit and settled back into his chair, gesturing for Sherlock to continue.

“Right, like I was saying, Audrey knew and some of my homeless network, and that’s all.” The detective continued.

“Okay so, just your brother, and Audrey, and a hundred tramps.” He spat out.

Sherlock chuckled and exclaimed, “No,” then added seriously, “Twenty-five at most.”

In a blur, John was reaching over the table, trying to pummel his friend again.

“Okay, break it up! Break it up!” I yelled as Watson tried to strangle Sherlock.

Unsurprisingly, we all got thrown out of the café and had to find another place to take care of Mr. Holmes’ cut lip.

We settled for a kebab shop a little ways down the road.

I handed the detective a napkin and he nodded his thanks.

“One word Sherlock. That’s all I would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive.” John continued on with the dispute.

“Well John,” I said, “Now you’re being a hypocrite. You could’ve done the same to poor Mrs. Hudson.”

“That’s beside the point.” John argued.

“I’ve nearly been in contact so many times, but…” Sherlock trailed off.

Watson scoffed in disbelief.

“I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet.” The detective continued.

“What?” John asked incredulously.

“Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag.” Sherlock continued.

“Oh so this is my fault?” John shouted.

“Oh, God!” Mary laughed.

“Jesus John, just stop this petty nonsense.” I said.

“Nonsense?!” John repeated then screamed, “Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong? The only one reacting like a human being?!”

“Over-reacting.” Sherlock and I said in unison. We shared a look and I smiled shyly.

“Over-reacting?” John yelled.

“John!” Mary scolded, protesting the loud noise.

“Over-reacting.” John repeated, still screaming, “So you fake your own death…”

“Shh!” Sherlock tried to hush him up.

“…and you waltz in here large as bloody life…” Watson said.

“Dammit John, be quiet!” I whispered through gritted teeth

The blogger continued on blind to everything around him, “… but I’m not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it’s a perfectly okay thing to do!”

“Shut up, John! I don’t want everyone knowing I’m still alive.” Holmes shouted furiously.

“Oh, so it’s still a secret, is it?” John spat.

“Yes! It’s still a secret.” Sherlock countered, then added, “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Swear to God!” John screamed.

Looking around the shop I noticed that all eyes were on us.

“London is in danger, John.” Sherlock whispered.

I shook my head vigorously elbowing the detective harshly.

“There’s an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help.” Sherlock continued on oblivious to my warning.

“Timing, Sherlock.” I hissed.

However it was too late.

“My help?” John asked in disbelief.

I saw the detective try and analyze John’s reaction.

“You have missed this.” Sherlock said happily.

“Sherlock.” I whispered.

“Admit it,” the genius went on, completely ignoring me, “The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins.”

“Sherlock.” I warned more insistently.

Again I was ignored.

“Just us against the rest of the world…” Holmes said wondrously.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I said as I saw the look in John’s eyes.

In the next moment, John had head-butted Sherlock in the nose and we had all gotten kicked out of the shop – again.

*~*~*~*

“I don’t understand,” Sherlock said, holding his bloodied nose, “I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“You clearly didn’t think this through, did you?” I asked the detective.

“Gosh. You really don’t know anything about human nature?” Mary added in amazement.

“No and No.” Sherlock admitted answering both our questions

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk him round.” Mary said

“You will?” Sherlock asked in disbelief.

“Oh yeah.” Mary answered.

Sherlock frowned down on the girl. Clearly trying to deduce everything about her

“Mary.” John called.

With a backwards wave and a small smile the lady left.

“Who was that?” Sherlock asked me as they both got into the cab and drove off.

“Who? Mary?” I asked for clarification.

Sherlock nodded.

“Mary Morstan,” I answered, “John’s to be fiancée.”

“Fiancée?” Sherlock sputtered.

“Yeah, he was supposed to propose to her tonight. But then, I guess you happened.” I laughed.

“Fiancée?” Sherlock muttered incredulously.

“Yeah, you know, to be bride.” I replied.

“Dammit Audrey! I told you to take care of him. Not get him married.” Sherlock yelled.

“I’m sorry.” I said, “It’s just that, Mary’s been really good for him. You know, after this whole incident and everything.”

“Yeah, but fiancée?” Sherlock repeated, while walking away.

I smiled after the detective. After two years, he was finally back. Words couldn’t describe how grateful I was. Somehow I got the feeling that everything would work out just fine between the four of us.

“Audrey,” Sherlock called from a few feet ahead, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah!” I responded then raced to catch up, grabbing his arm and leaning against his side.

“By the way, what’s up with his moustache?” Sherlock questioned.

“Okay, now that, I had nothing to do with.” I said in complete honesty.

The detective looked skeptically at me.

“I’m telling the truth!” I whined as I nudged my body into his side.

Holmes chuckled.

“Sherlock,” I started.

“Hmm?” the genius acknowledged.

There were a million things I wanted to tell him but instead I settled for something simple.

“Welcome back.” I said and leaned my head on his arm.

“Well, at least somebody’s happy to see me.” Sherlock laughed.

So even though John had a girlfriend and was soon to be betrothed, at least Sherlock would always have one other person to turn to.

I hope he knew that I, Audrey Benet, would never leave his side.

After all, some things just weren’t meant to change.