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The Watsons find him on their doorstep, swaddled in a threadbare blanket. Tucked in the folds is a sealed envelope addressed To Hamish, when he is grown.
Hamish, they say, what an old-fashioned name. Let Hamish be his middle name, and we'll call him John.
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John Hamish is a brilliant child, so brilliant that his parents worry about him attending school with the normal children. After a few weeks, he seems to settle in, to adjust, to descend to the intellectual level of his peers and his adoptive parents breathe a little sigh of relief.
John is brilliant, knows that he's far and away more intelligent than the other children, but it' ( ... )
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A phone rings. John ignores it. Anyone who really needs to contact him knows to go through Jim.
A second phone rings. Two data points is enough to graph a basic line. Someone else picks it up before he does, though, and he moves on.
Third time's the charm. John picks up the ringing phone in the booth and is not impressed by the caller's little CCTV trick. He is, however, a little impressed that he doesn't actually know who it is that's trying to impress him, so he gets in the black sedan without fuss ( ... )
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Jim accepts responsibility with what looks on the surface to be fanatical devotion, but James has been a pretender too long to not notice the grudging reluctance Jim is hiding ( ... )
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She's not much, not without his and Jim's help, but at least she's funny.
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John watches the footage of Adler's execution with a touch of regret. She and Sherlock really would've made spectacular children. He puts a copy of the video in the file bound for Mycroft. It had been a bit of a challenge keeping his own terrorist cell hidden from both Mycroft and Sherlock, but they'd stayed hidden until the Holmeses and their respective coteries had cleared out before catching Adler again and giving her a proper beheading. The head was on ice somewhere, tucked away for a rainy day.
He picks up his phone and texts Jim.
Ask him about Sherlock's past, would you?There's no reply, but James figures Jim is a little busy with the MI-5 operatives that ( ... )
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What do you want, Moriarty?
Just to say 'I warned you'.
A rather Pyrrhic victory, don't you think? After all, you lost your brother just as surely as I lost mine.
Wrong in every particular. Jim wasn't my brother. Moriarty wasn't even his real last name. And I lost him when you broke him.
You sent him to me.
I underestimated you. Congratulations. It won't happen again.
What do you want from me?
Your word that you'll stay out of my way.
Or what? What do I have left to lose?
Everything. Everyone you know, everyone that knew the real Sherlock, everything you've ever accomplished, everything that you might still accomplish. And your life, I suppose, though I usually try not to make such pedestrian threats.
Fine. You win. I forfeit the game.
You mean that?
Very sincerely.
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