A Cuppa
Title: A Cuppa
Paring: friendship!JohnSherlock
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. In which Kitty not quite who she seems and Sherlock seems to not quite be himself.
Sherlock stands near the edge of the cemetery and watches the figure leaning on his grave. His heart shatters. He has one, no matter what he may say to the contrary. It’s simply buried under years of pretending not to have one. ‘It seems Moriarty was right about something after all’, he muses.
Another figure approaches him, Kitty, the journalist who ‘exposed’ him. “I’ll be taking my money now.” Sherlock regards her. She has been crucial to his plan, the one that finally caught Moriarty. The poor chap had been convinced the whole scandal about Sherlock being a fake, had all been his idea. He’d never noticed the small hints Sherlock had been planting all along. All Kitty had had to do was quite literally, do her job. She was actually an investigative journalist, albeit one trained in acting. It had been that quality which had brought her to Sherlock’s attention. He needed someone good enough to fool Moriarty and in Kitty, he’d found the perfect person. “The money?” Her voice snaps him out of his reverie and wordlessly, he extracts a wad of bills from his pocket and tosses it over to her. She catches it deftly in midair, ruffles through it, then stores it away in her bag. Standing side by side, they both watch Watson limp away from Sherlock’s supposed grave. The broken pieces of Sherlock’s heart go up in flames.
Kitty breaks the silence. “When you come back, and I say that because I know you will be back, you can’t leave again. If you come back and you leave us, leave him, it will destroy what is left of his heart and soul. You are already responsible for breaking them. Don’t destroy them too." Sherlock turns on her, eyes flashing in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. “He was going to kill John,” he hisses. “What would you have had me do? I- I can’t just let him die knowing I could have done something about it. He just- John Watson is not simply someone I can let die.” By the end, Sherlock has calmed. The only remaining emotion is an absolute certainty in what he is saying.
Kitty however, is not so sure. She looks him in the eye and asks, “But is it really better this way? He’s alive yes, but what has he got to live for?” Sherlock observes her carefully. She’s sharper than Sherlock had originally given her credit for, but then he supposes she must be better than the rest, to have managed to fool Moriarty. "I'd rather have a living John to come back to," he answers coldly. Kitty's response is derisive. "If you do anything to him, I will track you down and hurt you. No one as good as John Watson deserves anything like this." She turns and leaves,
Sherlock still staring at the spot where John was, just minutes ago. "I know," he whispers to the wind. "John, I know you can't hear me but I promise you I will find every single one of those bastards who thinks they can hurt you and kill them. I'll keep you safe John, and when I've found them all I'll come home. Wait for me." With that, Sherlock takes one last glance at his headstone and leaves.
At the cemetery entrance, John pauses mid-step. "Did you hear that Ms. Hudson?" Ms. Hudson turns to look at him worriedly. "Hear what dear? I really think we need to get you home for a nice cuppa." Shaking his head, John turns and continues walking. "I suppose I was just hearing things. And yes, that cuppa sounds like it would be lovely Ms. Hudson."
A/N: This is not necessarily what I believe happened but it was kicking around in my head. So I wrote it down.
Paring: friendship!JohnSherlock
Rating: PG
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. In which Kitty not quite who she seems and Sherlock seems to not quite be himself.
Sherlock stands near the edge of the cemetery and watches the figure leaning on his grave. His heart shatters. He has one, no matter what he may say to the contrary. It’s simply buried under years of pretending not to have one. ‘It seems Moriarty was right about something after all’, he muses.
Another figure approaches him, Kitty, the journalist who ‘exposed’ him. “I’ll be taking my money now.” Sherlock regards her. She has been crucial to his plan, the one that finally caught Moriarty. The poor chap had been convinced the whole scandal about Sherlock being a fake, had all been his idea. He’d never noticed the small hints Sherlock had been planting all along. All Kitty had had to do was quite literally, do her job. She was actually an investigative journalist, albeit one trained in acting. It had been that quality which had brought her to Sherlock’s attention. He needed someone good enough to fool Moriarty and in Kitty, he’d found the perfect person. “The money?” Her voice snaps him out of his reverie and wordlessly, he extracts a wad of bills from his pocket and tosses it over to her. She catches it deftly in midair, ruffles through it, then stores it away in her bag. Standing side by side, they both watch Watson limp away from Sherlock’s supposed grave. The broken pieces of Sherlock’s heart go up in flames.
Kitty breaks the silence. “When you come back, and I say that because I know you will be back, you can’t leave again. If you come back and you leave us, leave him, it will destroy what is left of his heart and soul. You are already responsible for breaking them. Don’t destroy them too." Sherlock turns on her, eyes flashing in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. “He was going to kill John,” he hisses. “What would you have had me do? I- I can’t just let him die knowing I could have done something about it. He just- John Watson is not simply someone I can let die.” By the end, Sherlock has calmed. The only remaining emotion is an absolute certainty in what he is saying.
Kitty however, is not so sure. She looks him in the eye and asks, “But is it really better this way? He’s alive yes, but what has he got to live for?” Sherlock observes her carefully. She’s sharper than Sherlock had originally given her credit for, but then he supposes she must be better than the rest, to have managed to fool Moriarty. "I'd rather have a living John to come back to," he answers coldly. Kitty's response is derisive. "If you do anything to him, I will track you down and hurt you. No one as good as John Watson deserves anything like this." She turns and leaves,
Sherlock still staring at the spot where John was, just minutes ago. "I know," he whispers to the wind. "John, I know you can't hear me but I promise you I will find every single one of those bastards who thinks they can hurt you and kill them. I'll keep you safe John, and when I've found them all I'll come home. Wait for me." With that, Sherlock takes one last glance at his headstone and leaves.
At the cemetery entrance, John pauses mid-step. "Did you hear that Ms. Hudson?" Ms. Hudson turns to look at him worriedly. "Hear what dear? I really think we need to get you home for a nice cuppa." Shaking his head, John turns and continues walking. "I suppose I was just hearing things. And yes, that cuppa sounds like it would be lovely Ms. Hudson."
A/N: This is not necessarily what I believe happened but it was kicking around in my head. So I wrote it down.