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THE CONSULTING FAN NETWORK


PARTY THREAD CFN_mod
Posts: 5620
19 August 23:41 I think most of you have heard the news by now that SHERLOCK IS ALIVE!! For details, go here or here, or just Google it. We're all reeling here at the site and are making plans to completely revamp the place. In the meantime, celebrate here! Sherlock is BACK and so are WE!! 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 -11- 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 PatriceHeart
Posts: 1478
20 August 06:42 I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS BAR. MelinaP
Posts: 1274
20 August 06:43 applause Harkin04
Posts: 3502
20 August 06:43 happening in my head Moon76
Posts: 489
20 August 06:44 I am FREAKING OUT and CRYING and my mum thinks something is seriously wrong with me, but I DON'T CARE!!! JeremyGlass93
Posts: 1198
20 August 06:45 HOLD ME.
hug SassyG14
Posts: 602
20 August 06:45 I CAN'T. I HAVE LOST THE ABILITY TO CAN. Jessisbest
Posts: 547
20 August 06:46 freaking out MaryM
Posts: 836
20 August 06:46 STILL SCREAMING.
this_pleases_gaga Chill1987
Posts: 1282
20 August 06:47 I knew we were right. I KNEW IT.
feelings JustTimB
Posts: 814
20 August 06:48 Everyone in my flat, right now:
amazing
Harrysgirl547
Posts: 938
20 August 06:49 Okay, I admit it: the Fakers were RIGHT. :-) RandomStupidAnon
Posts: 591
20 August 06:50The exuberance is quite charming, but why so much surprise? A good number of the people commenting here were already convinced Sherlock's death was a hoax.YeomanSam
Posts: 835
20 August 06:51Ah, RandomStupidAnon: I wondered if you'd show up in this thread. Here to eat your words?RandomStupidAnon
Posts: 592
20 August 06:52I never said I believed the theory was wrong. I was skeptical of the evidence presented, but I always thought the idea itself held merit and was worth consideration.YeomanSam
Posts: 836
20 August 06:53You are such a dick.RandomStupidAnon
Posts: 593
20 August 06:54So I've been told. ;-)

*****

TRANSCRIPT OF PRESS CONFERENCE
Scotland Yard, 26 August, 09:12

D. I. LESTRADE: Thank you all for coming. As everyone is now aware, the amateur detective known as Sherlock Holmes, who was reported to have committed suicide by jumping from the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital back in June of this year, is in fact alive. As the press release from the Security Services made clear, this incident was staged in order to apprehend James Moriarty, best known for his attempt to steal the Crown Jewels last spring. Mr. Holmes was working with the Security Service during the months prior to the operation, the details of which remain classified. I have, however, been authorized to inform you that James Moriarty was killed during the operation and is no longer a threat to society. Scotland Yard were brought into the operation just in the last few weeks, and no one here knew the details of Mr. Holmes' whereabouts until that time. I'll take a few questions.

Q: How was Moriarty killed?

D. I. LESTRADE: Mr. Moriarty shot himself in the head on the roof of St. Bartholomew's around the time that Mr. Holmes jumped.

Q: So Moriarty was on the roof of Bart's with Sherlock Holmes?

D. I. LESTRADE: Yes.

Q: Why?

D. I. LESTRADE: I don't have that information, but it would seem to have been part of the operation.

Q: Was Moriarty's presence a factor in the staged suicide?

D. I. LESTRADE: I'm not certain I understand the question.

Q: Did Mr. Holmes jump from the roof as part of the plan to apprehend Moriarty?

D. I. LESTRADE: Yes, as far as I know, the staged suicide was part of the plan to apprehend him.

Q: Moriarty claimed to be an actor called Richard Brook who was hired by Sherlock Holmes. Is the official position of the police that those claims were false?

D. I. LESTRADE: Yes, that is our position. I have no further information, but I've been informed that there will be an article in the Guardian tomorrow that details this fabrication by Mr. Moriarty and who else was involved.

Q: Have the police ruled out the possibility that Mr. Holmes murdered Moriarty?

D. I. LESTRADE: Yes. Completely.

Q: According to the press release, Mr. Holmes sustained no serious injuries, despite leaping from a four-storey building. How was that accomplished?

D. I. LESTRADE: I'm afraid that information is classified.

Q: At what point did you personally become aware that Mr. Holmes was still alive?

D. I. LESTRADE: In the last few weeks. When Scotland Yard was brought into the operation, I was informed of his continued survival.

Q: He was a friend of yours before. What was your reaction to learning he was alive?

D. I. LESTRADE: He remains a good friend, so obviously I was thrilled to see him again and to know he is safe.

Q: You went on record at the time as stating that you didn't believe any of the articles claiming he was a fraud. Did you know something about the operation then?

D. I. LESTRADE: No, I didn't know anything. That information was highly classified, so if I had, I certainly wouldn't have said anything publicly about it.

Q: What is your response to the claims that the Security Services and Scotland Yard violated the public trust by keeping Mr. Holmes' survival a secret?

D. I. LESTRADE: I'd say those people haven't watched many James Bond films.

[LAUGHTER]

D. I. LESTRADE: That's the nature of the work done by the Security Services. Some information is classified for the public good. It's hardly the first time information has been withheld from the public, and it's certainly not the most scandalous of such incidents, as we all well know.

Q: What is your response to the rumors that you are romantically involved with John Watson?

D. I. LESTRADE: I'm not going to comment on those rumors.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

*****

THE PERSONAL BLOG OF
Dr. John. H. Watson

26 August

A Quick Note

As everyone has heard by now, Sherlock is alive and well. I can't say that the news was a complete surprise to me. After all, I knew the man for more than a year. He was my best friend, and none of the things that were said about him in the papers, or the idea that he would kill himself out of humiliation, made a shred of sense to me. So I hoped, but I didn't know for certain until a few weeks ago.

People want to know how he survived the fall from the roof of Bart's, and I'm afraid that information is classified. Don't bother asking, because you won't learn anything about it from me.

I don't know what the future holds for Sherlock, but I can tell you that he has moved back into the flat and we're resuming life as normally as we can manage with paparazzi camped out on the front steps. He may begin taking cases again once the excitement dies down. For now his work remains classified, so I can't say much more. :-)

Most people who lose someone don't get to rewind the clock and say all the things they'd meant to say, so I'm incredibly grateful to have another chance. People have asked if I was angry at him for making me go through all of it. I was for a while, and sometimes I still am, but I now understood why he did it. His reasons were completely justified, and that's my last word on that topic.

Thank you all for your kind emails and for your support during the last few months. It's been quite a ride, and I'm looking forward to the future.



214 comments



*****

Epilogue: Two months later

Greg's phone pinged the moment he emerged from the Baker Street tube station.

You know that thing Sherlock's been threatening to do? He's done it.

Greg stopped in his tracks and stared at the phone for a moment. "Shit."

Before he turned the corner, he wound his scarf up over his mouth and nose out of habit, but the few paps hanging around outside the front door of 221B didn't pay him much notice. He passed them on the opposite side of the street and then crossed to unlock the door of 227. He pulled the scarf away as he climbed the stairs, dread pooling in his stomach.

He expected the worst when he opened the door of the flat. It wasn't as bad as he'd feared, though: some of the furniture had been moved around to accommodate a large hole blown in one wall, tall enough to walk through. Through the hole he could see the sitting room of 221B.

He sighed and flicked on the lights. "Motherfucker."

John appeared in the gaping hole. "What do you think?"

Greg stripped off his coat and crossed to inspect the damage. "My landlord is going to kill me."

"Yeah, well, Mrs . Hudson hasn't seen it yet either. I hope not to be around when that happens."

Greg reached out to touch the thick layer of exposed brick between the two flats. "How did he do it?"

"I've no idea. I was at the surgery at the time. And he was conspicuously absent when I got home."

Greg shook his head. "This can't be legal. There are permits and inspections."

John snorted. "As if that would stop him. At least he cleaned up the mess."

Indeed, the floor was clean on both sides of the new doorway. The floor wasn't quite level between; there was a good four-inch step up into Greg's main room. It would need a bit of work before it looked presentable, of course. Greg scrubbed at his chin with one hand. "Oh, God. I can't believe he did it."

John stepped through the doorway and slid his arms around Greg's waist. "You have to admit, though, that it's terribly convenient. It'll be like having one huge flat."

"True." Greg leaned down to kiss him. "I suppose it will be nice not to have to do the walk of shame in the mornings when one or the other of us stays over."

John's hands slid down over Greg's arse. "Exactly. And your man-cave set-up will be much more readily accessible." John nodded over at the large flat-screen television on the far wall surrounded by various pieces of entertainment-related technology. "I can pop over to watch a match without even having to get dressed."

"Speaking of--" Greg paused to kiss him once more before he crossed over to pluck a remote from the set of five lined up on the sofa table. "I DVR'd the ITM Cup. Want to watch, maybe order some takeaway later?"

"Sounds fantastic. Have you got any beer?"

"Of course. My refrigerator is being used for its intended purpose." He turned on the television and the sound system and scrolled through the DVR menu.

"Must be nice. Oi, what's this?"

He turned to see John in the kitchen, staring at a collection of beakers that covered an entire countertop. Most were filled with a greenish-brown liquid. "An experiment, apparently. He said it would only take a couple of days."

John's eyes narrowed. "You said no experiments in this flat. That was the whole point."

Greg sighed. "It was a lot more complicated than that, and you know it."

It wasn't just the experiments covering every available surface, or the body parts of dubiously legal original that kept showing up in the fridge that had finally driven Greg over the edge. Two weeks after the Moriarty case was closed, Greg had come home from a ridiculously long day to find that his bedroom had been re-appropriated by Sherlock. The sleeping arrangements had been ad hoc anyway, with Greg and John each having their own room and Sherlock sleeping wherever he liked, on the infrequent occasions he slept. But on that particular day, the entire contents of Sherlock's SIS office had been boxed up and transported to the flat, and the bedroom had converted into a home office of sorts.

Greg found it impossible to sleep there while Sherlock worked at all hours of the night. He'd ended up sleeping in John's room, which was fine, but after a particularly memorable incident in which Greg had opened the refrigerator to find a severed penis lying on the shelf -- a human penis, for God's sake -- he was done. No matter how much Greg cared about John and Sherlock, he was a grown fucking man and he was paying half the rent: he needed a space of his own.

And so when they learned the next day that a flat in the adjacent building was available, it seemed a fantastic solution. The three of them had keys to both flats and they each came and went as they pleased. The flat was smaller than 221B, with a single bedroom, but it was exactly what Greg needed. He'd purchased the largest bed he could find, large enough for the three of them -- which meant his bedroom tended to be the place where all the sex happened. He didn't mind.

And of course, as soon as they'd realized the two flats shared a wall, Sherlock had decided they should tear it down. Which he'd done today.

"It hardly matters now. It's one big flat." Greg gestured at their impromptu doorway. "You won't even have to go outside if you decide to surprise me in the middle of the night."

John gave him a long look. "You said no experiments. You threatened him with bodily harm."

Greg clenched his jaw. "I may have changed my mind."

John's eyes widened. "Oh God, don't tell me. What, did he bribe you with sexual favors?"

Greg felt heat rise to his cheeks. "It wasn't just that."

John rolled his eyes. "You are so whipped."

"He sucked my cock for an hour. What was I supposed to do?"

"Reattach your bollocks, apparently."

"Get the fucking beer, John, and let it go."

John settled next to him on the sofa a minute later, still visibly tense, and Greg sighed. He paused the playback and tugged at John's hand.

"Come here."

John sighed, but let himself be pulled into Greg's arms.

"I'm glad he blew a giant hole in the wall, to be honest. If the price of living with the two of you again includes his experiments spilling over every now and then, it's worth it."

"I know you've just been on the other side of a wall, but…" John tilted his head up and kissed the underside of Greg's chin. "I've missed you. It felt like you moved out."

Greg sighed and kissed his temple. He knew John had felt that way, but neither of them had said anything until now. "I didn't, you know. I just moved… over."

"I know. And now it's kind of moot, I suppose."

"It is." Greg sought out John's mouth and kissed him, gently at first, and then felt heat spiral through him when John's tongue slid against his own. "So, rugby or sex?"

"There's a reason DVRs were invented." John climbed up to straddle Greg's lap, and they both hummed at the contact.

Greg's hands slid into John's trousers and over his arse. "I haven't fucked you on this sofa yet."

"Not tonight." John's mouth found his neck.

"Don't tell me you have a headache."

"Ah, no." John sat back with a wry smile. "I'll just say there's a biological reason and leave it at that."

Greg grinned. "Right. I might be out of condoms anyway."

John pressed him against the sofa. "Well, now that there's a brand-new door, supply runs to my room might not be as much of an issue."

There was a distinct sound of a door opening and closing in 221B, and they both froze.

John looked up, and the expression on his face changed to the one he typically wore around Sherlock: a blend of affection and annoyance. "I hope you're planning on putting in an actual door. Otherwise I think we're in serious violation of the fire code."

A series of footsteps could be heard crossing the room and finally Sherlock came into Greg's field of vision. "I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"Don't tell me you know how to set a door," Greg said, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone.

"All right, I won't tell you," Sherlock replied. "Brought you something." He reached into his pocket and dangled a set of handcuffs over Greg's face.

Greg grinned and reached for them, but before he could, John snatched them away. "Is this what the two of you are getting up to, then?"

"You're always welcome to join us." Greg slid a hand up John's thigh. "In fact--" He tugged John's shirt and pulled him down close enough to whisper, "Considering the events of today, you might find the sight of Sherlock handcuffed to the bed rather interesting."

He felt John shiver against him. "You have a point. We could make him watch us suck each other off."

"While he can't touch himself." Greg grinned and kissed John's ear. "I like it."

They both sat up and smiled at Sherlock, whose expression changed to one of suspicion immediately. "What?"

Greg took the handcuffs back from John and held them out to Sherlock. "You know what to do. We'll join you shortly."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but the heat in them was clear. He nodded and took the handcuffs, and disappeared in the direction of Greg's bedroom.

"Well, this is new," John said.

"Are you okay with it?"

"As long as I'm not the one being tied up or handcuffed, I suppose so. Does he actually like it?"

"He hates it when he's bound and I go slowly. And by hate, I mean love, obviously. He whinges the entire time, but it turns him on like mad."

John looked undeniably intrigued. "And so if two of us are doing it, teasing him like that--"

"Yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Right," John at last. "Are you sure you want me there? I mean, this is usually something that's between the two of you, and I don't want to intrude."

"Trust me, it's not intruding. In fact, I think he may have been planning this all along."

John's eyebrows rose. "The wall, the disappearing act, the handcuffs -- yeah, you may be right. So, should we go and look in on him, then?"

Greg pulled him in for a kiss. "Not yet. After what he did today, he deserves to be made uncomfortable for a bit."

"Jesus. Remind me never to piss you off."

From the bedroom, there was a distinct clink of the handcuffs snapping shut.

Greg grinned up at John. "I love you."

A strange expression flitted over John's face, and he smiled. "I love you too."

They snogged for several minutes, until Greg's trousers were uncomfortably tight and John was nearly rutting against him. He pressed his forehead against John's. "Shall we take this into the bedroom then?"

John stood and held out his hand, and Greg took it.

~ fin~