The peaceful atmosphere of the Diogenes Club set Mycroft on edge. The sunlight filtering through the parted curtains coupled with the wafting scent of absurdly expensive tea should have been more than enough to clear his mind. He knew it was irrational, he knew that this whole situation was ridiculous because there was no way that Sherlock would-
He closed his eyes, stopping that thought in its tracks. The facts were in front of him [the facts were always there, staring him straight in the face; had he really just refused to look?] and he couldn’t afford to be emotional about this. Mycroft knew his brother wasn’t a fake- he had grown up with man, had seen him at his highest and at his lowest- but the evidence against him was… troubling, to say the least.
John had barely spoken since leaving the hospital.
Upon discharge (in the Chelsea area. Turns out Moran had decided to torture them in Chelsea, closer to home than he thought), John had been carted off by a flash-looking black car with a sharp-suited babysitter in the backseat. Could only mean one thing - Mycroft taking charge.
He had been taken through some formal explanation of the facts, then reunited with his wife. Then had seen an introduction to a very passive state. John had become completely devoid of emotion, spending the majority of his recovery time in the sitting area of the house Mycroft had holed them up in. Watching the television without an ounce of emotion in his expression, only a face drained of any colour and red-ringed eyes.
[…Mycroft. Evening. You’ve seen the news by now no doubt; I was rather expecting to hear from you already. I need you to organise a lawyer for me. The charge sheet against me is… impressive. Please visit when you get this. I need to speak to you.]
(( So I wanted to do a write-up of all the important dates and data available for the court case, so that everyone involved knows what happened when etc.
(NOTE: Some of the dates and events have been altered a little to make the timeline work eg. the kidnappings themselves don’t align with the kidnappings in the court dates, because the favours happened in 24 hours while the kidnappings took place over several days. I’ve done my best to keep things as close to the threads as possible, while also making a tangible timeline.)
(BOLDED items are public knowledge/have been in the press etc)
11th February: Sherlock returned to England under a false name.
12th February: John and Lestrade received ‘eggs’ from -JM.
FOR TRIAL BY JURY
THE QUEEN V SHERLOCK HOLMES
The accused Mister Sherlock Vernet Holmes (hitherto known as Sherlock Holmes) is charged as follows:
STATEMENT OF OFFENCE
Preparation of Terrorist Acts
PARTICULARS OF OFFENCE
Sherlock Holmes from the 19th of February to the 21st of February knowingly engaged in conduct in preparation for an intended act of terrorism, in association with XXXXXXXX terrorist cell (See Amendment I for details. (Details may be withheld under the National Secrets Act, please contact Home Office)).
Greg muttered to himself as he walked down the hall, head down, eyes on the ground. Coming to the door, he reached to open it, only to feel a sharp pain in his arm. Greg sighed deeply, his doctor mentioned simple tasks would be much harder, but he would get over it. Preparing himself this time, he opened the door and came into the room.
The room was simple, a table, two chairs, dim lighting and a two-way mirror. Still keeping his eyes down, Greg sat himself at the table, across from the other and put a file on the table, slowly opening it to review some things. Finally, he stopped the review and slowly looked up to meet his eyes.
“Mister Holmes, would you care to tell me the details of the events that had taken place about two weeks ago?” Greg’s voice was cold and even, not glimpse of comfort in it.
Greg’s body practically shook with…sadness…anger…hate…disappointment…no anger. There were so many questions he wanted to get out, but this was an official interview, nothing personal.
Sherlock sank back in his chair, the resignation in Lestrade’s eyes almost palpable in the air. This was the first time he would be able to speak to any of them; friends, associates, colleagues, in three years - and he was in handcuffs, in the grey-lined interview room at Belmarsh Prison.
Greg was surprised to find Sherlock curled up on the couch. At least he cleaned the blood off of him.
“Tea?” Greg asked loudly, hoping to wake Sherlock. With his back turned to the couch, he began going through the movements of making tea. “I’ve been thinking last night- and do not interrupt me! It was probably a mistake, you and a lot of wine doesn’t mix well. Doesn’t for me either. Things got a little out of hand and I’m sorry for that, but you know what they say, people do crazy things…when they’re in love.”
Sherlock scoffed, half asleep but still alert enough to converse. “Yes, tea. And which of us are you referring to, the karaoke followed by a street fight or the karaoke followed by some incredibly resentful remarks?” He sighed a little, sitting up and leaning against the back of the couch, watching Greg through still-bleary eyes. It had taken a significant amount of time to get to sleep after the early morning events, and Sherlock was just beginning to notice what he recognised as a hangover.
“So is that it? That’s your apology, then. A cliche and a cup of tea?”
Greg slid a beer over to Sherlock’s side of the table, the sudden movement making some of it slosh out over the top. Sitting across from him, Greg tried to look positive, trying to get Sherlock to smile and not look like he’s in some sort of pain.
“Drink it,” Greg ordered, while Sherlock looked as if the beer would suddenly spring up and attack him. “It’s good and you need to unwind.” Despite saying that, Sherlock still didn’t look impressed about anything. Greg came to a decision, even if Sherlock wouldn’t be drinking, he would and it would be a fun night.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, first at Greg then at the drink itself. “If by ‘unwind’ you mean ‘drop half my IQ points down the toilet and behave like one of them’,” he said, pointing rather obviously towards one of the drunks already at the bar, “then I really think I’d best to decline.”
Greg crouched by the body, giving it a quick look-over. There was a large head-wound with lots of blood spilling all over the body. Beside the body was a wrench. It seemed like a simple case to solve, but it wasn’t, it was far from that.
“The wrench didn’t kill them,” Greg said, slowly standing to the officers around him. There were some protests, obviously pointing out the wrench and head-wound, but Greg smiled it off.
Greg circled the body and wrench briefly, to confirm his own thoughts.
“Firstly, the wrench is in an awkward position. The victim had already fallen and was then hit with the wrench. Secondly, it’s too obvious to have the murder weapon right there in the open. The prints on it are probably a decoy,” Greg said, probably with a bit too much arrogance. Greg wasn’t entirely sure what he said was true, but he could picture Sherlock saying something like that and so far Sherlock had been right about everything. It was true that Greg was learning a lot from Sherlock.
Speaking of which…. “Right on time,” Greg said.