Chapter Text
Sherlock walked into the projector room. He knew exactly how many steps would take him to the table. At the table, he placed his 'oh so expensive coat', along with his tie, vest and cuff-links thrown just as haphazardly. Greg had become finally useful and Finally found his original tape of audition.
Well, technically, his and Irene's tape.
His nimble fingers pushed and pulled the entrapment called the projector that was already loaded with the tape. As it flickers to life, Sherlock sat himself on the couch next to the table. He stared at the blank canvas that comes to life as the light from projects on it and with a click he starts the audio of speakers. With steepled fingers under his chin, he waits for the reel to start.
His own face, younger and without wrinkles, mop of curly boisterously, untamed hair, and his plain clothes, smiles before him. A picture with his details, to establish the actor's audition tape.
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A young Sherlock walks into the frame, sits on the bar stool placed as the focal point of the camera. The camera zooms in on his face, he obediently turns his face, left and then right, as instruction flows from Victor's mic. He is asked to smile but he doesn't oblige.
"Fine, whatever. Just do it whenever you're ready," calls out Victor.
"Ready? With what?" Sherlock grunts.
"You're being difficult, Sherlock," muses the voice of Irene, out of the camera range but she could be heard because of Kate's mic.
(But that's not the voice Sherlock wants to hear.)
"Victor, let him Interview Sherlock," Kate says.
"But John has no..." Victor protests.
"Neither do you or I," Kate says.
"And whose fault is that," Victor says under his breath, again he forgets he had a feed on him.
There's a static burst, feed forcefully removed, and
"You know you have to"
A static bursts.
Sherlock leans forward, "It isn't the standard," says the voice Sherlock wants to hear, has been waiting to hear, and after all this time....
"But"
"Victor, trust me?" says the voice full of static.
"Fine," Victor huffs, "Should I mend the camera then?
"Hmm, it has been adjusted, so no need for you mend it Vic," he says.
More White noise accompanied by
"Would you please introduce yourself to the camera Mr Holmes?"
"You realise how redundant the question is, right?" Sherlock retorts.
"You mean, isn't it? It would seem so, but we want to know who you are, and who better then yourself??"
"Sherlock Holmes. I, at present, am 17 years of age, studying at three Universities simultaneously, on subjects of biology, chemistry, and mathematics. I reside near King's college. The subject of chemistry..."
"Mr Holmes, pardon my intrusion, but would you tell me about..."
"About you? How about the fact that you have just returned to England. But it was not for leisure, work most likely. The tan doesn't appear beyond the neck and wrists, so uniform? That narrows the kind of work required to wear a uniform. May be foreign office, but.... Oh... Of course, no, that would be wrong. It was the military that deployed you. The way you hold yourself is a dead give away, alert and ready to tackle any situation. But why are you here? Never mind, stand in jobs post return, since this is London, it is expensive, army pension not enough. So a soldier doing civilian job doesn't really fit. So what did you want to know more about? About Victor then? His clothes look cheap but aren't frayed and are mended. Meaning he has someone to look after his clothes, a partner doesn't bother, but a mother does. That means he is living with his parents. That implies two things, either he is from a well to do family or is too poor to move out. I believe the former is true. He is handling the equipment but not with care Kate, Mike or you have been taking, thus, you work for him. Or more likely working for his family. Which family has such high end equipment and would visit colleges for auditions? Trevor's, the infamous drama company that hasn't had a hit over a decade. But with new hire, they are hoping for a hit soon. Didn't you hire Moriarty? The one who walked of a matinee show while the audience waited for him to come back? And if you're working with them, they must know you for a long time to let you take over the brats task, or you have their trust. No, it is both. So, how about... "
"SHERLOCK!!!" Irene screamed.
(It was at this point, when Sherlock realised his surroundings. His deductions wouldn't be welcomed, especially if it was being recorded.)
"Brilliant," said the voice mixed with white noise.
"What?" Irene and Sherlock interjected.
"Ummm, yeah sorry. It's just that... It was... That was... Bloody brilliant!! "
"That was?" Sherlock asked raising from his seat.
(The present one knew what exactly that Sherlock was feeling, bewildered and surprised, which didn't happen often. His classmates had rejected his deductions as magic tricks and here was someone saying it was brilliant like they meant it.)
"Everything alright here?" Mike Stamford's voice echoed through the doors.
"Mike! You're not supposed to be here," cried out Victor, "Sherlock is just pulling a prank."
"Prank?" Mike asked.
"Yes!! I mean no!" Victor spoke.
"John, is everything okay?" Mike inquired.
White noise, "Hey Mike! Glad you could finally join us. Like you said, we are here and doing the needful. I was just interviewing Mr Holmes here, he has quite a keen eye!!"
"You mean Sherlock?" Irene asked.
"Yeah, Mr Holmes if you don't mind, would you tell us about yourself? More personal, if possible."
"You want me to continue?"
A chuckle disturbed by the static was heard. A smile automatically etched on present day Sherlock.
"Yes! As extraordinary as that was, and believe me when say I would like to hear more, I really need to focus on your acting for the moment."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and turned to look away and back at the camera.
(he had turned to look at Irene, who was just as surprised as him. She still managed to sign him to continue.)
"What would you like me to do?" He asked politely.
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"John, I'll start taking..."
"Thanks for the offer Vic, but I'll take the pictures."
Sherlock stood stoically, and tried to brush invisible lints off his suit. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, cream shirt, dance shoes, and his hair was gently tamed by the soldier with help of gel and a thick comb procured from Mike. The short soldier's fingers, ran gently through his hair, but still left fire in their wake.
"Victor, why don't you ask if Irene is done with her get up. We can have them stand in as a couple." Voice with static, "Mike, what about Mrs H's produce, the one with reversal?"
"Oh! You want them to be THE couple?" Mike inquired, "I think we could try it. I'll get Kate to get papers, you good here?"
"Oh yes, I'll run the camera for pictures now, individuals and then them as a couple."
On screen, Irene enters in her dress and make up. Her make up definitely done by her and not Kate. Bold eyeliner and red lipstick and rest of it neutral. Her dress made her look powerful, definitely Kate's choice.
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"That was fantastic!!! Truly amazing!!," the voice with static said.
"Yeah, I see what you mean. Eh, Sherlock, please give us a way to contact you and your guardians. I'll get in touch as soon as possible. Victor?!"
"Yeah? I'll start the wrap up?" Victor cried out loud from the balcony where he was smoking.
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End of Tape.
Sherlock sat in the dark. He heard the voice over and over again, until the projector screeched at him with over use. He reluctantly turned it off. Still sitting in the darkness, rapt in the tape playing in head, the ache to to hear that voice, that voice that called him brilliant, who had looked at him as if he really was amazing, and looking at the smile directed at him, increased.
It had been four years since he first met that man. Everyone on that day had to wear a mic to record responses and for future training of trainers of Trevors. They all wore a mic,
All except,
John.
John, the soldier.
John, the conductor of light.
That's all he knew of him. His name. His name and what he had deduced of him.
All the tapes that were made, had Sherlock talking and raving as Desdemona, female lead of Othello.
He was Desdemona and Irene was Othello.
The audition tape had impressed several companies as well as drama schools. Irene was immediately hired by Trevor's. She and Moriarty got along so well that Trevor produced non-stop romantic dramas. All were commercial hits, and few even received critical acclaim. The chemistry shared by them, incited rumour mills to print article after article. But only few close ones knew that her heart was safe with Kate. Sherlock had deduced it long before Irene introduced Kate officially as her wife to him.
He also received an offer from the Trevor's' but Mike had asked him to wait before he was signed on. It made sense, since they already had Moriarty as lead, he would be offer more than second lead or the under study.
True to his words, Mike offered him a chance to train with Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and a role, leading role in Othello, as Desdemona. He readily agreed.
Irene often joked, when they met later, that how she should have been his lead, rather than anybody else. It was on her shoulder that he draped himself as Desdemona, vowed the vows, and wailed at her feet.
It was all a mistake, in hindsight. To let John go, without knowing more about him. As time passed, it became harder and harder to find John.
Kate had just started interning with Trevor's, so all she knew of John was that he was going to help them out.
Mike was obviously John's friend. But he was a student in St Bart's drama club. Once Sherlock accepted the offer at Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, he rarely got minute to himself. Mike was picked by the BBC as a casting director. Both on their different paths. They rarely met, what with Sherlock in RADA and Mike working nonstop with BBC's series.
Victor Trevor knew the least about John, his family more tight lipped than him. Sherlock knew they were still bitter about him rejecting their offer.
Sherlock let his head fall into his hands. His hair was shorter now, had to shave off his locks off for a role in American Movie.
He wondered, if his search was even worth the effort. But this was always short lived.
John was the first person to call him brilliant, amazing, and didn't call him a freak for his scathing deductions.
John and Mike had personally delivered his tape to Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and convinced Mrs Hudson(retiring staff who also produced dramas and musicals) that Sherlock was worth investing in. Sherlock could more than afford to study at Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, but would need her recommendation to start the course that late. He did set up a fund for students unable to pay, for he had taken a scholarship away.
Mrs Hudson had treated him like an investment, and later as her own son. She had a mansion in London that she converted into a B&B. With that, she set up her sprawling house into apartments and let them out to her friends and family for an appropriate cost.
Sherlock was one of her tenant.
For Mrs Hudson, John was a familiar face. He helped her in moving, post her husband's death, like all the others boys in the neighbourhood. But where and what he did, she didn't know. After all, she had cut off ties with her husband's associates.
Today, marked the 4th anniversary of the day he met John. There was a get together held by St Bart's to celebrate something. He had come in hopes of meeting Mike, or anyone who could him about John. But it had been just as useless.