Chapter Text
PROLOGUE:
Sherlock Holmes had been out of rehab for a year and his brother Mycroft had received a promotion within the Government. Mycroft decided they should meet for dinner to celebrate. As they waited for their meal to be served, Mycroft spoke, “I will be doing a substantial amount of travelling. Which means, brother dear, you will have more of the freedom you’ve been desperately seeking.”
Sherlock did grin at that, “Excellent.”
“I thought you would approve. Though, that is not the only reason why I asked you here. There is a celebration for you as well. Since you were far too ill in your drug-addled state to do anything other than recover in the first couple of weeks. I figured today, would be a more appropriate day to celebrate your sobriety.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“It was a year ago that you entered into rehab. And while I don’t subscribe to trinkets, I do believe it is something worth acknowledging and celebrating.”
Sherlock was dumbfounded. In an attempt to cover the silence, he took a sip of his drink. Their meals were delivered moments later and the two brothers ate in silence. When they had finished dessert, Mycroft could tell that Sherlock was anxious to leave. “There is one more thing, brother, if you’ll permit me a moment.”
Mycroft left the room. A part of him fully expected Sherlock to leave while he was gone. He returned carrying a large wrapped box. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t believe in trinkets.”
Mycroft chuckled softly, “I believe you’ll find this is much more than a ‘trinket.’”
Sherlock slowly tore into the wrapping. The box was of high quality, but Sherlock quickly opened it. Inside, was a fine coat made of Irish wool with a tweed weaving. It was a gorgeous coat. Sherlock looked to his brother, “I don’t understand.”
Mycroft smiled, “I have seen you eyeing this coat when it was in the shop window. I thought it would be an appropriate reward. And something of use to you.”
Sherlock nodded, “I do like it.”
“This,” Mycroft continued, “Is your sober chip. As long as you remain drug-free, it is yours. Should the coat become worn or tattered, I will have it replaced, as long as you are drug-free. You have earned the right to wear it on your own.”
Sherlock fought the tears that were threatening to well in his eyes, “I…. Thank you.”
Mycroft smiled at that, trying to keep his own tears from spilling over, “I am very proud of you, Sherlock. I hope you can accept this small token not only as a sign of the work you’ve done, but as a reminder that I am aware at how hard you work at remaining clean.”
With that, Mycroft stood, pulled the coat out of the box and helped Sherlock to put it on. Sherlock had not worn anything quite like it in his adult life. Sentiment aside, he did feel like he could be a success while wearing this coat.
Nothing more was ever said about the sentimentality or the symbol that the coat carried for the brothers. Mycroft knew that as long as Sherlock was wearing it, that somehow beyond all the jibes, his brother still cared for him. Sherlock knew that no matter what he was going through, his brother would always try to understand him. While the coat changed nothing about how the brothers treated each other on the surface, it somehow made the familial bond they shared that much stronger.
Chapter 1:
A/N: While the physical descriptions of the area of Star Street are fairly accurate, please remember, this story remains a work of fiction and in no way indicates that these events happen in the locations mentioned.
“He’s making us look like idiots.” – A Study in Pink
Sherlock Holmes had now been drug-free for thirteen months. He wore his “sober coat” everywhere as a reminder of his accomplishments. He was doing fairly well on his own: he had a website to drum up business and he had a flat on Star Street, not far from Paddington Station. While there was a lot of traffic in this part of town, the few flats immediately surrounding Sherlock’s were a bit less desirable. They attracted people who needed to be near the major transportation hub that Paddington was, yet who could not afford to pay high let fees.
This description fitted Sherlock well enough, the problem was, those low-cost flats had a high turnover rate. Sherlock was certain that drug dealing was occurring in a couple of them. He did what he could to ignore this fact. He was not an addict and he was a year out of rehab. There was no reason why the presence of drug dealers needed to be a source of temptation with him. So he put it out of his mind. After all, they needed a place to live and as long as he stayed away from the drugs themselves, he would be fine.
Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade would call Sherlock in to help him with cases on occasion. Up until now, Sherlock had not had much interaction with Lestrade’s team. That all changed the night a body was found in the flat next to Sherlock’s flat. DI Lestrade and his team had been called to the site. While Greg knew that Sherlock lived in this street, he was not aware that the address was next door.
A freshly promoted sergeant had been assigned to Lestrade’s team: Sally Donovan. She was smart, professional, had a sharp tongue, but was always wonderful with conducting interviews. She was compassionate with the victims and hard as nails with the criminals. Lestrade liked her style and she was a good fit for him as his second-in-command.
Lestrade had sent Donovan to check on the neighbours and interview them. The flat to one side was empty, so she went to the other. She knocked on the door. A few moments later, a lanky man in his late twenties or early thirties answered the door. He had piercing blue-green-grey eyes (she could not be sure of the colour) and a head of curly dark hair. The man looked bleary-eyed and Donovan immediately thought, “Druggie.”
Sherlock Holmes looked the woman up and down, “Yes, what do you want, Sergeant?”
Sally was thrown off a little by the greeting, but she quickly recovered. Sherlock smirked, “Oh and new too, wonderful. I’m in the middle of something, what do you want?”
Donovan recovered her voice and rather than asking how he knew she was new, went to asking interview questions, “Sergeant Sally Donovan. Have you seen any suspicious activity in the past day or so?”
Sherlock smirked, he left the door open and gestured for her to follow him as he made his way to his kitchen. Sally followed and took in his flat as she listened as the man replied, “There is a drug dealer in one flat and a competitor trying to set up shop in the other. Suspicious things happen here all the time.”
Sally was not sure what to make of that reply, but started to take notes all the same. “And are you a customer of theirs?”
Sherlock frowned and stared her down for a few long moments, “No.”
She did not look like she believed him. She took notice of all the equipment on his table and a skull sitting on a counter, “Or maybe you’re setting up shop yourself. Did you arrange to kill off your competition?”
Sherlock again remained silent several long seconds, “Do you always conduct your interviews on the basis of poor observations?”
Before Donovan could reply, another voice called out, “Donovan?”
Sherlock recognized the man’s voice and grinned madly, “Ah, Lestrade, she’s in here with me.”
“Sherlock?” Lestrade asked as he entered the kitchen, “What are you doing here?”
Sherlock’s grin broadened at Sally’s confused expression, “I live here, Inspector.”
Sally walked to Lestrade’s side, “You know him?”
Lestrade nodded and looked at Sherlock. He was about to ask a question when the wall behind Sherlock was rattled by bullets. White calking, debris and dust covered everything in the kitchen, including the three people who ducked down. Lestrade was the first to recover, “Everyone all right?”
Donovan recovered second, “What the hell was that?”
“Don’t know, you go check it out, I’ll stay with Sherlock.”
Donovan left at the Inspector’s command. Sherlock had covered his head and leaned forward across the table and had yet to stir. Lestrade looked at him and grew concerned, “Sherlock?”
Sherlock did not reply, but Greg could see his hands shaking in his hair, “Sherlock, you all right?”
Sherlock slowly sat up, as if in a dream, he in haled deeply and stared at his hands. Suddenly, all colour drained from his face and he took off at a run to the loo. Fully dressed, he got into the shower and began to wash himself. Lestrade was quickly at his side, “Sherlock, what is it?”
Sherlock stared at him, “Can’t you smell it? Don’t you know?”
Suddenly it clicked for Lestrade. It was not dust. The white powder – cocaine! “Oh, God. Here, let me help.”
Sherlock nodded, desperate to get the substance off of him. Lestrade helped Sherlock to strip, “Right, you shower, I’ll get some clean clothes and call an ambulance.”
“No!” Sherlock shouted much louder than was necessary, “No ambulance. Please. Just get some clean clothes, not from the flat. You’ll need to shower too.”
Greg stepped out of the bathroom and radioed his team. He asked them to bring up two sets of spare clothes. Donovan was not to touch them and they would need to be in plastic bags, set in an ambulance. They would also need two long blankets brought up for Sherlock and himself to wrap up in as they made their way to the ambulance to change. Hell this was going to be a lot of paperwork.
“Sorry Sherlock, this is protocol. You don’t have to go to A&E, but we need you to be looked over.”
Sherlock sighed, but wrapped himself in a blanket when it arrived and left Lestrade to shower as well. A few minutes later, Lestrade and Sherlock made their way to the ambulance, where they were able to change in relative privacy and the medics looked them over for injuries. Since they found none and Sherlock refused further treatment, they were sent on their way.
Sherlock stood on a corner and just stared at his flat. Lestrade came to stand next to him, “Met insurance will take care of everything in your flat. We can get it all cleaned and just like new.”
Sherlock swallowed thickly, “I can’t stay there again, though.”
Lestrade nodded in agreement, “Wife and I got a spare bedroom, you can stay with us a couple days until we can get things sorted out with Mycroft.”
Sherlock nodded, “It wasn’t mine… I haven’t… I didn’t…”
Lestrade rested a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, “I know. It’s okay. The way you panicked tells me what I need to know. Let me sort some things here and we’ll head out.”
Sherlock looked at Greg surprised, “You can’t just… leave.”
Lestrade offered a sly smile, “Gotta make sure my witness is cared for, don’t I?”
Sherlock offered a hesitant smirk in return, “Thank you.”
Lestrade made sure Donovan was okay and then put her in charge of the scene and the rest of the investigation. Sally looked from Lestrade to Sherlock and said, “Where are you going?”
Lestrade sighed, “I’m going to help a witness get settled in a place to sleep.”
Sally frowned, “You mean drug-addict. Do you know he’s a freak?”
Lestrade raised an eyebrow, “Explain.”
“When he opened the door he took one look at me and knew that I was newly promoted, knew that I was with the Met and I hadn’t even introduced myself. Then, his kitchen, looked like a drug maker’s paradise. And he had a skull! A real human skull, just sitting there! Who is he and how do you know him?”
Lestrade nodded, “He’s very good with chemistry. He works as a private detective. When we get cases that we’re not allowed to handle, I’ve been sending them to him. What he did with you? That’s just how he sees the world, all the time. Now, I’m putting you in charge of this investigation. I’m going to get Sherlock settled somewhere he can sleep. Tomorrow you can interview him, though I doubt he’ll have anything to add. Finally, he’s in recovery, he’s been clean for a year. I’ll be staying with him tonight, because even though he didn’t intend to be exposed to anything, this might set him off. He’s worked too hard to get this far. I’m not going to see him fail because of us, understood?”
Donovan made to argue, “He’s still a freak.”
Lestrade stared at her for a long time, “You will treat him with professional courtesy when you interview him. Now, because I know him I have to remove myself from this case. You’re in charge, Sergeant Donovan.”
She was going to argue more, but it was rare that someone newly promoted like her would get an opportunity like this, “Ah, yes, sir.”
Lestrade watched her as she went to take over command. Other than her opinions on Sherlock, she was already doing a good job, so Lestrade returned to Sherlock and walked them to his car.
Lestrade drove back to his place and he and his wife got Sherlock settled into the spare bedroom. Sherlock did not seem to need much and soon all three were asleep. A few hours later, there was a cry of sheer terror, Lestrade sat upright and listened again. When he realised it was Sherlock, he went to check on the man. Greg knocked on the door as he slowly opened it, “Sherlock?”
Sherlock was sitting up, with his legs drawn up to his chest and arms curled around them. Greg entered cautiously, “You okay?”
Sherlock said nothing, but it was clear that he was scared. Lestrade sat down next to him and slowly draped and arm across Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock did not fight as Greg pulled him in tighter. At last, Sherlock spoke in a soft voice, “All the hard work… pointless now.”
Greg turned his head to face Sherlock, but Sherlock had rested his head against Greg’s shoulder with his eyes closed. Greg took a slow breath, “What makes you say that?’
Sherlock was quite for a long moment, “You were there, Inspector. You know what happened.” Sherlock took a breath and slowly raised a hand, “I haven’t been able to stop shaking since.”
Greg took Sherlock’s hand in his own and held him that much tighter, “Sherlock, you didn’t mean to. It doesn’t mean you’ll start up again and Mycroft and I can make sure you don’t.” He tried to adjust their bodies so they were both in a more comfortable position, “Look, why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll stay with you, okay?”
Sherlock followed Lestrade’s lead and nestled back down. Soon he was asleep again. To Greg’s knowledge the man did not wake again. Sherlock slept until mid-morning. The doorbell had rung and when Greg answered it, there was a man standing there with a garment bag. The tag said it was for Sherlock. Greg figured he would not have to tell Mycroft what happened, that somehow Mycroft already knew. Sherlock had made his way out to the living room and Greg handed the bag to Sherlock. The card read, “As promised. This incident changes nothing.”
Sherlock gave a sharp intake of breath and he stalked off to the room he was staying in. When he opened the bag, a coat to replace his previous one was in the bag. Sherlock hiccupped as he picked up the coat and hugged it to himself. He then showered and dressed. When he came out of the room again, Lestrade noted that he was more like himself again. Lestrade smiled, then they went to New Scotland Yard to fill out the reports.