beyond the gravestones (sherlock/johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 24

John gripped the steering wheel tightly, glancing at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. For some strange reason, he had rejected the car Mycroft had sent for them and decided to borrow Mrs Hudson's Aston Martin instead. John, too concerned to bother arguing about it, wouldn't let him drive. So there they were, speeding down a lonely road at three in the night in utter silence.

"'You are next'. That's our complete message. Should we be scared?" John asked.

Sherlock ignored him, still looking out of the window, so he just continued driving. They eventually pulled up next to a small cottage. John recognized Mycroft's car parked outside, but there was a surprising absence of police cars. As expected, there was a big red 1 on the door, but he barely had time to process it before Sherlock flung the door open. The hall and living room were empty, but John could hear voices from the adjoining room. He reached out to knock, but Sherlock grabbed his arm.

"Can you stay out here?" Sherlock asked.

"Sure. You'll be fine?"

"Yes." He took a moment to compose himself. "There are some things that have to be done alone."

John nodded and sat down on the sofa. Sherlock gave him a small smile, then gripped the door handle tightly, steeling himself. The voices in the bedroom ceased as soon as he entered. Mycroft was sitting next to the bed, an unmistakable edge to his usually bored expression. There was an empty wheelchair next to him. A woman Sherlock assumed was a nurse pottered about in the corner, mixing a concoction of some kind. An elderly man sat on the bed, twisting a piece of yarn around his fingers.

"Mr Trevor, you remember Sherlock, my brother." Mycroft said.

Xavier Trevor clearly didn't care for Mycroft's politeness. He grew agitated, twisting the yarn around his fingers more tightly.

"Introductions can wait." he said snappishly. "I want to know - have you found my son?"

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft, confused. An almost undetectable shake of the head convinced him of it; Victor's death was still a secret. He was still officially missing.

"Have we - no. Not yet."

"Well, I'll tell you something." Xavier said, leaning forward dramatically. "I've found him. That's right. I saw him tonight. He peeked in at my door, my little boy, and beckoned to me."

"Mr Trevor," Mycroft started, "Even if your son were still alive, he would be a grown man. This little boy- "

"Do you know what my wife said to me on her deathbed?" Xavier demanded. "She took my hand and looked me in the eye, and she said, 'when you find him, make sure you tell him there wasn't a single day I didn't think of him. Not a single damn day I didn't regret letting him go to Musgrave Hall. And if I find him up there in heaven - and I'm not saying that I will, because he's alive, he's out there, I know it - I'll do the same for you.' "

Sherlock felt something in his heart twist painfully.

"It's time for you to sleep, Mr Trevor." the nurse said. She ushered them out of the room and lowered her voice. "He's no good when he gets like this. Come back tomorrow afternoon." They heard him grumble something unintelligible before she shut the door.

John rose to meet them, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively. Sherlock just shook his head, and the three men trooped out into the unkempt lawn.

"Where's the police?" John asked.

"Mycroft sent them away. The footprints on the mud path -"

"If we're coming back tomorrow afternoon," Mycroft interrupted, "There's really no logic to you two driving all the way back home and then here again. Mummy and Daddy live barely ten minutes away. I'm sure they'll be glad to have us."