The Coffee Shop

Chapter 16 - Thursday 6th April, 00:30

The docks were teeming with people.

Sherlock steered them in, and stopped the speedboat.

Sally Donovan surveyed them as they stepped off the boat.

"What you did was monumentally stupid." she said.

The four of them stood together, and then parted. James Grant walked through.

"Oh, my God." Said Sally.

"James!" A woman called through the throngs of people, and she pushed past, desperate and frantic. "James!"

A man followed her, his glasses askew.

The Grants raced towards their son, and he stood back a little warily. "Mum. Dad."

Eloise looked at her son, as if she couldn't quite believe he was real. Richard took his glasses off, wiped them on his sleeve, and put them on again. It was clear to everyone that they were at a loss for words.

"Your son is very intelligent." Sherlock told them. "He is alive because he understood his kidnapper's motive, and used that to his advantage. We rescued him, but he kept himself afloat, both in the literal sense and figuratively, too. You should be proud to have a son so brave."

Eloise had tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away self-consciously, and opened her mouth.

"Why did you run away? I don't understand it."

"Put your mother through hell," Richard added, his voice rough.

"The fault is my own," Mycroft said, surprising everyone. The Grants looked at him inquiringly.

"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked.

"I mean," Mycroft began, "If I hadn't interfered with Moriarty in the first place, he might never have grown into the villain he was, and people, his fans and disapprovers alike, would not feel incited to follow in his footsteps, or be inspired by him, like young James here.

"What's important to take away from this is that it is not the fault of James. Moriarty could manipulate anyone into idolising him, and James was, like most young people are, exceptionally vulnerable.

"I must take the blame. I apologise, though it won't repair the damage done."

The Grants looked at each other, and then at James.

"Forgive him." James told his parents, his eyes serious. "Without his help, I don't know whether I'd still be alive. Besides, Moriarty just did whatever he wanted, fuck the consequences. I used to think that was cool." He looked at his shoes.

"Oh James." His mother said, heartbroken. "We love you no matter what."

"Your mother's right." His father spoke, a little sadly. "We do."

John nudged James gently. "Go on." He murmured.

And so James walked towards his parents, and they hugged him close. He put his arms around both of them, surprising himself, then stepped back. "I reckon that's enough," He said awkwardly.

His dad ruffled his hair. Eloise brought out some tissues and wiped away some of the tears that had spilled over.

"You're coming home now."

And James laughed at the sky, the sound melancholic, and scared. Joyous. Free.

Sherlock looked at John, and John at Sherlock. They both smiled.

A case solved. There was nothing more satisfactory.

THE END