The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 25

John stood at the top of the stairs the morning of his wedding heading down for breakfast, when the front door burst open and a seething mass of Sherlock swarmed inside.  Though to be honest, he wasn't sure what monster from the depths of the Thames had burst inside at first.  It wasn't until the voice, that voice, his voice rose over the kerfuffle declaring, "This is completely unnecessary!" that John had any inkling of this raggedy creature being the man he was due to marry in a matter of hours.

The ragged mass separated into several officers and one disgruntled Sherlock, and Lestrade himself stepped in behind, a smug look upon his face.

"I promised your brother I would have you here in time, Mr. Holmes, no matter what methods I had to employ to accomplish the feat."

"You put me in a Black Maria, Lestrade."  The tone was pure disgust.

"And I'll put you back in on the way to the magistrate if that is what it takes."

"I gave my word."  Haughty.

John slowly descended the staircase, eyes awfully wide.

"Sherlock…"  But he was interrupted by an unseemly bellow from none other than Lord Sherrinford.

"Sherlock Holmes, what have you been doing?  Swimming in the Thames?  On the morning of your wedding?"

"Mycroft," Sherlock began, but was cut off.

"You will bathe immediately!  Twice!"  John had never seen Lord Sherrinford angry, or for that matter, display any particular emotion.  The man turned as red in the face as an apple, yes, with some sickly green behind.

"And that filth you are wearing will be burned!"

Heads started popping out of doors and John felt an audience behind his back at the stair railing.

"No!  I spent months on this disguise!  It took forever to get the fray and the dirt and the smell just right!"

"Well, it wasn't very effective from keeping the good men of Bow Street in the dark, was it?"

"That is not what it is for, you blithering…"

"Upstairs!"

If Sherlock's person had not been quite so foetid, his brother surely would have laid hands on him.  As it was, several resigned-looking footmen crowded around Sherlock and started to usher him upstairs.

"Handcuffs, Lestrade!" Sherlock called over his shoulder.

The detective, still very smug, trotted forward and pulled the key out from… his shoe.

"Dammit, your stride was a little stiff in the foot.  I can't believe I didn't deduce it!  I thought you had a blister from your new footwear.  You're learning quickly, old man."  Sherlock sounded like he was almost proud of Lestrade for besting him.

"I'll have to get especially creative if there is a next time, Mr. Holmes."  Lestrade unlocked the cuffs and Sherlock moved his thin hands in circles to renew his circulation.

"Indeed."

The footman reinstated their escort, herding Sherlock as much as possible without touching his rank clothes. 

"Good morning, John!" Sherlock called jovially as he spied his intended on the stair.

"Good morning, Sherlock," John replied a little less certainly. 

"Lovely day for a wedding, is it not?"

And that appalling man winked at him as he passed by.

Mad, he's mad, John thought, continuing down the stairs as he heard Sherlock laugh behind him, sprinting towards the bathing room.  John turned the corner at the foot of the stairs and entered the breakfast room, where all the snickering Holmes' had hurriedly reoccupied their seats.  He couldn’t help but hear the last of the conversation in the hallway as he seated himself.

"Handcuffs and a Black Maria, Lestrade?  Was that really necessary?"  But Lord Sherrinford didn't look put out in the least as he and Lestrade shared a conspiratorial chuckle.

"He deserved the first.  A hack would have done but none would allow him inside to muck up their interior."

"Good man, good man."  Lord Sherrinford tossed a small bag of coin in Lestrade's direction.