How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 50

(Baker Street, Third person POV: )

 It was pouring with rain. Outside Speedy’s café, Mycroft was standing under the protection of his umbrella, smoking a cigarette. He had a clear plastic wallet tucked under one arm and his briefcase was at his feet. John hurried towards home, Alice at his side. They were both hunched over and soaking wet because macho British soldier’s like John Watson and Alice White don’t take umbrellas with them. They saw Mycroft standing there and stopped in surprise, then walked over to him.

 “You don’t smoke.” John said, surprise evident in his voice. Alice smiled and wrung out her hair.

 “I also don’t frequent cafés.” Mycroft added. Dropping the cigarette on the ground and treading it out, he closed his umbrella, picked up his briefcase and turned and walked into Speedy’s. John and Alice followed him.

Not long afterwards they were sitting opposite each other at one of the tables. John picked up his mug and looked at the plastic wallet which Mycroft had put on the table in front of himself. Alice leaned closer and examined it with him. There was a sticker on the wallet saying ‘RESTRICTED ACCESS – CONFIDENTIAL’. The camera phone was inside the wallet on top of various documents.

 “This the file on Irene Adler?” John asked. Alice leaned away again and put her arm on the back of the seat behind John, leaning back and acting as if she owned the place.

 “Closed forever. I am about to go and inform my brother – or, if you prefer, you are – that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive – and thrive – but he will never see her again.” Mycroft said. Alice perked up, taking a sip of her coffee.

 “Why would he care? He despised her at the end. Won’t even mention her by name – just ‘The Woman’.” John asked, looking from Mycroft to the redhead and back.

 “Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters.” Mycroft said rhetorically.

 “He’s not like that. He doesn’t feel things that way... I don’t think.” John replied, looking at Alice on the last bit. He looked a bit too long and she flicked his temple in annoyance.

 “My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?” Mycroft asked. Alice furrowed her brows and looked down at the table, bringing her arm back to her side.

 “I don’t know.” John answered, sounding lost.

 “Neither do I... but initially he wanted to be a pirate.” The Holmes said. He smiled briefly at the pair, and then his gaze became distant and reflective. Alice smiled softly at the thought of Sherlock as a child dressed as a pirate.

 “He’ll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He’ll be fine.” John concluded, more to himself than anyone else.

 “I agree.” Mycroft breathed in sharply. “That’s why I decided to tell him that.” Alice’s head shot up. She gazed at Mycroft thoughtfully, glad that she had chosen to go with John rather than stay with Sherlock. Besides, he was being an arse.

 “Instead of what?” John asked.

 “She’s dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded.” John and Alice looked at him silently for several seconds, and then John quietly cleared his throat.

 “It’s definitely her? She’s done this before.” John asked, still shaken.

 “I was thorough – this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don’t think he was on hand, do you?” They looked at each other for a moment. “So...” He pushed the wallet across the table towards John, then put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands in front of him and rested his chin on them. “...what should we tell Sherlock?”

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