Believe in Sherlock

Chapter 21-Maggie's POV

THREE YEARS AFTER THE FALL...


I ran down the street full speed to get to my flat. The footsteps of my chaser sounded loud in the unusually quiet night. I risked a glance over my shoulder and when I saw that he was closer than I had originally thought, I sped up.

I could feel my adrenaline wearing off and looked for something that could help me. I looked to my right and saw an opening for another alleyway. I kept up my speed until I was directly beside the alley. I took a sharp turn and held back a satisfied laugh when he kept going and passed the alleyway.

That would buy me some time but not much.

I guess punching a man twice my size wasn't the best move. Although I did succeed in breaking his nose, he was pissed.

I wiped the blood from my knuckles with my coat sleeve and turned again when I heard his footsteps enter the alleyway from behind me.

My flat wasn't far now and Lestrade was going to meet me there when I led the man straight into the handcuffs.

The man chasing me was a murderer by the way, I didn't punch him for no reason. I'm not that rude.

I saw Lestrade's car parked a little ways up the street from my flat. I felt my heart leap in relief when I saw him and two other officers tucked into one of the dark shadows safely.

I looked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the man about four feet behind me. Almost within touching distance.

I reached my flat door and turned around swiftly. The man's face ran right into my fist. He stumbled backward and one of Lestrade's officers rushed out to catch him before he fell.

The man was put in handcuffs and soon was being shoved into the back of a police car I hadn't even spotted before.

My breathing was heavy from running and I smiled at the success of my plan.

"Not bad, eh?" I questioned Lestrade as he came towards me.

He smiled. "Not bad at all. Though you didn't have to punch him."

"He chased me for a mile! He deserves some sleep. Plus he was annoying me." I whined.

Lestrade just rolled his eyes and turned to take care of the murderer.

I opened the door to my flat and stepped inside. "Mrs. Lancer! You home?" I called as I closed the door behind me.

"Up here, Dear!" I heard her raspy voice call down the staircase. Why was she in my front room?

I hurried up the stairs and opened the door to my front room. Mrs. Lancer was sitting on my couch and someone was sitting in the chair opposite of her with their back to me.

I don't like having people's backs to me. Unless it's Anderson. I've learned why Sherlock had disliked him so much through the past years.

"Who's that?" I asked and pointed at the chair.

"Oh that? That's an old friend of yours. Don't you remember him?" Mrs. Lancer said with a smile.

Old friend? I didn't have any friends.

"His name?" I asked and peered at the head poking out above the top of the chair.

"Holmes. Mycroft Holmes. Maggie, you haven't changed a bit." The man stood up as he talked. He turned around and Mycroft Holmes stood in front of me.

"Mycroft! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in, what is it now, two years?" I exclaimed.

"Two years and three months exactly." He smiled. "I thought I should drop by and catch up a bit. I see you've had quiet a lot of cases lately."

"There's not much else to do. None have been especially interesting though." I said.

Mycroft chuckled. "It's not easy keeping you occupied. So how have you been?"

I shrugged. "I've been better...and worse." I mumbled the last bit quietly so nobody heard me although I had a feeling Mycroft knew what I said. He just nodded and leaned casually on his umbrella. I swear one day that thing is going to slip out from under him.

"So is there a reason you're here?" I asked and crossed my arms in front of my chest. Mycroft raised and eyebrow before flicking his gaze quickly over to Mrs. Lancer whom I had forgotten was here. "Mrs. Lancer would you give us a few moments alone, please?"

"Of course Deary, I didn't mean to hover. Would you like me to make some tea?" Mrs. Lancer asked as she stood from her position on the couch.

"No thank you, Mrs. L. We're fine." I answered politely. Mrs. Lancer smiled before exiting my front room and heading down the stairs. Mycroft turned to watch her go and waited until her footsteps disappeared before speaking.

"So Maggie, when was the last time you spoke to Mr. John Watson?" Mycroft asked and looked around my flat suspiciously.

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe a month ago. We had lunch. Why do you ask?"

Mycroft's lips twitched upward in a small smile. "He hasn't told you what he's doing tonight?"

"No. Why would he? I'm not his mother." I replied and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"He's been planning it for quite some time. I would've thought he'd have told you." Mycroft continued as he inspected his fingernails carelessly.

"What's he planning, Mycroft?" I pressed for information.

"He's going to propose to that Mary girl of his. Tonight at the restaurant down the street." Mycroft replied.

I felt my eyes widen. "How long has John been planning this?"

"A month. Strange isn't it? He had gone to Lestrade for advice the day after he had lunch with you." Mycroft informed me.

I stood with my mouth slightly agape. John was going to propose? To Mary? Why didn't he tell me?

"What time is he going to the restaurant and popping the question?" I asked.

"Lestrade said Mary was going to meet him there at 7:00 but John's going to be there at maybe 6:50 to 'prepare'." Mycroft replied.

I grinned. Perfect.


*6:52 PM, that night, at the restaurant*

I looked at John as he fidgeted nervously in his chair. I stalked up to the table and sat down across from him. John looked at me, surprised.

"Maggie? What are you doing here?" John whispered and looked around as if to make sure Mary wasn't here.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to propose to Mary?" I asked and crossed my right leg over my left.

John looked flustered as he smoothed his tie out before answering. "I, uh, didn't want you to tell her."

I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You didn't want me to tell her? What makes you think I'd tell her?"

"Well, erm, you're not exactly the best secret keeper." John looked at the tablecloth as he replied.

"What? I keep plenty of secrets. I've kept a few of Sherlock's for years and they still haven't past these lips." I said using my finger to point at my lips for emphasis.

John sighed, "Alright, sorry. I just didn't know how you'd react."

"Well you know my reaction now. Oh, and I have another question for you." I said and leaned forward a bit.

"What is it?" John asked and again looked towards the door behind me.

"What's on your lip?" I asked with a slight laugh.

John looked down and wiped his face. "What do you mean?" He asked.

I pointed at the squirrel tail growing on his upper lip.

"What's wrong with my mustache?" John asked.

"Mustache? It looks as if you super glued a fist-full of Lestrade's hair to your lip." I replied and started to laugh again as John frowned at me.

"John?" I turned to see Mary standing behind me with a smile growing on her face.

I turned back around and looked at John. "Mary, you look beautiful as always." John complimented her.

I scoffed quietly and stood. "Well, I guess that's my cue to leave." I said to Mary and John. I turned to look at John and whispered in his ear. "You should really hide the ring better than in your pocket, I could see the outline of it from the doorway."

I saw John's hand go instinctively to his pocket as I told him. I turned back and waved goodbye to Mary before leaving the restaurant.

The cold air blew my hair in my face as I trudged up the street to my flat. My heels clicked on the pavement as I went.

I kept my head held high as I walked and I took in my surroundings.

The buildings were shadowed by the moonlight and cars whizzed past every once in a while. The headlights bounced off the buildings surrounding me. The cold air numbed the tip of my nose as it blew in my face.

I heard footsteps behind me and I looked over my shoulder. Nobody was there. It was probably my heels echoing off the pavement. I turned back around and walked a bit faster. I didn't hear the footsteps after that.

I finally made it to my flat and I unlocked the door. A blast of warm air welcomed me as I stepped over the threshold.

"Margaret? Is that you?" Mrs. Lancer's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mrs. L." I called back as I slipped off my trench coat.

"You got some mail today! It's up in your flat!" She called.

"Thanks!" I replied and ran up the staircase.

I opened my closet door and threw my coat inside. My flat was completely empty other than my furniture, some files from past cases, and my mail. I flipped through the letters quickly.

At the bottom of the stack there was a small white card. I narrowed my eyes and brought it closer to my face.

I'm coming back. -SH

I nearly dropped the card as I read the signature. I read it over and over. The handwriting look like his. But he's dead. He's been dead for three years! Three whole years I've had nightmares every night I managed to fall asleep.

I felt my knees give out and I slumped to the floor. I put my head down and bit my lip. My knees were pressed against the wooden floor and my feet were folded underneath me.

I held the card in shaky fingers and ran my thumb over the SH.

I kept telling myself that anyone could've written it. That it was fake. But I couldn't help the tugging on my heart that said 'Sherlock's alive! He's coming back!'

I let a short laugh escape lips and a tear fell onto the card.

But this tear wasn't like all the others I had shed over the past three years. This one was a tear of joy.

"Sherlock. Where are you?" I whispered to myself, not expecting an answer.

"Right in front of you." A deep voice replied.

I stopped breathing and slowly lifted my face until my dark blue eyes were looking into icy blue ones.


(A/N) SHERLOCK IS BACK! I know his return wasn't as epic as it most likely will be when the third season comes out but I wanted my Benedict back and so here he is!

Next will be how John meets Sherlock and then the next will resume to Maggie's POV.