Believe in Sherlock

Chapter 23-Maggie's POV

I felt my heartbeat double its average speed as Sherlock Holmes loomed over me. How was he here? He's dead. I thought my hallucinations were finally gone. I hadn't had one in almost a month. Maybe this really was just another hallucination. They all felt real but something was different about this one. It felt different, I can't describe it but it feels...warmer than the other times.

"Sherlock?" I managed to squeak out.

Sherlock smirked. "Who else would I be?" He asked. I felt my lips curl into a small smile but I held it back as much as possible. There's no sense in getting hopeful if this is just a hallucination.

I slowly lifted my right hand and placed it on his shoulder. The rough material of his jacket felt real. I moved my hand to the ends of his curly hair and twirled it around to inspect it. Sherlock didn't move and kept his eyes trained steadily on my face. I then moved my hand down to his hand. I held it up and ran my fingers along its creases and his knuckles. I pressed the palm of my hand against his and lifted it up so it was in front of my eyes but only to Sherlock's chest.

He defiantly felt real. I kept my hand pressed to his as I looked into his eyes. They looked right into mine with an intense focus that I had never seen before.

"It's really you?" I asked with my voice cracking on the last word. Sherlock nodded, never taking his eyes away from mine. I then smiled. I guess he was expecting me to hit him because a flash of confusion briefly crossed his face before it disappeared and he just looked at me suspiciously.

"The whole time. All three years, you were alive?" I asked.

Sherlock again nodded before he said, "Did you know John is getting married?" I raised an eyebrow and nodded. I looked over to see my hand was still pressed against his and I quickly dropped it before hiding my small blush. His hand dropped and landed by his side.

"Of course I knew." I replied, "Why do you ask?" I added with a suspicious glance at Sherlock.

"Just making sure you haven't lost your touch over the last three years." Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Lost my touch? What are you implying?" I asked accusingly.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not implying anything. I'm simply asking a question. Can't I do that? Or is it against the rules?"

"Really Sherlock? 'against the rules?' You sound like you're back in eighth grade." I said and crossed my arms in front of me.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You're taking this surprisingly well." He squinted his eyes and observed me closely.

"Sherlock, I've known you for years, nothing surprises me anymore. Just simply...interested as to HOW you faked that fall." I said, raising my voice a bit on 'how'.

Sherlock smirked knowingly at me. "You really want to know?" He asked.

I returned the sly smile. "What's the fun in knowing?" Sherlock's smirk turned into a smile as I said this.

"Well, you haven't changed a bit, Maggie." Sherlock said.

"Why would I have changed? Were you expecting the 'exciting, adventurous me' to be replaced with a 'dull, tearful me'?" I asked. Sherlock smiled and shook his head. I sighed, "It really is good to see you again Sherlock. I've missed you." Despite my attempts to keep my distance, I pulled Sherlock into a stiff hug. I'm not one to give out hugs everyday but I felt it was necessary. Sherlock tensed a bit before returning the hug stiffly.

I quickly pulled back and scrunched my nose up, "For god's sakes Sherlock, did you not take a shower all three years you were gone?" I asked with a hint of disgust in my voice.

"Well, it's not like I had time. I've been dead for three years." Sherlock exclaimed. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm pretty sure REAL dead people smell better than you." I said and started to walk around him.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

I turned my head to look at him. "Getting you a towel and some soap. Your clothes need to be washed badly." I said and continued to head for the bathroom.

Sherlock just watched me go, not moving a muscle. I found a fresh towel and started up the shower. I exited the bathroom and waved for Sherlock to follow me. He turned and walked behind me. I stood by the bathroom door and gestured for him to step into the room. I shoved the towel in his hands. "Hand me your dirty clothes when you're done." I commanded and closed the door before he could argue.

I walked into my front room and listened to the running water of the shower. I flopped onto my couch and closed my eyes.

Sherlock is back. He's really back. He isn't another hallucination or a stranger that looks like him. He's Sherlock Holmes. My best friend.

A sudden thump from my left broke me out of my thoughts. I whipped my head over and saw Sherlock standing in the hallway with his dirty clothes in one hands and the other holding the towel around his waist in place. How long had I been sitting here?

"Here's my clothes." Sherlock said and held out his clothes for me to take. I pushed myself up and off the couch. I walked over and took the clothes out of his hand.

"Just let me wash them and you can put them on later." I said and headed for the small area I call my laundry room. Once his clothes were in the washer, I headed back to my front room. Sherlock was lounging on the sofa with only the towel covering him...barely. He didn't seem to care and I just raised an eyebrow before stalking to my small kitchen.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked Sherlock.

"Yes, tea would be fine." He drawled in a lazy-like tone. I set to work on the tea as Sherlock took up my whole couch.

I finished the tea and carried the two cups, one for Sherlock and one for me, over to the glass coffee table. A knock at the door made me jump slightly whereas Sherlock just looked at the door and said, "Come in, Mycroft."

Mycroft opened the door and stepped inside my flat with his usual buisness suit and slick hair. He took one look at Sherlock and said, "Why is it that every time I see you, you're in a sheet or towel? Don't you ever dress?"

Sherlock grinned smugly, "I only dress for the very best or when I'm out on a case." Mycroft glared at him briefly before looking over at me.

"So I'm assuming you know why Sherlock did what he did." Mycroft said and took a seat at Sherlock's feet. Sherlock glared at Mycroft before moving his feet farther away from his big brother.

I shook my head. "I don't know why or how he did it." I replied and took a sip of my hot tea.

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. "Sherlock didn't tell you?" He questioned before sending a confused glance at Sherlock. Sherlock ignored his brother and kept his gaze on me. I simply shook my head and looked between the two brothers who were so alike in the mind yet completely different in appearance.

"Shall I tell her why, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock glared at Mycroft, "I can tell her myself, brother." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft's expression remained unchanged and he just shrugged before leaning back, waiting for the story to begin.

"Moriarty had snipers. He threatened to kill you if I didn't jump. I figured that there must be a word or phrase to call them off and Moriarty realized it as well. He shot himself so I couldn't save you without jumping. So I fell to save you...and John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock explained quickly. I felt my heart jump into my throat. All these years I thought Sherlock had jumped of his own free will. Suicide. But he had been protecting his friends.

I looked at Sherlock and bit my lip. "Thank you." I said, breaking the silence that had covered the three of us like a blanket.

"For what? Causing you and John so much pain? So much grief? So much guilt?" Sherlock questioned with his voice steadily rising in volume.

"For saving our lives. Sherlock, if you hadn't have jumped John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson would all be dead. You saved their lives and you had to do it. You had to stay away for three years. We had to shed a few tears but it was all worth it. Sherlock ,you lived even though everyone thought you were dead." I paused and smiled at him. "You're a hero, Sherlock."

Sherlock pursed his lips in a firm line and kept eye contact with me. None of us moved. We hardly breathed. Sherlock broke the silence. "So why are you here, Mycroft?"

Mycroft grinned as if knowing Sherlock would ask eventually. "Can't I check up on my little brother who recently rose from the dead?" He questioned.

"Not unless you get something out of it." Sherlock replied quickly and studied Mycroft's face. "You have a case for us?" Sherlock concluded and Mycroft grinned before nodding his head.

"Yes, I do." Mycroft confirmed Sherlock's conclusion.

I couldn't help the excited grin that formed on my lips. Sherlock copied my actions and smiled excitedly.

"Well, what is it?" I asked Mycroft.

"I think I'd rather show you. It's a bit strange." Mycroft said.

Thank god, a criminal that won't be entirely boring. If it got Mycroft's attention, I have a feeling Sherlock and I won't be disappointed.



(A/N) IMPORTANT!!!

Okay, so this next case is going to be what I imagine 'The Empty Hearse' may be about. Everything is going to be made up by me and I am no Steven Moffat so it may be either dull or just completely off from what it will be. I don't own the title, only the actual occurrences with the case and the outcome. Bai!!!