The Science Of Second Chances//Book Two

Chapter 23~ Codes and Secrets

Teddy's P.O.V        

My life was very nearly perfect. I had a caring and devoted boyfriend who was aware that I wanted to take baby steps in our relationship and who didn't judge or criticize me for it. I also had a brother who didn't judge or criticize me for my decision of getting into a relationship with said caring and devoted boyfriend who also happened to be his friend. Naturally, though, he would get annoyed whenever he caught us kissing.

"Perhaps I should knock before entering my own flat?" he grumbled when he had walked into the living room to find John and I kissing. I pulled away from John to look at Sherlock, settling into my chair and pushing a strand of my hair behind my ears.

"It's not like we were doing anything really bad, Sherly," I said, accepting my tea from John. "That was a 'thank you for my drink' kiss, not a 'lets get it on' kiss."

Sherlock had plonked himself down in his chair with a huff.

"They're all the same to me," he muttered.

Sherlock seemed to have accepted my relationship with John but Mycroft was an entirely different story. A few days after New Years he had appeared at the flat to ask me about my new relationship. I had replied that it was a good and happy one and while I was grateful for his concern there really was no need for it. Mycroft had gone on to question John, much to my annoyance, asking if his feelings for me were true, how he should treat me and that if John were to break my heart Mycroft would break his skull. The way he had said it left little doubt in my mind that he wouldn't. As soon as my big brother had left John made himself a cup of tea and lay down, obviously exhausted and slightly terrified at the recent event.

"I felt like a teenage boy meeting my girlfriend's father for the first time," he had said breathlessly, making me smile.

Not only was my relationship going well (the exception being Mycroft's protectiveness that made John act very awkward whenever her was around) but so was my work one. Lestrade had returned from his lengthy holiday with a tan and without a wedding ring. We had eaten lunch together in his office while working on a case that involved two dead bodies and a bucket of Lego's. At first I thought that things would be awkward between us. I still believed that Lestrade was angry with me. It turned out that I had been wrong.

"I'm not angry with you, Teddy," Lestrade had said while finishing off a cream doughnut. "I should've realized earlier. Maybe at first I was a little annoyed but I've gotten over that now. It's in the past, I'm happy now, there's no need to think about it."

So I didn't and neither did he. We fell back into our old ways as co-workers, occasional drinking buddies and more importantly, friends.

My life was very nearly perfect. My relationship was perfect. My work life was perfect. The only thing that wasn't perfect was my friendship with Irene.
I was unsure of what I felt about her now. I was still hurting from the knowledge that she had lied to me and though I knew it was to protect me it didn't make the pain lesson. Every day I thought about what I would do if I saw her again. In my mind I summoned Irene, striking and tall, standing in my living room begging for my forgiveness. Sometimes I would cave and give her what she asked for. Other times I would scream and swear and tell her that I never wanted to see her face ever again. I still can't decide which one felt better.

I guess fate or whatever wanted me to decide quickly because a few weeks after these scenarios in my head began they came true. Except instead of finding Irene in my flat I found her in Sherlock and John's.
Asleep.
In my brother's bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What the actual fuck?" I hissed, pacing the living room like a lion in a cage.

"Calm down, Teddy," John said, following me around the room with a worried expression on his face. I growled, ruffling my curly hair with a hand. Sherlock sat at the table, his face blank and his hands under his chin as he watched me. Irene was currently having a shower, probably needing to wash away the dirt or grime or guilt that she had. And the blood from her nose when I had swiftly punched her as soon as she had woken up.

"How do I calm down, John?" I cried, biting my lip in exclamation. "My best friend turns up in my brother's bed after weeks, weeks, John, since I last saw her. Plus, the last time I heard from her was when she texted me to let me in on the fact that she wasn't actually dead! How do I calm down!?"

I probably sounded like a crazy woman. There was an even higher possibility that I looked like one too. I had gotten home from work the same time Sherlock and John had returned from the shops and I hadn't changed out of my scuffed black trousers and wrinkled blouse.
But you know what? I couldn't care less. John didn't seem to care either because he wrapped his arms around me in an effort to calm me.

"I know you're upset," he murmured into my hair. "Let's just find out the reason why she's here, aye? Then you guys can fix things up afterwards."

"Maybe I don't want to," I mumbled, but my heart wasn't in it now. 

When Irene walked into the room, her hair wet and her body snug in Sherlock's dressing gown, John sat at the table opposite Sherlock. I perched on his knee, one arm around his shoulder for support. Irene looked from John to me and smiled softly. I met her gaze with an angry glare but even I could sense the sadness underneath it.

"So who's after you?" Sherlock asked as Irene sat down in his armchair.

"People who want to kill me."

"Who's that?"

"Killers," Irene replied with a smile. I inhaled sharply, annoyed with her response.

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific," John said, sensing my annoyance and wrapping an arm around my waist.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them," Sherlock continued.

"It worked for awhile."

"Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me and my sister."

"I knew you'd keep my secret," Irene said, her eyes flickering towards me then back to Sherlock.

"You couldn't?"

"But you did, didn't you?" Irene purred. "Where's my camera phone?"

"It's not here. We're not stupid," John answered.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the strand a few months ago," Sherlock told her.

"I need it."

Of course you do, I thought with a small frown. For your protection.
I stared at Irene as she, Sherlock and John conversed. I didn't speak because my mind was too busy thinking about the days when my relationship with Irene was so much easier and less life threatening.  When I used to stay over at her flat above the pub and we would whisper and plot and end up in a giggling heap on the ground. When we used to help out in the pub whenever it was really busy and Irene would flirt while I cracked jokes and played air guitar whenever Irene began to sing. I missed the days when I would help Irene study for a science exam in the library and, in return, she would teach me the art of seduction, a skill that was useful whenever we wanted to get into a nightclub or buy ourselves alcohol.

I think it was the night of the function when things began to go wrong. That was my father's fault, to be honest. If he hadn't held the function at our home, if he hadn't invited that bigwig banker and his son, if he had given me a little more time to decide what I wanted to do with my life, then maybe things would've been okay between myself and Irene. I would've stayed, we could've found a flat to live in, we could've been together happily. Things happen though that throw those plans out the window and into oblivion.

There's a loud beep that shocked me out of my mind and back into the real world. Sherlock was staring at Irene's camera phone with a look of disbelief on his face. It didn't take me long to realize that Sherlock has typed in the incorrect pass code into Irene's phone.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand," Irene said, smiling up at my brother. He met her cool gaze with a small half smile, Grey-blue eyes locked on hers.

"Oh, you're rather good," he murmured.

"You're not so bad," Irene replied, holding out her hand and taking her phone back.

I didn't exactly know what to make of this scene. Irene and Sherlock stayed locked in an intense stare, oblivious to the fact that there were two other people in the room. John frowned. I wrinkled my nose. God, I could practically smell the lust in the air! It was overpowering! 

"Hamish."

That one word from John managed to bring Sherlock and Irene back to attention. They stared at John like they had only just realized he was in the room.

"John Hamish Watson- just if you were looking for baby names," John clarified, making Sherlock frown in confusion and myself stifle a laugh.

"There was a man," Irene said, walking away from us all. "An MOD official. I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it."

She handed her phone to Sherlock who sat down at the table, his eyes narrowed. With a pointed look from me he handed the phone over so I could have a look.

"He was a bit tied up at the time," Irene continued. "It's a bit small on that screen- can you read it?"

I handed the phone back to Sherlock, the numbers and letters still clear in my mind.

007 Confirmed allocation
4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it- though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out," Irene said as Sherlock looked closer at the screen of the phone.

"What can you do, Mr Holmes?" Irene purred, leaning closer to Sherlock. "Go on. Impress a girl."

Time slowed down. There were two screens in my mind. One was showing me Sherlock, his eyes as he focused on cracking the code. I could pick up things he saw just from the look in his eyes. The other screen showed the code. The numbers and letters changed and rearrange themselves. I'm confused. Sherlock is not. The numbers and letters jumped on the screen, flashing brightly before settling once more. I raised my eyebrows, a small smile playing on my lips. I'm not confused anymore. I've caught up to Sherlock.
Irene was leaning closer to Sherlock, her lips pursed. John's lowering his mug onto the table while his fingers tapped my waist patiently. Sherlock's eyes flickered up to meet mine. He's finished. I smiled a millisecond after. So am I.

Irene's lips finally came into contact with Sherlock's cheek the same time that John's mug hit the table. With a small glance at Irene Sherlock spoke, his words rapid-fire.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six-thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds."