Despite the Odds

Chapter 15: Case?

As Sherlock rode in the cab back to Baker street, Sherlock asked suddenly: "You've heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course."

John glanced at Sherlock in surprise. The dark-haired man hadn't spoken the entire time but had apparently returned to his normal state as he began to explain his case, so John replied: "Yeah. Owns some newspapers – ones I don't read."

Sherlock suddenly looked around and asked in confusion: "Hang on, weren't there other people?"

John sighed, looking at his friend as he said: "Mary's taking the boys home; I'm taking you. We did discuss it."

Sherlock muttered thoughtfully: "People were talking, none of them me, I must have filtered."

"I noticed." John mumbled but Sherlock just leaned back and retorted: "I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. I've got Mrs Hudson on semi-permanent mute."

"Why? Where's Marie?" John asked yet again, and once more Sherlock ignored him.

But this time, John wasn't ready to just let it go as he demanded sharply: "Sherlock, I mean it. Where's Marie, and why is she not answering her phone?"

Sherlock tried to shrug nonchalantly but John continued adamantly: "So I'm to believe that you're on a case about a newspaper owner, and for this so-called 'case' you went to a drug den, and Marie's just gone MIA?"

Sherlock was saved from replying as they arrived outside 221, although he was immediately irritated the moment he saw the front door.

"What is my brother doing here?" Sherlock asked in annoyance. He climbed out the cab, going to stand before the front door, staring irritably.

"So I'll just pay, then, shall I?" John called sarcastically as he paid the cabbie.

Sherlock didn't notice as he continued, while staring at the knocker: "He's straightened the knocker. He always corrects it. He's OCD. Doesn't even know he's doing it."

Sherlock twisted the knocker, making it crooked again, before he opened the door.

"Why'd you do that?" John asked in confusion as he followed Sherlock inside and Sherlock asked nonchalantly: "Do what?"

"Nothing." John muttered.

As soon as Sherlock stepped inside, his face twisted into a grimace. Mycroft asked in a mixture of sarcasm and reproach from his seat on the steps leading up to Sherlock's flat: "Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked flatly, and John explained quietly: "I phoned him."

As Sherlock turned to glare at John, Mycroft continued: "The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy, though, in many ways, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you."

Sherlock folded his arms and leant against the wall as he asked John irritably: "You phoned him."

"'Course I bloody phoned him." John retorted and Mycroft added flatly: "'Course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?"

"'We'?" Sherlock repeated with a frown, and from upstairs they heard a familiar voice call: "Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock's mouth dropped momentarily in disbelief before his face contorted into one of fury.

"For God's sake!" He snarled as he pushed past Mycroft, who just sat casually as Sherlock stormed up the stairs.

Mycroft then stood, and together he and John casually made their way up the stairs while Sherlock stalked into his flat and snapped: "Anderson."