Long Time, No See

The Trial of James Moriarty

Day 1 of finals..... Wish me luck!........
-wildflower

"Why now Sam?" Mycroft asked me. "Why right after what happened?"

"You know how I am, Mykie." I sighed looking at him, "I need a distraction and I can't go back to my old ways, not now."

"He loved you, Sam but he would want you to stay in London." He told me.

"The American President is the one who offered it, Mykie." I told him, "I leave in a week."

"Does Dr. Watson know?" He asked.

"He hasn't talked to me since the funeral." I told him.

Two months eariler........
221B Baker Street...............

Sherlock met me at the airport and told me all about how he broke into a high security government facility without getting arrested and how he scared the shit out of John. It wasn't untill we got back to the flat that Sher asked about my time with my brother. So, I told him the truth and told him everything that happened including the fact of James being cryptic.

"So you burn down a house." John said, surprised.

"The house of an abusive bastard." I corrected, "Anyway, that doesn't matter, what James was being so cryptic about is what matters. What does it mean?"

"And know it is going to drive you crazy until you figure it out." Sherlock said.

Two days later...........

It was dark outside and I was coming up from my flat to Sherlock's becuase I heard violin music playing but it wasn't well lit so I was confused. I stopped at the door when I heard Sherlock say, "It's just you and I tonight Sammy. Mrs Hudson is at her sister's and John is anywhere but here." I walked in to the flat the musoc was coming from an ipod, amd there were just a few candles. Sher sat in his chair bit then got up and came to me and offered his hamd to me. "Dance with me, like old times."  I took his hand with a smile. He took my waist as he still held my hand and I took his shoulder. It was a classic waltz that we haven't done since we were sixteen.

"How long?" I asked him as we danced.

"What do mean?" He asked in confusion.

"How long did you plan this?" I asked him.

"Before Baskerville." He shrugged.

"I have to say I really am surprised. You were never the type to show your emtions to people." I told him.

"Well, you're diffrent, Sammy. You know me better than I do even if we have been apart for a while." He told me as he spun me and caught me back in his arms. "You are an exception, my exception." That night was an amazing night but it almost felt like he was preparing me for something major; I decided not to question it though.

Over the next few months Sherlock might as well had became famous. He was at the top of his game. Now here we are, I sat in John's chair, John sat on the couch and Sherlock was stomping around the living room. "'Boffin.' 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes.'" Sherlock complained.

"Everybody gets one." John sighed.

"One what?" He asked.

"Tabloid nickname: ‘SuBo’; ‘Nasty Nick.’ Shouldn’t worry – Sam and I will probably get one soon." John told him.

"Page five, column six, first sentence." Sher sighed. John turns to the relevant page. Sherlock goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker, holds it up and punches it. "Why is it always the hat photograph?"