She was told to forget London.
She was told to forget the Consulting Detective and his arch nemesis.
She was told to help with the benefit concert.
She did what she was told.
She did what she thought was right.
She ignored the texts.
She ignored the phone calls.
She ignored the stupid Skype ring tone when it woke her up at night.
She forgot the Reichenbach case.
She forgot reading it in the paper.
She forgot her father being impressed.
She forgot her mother glaring when he brings it up at dinner.
She forgot her Nema knocking at her bedroom door after she calmly left the table.
She was told to forget.
She helped with the benefit concert.
She performed in it.
She sang Hallelujah.
She received a standing ovation.
She forgot.
She forgot until she saw that stupid deerstalker on the Yahoo! homepage when she went to check her email.
And then she forgot.
She forgot until she booked that ticket to Heathrow.
And then she forgot.
She forgot until she stepped into the London air.
And then she forgot.
She forgot until she received a text saying "Welcome home, Annie-belle."
And then she forgot.
She forgot until she reached Baker Street as the boys were rushing to the Tower of London.
And then she remembered.
She always wanted to see the crown jewels.
Tower of London
"That glass is tougher than anything," Lestrade says as they watch Moriarty, Jim that is, break through the bulletproof glass case containing the crown jewels.
"Not stronger than crystallized carbon," Sherlock remarks. "He used a diamond."
Anabeth chuckles beneath her breath as Lestrade reverses the tape and changes the angle. "That bastard," she says amusedly. "That crazy bastard actually did it."
The video is paused right before Jim breaks the glass. His message of "Get Sherlock" clear as day.
Central Criminal Court
Anabeth sat beside John at the trail. On the side closest to the defendant. There was symbolism there.
It was bound to happen. Sherlock could only be civil for so long. And frankly it was longer than she figured.
221b Baker Street
"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville," John says as the three of them step into the lounge. "Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in. No one knows how, or why."
YOU ARE READING
Why Fireflies Flash
Fanfiction“Have you slept with everyone in London?” Quinn blinked at the bluntness of Sherlock's question. “I have not slept with you, now have I?”
