Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Never Insignificant

"How is this relevant?" John asked as we walked through the grave yard.

"I need to know I was right, then I'll be sure." Sherlock replied.

"You mean how Moriarty did it?" Mary asked.

"Yes."

"But none of that really happened, it was in your head."

"No, his investigation was in his head, the crime was exactly as he said." I told him.

"Stone's erected by a group of her friends. " Mary told us.

"Now, what do you think you'll find here?" Mycroft asked skeptically.

"I need to try!"

~~~

"Mrs. Ricoletti was buried here, but what happened to the other one? The corpse they substituted for her after the so-called suicide." Sherlock asked.

"They'd move it, of course." John answered.

"But where?"

"Not here."

"But that...that's exactly what they must have done. The conspirators had someone on the inside. They found a body just like Molly Hooper found a body for me when...Yeah, but we don't need to go into all that again, do we?"

"Probably not, yeah." I told him.

"You're not seriously gonna do this?"

"It's why we came here. I need to know."

"Spoken like an addict." John told us.

"This is important to me!'

"No, this is you needing a fix."

"John."

"Moriarty's back, we have a case. We have a real life problem, right now."

"Getting to that, it's next on the list.  Just let me do this."

"No, everyone always lets you do whatever you want, including your own bloody wife. That's how you got in this state."

"Oh, so this is my fault?" I asked.

"John Please."

"I'm not playing this time, Sherlock. Not any more. When you're ready to go to work, give me a call. I'm taking Mary home."

"You're what?"

"Mary is taking me home."

"Better."

"No, hold on a minute." I said. "You don't get to just say that this is my fault and then walk off."

"I didn't...that's not what I meant-"

"I think that's exactly what you meant, you stupid bloody idiot."

"Grace-"

"No, you shut up. This...This is not my fault. I'm doing everything that I bloody can to be supportive, and trying not to flip out, and you are certainly not helping. I am doing the best that I freaking can, so why don't you go point your finger at someone else!" Then there was a hand on my arm. It was Sherlock's.

"He is right you know." Mycroft said.

"So what if he's right? He's always right! It's boring! Will you help me?" He asked. I nodded, taking a shovel from the police officer that was watching us, along with Greg.

~~~

After hours, Greg wouldn't let me dig anymore, so Mycroft held the flashlight, while Greg and Sherlock dug and I watched. They pulled the casket up, prying it open. I saw the body, crawling with worms.