John drags us over to a café down Marylebone and we take a seat inside. Dad winces slightly as he takes a seat, his battering from John reawakening his injuries in Serbia, but otherwise unhurt. John and Mary sit opposite me and dad, the arrangement feeling not dissimilar to an interrogation. John has reacted relatively better than me, all things considered, and has calmed down considerably.
"So where have you been?" John asks me. "I called in on you last year and Mrs Hudson said she hadn't seen you since the funeral. We thought ... after ... you know..." he fades off and I pull my left sleeve down subconsciously. He thought I'd killed myself. I'm not going to tell him how close I came.
"I'm really sorry, John," I say, unable to look at him. "After it all happened, I just shut everything else out. All that mattered was avenging dad and keeping myself distracted. It never crossed my mind that you would be concerned."
John reels back as he scoffs, visibly offended. "How could you think that? After all we went through." He considers something for a moment. "You're like a daughter to me."
"Why is it I'm only able to get fathers who leave me behind at the first sight of trouble?" I say without thinking. Dad frowns and John shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It was you who left Baker Street first, not me," I point out. "You knew what I was going through and yet you left me. Clearly you didn't care that much about me."
"I couldn't stay in Baker Street," John protests. "It hurt too much."
"And you think it didn't hurt with me?" I say in disbelief. "I needed someone who I could rely on. Turns out that's neither of you." John goes to speak, but I talk over him as I turn to dad. "So go on then, how did you do it?"
"Do what?" dad asks.
"Your great master plan, the reason for all of this. You haven't told me."
"Do we have to do this now?" dad asks and I nod.
"Absolutely. I want to know how the Bart's Morgue had you down as dead when they clearly knew you weren't. I want to know how you fooled me."
Dad sighs, but nods and steeples his fingers in front of him. "When I sent you back to Baker Street, I invited Moriarty to meet me in on the roof of Bart's. But I knew from the moment I stepped out that his plan was for me to die. I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling ..."
"You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick," John interrupts.
"What?" dad says, stunned.
"I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock," John continues, tightly. "I wanna know why."
Dad looks bewildered. "Why?"
"Because Moriarty had to be stopped," I answer. John looks at me pointedly and I realise. "Oh. 'Why' as in ..." I point at him and he nods. "I see." I turn to dad again. "Yes. Why did you not bother telling us you were faking it?"
"That's a little more difficult to explain," dad says.
"I've got all night," John says darkly.
Dad clears his throat and looks down, realising whatever he says next won't go down well with us. "Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea."
"Oh, so it's your brother's plan?" John replies. I knew he was involved, but I didn't know he knew from the beginning. So first he sells dad's information to Moriarty, then mine to S.H.I.E.L.D., and then he neglects to tell me he knows dad is alive. I'm really doing well with family.
"Oh, he would have needed a confidant ..." Mary points to dad, who nods in agreement, but trails off at John's look. "Sorry." She refolds her arms and looks back down. I can't tell whether she knows that from watching crime dramas in media, or whether she knows from personal experience. There's definitely something about her which isn't adding up for me.
"But he was the only one?" I say. "The only one who knew?"
Dad closes his eyes briefly and forces the next sentence out. "Couple of others." I grit my teeth and John lowers his head. Dad speaks quickly. "It was a very elaborate plan - it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities ..."
"Who else?" I interrupt. "Who else knew?" Dad hesitates. "Who?"
"The Doctor," dad blurts.
"The Doctor?" I repeat, in disbelief. "The fucking bastard. I called him to let him know about what happened but he never replied."
"I know, he showed me," dad replies and I shake my head. "He wanted me to tell you, or even to bring you along. He was how I was getting around, but he left after dropping me in Serbia."
I sit in stunned silence for a moment as I consider that, but then my eyes widen. "So it must have been him who left the message."
"What message?" dad frowns.
"How I found you," I explain. "Anderson was tracking your movements, the little cases you were doing along the way. Each place you visited began with a letter from my Name: Shannan, Amritsar, Hamburg, Prague and Osijek. The only letter missing was the 'I' so I predicted you were heading to Ivanjica. Obviously the Doctor orchestrated the plan so that you visited each city just when the terror cells had moved there." I frown. "But that wouldn't have happened easily. How long have you been gone?"
Dad smiles, almost proud I'd figured it out. "It's barely been six months for me, but you're right: the Doctor had to time it just right so it took a lot longer."
"Nice of you to take the shorter route," John says, bitterly. "Who else?"
"Molly."
"Molly?" John repeats, angrily.
"John," Mary says softly. Of course: she must have faked his records. Moriarty had obviously forgotten about his former girlfriend allowing her to go under the radar.
"Molly Hooper - and some of my homeless network, and that's all."
"Okay," John says, sitting up a little and glancing round at Mary, who gives him a sympathetic smile, before he turns to dad again. "Okay. So just your brother, the Doctor, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps."
Dad laughs. "No! Twenty-five at most." John hurls himself across the table and aims a punch at dad's lower jaw at his response. Twenty eight people knew he faked it. John's letting him off lightly.
***
After being thrown out of the café, we relocate again to a kebab shop. John, Mary and I stand with our backs against the counter while dad takes his coat off and grimaces as he dabs his bust lip with a napkin.
"Seriously, it's not a joke?" dad says as he does, gesturing to his own top lip. John doesn't meet his gaze. "You're-you're really keeping this?"
John clears his throat and meets dad's eyes. "Yeah."
"You're sure?"
"Mary likes it."
"Mmmmmm," dad considers, "no she doesn't."
"She does," John protests.
"She doesn't," dad asserts.
John glances briefly round at Mary for backup, then does a double-take at her expression. She makes incoherent apologetic noises. "Oh!" John cries, trying to cover his moustache with his hand. "Brilliant."
"I'm sorry," Mary says quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry - I didn't know how to tell you."
"No, no, this is charming!" John says sarcastically, pointing angrily at dad. "I've really missed this!" He looks down, then takes an aggressive step towards dad and gets into his face. "One Word, Sherlock. That is all I would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive." He steps back, breathing heavily.
"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but ..." Dad says quietly, and John laughs disbelievingly, "... I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet."
"What?" John asks.
"Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag."
John steps closer again. "Oh, so this is my fault?!"
Mary laughs in disbelief. "Oh, God!"
"Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong -?" John shouts angrily, "- the only one reacting like a human being?!"
"Over-reacting," dad mutters.
"'Over-reacting'?!" John repeats, furious.
"John!" Mary says, trying to calm him down, but John continues to shout.
"'Over-reacting'. So you fake your own death ..."
"Shh!" dad tries.
"... and you waltz in 'ere large as bloody life ..."
"Shh!"
"... but I'm not supposed to have a problem with that," he continues, slightly quieter for a moment before his voice rises, "no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly OKAY THING TO DO!"
"Shut up, John!" dad shouts. "I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive!"
"Oh, so it's still a secret, is it?" John says, still shouting and me and Mary exchange a weary look. Talk about testosterone.
"Yes! It's still a secret." Dad looks around at the other customers in the shop before continuing casually. "Promise you won't tell anyone."
"Swear to God!" John responds, sarcastic and still very angry. Finally he looks round at the other customers and backs down a little, blowing out a long breath.
Dad steps closer to him and speaks quietly. "London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help."
John stares at him in amazement, then turns to throw a disbelieving look at Mary. He turns back to dad. "My help?"
I smile at John's reaction. Life was starting to bore him and it appears he is very eager to get back in the game.
Dad notices the same. "You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the three of us against the rest of the world ..."
John grabs dad by his lapels, rears his head back and then slams it forward. I wince at the crack as he makes contact.
***
Needless to say we were then thrown out of the kebab shop. Dad stands just outside the door with me and Mary as John hails a taxi, his head tilted back a little, blood running from his nose.
"I don't understand," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and holds a paper napkin underneath with the other. "I said I'm sorry. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"
"Worked for me," I shrug. "But then again, that was largely out of shock of the words coming from your mouth." Dad nudges me playfully and I grin.
"Gosh," Mary says in surprise. "You don't know anything about human nature, do you?"
Dad lowers his head and looks at her. "Mmm, nature? No. Human? ... No."
"I'll talk him round," Mary says. I look at her curiously: this is the first girlfriend of John's that actually likes us. And even more surprising, that I like as well.
"You will?"
Mary smiles confidently. "Oh yeah."
Why is she so willing to help us? I narrow my eyes as I deduce her:
Only child
Linguist
Clever
Part time nurse
Shortsighted
Guardian
Bakes own bread
Disillusioned
Cat lover
Romantic
Appendix scar
Lib Dem
Secret tattoo
Size 12
Liar
I frown at my last deduction but dismiss it. Everyone lies about something.
Mary smiles at him, then looks round as John calls to her. She gives us one last smile, then walks over to John. As they get into the taxi, we watch them drive away. Well that went well.