Chapter Text
Ghosts
Authors: Kessie
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, Sally, Mycroft. John, Anthea, Lestrade, OCs
Rating: PG 13 I think
Status: still writing
Warnings: butchering of old Christmas classics.
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, ACD, Moffat and Gatiss. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: "Christmas? Sentimental humbug!" Sherlock thought.
"Damn it Sherlock! This is my flat as well, so I can bloody have a Christmas party if I want to. And I will. That´s the end of it!" John shouted, and with that he took his jacket and left for a walk to "cool off" like he said.
Sherlock just sighed. Why his flatmate insisted on these stupid traditions he would never understand. Christmas had been invented by the church anyway to manipulate the masses. Not to mention that father Christmas in his red attire had been produced by a beverage company for god´s sake. Yet most of the people still clung to these artificial figures and traditions as if they posed some kind of life line.
Sentimental humbug!
The rest of the day saw John not speaking to him until he left to meet his sister Harry for Christmas Eve.
"I wish you a nice Christmas Eve anyway, even if you don´t believe in it." John told him and then he was off, leaving Sherlock alone for the evening. With Mrs. Hudson gone at her sisters in Brighton, he had the whole house to himself now and he was glad about it.
So what if the idiots would celebrate this stupid festivity? He would make sure he did something useful with his time instead. With John gone for the evening until tomorrow he finally could get some important experiments done in peace.
He probably was the only one doing something useful on this day anyway.
With that thought he set to work. Finally, at a few minutes after eleven, he had everything set up. The experiment would need some time to work now and just in about an hour he got see the results. Satisfied with his work he sat down on the sofa.
#
Only as he woke up did he realize that he must have fallen asleep. Cursing himself for being so careless, even though he knew he hadn´t slept the last two nights due to a case, he was about to get up and check the experiment when he noticed that there was someone in the room with him. He shook his head, now he had been even more careless than he´d thought. Feigning sleep, Sherlock was just about to search for something which he could use as a weapon as the person, who was sitting in John´s chair spoke, making him freeze altogether.
"Hello Sherlock."
He shivered. No that couldn´t be, could it?
"Granny?" he pressed, then shook his head. "No, you´re dead." He closed his eyes and opened them again, but the person that looked exactly like Beth Holmes, was still there, no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes to take her away. "So you´re a dream. Or a nightmare. Probably due the fumes of the benzol I used in the latest..."
The woman, who looked like his granny, had gotten up now and was standing in front of him. "No, `m neither. I´m here to help you. And I`m the first of three, who are coming to visit you, Sherlock." She told him sternly.
But Sherlock wouldn´t have any of it. "An illusion then. Just like.."
The woman scowled at him and put her hands at her hips, just like she had done all those years ago when he done something bad as a little boy. "Sherlock!" she warned, and to his own surprise he sat still immediately and looked at her.
"Why is it always so hard to get you to listen?" She sighed, and then sat down next to him on the sofa. "I´m here to help you, as there is still a chance that you can be saved. But you have to listen, you hear me? The universe has been trying to tell you something for a while now, but you keep ignoring it."
Sherlock was stubborn though, and if she was surprised at his defiance she didn´t show it.
"I don´t need to be saved. I´m perfectly fine. What I need is to check my experiment and you need to leave me alone."
But before he could get up, she grabbed his hand. There was a white flash of light and only a moment later they were somewhere else altogether, which made Sherlock stop in his tracks once again.
"How is this possible?" he inquired, looking down the street which they were on now. Not only was there full light outside, it was snowing with full force now. "This is not Baker Street! Where are we? What?" He shook his head, paced a few steps and stopped again. "This is a dream. I simply have to wake up." More pacing before he was stopped by Beth´s arm.
"Sherlock!"
But the man continued to shake his head and ignore her. "How can I wake up? Maybe when I … ow!"
The pinch had hurt and he was rubbing his cheek now. "Do you think I could do this if this was a dream?"
"I.." A sigh. He tried to pinch himself, which led to more pain in his hand. "I don´t know. But where are we? And why are we here?"
Granny Beth just smiled. "You´ll see soon enough."
#
The small dark haired boy seemed completely determined when he looked around, only to then take the phone carefully. He started dialing, but never stopped looking behind himself, even as the call went through.
"I want to talk to Mycroft Holmes." The small voice inquired, and only a few moments later, the brother was put on the line.
"Sherlock, you know you shouldn´t call. You are distracting me. What if father finds out?" The older brother announced, but the smaller one didn´t seem to care.
"It´s Christmas, Mycroft. Happy Christmas, Mycroft!" he crooned and Mycroft sighed at the other end of the line.
"Happy Christmas to you, too, Sherlock. And I miss you as well, you know that. But you have to understand that I have to concentrate on my studies..."
It was this moment when a noise behind the little boy announced that someone had entered the room. And this someone, a man in his late forties, well dressed and impeccable in his behaviours and manners, was not amused.
"Sherlock!" he thundered, ripping the phone from the small boy´s hands. "What have I told you about distracting your brother?"
The small boy said nothing and didn´t even react to the slap that followed.
"Go to your room!" the man ordered and little Sherlock did as he was told.
It was not like he had a choice.
#
The older Sherlock had been puzzled at first, but recognised the scene immediately.
"Why did you bring me here?" he inquired. "I really didn´t need to see this again." He shook his head, reminding himself he had been a silly little child back then. He had known nothing of the world.
"Just watch and see." Beth told him, and there was another flash before Sherlock could even answer.
#
This time the brown haired boy was older. Sherlock guessed he had to be about fifteen or something like that, but it was hard to determine as lots of his teen year`s Christmasses had been similar. He had made it to Oxford at fifteen, so this was the earliest year possible.
The teen Sherlock was engrossed in a book, as suddenly the door opened and another boy, this one slightly older, close to nineteen, entered the room. Sherlock vaguely remembered he had been called Tom, but had probably deleted the last name. But that was all right as this boy wasn´t important anyway. From what he remembered of him he never would have amounted to much.
Nevertheless, said boy walked into the liberary and saw teen Sherlock sitting at the table.
"Oh, hi. I forgot to bring back a book." Tom explained, and put said book back at the shelf where it belonged, before turning to Sherlock again.
"So when are you leaving? What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked, obviously trying to make small talk, but earning only a glare from the other boy.
"I´ll be studying. As you should be as well, as you are close to failing physics." he declared and stuck his nose back into the books. "Go away!" he grumbled a second later when Tom was still there and then said boy was finally hurrying out of the room.
"Idiot." the older Sherlock announced and turned to Beth again, who was still watching with him. "So what exactly did you want to show me?"
Beth sighed. "Of course you wouldn´t see it. I should have known." Taking Sherlock by the hand she led him closer to his still-studying younger self.
Even though Sherlock now knew that the boy couldn´t see or hear them, he still felt weird watching himself like this.
"Do you think he is doing the right thing?" Beth asked. "Do you think your father did the right thing in the first scene, keeping you and Mycroft apart at Christmas of all times?"
Sherlock huffed. "Of course. I might not have seen it at 8, but here when I was at Oxford I knew he had done the right thing! Christmas is a sentimental waste of time and you know that. Without giving into such stupid urges I had more time for studying and became the first in my class."
Beth sighed again. "Yet it made you an outsider."
"So what? Being a genius makes me an outsider to begin with. I at least used all my resources. Its not like I was interested in the company of the other idiots anyway."
The old woman smiled at her grandson. "And that´s where you are lying. You would have loved to be with them. To belong. Yet you never tried because you were told not to."
"Your assumptions are completley unfounded. I was quite happy on my own." Sherlock countered quite harshly but Beth just shook her head.
"And the drugs you took were just for science, I know."
It was clear that Sherlock was now put off as he simply turned around and tried to leave the room. But as he went out of the room through the hallway door, he found himself in the same liberary once again.
"I know, Sherlock. You tried so hard to make your father happy. You wanted to be perfect for your mom and Mycroft didn´t know any better himself. But it was the wrong way. Remember when we celebrated Christmas together? That was never a waste of time, was it?"
Sherlock was ignoring her now, all but looking for an exit as Beth laid a hand on her grandson's shoulder. "I wished I could have changed it. Who knew that my death at Christmas would make your father so bitter that he wouldn´t let you and your brother celebrate it again? But I couldn´t have prevented it Sherlock. Nobody can, when their time has come."
Another flash and they were back at Baker Street.
Sherlock still looked skeptically at everything while his grandmother took the opportunity to embrace her grandson, which strangely he let happen even though he had no idea why " Listen to me Sherlock. You have been given the rare opportunity for a second chance. Use it. Learn and watch. The way you are going through life right now is the wrong way. You have to open yourself."
The grandson ignored her words though, leaving the old woman to sigh as she grew more and more transperent. "I´m sorry Sherlock. I have to say goodbye now. Take care of yourself, will you? And listen, there will be two more ghosts, showing the present and the future. Listen to them, will you? Please..." She didn´t get any further as she was gone.
Sherlock continued to stare at the place where she had stood for a few moments, but then shook his head. What a weird dream that had been.
Whatever. He really needed to check on his experiment no