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Five Months Later; January 2016

  People were bustling through Heathrow airport, checking their bags, showing and receiving their tickets, and making sure everything was in proper arrangement for their travels. The clock on Elizabeth Tower (which many people still call Big Ben) struck through the noise of the crowd, signalling a new hour had arrived. And on this hour came the arrival of a flight from Atlanta, tires screeching on the tarmac as they slowed down on the cold pavement below. On this flight, amidst all the other one hundred or so passengers, was a young woman of twenty-two years of age. She had dyed copper hair, gunmetal blue eyes (which many found interesting), was about five-foot-five or so in height, and about an average weight, somewhere around 130.
  The young woman waited at the baggage claim until she saw her olive green and crimson red suitcases pass by, picking each up with an arm and leading them to customs. Upon being scanned for non-existent weapons, she handed the receptionist her passport, who eyed her suspiciously.
  “I wouldn’t worry,” the young woman reassured, her Received Pronounciation top notch, “My mind is sane.”
  Nodding, the receptionist handed the passport back and said, “Welcome back to London.”
  “Thank you. It’s good to be home.”

  Mycroft Holmes woke up to the screeching of his phone ringing, which annoyed him to great lengths. Glancing at the clock, he groaned and answered the phone, his tone tired and irked.
  “Do you realize it’s four o’clock in the bloody morning?” Mycroft scolded the person on the other line, “Why on earth are you…?”
  Upon hearing what the other person had to say, Mycroft was instantly alert and sitting up, sleep no longer an issue. He stood up from his bed and stretched, then responded, “Yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for this development.”
  Ending the call, Mycroft sighed, then headed towards his bathroom (which also had a suit of armor in it) to take an early morning shower. This was going to be one hell of a morning.

  “So, how are things going?” Eurus Holmes asked her brother, both sitting on either side of the glass, playing a game of tic-tac-toe with some glass paint. She had recovered well in the five months since her game ended and was now on better terms with Sherlock, even managing to start talking to him two months earlier.
  “Well,” Sherlock replied, placing an “x” in a corner, “John and Rosie are doing fine, Mrs. Hudson still vacuums to Iron Maiden, and Greg is getting better at being a Detective Inspector.”
  “Nothing on Molly Hooper?” Eurus placed an “o” in the center of the board.
  “Molly’s well. We made up five months ago and we’re doing fine.” He placed an “x” on the top row, then motioned for Eurus to go.
  “And, there’s nothing else to report on?” Eurus continued to inquire as she placed one final “o” in a square then crossed a line through it. She smirked as Sherlock shrugged in defeat, then began to clean her side of the glass.
  “Nothing, Eurus.”
  “That’s a lie, Sherlock. Remember what I said then? Emotional context. You care for her. Always have and always will. But how do you love her?”
  Standing up, Sherlock said, “I’m done talking about it, Eurus. My time’s almost up.”
  Eurus also stood and said, “You can’t hide from it forever, brother. I heard you when you said you loved her. That tone was that of realization. The man you used to be is gone. Don’t become what you once were.”
  “My life is mine, Eurus. Don’t tell me how to live it.”
  “I’m not trying to, Sherlock. All I’m saying is that it would be best for you to two to talk it out and see where you stand.”
  “Are you trying to manipulate me into admitting how I’m feeling for Molly?”
  “Hard habit to break.” Eurus shrugged, “Just think about it, Sherlock. You told me that you two had made up, but it sounds like words have still gone unsaid. Believe me, there are things I want to say to people from the past, but that may never happen. They’ll never know how sorry I am. No more hiding, brother. It’s time for your heart to take center stage. Let it be your guide.”
  Sherlock scoffed, but in a slightly humored way, “Are you my conscience now?”
  “I don’t exactly have a tux and umbrella, so no.”
  Continuing to smile as he put on his Belstaff, Sherlock said, “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I’ll bring some cards next time.”
  “You need to teach me that waltz you played once. It was pretty.”
  Sherlock stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tense. He shuddered a breath before replying, “It was for John’s late wife, Mary. She died protecting me from a traitor.”
  “Horrible. See you in two weeks, Sherlock.”
  “See you in two weeks. Behave.”
  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Are you certain of this, Mycroft?” Lady Smallwood asked as she and Mycroft stood in his office, looking over security footage on his laptop, “Why would they call you if there’s no real threat posed.”
  “We cannot take any chances, Alicia,” Mycroft answered, shutting his computer, “We know what happened last time.”
  “Of course, but wait before you do something drastic. Wait until a move is made then do what you do best.”
  “Just what is it that I do best, Lady Smallwood?”
  “Be Mycroft Holmes.”

  “You know, Rosie’s turning one tomorrow,” John mentioned to Sherlock that evening once he’d returned to Baker Street, “Mrs. H and I were planning a small party for her. Just a little get together.”
  “Hmm,” Sherlock responded, obviously not interested, despite the subject being about his goddaughter, “I still don’t understand why people have to celebrate their child turning another year older. Pointless, if you ask me.”
  “Some people do that to spoil their kids. I am not one of those parents. This is just a small get together with some cake, ice cream, biscuits, and champagne. Nothing more than that.”
  “I’m alright with that. This is Rosie, after all.”
  “Very well.” John got up from his chair and stretched his back, “I’ll let Mrs. Hudson know. Might as well get some champagne tomorrow morning. That and Rosie’s out of apple juice.”
  A smirk appeared on Sherlock’s face as he looked through his contacts and found Molly’s number. For a brief moment, he debated on whether or not to text her, but decided against it. He had almost lost her due to sentiment once, he wasn’t about to put her in that position again.
  “Molly’s going to be bringing the cake,” John passed along, putting his coat on, “It’s a homemade strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting.”
  “You should stop, John,” Sherlock advised, “I can see you drooling.”
  “Don’t pretend that doesn’t sound appetizing to you. You’ve talked about Molly’s cooking before and how good it is. For a pathologist, she’s a bloody good cook.”
  “That is a fact I will not deny.”
  “Speaking of Molly, she’s been a little upset lately. Know why that is?”
  “Most likely because I’m keeping a distance.”
  John sighed and ran his hand through his hair, exasperated, “Sherlock Holmes, you told Molly Hooper you love her and smashed the coffin meant for her in an emotional rage. That night, you sobbed yourself to sleep on her couch apologizing to her for that damn phone call. After all that, how can you just distance yourself from her. You love her, dammit.”
  “And loving her will get her killed. I’m not putting her in that kind of danger again.”
  Chortling, John responded, “So, in order to protect her, you’re staying away from her?”
  “That’s right.”
  “Five months. Five long months you’ve been doing that to her. Doesn’t she deserve better treatment from you?” Realization hit John, “Or, maybe, you’re doing this on purpose to see if she’ll stay? That’s got to be it. You clot! Why are you putting her through this again?!”
  “To try and tell her she deserves better than me!” Sherlock swiftly stood and towered over John, “Somehow, she’s not getting the damn message! Eurus is already getting onto me about her, so don’t you start too!”
  John stiffened, twitching his face a little, “And that, Sherlock Holmes, lets me know you love her. You love Molly so much that you want her to only see your faults and not that you have the heart and capacity to love. It terrifies you.”
  “She deserves better than a high-functioning sociopath.”
  “No. Molly deserves you, the best you that you can be. She could care less if you’re an ass from time to time or if you get carried away in a case. That’s who you are in her eyes. Don’t be an ass, Sherlock Holmes, especially to Molly Hooper. Whether you like it or not, she is the love of your life. Mary taught me to treasure the ones you love. Take that to heart, for once.”
  Having said what he needed to say, John turned and headed down 221B’s seventeen steps and out into the cold, winter night. Sherlock sighed and went to sit back down in his chair, slouching in frustration. This was why he hadn’t tried to pursue a relationship with Molly. He knew everyone would pester him about them just because he told her he loved her.
  It was true, nonetheless. Sherlock did love her and he would admit that any day, but what he didn’t want to admit was that, when it came to relationships, he was weak and helpless. Picking up his phone, he opened his messenger to type out a quick, simple text to Molly, not regretting sending it to her: “Have a good night. I love you. SH”
  Moments later, he got Molly’s response, which made him smile, “You know me. I’ll be up till the dead of night. Good night. Love you. Molly”

  At the Brown’s Hotel, the young woman sat in one of the restaurants, mainly The Albemarle, waiting on her guest to arrive. She was sipping a small glass of white wine while she waited, hoping her acquaintance would show up soon. There were pressing matters to attend to. Moments later, a woman with blonde hair and striking gray eyes sat down across from her, a smirk as wide as the English Channel on her face.
  “I see you’ve changed quite a bit,” she commented, then nodded to the younger woman’s left hand, “That says so.”
  “That’s now why I called you here, Irene,” the young woman retorted, “I’m here on very urgent business that needs closure as soon as possible.”
  “Oh? And what would that be?”
  Irene’s face went pale instantaneously, “You can’t be serious? That bitch?”
  “There’s a rumor on the wind, Irene, that she’s changing. Sherlock Holmes is having a hand in her rehabilitation. I need you to pull every string you have to try and find Eurus. Past issues have come back and they need to be settled quickly.”
  “Does this mean I get to play with Sherlock Holmes again?”
  “He’s taken, Irene. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
  “No, he’s still single. I have a few close friends, mainly Kate, keep a secret eye on him. But a woman does come and go from Baker Street often.”
  “That would be Sherlock Holmes’ girlfriend. It’s a secret relationship.”
  “Like I said, no. Sherlock Holmes is single and I plan to use that to my advantage. Once I get to Baker Street, I can…”
  “I’ll deal with Sherlock Holmes. Besides, I have a case for him that needs to be told.”
  “A case? What case could you possibly have?”
  “This case is quite personal to me, Irene. If I told you, you’d never believe it.”
  “Bring it on.”
  Her expression serious, the young woman leaned in so that she could whisper to Irene, “It’s Jim.”
  “Jim Moriarty?” Irene asked, surprised.
  Shushing Irene down to a whisper, the young woman nodded in confirmation, “Yes. He’s still got one last trick up his sleeve, I know it. Sherlock Holmes is a fool to think Jim’s dead for good.”
  “What are you going to do?”
  “Tell him about my case and the concerns I have.”
  “He may not be interested.”
  “Irene, when it comes to Jim Moriarty, Sherlock can’t resist. That’s his weakness. He loves the thrill of the chase.”
  “As do I.”
  “That aside, he won’t be able to turn down my case. I’ll speak to him tomorrow. Just do everything you can to get information. I’m counting on you, Irene.”
  Standing up, Irene said, “I suppose I should call Kate and tell her to get my things ready. The Woman is back in London and, this time, I’m not going down without a battle.”
Sherlock: The End of the Beginning 1
Chapter One starts off where I think the montage is currently in the BBC's timeline, which is when Rosie is about a year old or so. At least, that's how she appeared to me at the end of "The Final Problem". Not sure if season 4 takes place entirely in 2015, but I'm going to assume it does. If not...oopsie. ^_^ Hope you enjoy! 

Sherlock (c) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC
I own nothing except for original characters featured in the story
All Sherlock Holmes could do was let out a sigh of relief. It was over...everything was finally over. His sister, Eurus, had agreed to help save John Watson before it was too late and was now being escorted back to Sherrinford prison. Mentally, Sherlock made a vow to visit Eurus a little more from now on, seeing as it was him that caused his younger sister to become what she did. If she wanted, he would play his violin for her, just to make her happy.
  “So, what are we going to do now?” John asked, still shivering underneath the blanket he was wrapped in.
  “Go home,” Sherlock answered, “but I need to do something first.”
  “What’s that?”
  “I have to pay someone a visit.”

  Molly Hooper heard knocking on her door, waking her from an emotionally-induced slumber. The previous day really hadn’t been a good one. First, she learned she had to do an autopsy on a child, then had to fill out insane amounts of paperwork, but the icing on Sherlock’s birthday cake was that she got two unwanted calls that day, one of which turned her world and heart upside down. Frankly, since they came one right after the other, Molly remained very upset after Sherlock’s call, but still drank her tea and managed to calm down slightly, all while crying her eyes out at Sherlock’s words.
  Walking over to the door, Molly contemplated what she would tell Sherlock the next time they met, if they did. She had been able to deduce that Sherlock hadn’t been lying when he told her he loved her, but in what context didn’t matter. All that did was that he acknowledged she mattered to him and he loved her in his own way. Those thoughts would have to wait, unfortunately, as she had a guest at her door. Why, though? It was almost four o’clock in the morning.
  Unlocking the door, Molly opened it and her eyes widened upon seeing a rather drained Sherlock. He glanced at her and smiled very slightly, hoping that she would be willing to talk so early. Right now, they both needed closure and badly.
  “Is there a reason you’re here so early, Sherlock?” Molly asked, trying not to sound so nervous, “Something wrong?”
  To Molly’s shock, Sherlock didn’t answer her, but, instead, pulled her to him and held her tight to his chest. She could hear his heavy breathing, almost like he was ready to crack, and feel his hands grip her arms, not wanting to let go. A moment later, she felt something wet touch the crook of her neck, but was quick to realize the source of the watery feeling was Sherlock. Gently pushing herself away a bit, Molly looked at Sherlock and was a little surprised to find he was, in fact, shedding tears. Reaching up with her hand, she wiped away his tears and made him look her in the eyes.
  “Sherlock, tell me what’s wrong,” Molly calmly demanded, knowing she deserved some answers as to his behavior.
  “Molly,” Sherlock choked out, “I...I am so sorry. I never wanted for you to…”
  “You’re a little hysterical. Come on, let’s go sit down.” Molly pulled Sherlock into her flat, shut the door and locked it, then led Sherlock into her sitting room, both sitting down on her sofa, “Now, what’s this all about?”
  “I promise, it wasn’t my idea to call you,” Sherlock explained, having calmed a little on the journey to the sofa, “My sister, Eurus…”
  “A sister? You have a sister?”
  “Was a shock to me, too. She shot John with a tranquilizer when she revealed herself to him.”
  “Not exactly the best choice of therapist.”
  “Or person to text cheat on Mary with.”
  “Never mind that last one. My point is, she was forcing me to hurt you by having you tell me you love me. She...had a coffin made for you. If I didn’t comply, you would die...or so I was told. That entire phone call was just to get me to hurt you by using your feeling for me against me.” A stray tear fell from Sherlock’s eyes, “I hurt you and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
  Molly touched Sherlock’s face, staring into his blue-gray eyes with her own chestnut eyes. She could see the pain and sorrow in Sherlock’s face, but it was when she touched his hands and felt the torn skin and dried blood on his knuckles that Molly completely understood what had transpired.
  “Listen to me, Sherlock Holmes,” she commanded, “I know that your sister caused you so much pain in hurting me, but I can tell there’s more than that. You caused yourself pain over me and that’s not something I want you to do.”
  “Maybe I did because I don’t deserve you!” Sherlock screamed, surprising Molly once again.
  “Don’t you think I should have a say in that? You know what? You’re probably right. I do deserve better, but you’re the man my heart chose.”
  “Molly, don’t let your heart rule your head. Eurus got into mine that way. For a moment, I thought that...that…”
  “That I would die.” Molly sighed, “Well, I’m still here, aren’t I? Even though your sister forced you to rip my heart out and stomp on it, I’m still here. What does that say about me?”
  “That you’re an idiot?” Sherlock joked.
  “No. It means that, despite that phone call, I’m not going anywhere, especially in your state. This could possibly be a danger night.”
  “The past twenty-four bloody hours have been a danger night. Eurus murdered five innocent people just to play a game. It was a game to get my attention, the attention of her older brother whose love she needed.”
  “Poor her. What did she do that made her think like that?”
  “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re safe. Not only that, we have a chance to mend what’s left of our friendship.”
  “Is there anything to mend, Sherlock?”
  “Of course there is! Molly, I thought I was going to lose you today and we had our hearts torn out and thrown in our faces! Had I known, I would have never…”
  Sherlock never got the chance to finish the sentence because, for the second time in twelve hours, his heart took over and tears dropped from his eyes. Molly carefully placed her hands around Sherlock and pulled him towards her, letting his face be buried into her shoulder.
  “Everything’s going to be okay, Sherlock,” she said, hoping that would calm him.
  “It’s not okay,” Sherlock sobbed.
  “No.” Molly placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s temple, “But it is what it is.”
Sherlock: The End of the Beginning - Prologue
Been a while since I posted anything here. Sherlock season 4 just wrapped up and I wanted to do my version of what happens during the time-frame of the montage. Hope you like it. 

Sherlock Holmes has just started to repair his life after his sister, Eurus, nearly destroys it with her games. With the appearance of an old acquaintance of Eurus' and one last game Jim Moriarty has set up, things begin to get complicated rather quickly. From a possible chance at a future with Molly Hooper to surviving Moriarty's final game, can Sherlock Holmes and John Watson bring the game to an end once and for all or will they go up in flames? 

Sherlock (c) BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle  
I own none of the characters featured in this story except for original characters 


Laken Aebi
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a college student who loves to draw and write. My main focus is now my own original works, but some fan fics will be thrown into the mix. I'm a fan of the CW series "Supernatural" and a recent fan of BBC One's "Sherlock".

Favourite genre of music: Braodway, Soundtrack, Symphonic Metal
Favourite style of art: anime
MP3 player of choice: Ipod Nano
Favourite cartoon character: That's a good one. Don't really know anymore.
Personal Quote: "I've heard of a gillyflower, but I don't know what it is."
   Hey, peeps. As the title suggests, I am heavily considering leaving, mainly because only my "Spirited Away" deviations get some form of recognition. To me, this is severely irritating, as I have many other stories out there; but I think the main reason might be that my interests have changed over the 3-4 years I've been on DA. I'm no longer an anime person and have moved on to writing my own original work as of late instead of fan fiction. 
   However, this doesn't mean that I am shutting my page down. I am thinking of removing my stories and posting them on in 2015. My pictures and artwork will remain, mainly because of the prize art/stories I've done over the years. I will finish up any remaining prize art/stories I need to complete before leaving, just so I can get that out of the way. 
   So, if I do decide to leave, then I'll send out a farewell journal post and post the prizes I owe as my final deviations before going on the indefinite hiatus. Thanks for all the faves, comments, all the laughs, and the good memories. It's really because of you guys that my writing and artistic skills have improved. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. 

This is :iconnekalibea: signing off at 7:23 p.m. EST 


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Light-He-arth Featured By Owner May 8, 2016
Happy Birthday.
NekalIbea Featured By Owner May 8, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much! ^_^ 
Light-He-arth Featured By Owner May 8, 2016
You're welcome.
Light-He-arth Featured By Owner May 8, 2015
Happy Birthday.
NekalIbea Featured By Owner May 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! 
Light-He-arth Featured By Owner May 9, 2015
You're welcome.
Jimplayer Featured By Owner May 8, 2015  Student Artist
HAPPY BIRTHDAYAPH Prussia tackle hug 
NekalIbea Featured By Owner May 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! Love the gif. 
RiverSpirit22 Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2012  Student Writer
you've beeeeeeen tagggggedd :D :D :D
NekalIbea Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Dammit. I just might skip this one because college is wrapping up. For once, I'm saying screw the rules. Sorry, I'm just really tired.
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