Three weeks after Sherlock Holmes' 'suicide', four hundred thousand pounds turned up in Margot Morden's bank account. She wondered if Moran or whoever had been put in charge of hiring the band of five assassins to stalk the infamous detective was impressed with her work, because she had only been promised a quarter of that, but perhaps the others had been such failures that Margot had been the only one deemed deserving of the money. Three of them had died, after all, and the other had gone into hiding, but Margot wasn't doing anything of the sort. Her identity and backstory were so perfect that they didn't need changing, her job was finished, and Mycroft Holmes didn't suspect a thing.
The others, Margot decided, had died because of her stupidity. That's why she didn't feel bad about it potentially being their money. Moriarty had planted the five of them around Baker Street to fool Sherlock into believing that there really was a key used to break into all those banks and prisons, and he had done so by attempting to convince those five assassins that the computer keycode existed. The other four had believed it instantly, but they were thugs. Thugs who had made no effort to cover up their tracks and so were immediately spotted by Mycroft's men, but because Margot had actually put some effort and thought into her job she doubted Mycroft even knew her name. None of that mattered now though, she had only been there to kill them if they got too close to the detective, and she had done her job, so now she was leaving.
It took almost two days to walk from London to Dover, and another hour and a half to cross to Calais on the ferry, and then when she finally reached the train station with her Eurail pass, and hopped onto a train going vaguely east, Margot could relax for what felt like the first time in her sixteen years of her life. Finally she had enough money to start over, and no more ties to the criminal underworld. Moriarty was apparently dead (though part of her doubted it a little), and as far as she was aware, her final job had been successful. Perhaps now she could tweak things a little- make herself eighteen instead and do a degree? She could fake some A Levels as well, though she could definitely pass the exams if she took them. Margot was young, but she was clever. After her fucked up childhood, she would probably be dead now if she wasn't.
Ever cautious, she pulled out her laptop, doing one final full check of all of Mycroft Holmes' emails, texts and phone calls. There was still no sign of her name being mentioned. She smiled to herself.
There was one last thing she had to do. Pulling out her phone, she typed in the number she had been using to contact Sebastian Moran. She could only hope that he hadn't changed it.
Thank you for the money. I hope my work was adequate. I am now leaving the business. Please do not contact me with any more offers. -Margot
She then copied the last two sentences of this text and sent it to every single person she had worked for over the past four years, signing off with the names by which they knew her.
This newfound sense of freedom washed over Margot so quickly it felt as though she was suffocated. The adrenaline from the two day long walk was finally leaving her system and suddenly she was more tired than she had ever felt in her whole life. She couldn't fight this anymore, and she didn't need to. With her head resting on her laptop, Margot fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Margot woke up, it was dark outside, and there was no telling what country she was in. She sighed, running her fingers through her dirty blonde hair and looking down at her laptop. Much to her dismay (it was a really nice laptop), it was time to get rid of it. The longer she kept that thing the more likely her hacking was going to get caught and so, as the carriage was now completely empty and they didn't seem to be anywhere near a station, she chucked it out of the window.
Now she had that dealt with, it was time to move onto the most important thing. Food. On a train that travelled across Europe for hours at a time, she was sure to find a packet of crisps. Margot stood up, stretching her arms up and cracking her back, thankful that no one could hear the horrible noise that sounded from her spine, and headed towards the front of the train.
The next two carriages were also completely empty, and her senses, after years of spying; killing; and constantly evading death, were screaming at her to get the fuck off this train. She broke the eerie silence by desperately trying to open the locked carriage. When picking it didn't work, Margot desperately tried to pry them apart with her bare hands, but it was too late. That was when the lights went out.
Her immediate instinct was to pull out the sheathed knife from her bra. She'd left her gun back in London. It seemed like a good idea then - and it would have been, if this hadn't happened. After all, if you need a gun with you when you're trying to start a new; peaceful life, you're clearly not going to do a very good job.
But now was not the time to dwell on this. Not now someone had her pinned against the wall.
The lights turned back on, and as Margot's eyes adjusted to the light, a face she hoped never to see in the flesh comes into view.
Sebastian Moran is standing before her, and he has that usual hint of concern in his frosty blue eyes. He hates having to look at this child. He has met children before who have killed people. Not for money, like she does, but still, she is the only one who has managed to maintain a certain degree of purity and warmth. It took him a while but, under Moriarty's orders he managed to find out about Margot's past. He knew why she ended up doing what she does, and he couldn't blame her for taking this opportunity to restart her life. That's why it was so much more difficult than usual to put on his mask. The cold, hard stare of Sebastian Moran is usually enough to take the fight out of most people, but Margot Morden isn't like most people.
"What do you want from me?" She asked, almost pleading, though not out of fear. She just didn't want to have to cross yet another ridiculously large hurdle in order to live her life like a normal person.
"Boss wants to see you." He replied.
"Moriarty? Why is he so desperate that he sent twenty of his men AND his second-in-command? I told you, I'm not doing this shit anymore. Is it not obvious that I'm just trying to enjoy at least a small part of the remaining years of my childhood?"
Moriarty was bad news. Really bad news. If she went to go see him she might never come back.
Sebastian smirked. "We knew you'd put up a good fight, kid, but the Boss is willing to go to any lengths to get hold of you. So, you can come quietly and in a dignified manner, or you can start a fight you're not gonna win."
Margot smiled wanly. "Sorry, but I'm not going to make this easy for you."
She punched him directly in the nose, breaking it. As Moran stumbled backwards, the other men he had brought with him held up their guns in defence, but she wasn't worried. If they killed her they'd probably die for it. Moran dove towards her, but she turned towards him and this time punched him in the throat and then the knee. He fell to the ground and watched in awe as she unleashed hell, armed with a knife and her fists. It wasn't until he'd watched two of his men choke to death on their own blood and four others collapse unconscious that he stepped in, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back with all his strength. He twisted her around, forcing her to the floor and holding her in that position by sitting on her knees. Even now she struggled with all her might, but it was too late.
"Please, let me go. I don't want to kill anyone anymore." Margot really was pleading now, but someone had her arms pinned above her head and she could feel the familiar sensation of a needle sliding into her neck. The darkness swallowed her whole.
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