1
It was 25th December. Janine stood waiting for a taxi as snow trickled down past her. She was going home after an office party. In fact she had left early. There was no particular reason for it. In reality, her new job was actually great. She worked for a London newspaper as a financial journalist. It was different than her previous job for Magnussen where she was busy for 24 hours which was accompanied by the torture of Magnussen. She used to carry her work and the tension accompanying it home. However, her current job was contradictory. Her colleagues seemed to be normal and extremely professional, not some trained assassins. She worked at the office only up to the restricted timings. If necessary she would wait a little longer. Otherwise, she went home without any work on her mind.
Magnussen had left an undeniable print on her however his assassination had relieved her of his torture. But she entered a new torture zone which was her own bringing. Sherlock Holmes. He did kill Magnussen which was great but she had fallen irrevocably in love with him. The feeling was not even mutual between them. However, the fact that he had used her never diminished her love and care for him. She was surprised and angry with herself. He had been sent into exile for six months by the British Government. Actually, she never saw him after Magnussen's death. Her pride stopped her from seeing his face again but her yearning was impractical. She had cut herself from all her friends and lived in isolation to get her over the fuss which was never going to help her.
Janine hailed her cab and got in. Her phone started buzzing. The number seemed to be unknown. She picked up the call, "Hello?"
"Is this Janine Hawkins?" A pleasant voice of a woman boomed on the other side.
"Yes."
"Ms. Hawkins, I am speaking on behalf of Mr. Mycroft Holmes. He would like to meet you tomorrow at 10 a.m. at his office."
"Mycroft Homes? What for?" Janine felt a pang. Head of MI6 wanted to meet her!
"Apparently, I am in no position to reveal any details. I just want to fix the appointment." The woman answered politely.
"I understand. I will be there." Janine spoke with some hesitation. She did not want anything to do with anyone that would drag her back to Sherlock. Why would Mycroft want to meet with her? There was no reason besides Sherlock.
"Thank you and Merry Christmas." Janine heard a click. Janine could only wonder.
Janine walked into Mycroft's office. A BMW had been sent to pick her up. Everything about this man gave out the idea that he was posh, powerful and expensive. His office was filled with expensive wooden furniture and vintage show pieces. As Janine waited, Mycroft Holmes walked in with complete ease and confidence with a hint of amusement on his face. They exchanged the regular greetings and Mycroft directly arrived at the main point.
"Ms. Hawkins! How nice to see you again." After Magnussen had died, Janine had tried to meet Sherlock and find out about his whereabouts. This brought attention of Mycroft Holmes to Janine and then they had met once since. This was their second rendezvous.
"Hello Mr. Holmes. I was quite surprised when your secretary called me." Janine replied.
"Yes, about that. Something really, should I say, important has come up." Mycroft's face turned serious.
"If this is to do with your brother, I am going to walk out this second." Janine's voice took a stern tone.
"Obviously! Why would I call you down here?" Mycroft smiled sarcastically.
"Well, whatever it is, I have a big no for you."
"Ms. Hawkins, please would you hear me out. It's a request."
Janine shrugged. She felt like her heart was replaced by complete emptiness.
"As I told you before, Sherlock had been sent in exile. Well, it was a lie."
"This isn't shocking. There always has been a surprise element and lying to Sherlock's personality." Janine grimaced. Her journalistic instincts were right about it.
"Well, he is MY little brother. I won't really reveal his whereabouts to you right now. Sherlock has been given an assignment by the British Government. And in order to complete it, he needs your help."
"Sherlock is supposed to be in exile for murdering a man instead he is solving crimes assigned to him by the British Government. How ironic! He was right. You are the British Government, Mike." Janine observed how Mycroft flinched at the utter of 'Mike'. "Why does he need my help? He is the great detective in the funny hat!"
"I am in no position to answer your questions until and unless you answer mine." Mycroft answered cleverly.
"Well, my answer is clearly no" Janine looked with slight indignation at Mycroft.
"Do not make haste, Ms. Hawkins." He looked her in the eye, "I know that Sherlock's treatment was lousy but this is purely professional and you will be paid a considerable fees which I think is greater than your savings."
"Why me? You could hire anyone else for the task." Janine questioned.
"We saw that you have considerable potential to complete the task. Now, take a day off and think about it. The details of your task will be revealed if you grace us with your presence."
"But I have no incentive in this." Janine pushed in order to find more about the task at hand.
"Oh but you do, Ms. Hawkins. Sherlock Holmes and a million pounds."
"Sherlock Holmes?" Janine raised her eyebrows.
"He was your ex-fiancé" Mycroft smiled.
Janine rolled her eyes. She assured Mycroft that she will let him know her decision the next day itself as she did not want the torture to linger. Janine took a day off as suggested and thought about Sherlock. Seeing him again would be delightful as well as painful. Janine went home and changed into her pajamas. She sat staring at the wall clock in her living room. Why did Sherlock need me? What was the task about? God, was she willing to leave her job and her normal life for the man she despised? Or the man she loved? Janine toyed with the idea whole night but she could not decide. Finally, she decided that she would go. No matter how cunning, cruel, manipulative Sherlock was, she would go. The thought of seeing him again delighted her more. Also, having a million pounds in her bank account would be advantageous. The cottage at Sussex Downs and a million pounds in her account would set her for life.
Janine had decided to use her maternity leave. This left many people in the dilemma as to whose child she was bearing. It also provided a good cover for her secret work. She was called by Mycroft who briefed about the situation. Sherlock was in Norsjo, Sweden. He was helping a retired British Diplomat of considerable importance who was settled in Sweden to solve a case.
"Is this even initiated by the Government?" Janine questioned.
"Ms. Hawkins, when Magnussen died, the number of people who cheered the assassination was more than those who mourned it. It would be unfair to punish the assassin. But since, we cannot defy the laws of our country, we had to lie. That is why, we sent Sherlock away in order to comply with the situation." Mycroft explained.
"What about Moriarty?" Janine asked undecidedly.
"I believe that is confidential." Mycroft gave a wry smile.
Janine arrived at the Stockholm airport. She struggled with her bags as she stepped out of the airport. She had practically brought her wardrobe with her. It was snowing heavily and she had wrapped herself in a warm scarf and a long jacket. She was waiting for a man called Gunnar Leighton. Just then a Ford arrived and a man with grey hair stepped out from the driver's side.
"Janine Hawkins?" He asked with a heavy Swedish accent. He wore a long black coat and heavy boots. He had small grey eyes and a rather translucent skin. He seemed to be in his late fifties.
"Yes and you must be Gunnar Leighton." Janine shivered.
"Yes. Welcome to Sweden Ms. Hawkins." Gunnar smiled. They got into the car at once. Janine observed that even though it was noon; there was no sign of the sun. It was snowing heavily, more than it snowed in London. However, the street was hustling with people on both sides but there was no traffic.
Gunnar Leighton was a man of few words because of his language barrier. He told her that he volunteered to pick her up for Mr. Holmes. He told her that Sherlock was helping Anna Peacock, the retired British Diplomat. He also told her that he was Anna Peacock's son-in-law. It was a four hour drive to Norsjo and it was almost 4:30 by the time they entered the quaint town. It was snowing there as well and the night had already settled upon the town. As Gunnar drove, Janine observed the humongous trees that lined the street along the white landscape and tall mountains. Janine's heart quickened at the thought of seeing Sherlock again but she kept herself composed in front of Gunnar. They passed the town and then in fifteen minutes, they arrived at a small gate which was held by two stone pillars. On one of the pillars there stood a silver colored stag which was now covered with snow. Below the statuette, the words Leighton House, 1958 were inscribed. Once inside, there was barren land with no plantation which stretched up to a frozen lake. A stone house stood some distance away from the lake. Janine could see small lights flickering at the house. Gunnar explained to her that he owned a hotel in town which specialized in European cuisine. He also mentioned that the house was built by his forefathers and hence, has been passed on to him. Janine could also see a form standing in front of the house. It was none other than Sherlock.
Janine took a deep breath as Gunnar stopped the car. He got down and opened the door for her. A gush of cold wind surprised her. She stepped out with her eyes on the ground, trying to look away from Sherlock. Gunnar spoke cheerfully to Sherlock in Swedish. Finally, Sherlock spoke up.
"Hello Janine." His heavy voice wished her.
"Hello Sherlock." Janine could feel tears in her eyes. She could see he looked elegant as always with his coat and all. His face however seemed paler than usual and his cheeks were a bit flushed due to the cold. A moment of silence passed between them when finally Gunnar interrupted.
"Ms. Hawkins, Mr. Holmes will accompany you to your cottage, your bags will be delivered by one of our servants to your house. Welcome to the Leighton House. If you need anything, please let me know. Both of you are invited for dinner by Anna." Gunnar smiled at her. Janine thanked him hysterically. After he had left, Janine turned towards Sherlock. He smiled at her.
"Nice to see you, Janine. Let's get you inside before you freeze to death. The cottage is hardly ten minutes away." Sherlock pointed at the lump of trees behind the house. Janine followed him. They entered the coniferous woods. The way to the cottage was small rough path where hardly two people could walk. As Janine walked behind Sherlock, she maintained her distance and held back her tears.
"I shouldn't say this but I am quite happy to see you. In spite of what you did to me." Janine managed to speak.
Sherlock smiled without replying. Janine continued to talk, "What did you tell these people about me?"
"I told them you were my fiancé." Sherlock replied.
"What?" Janine stopped in her tracks. The snowfall seemed to grow heavier with each moment, "God! I hate you."
"Aren't you?" Sherlock asked.
"I never accepted your proposal."
"Of course you accepted it. You wouldn't have let me in to Magnussen's office if you did not want to accept it."
Janine rolled her eyes, "Whatever Sherlock!"
"Technically, you never broke it off either." Sherlock looked at her. Janine squinted at him. They continued walking when a small stone cottage came in to sight. It had a small porch protruding on which a small table with two accompanying chairs were set up. A heavy wooden door stood at the centre with two huge windows on each side. Sherlock opened the locked door and invited her inside. A cozy living room welcomed Janine. The fireplace had already been lit above which hung an artistic mirror. There was a brown sofa sat in front of the fire. Many old and faded paintings hung on each wall of the room. On the opposite wall, a flat screen television broke off the monopoly of the old artistic furniture. A bookshelf held itself while various books sat on the shelves.
"Neat!" Janine exclaimed as she took of her coat.
Sherlock gave her a tour of the small cottage. One way of the living room led to the kitchen which was the same size as the living room. The kitchen gave way to a room which was library and an office. . A heavy wooden table stood on the side which was covered by various papers and books along with a laptop. All the walls were covered with bookshelves. This office was two way as it led one back to the living room. Another door of the living room led to the bedroom with attached washroom.
"One of us will have to sleep on the sofa." Janine smiled at Sherlock.
"I don't sleep much anyway." Sherlock smirked.
Janine took a warm shower where she cried silently analyzing her feelings. Then she changed into warm pajamas and put on two sweaters. She applied a lot of moisturizer as her skin had already started cracking. She wrapped a small blanket around herself and walked into the living room. Sherlock had served hot coffee with cake.
Janine ate silently and then curled on the sofa, "What is this case about?"
"Anna Peacock is a retired British diplomat. She moved in with her daughter Mackenzie Leighton some five years ago. During the first year, she used to visit the local library daily where she became good friends with a woman Elena Brannuland. According to Mrs. Peacock, they met every day at the library and bonded over coffee. Elena Brannuland stayed at the local old age home. She had a son called Zackary living in the same town. However, according to Elena, she could not get along with her daughter in law due to which she had moved out. Elena used to often talk about her grandson Tuck very fondly. But last year, it so happened that Elena Brannuland was found dead in a cottage outside town. Her body was found beside some voodoo, black magic stuff. Mrs. Peacock then came to know, that Elena Brannuland did not exist in the town records. She did not live at the old age home. She did not have a family either. Zackary did exist but he wasn't married, nor did he have a son called Tuck. But Elena had showed Anna Peacock a picture of Tuck in which she herself was posing with Tuck. She had kept the photograph in a library book. Our task is to find out that one particular book." Sherlock could see that Janine was fast asleep already and that she hadn't heard anything. Her dark curls had slipped out of her ponytail and she breathed silently on the sofa. It was just six. There was still time for dinner.
Janine has put on a full sleeved brown dress with stockings. She put on long golden earrings to go along. Sherlock was dressed as usual. He made her wear their engagement ring. They put on their heavy coats and trudged their way to the Leighton House. They were greeted by a pregnant lady who was introduced by Sherlock as Mackenzie Leighton. She was a tall lady in her forties with sandy hair and aquiline nose. She wasn't very pleased to see Sherlock but smiled as soon as she saw Janine. They headed straight to the dining room. An elegant old lady sat at the head of the long mahogany table that Janine recognized as Anna Peacock. Gunnar Leighton took the place beside her. A teenage girl sat opposite him.
"Hello Mr. Holmes and this must be your fiancée Ms. Hawkins. Take your seats, make yourselves comfortable." Anna Peacock welcomed both of them. Sherlock put on his best fake smile and looked at Janine with a hint of sarcasm in his eyes. Mackenzie introduced the teenager as her daughter Meghan who was supposedly studying business administration in Stockholm. The dinner was a delicious one with fried cottage cheese and corn soup as hors de oeuvres and roasted turkey and wine as main course.
"So, Janine what do think about Sweden?" Mackenzie asked.
"It's beautiful and quiet. But I am used to the noise and crowds of London." Janine answered.
"Mr. Holmes, I have to say, Ms. Hawkins is quite a catch. It is good you invited her over here, a man cannot survive in Norsjo without company." Anna interrupted. Unlike Gunnar and Mackenzie, Anna spoke fluent English.
"Thank you." Sherlock smiled, fake smiled.
"So how long have you known each other?" Anna pestered Sherlock. Janine could see irritation clouding over his face.
"A year." Sherlock answered. Janine took a deep breath and looked at the ring. A month.
None of them talked about the case and after the dessert of White Cheese Cake with wine, Sherlock and Janine quickly retreated to their cottage.
"That's the last time I am having dinner with them." Sherlock stated irritatingly.
"They seemed to be nice." Janine smirked.
"Janine, I need to say something. I am sorry for I did. To you." Sherlock stood at the door of the bedroom.
"Are you Sherlock?" Janine folded her hands, "Or is it just another effort to comply with human errors?"
"I am sorry. I went too far with it. But I needed to do what I did." Sherlock looked Janine's face. He could see that she was furious.
"Look. Real people have feelings which you term as human error. Feelings matter a lot. You cannot play with feelings because they are delicate and once mishandled, it destroys people." Janine could feel tears on the verge of spilling, "I loved you, Sherlock. I never believed in it but I thought about you in everything I did. I cared about you; maybe it was too soon but so what. And that day when you proposed, I thought maybe life was not that bad. But you were just doing your job and I was stupid enough to fall for your trap. In the end, it made me look stupid. I was just a pawn controlled by Magnussen on one side, with you on the other. I was just another stupid person for you."
"But I killed Magnussen for you." Sherlock interrupted.
"For me? Did you even think about me in this game? I still know that you are hiding the identity of the person who was in Magnussen's office that day, I have no idea who it is or as to why you are hiding it? You shot Magnussen for someone else. But here I am, halfway across the country to just look at you because I still love you. And you know what hurts the most? The fact that you won't understand how I feel or that you won't reciprocate." Janine could feel tears down her cheeks. She shut the door in Sherlock's face. She cried all night without bothering to change her clothes.
