Title: Stop The Press
Author: Cait (ADDyke)
Disclaimer: The world of Sherlock Holmes was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and BBC-sponsored fanboys Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss created 'Sherlock'. I am making no money whatsoever from this.
The wonderful wit of Oscar Wilde is entirely his own.
Written in response to this prompt on the BBC Sherlock Kink Meme . ?thread=98597926#t98597926
Brilliant TV Trope summary of British newspapers if you are not familiar. /Main/BritishNewspapers
"Sir, Mr Mycroft Holmes to see you."
Lord Justice Leveson looked up from his briefing notes towards his aide standing in the doorway.
"Thank you. Send him through please."
The aide nodded and stepped aside to let him in.
"Brian. How are you?"
Leveson stood in greeting "Busy, very busy. Please, take a seat."
Mycroft Holmes cut a sombre figure these days. He was as still impeccably presented as ever, but there were subtle differences - the normal splash of colour provided by his tie now was replaced by jet black silk, tired eyes; not even an attempt at a polite smile. To those acquainted with this most unusual of gentlemen, he was now the perfect picture of grief.
The Lord Justice sat back down, curious as to what had brought his visitor from his comfortable circuit of his home, club and office - Mycroft Holmes was not generally known for making house calls. Especially not recently, not since...
"May I offer my condolences, Mycroft?" Leveson said, unsurely.
This was a recent development - people even mentioning Sherlock's death in Mycroft's presence, never mind offering any sympathy.
In the immediate aftermath of Sherlock's suicide, most of Mycroft's associates refused to even acknowledge it around him, such was the disgrace. Of course, the gossip in certain circles had been incessant and Mycroft had become a lonely figure in the corridors of power.
It was only over the past few weeks that the truth was starting to emerge, thanks to the joint enquiry by New Scotland Yard and The Court of Appeals upholding the convictions for cases Sherlock had consulted for, the work of several journalists completely discrediting 'Rich Brook' and much of The Sun's exposé, and John Watson's very public declarations. Sherlock, or at least his work, had been vindicated to a large extent. It still didn't bring his brother back, but now people were remembering that Mycroft was still grieving for him.
"Thank you." Mycroft relaxed back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Actually, my brother's death is the very reason I've come here today."
"Really?"
"Yes. I have come to request that The Sun's role in the lead-up to Sherlock Holmes' suicide be included in the scope of your Inquiry."
"Mycroft, this Inquiry is to investigate the ethics and methods used by the British Press –"
"Yes, and The Sun completely destroyed Sherlock's career and reputation through unethical journalistic practices."
"But driving him to suicide - that's a big leap, Mycroft..."
"You didn't know my brother, Brian. His career – his Work - was everything to him. I don't pretend to know everything that was going through his head that morning. I know that there were other factors at play, but..."
"You think that the article drove him over the edge?"
"Yes, I do."
Leveson let out a deep breath and nodded. After all, Mycroft had been of great assistance to him in the past.
"Send me the evidence, Mycroft. I'll look into it."
"My assistant will be touch with your office, then." Mycroft rose, leaning heavily on his umbrella as he shook Leveson's hand. "Thank you again, Brian."
"Riley!" Nigel MacGovern, The Sun's story editor, yelled across the entire newsroom. "Get your arse in here, now!"
After her exclusive on Holmes, Kitty Riley had been the golden girl, and had acted on this to such an extent that when the holes in her story were exposed by other journalists, her career managed to at least survive, despite the fact that the gold was certainly much more tarnished now.
"Shut the door behind you!" Nigel shouted, and Kitty automatically knew that this wasn't going to be a normal bollocking. Firstly Nigel preferred to rip his reporting team apart in public. Secondly a solicitor was sitting in the office as well.
Solicitors had become a common sight around the offices of News International since the Leveson Inquiry had convened. The Sun's sister Sunday paper, News Of The World, had already fallen in the wake of the revelations of phone tapping murder victims and other unscrupulous practices. The legal team was working overtime to ensure that The Sun didn't go down the same route.
"What's going on?" Kitty asked, chewing her lip nervously.
"What's fucking going on," Nigel spat, "is that we're being hauled up in front of the fucking Leveson Inquiry!"
"What for?" Kitty asked in shock.
"Your shitty work at confirming your bloody source on the Holmes story, that's what for!"
The solicitor spoke up at this point. "I need all of your research for the Holmes story, your tapes from your interview, everything."
"Am I going to lose my job?" Kitty asked, the situation suddenly hitting home.
"We could all lose our bloody jobs! This could be the worst thing to hit this paper since the fucking Hillsborough fiasco! We could all go to bloody prison!"
"It's a bit early to be talking about prison, Nigel," the solicitor said.
"Well, all I know is that I am going to be fucking reading about The fucking Sun and the fucking Leveson Inquiry in the same fucking sentence and the fucking Daily fucking Mirror is going to have a fucking field day with it!"
"Calm down! You're going to give yourself a heart attack, Nigel!" Kitty exclaimed.
"Shut up woman! What are we going do with this mess?"
As the solicitor explained the options Kitty found herself thinking, not for the first time, that if Sherlock Holmes hadn't thrown himself off that roof already she would have murdered him herself.
"...Later this afternoon, we will hear testimony from Kitty Riley, the journalist who originally broke the story that the famous private detective, Sherlock Holmes, had faked his cases - a claim recently disproven. Viewers may remember that Sherlock Holmes took his own life on the morning Riley's original article was published. This is Ama Patel for BBC News reporting from The Leveson Inquiry."
Kitty Riley studied her reflection in the mirror. A short break had been called and she had immediately hidden in the ladies'. Her testimony so far had been an absolute nightmare. The committee had been picking holes in her entire career as a journalist, and they hadn't even started on the reason she was up in front of them in the first place - the Holmes story.
She ran her wrists under the running water, trying to calm down before going back in. Suddenly she heard the click of metal on the tiled floor.
"In the old days, men had the rack. Now they have the Press..." a male voice said. "Oscar Wilde really did have something to say for every occasion."
Kitty turned, shocked, to face the intruder "Excuse me - this is the ladies' toilets!"
"I am aware of that," the besuited man said, leaning heavily on his umbrella. "I am also aware that you first met Sherlock Holmes under very similar circumstances."
Kitty stood, speechless and uncomfortable under the man's intense gaze as he continued.
"There are some differences with you now - designer skirt, expensive, this season. Hands freshly manicured... You've been doing well recently."
Kitty felt intimidated now. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Sherlock Holmes used to call me the most dangerous man you are ever likely to meet. I used to call him my little brother."
"Your brother? He had a brother?"
"I can assure you that Sherlock was more than a caricature in a silly hat and your ticket to the front page," Mycroft said. "He had a brother, he had friends - but you didn't care as long as you got your scoop."
"Look. I'm sorry for your loss, but it's not my bloody fault that Sherlock Holmes topped himself!"
"Oh, there were others involved, I know - but you are among the lowest of your profession. Jim Moriarty, sorry Rich Brook, spun you a fairytale and you bought it, you stupid little girl!"
"Hey, that was uncalled for!"
"Was it? Anyway, I believe the hearing will be restarting in five minutes."
Mycroft turned to leave, but Kitty tried to get the last word in.
"If it wasn't me then it would have been someone else who wrote that story. First rule of journalism, give the public what it wants."
"The public is wonderfully tolerant," Mycroft quoted again from the doorway, "it forgives everything expect genius."
"Tonight's top story - former editors of the News of The World, Rebekah Brooks and Andy Coulson, have been arrested in relation to the phone-hacking scandal. The Sun reporter Kitty Riley was also questioned by police today, and may also face charges..."
Mycroft read about the latest developments of the Leveson Inquiry from the comfort of his favourite armchair in the Diogenes Club. Of course, members were strictly forbidden to even acknowledge each other, but several had 'accidentally' met his eye lately and Mycroft took some comfort in that.
With every new revelation The Sun's, and especially Kitty Riley's, reputations were being destroyed - and considering what they had done to his brother, that was only fair.
The guilt over his own miscalculation with Moriarty was all-consuming and Kitty Riley's downfall was no salve for it.
But that reporter had become Moriarty's ultimate weapon against Sherlock, and Mycroft was determined that she pay for it.
"...In the wake of the collapse of The Sun, there are now bidders for The Times and The Sunday Times as Rupert Murdoch is forced to dissolve the News International group of newspapers. Murdoch is now under pressure from several MPs to completely pull out of BSkyB..."
"The Prime Minister needs to speak to you regarding to the latest intelligence from Syria - your appointment with Downing Street is at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. At noon, you have a meeting with the manager of G4S," Mycroft's assistant rattled off from her Blackberry.
"Is he any closer to sorting out this mess?" Mycroft asked, packing his briefcase for the evening.
"No. Also congratulations on bringing down the entire Murdoch media empire. A bit too much?"
"You're exaggerating. And you don't have any younger siblings, do you?"
"No."
"Then you wouldn't understand." Mycroft stood up and took his umbrella from the stand. "I will see you in the morning."
Mycroft looked out the window of his chauffeur-driven car in silence. Kitty Riley's career was in ruins, The Sun was no more, but his little brother was still dead.
A bit much? A media empire was nothing.
As he arrived at his London home, he noticed a single piece of post lying at the door.
A postcard. "Greetings from Tibet" it declared, with a picture of a mountain scene.
Mycroft's heart leapt as he turned the card over and a hope he dared not even contemplate was suddenly realised.
A short message, printed in block capitals.
DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ IN THE PAPERS.
SIGERSON.