This is my first Sherlock fanfic, and I hope I'll do the show and characters justice! The idea for the story came to me when I was asleep, funnily enough, and also by browsing Sherlock x Molly fan art.
But anyways, I hope you all enjoy it! I don't own Sherlock or the characters from the show; they belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.
It was a cold and dreary evening in London. Near the centre of the city, Big Ben struck 8pm, the eight chimes echoing across the evening sky. The rain splashed heavily against the pavement, as though the clouds had been pierced and were leaking all the water they stored out on anyone unfortunate to be out in the cold at the time. All seemed quiet in the city as the people went about their business.
Well, except for the famous 'consulting detective' Sherlock Holmes.
He stood in his flat at 221B Baker Street, lost in thought inside his 'mind palace' thinking about a case he was working on, his train of thought going over the details like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. The only sound he could hear, or rather was allowing his ears to hear, was the sound of him playing on his violin, playing one of his many melodies to help him think.
SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER...
Earlier that morning, his older brother Mycroft had called for him to see him in his office. "Official business, so make sure you're on time. And do make sure you're wearing clothes, brother of mine." he'd explained in his secretive ways. He occupied a minor role in the British Government; yet to Sherlock, Mycroft Holmes was the British Government.
No sooner had Mycroft finished calling him, Sherlock was taken by car to his office, escorted by some men in suits; something Sherlock had now become quite used to whenever Mycroft had a problem he couldn't solve by himself. Awaiting him was his best friend John Watson. He had recently become a father, his wife Mary having given birth to a baby girl. Sherlock noticed right away the dark circles under John's eyes. "You seem more tired than usual." Sherlock observed.
"Yeah, well, apparently babies think that in order to get some sleep, both Mummy and Daddy need to be awake as well." John replied, seeming to be slightly moodier than usual. He stifled a yawn as the two men were led to Mycroft's office.
"Good to see you again, boys." Mycroft's assistant Anthea smiled as they walked by. Sherlock noticed she was busy with her phone, as she seemed to always be.
"You should cut down visiting those gossip sites; they're nothing but useless and unimportant news." Sherlock replied, deducing her from a single glance. He was definitely in a bad mood this morning.
John rolled his eyes, but gave Anthea a friendly nod. "Sherlock, what's going on? Why does your brother want to see us at this time of morning? He should've realised that taking care of my wife and baby daughter are my main concerns now." he asked quietly.
"Perhaps he has an itch that he can't seem to scratch with his umbrella." Sherlock muttered, causing the two men to grin, trying their hardest to stifle their laughter.
They were led inside Mycroft's office and directed to their seats. "Ah, I'm glad you got here on time. And at such short notice too." Mycroft beamed at his guests, holding a brown file in his left hand. In his other hand, he held his trademark umbrella.
Sherlock sighed with contempt with his brother's 'welcome'. "Mycroft, you know I hate rude awakenings, especially when I should be asleep at this time of morning. Now what could possibly warrant me being awoken at 6 o'clock in the morning?" he asked impatiently. He clearly didn't enjoy being here and certainly had more important things to do than clean up the messes his older brother and the government made.
"I'm sure you remember the case involving the Black Lotus Tong?" Mycroft began, showing his brother the contents of the file. Sherlock leaned over to have a closer look, the cogs and gears of his mind starting to click as he looked over each of the details.
John sat up at the mention of the Black Lotus Tong. It was a name he recognised all too well. "I remember them; they're the ones who thought I was Sherlock and tried to kill me!" he realised. "I thought they'd escaped back to China?" he asked, with a look of confusion on his face.
"I thought you would. It seems that they're back in London, only this time with a different motive." Mycroft replied, sitting at his desk. "As I'm sure you remember, the Black Lotus Tong were at one time involved with Moriarty and had tried to smuggle Ancient Chinese artefacts into London. However, it seemed that one of two English smugglers they'd employed had betrayed them, which led to them eliminating both of them." he continued, recounting the main details of the case.
"But why have they come back now?" John asked. He looked more worried than confused now, especially at the thought that his family could be in serious danger.
"Ah, that's where you and my brother come in." Mycroft answered, handing him a small leaflet. "The British Museum will be hosting an event to mark the Chinese New Year with an exhibition of Chinese artefacts as the main headliner. We've received word that the Black Lotus Tong are after you two." he began.
"Let me guess; they're still angry that I shut down their little smuggling scheme and now want to come after myself and John to have revenge?" Sherlock interrupted, raising his head from reading the file.
"Well, to put it bluntly; yes." Mycroft nodded.
"Oh...Boring!" Sherlock replied in a sing-song voice.
"Sherlock, this is serious! Mary and the baby could be in danger! If the Black Lotus Tong finds out that I have a wife and daughter, they'll come after them too!" John exclaimed furiously.
"Oh relax, they'll be fine. They probably think you're with that woman they kidnapped with you...Sadie?" Sherlock answered calmly.
"Sarah." John corrected him.
"Right, that one." Sherlock nodded. "Mycroft, if they were really after me, they would've done it a lot sooner, don't you think?" he added, casting an unamused glance to his brother.
"There's a new leader in charge here, and she's not playing any games. We have reason to believe that she could be as dangerous as Moriarty, perhaps more." Mycroft answered.
Sherlock sat back with a serious expression on his face. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.
"There's someone more dangerous than Moriarty? That can't be possible, can it?" John asked.
"Her name is General Lien. She's become well known in China for her sadistic personality. They call her the Daughter of Red, due to her red lipstick...and love of blood." Mycroft explained as he handed them a file showing details of a young Chinese woman with a photo included.
John looked over the file. "How did she get to the top of the gang?" he asked.
"There were rumours that she is the daughter of someone higher up in the gang who died and thus their title was passed to her. Others say she earned the role of leadership by seducing men higher up in the gang and having them promise her their power." Mycroft replied.
"Do you think she's here in London, right now?" John asked. He was looking over to Sherlock, who was engrossed in the file Mycroft had just given them.
"We can't say for sure, but the Chinese government has begun shipping out artefacts to London for the exhibit. There have also been several murders committed by the Black Lotus in China, and we have reason to believe that General Lien may plan to commit more while she's in London in order to draw you out." Mycroft replied.
Sherlock snapped the file shut. "Well, that's just part of the fun with serial killers, isn't it?" he grinned, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "John, get your coat." he began. He swiftly took to his feet, pulling on his own coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck.
"Uh, where're you going?" John called, unsure of what was happening.
"Oh, didn't you know? The game, John, is on!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaving Mycroft's office.
8PM, 221B BAKER STREET
Sherlock played his violin, thinking over every piece of detail, when his thoughts were interrupted by his landlady Mrs. Hudson calling for him; "Sherlock, there's someone at the door!"
"Tell them I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a case!" Sherlock answered back with irritation in his voice. Turning back to his violin, he resumed playing when there was a loud knock on the flat's front door. "Mrs. Hudson, I thought I told you I was-!" he yelled, opening the door. He stopped when he saw who was there in front of him: "Molly." he blinked, an uncharacteristic expression of surprise registering on his face.
The pathologist looked like she'd been out in the rain for quite some time; her brown hair was sticking to her wet skin, her clothes were completely drenched with rain and she was shivering. But what stood out most to Sherlock was the redness of her eyes. It looked like something had made her cry, and it seemed like she'd come quite a distance to see him. "I-I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but I-I really need to talk to someone." she stammered, her voice sounding like she was about to cry again.
Sherlock felt his stomach knot. Part of him wanted to pass this off as part of the weakness that was sentimentality, but the other side of him felt like he owed it to her that he listen to her problems. After all, she'd been so much help to him, she deserved at least some spare minutes of his time. "Who's hurt you?" he asked gently, instinctively knowing that Molly wouldn't be crying without a reason.
Molly burst into fresh tears, practically throwing herself onto Sherlock. "I-I don't know why-" she began, getting choked up with her words through her tears.
Sherlock surprised himself by wrapping his arms around Molly's quivering form. "Mrs. Hudson, put the kettle on. We need some tea." he called, his voice now in a soft tone.