Chapter 1: After the End.
The sky was dark. Considering it was the middle of January, and it was eleven o'clock at night, that was hardly surprising. Still, the streets were teeming with drunken students in tiny skirts and designer jeans; there was no way that the January weather in Manchester was going to get in the way of everyone having good time.
But whilst everyone else was going out and having fun in the typical, inane, normal way, one student in particular was on her way home. The clubs weren't exactly Violet Sherringford's scene, though this evening she'd happily accepted an invitation to the Student Union for the weekly Pub Quiz. Her team, the randomly named: 'Rhubarb and Cucumber Sandwiches on Helium with a hint of Mint' hadn't won. They weren't too cut-up about it; they were just glad not to have come last. That would have been pathetic.
So, after a night filled with two Shandies, a circle of raucous mates and a cocky quizmaster, without having to deal with loud gunshots, gruesome experiments and childish exclamations of "I'm bored", Violet was ready to go home and get some work done. The only thing about being a world-class Hacker was the fact that it was like bringing up children: it was a full time occupation, and just when you thought you'd cleaned up one mess, another one had already been made.
Such was the turn of Violet's thoughts as she came to a quiet, little house in a quiet, little street a few miles from the City Centre. Pulling out her keys, she decided that, much as she loathed to admit it, she wished her shared flat was big enough to house all the craziness of shootings, deductions and feet in the washing machine; the house was simply too quiet and suburban. But she kept her thoughts to herself as she shoved her way through the front door and switched the light on. Her housemates had hated him and had insisted that she get rid of him as soon as possible.
She'd had no real choice but to oblige.
She made her way up the stairs to her room and unlocked the door. She flicked on the light switch, kicked her shoes of and sat down at her desk. Addressing the mess of coursework, microphones, scanners, cables and computers, Moira asked: "Have you been good while I was out?" She pretended that they replied and crooned softly: "You are good to me," before putting on her headset and logging on.
She had to admit, she wasn't entirely surprised when she received a panicked message reading:
Dracula Medusa: I need you over here, now. The Doctor's getting impatient, and you know what he's like when he gets like that. He refuses to listen to me-I had to walk out before he could deduce my questionable daily activities in front of Jervis, again.
"Sherlock, you really are a pain in the arse." Violet sighed before replying to the message:
Medusa Dracula: I'll be there in twenty minutes. I'm very sorry, I did tell him that telling your butler which porn movies you preferred was not…comme-il-faut.
Alright, so that particular episode had been incredibly amusing, but Count Frederick Oliver Pearce, Earl of Stockport and Hacker extraordinaire, never mind one of Violet's closest friends, hadn't seen the funny side so much as threatened to hand Sherlock into the authorities.
After that debacle in the first week of Sherlock and 'Dracula' living together in the latter's luxury pad, things had gotten better, though only because they'd taken charge of opposite wings of the mansion. Violet still couldn't believe how lucky she was to have met the aristocratic Hacker and fellow Sherlock-sympathiser.
As Violet left the house and made her way to the bus stop, she couldn't help but think about the last two years: two years ago, Sherlock Holmes, the disgraced 'Consulting Detective' had plunged from the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital in London after his name was smeared in the press by Richard Brooks, an actor who was supposedly paid by Sherlock Holmes to play the villainous James Moriarty.
The night bus arrived, all lit up and almost empty but for a middle aged hippy with greying dreadlocks held back by a fraying, green bandana. Violet flashed her bus pass at the driver before claiming a seat and taking up a tattered copy of today's newspaper.
She'd done a similar thing two years ago; picked up a paper on the bus and read the public's scorn and condemnation for Sherlock Holmes: Show-Off Holmes Kidnaps Children and Kills Old Ladies.
She'd never met the man, but she was furious on his behalf. She knew that he and Moriarty were real; she'd been hiding out in the dark alleys and sewers of the internet enough to know.
She and her Hacking associates had been watching Moriarty and the British Government doing the tango for a long, long time. The only thing was that Hackers didn't usually want to do anything about it. They were Hackers. What they did was illegal. As far as world leaders were concerned, they were worse than bombers. Bombers simply killed and spread terror. Hackers spread information and had the means to bring the world to its knees. Hacking was a dangerous occupation.
Only, this time, Violet had resolved that enough was enough. When Sherlock Holmes leapt from the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London, she spread the word: #IBelieveInSherlockHolmes and charged others to do the same. Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr had never seen the like. Of course, this wasn't reflective of public opinion; being able to manufacture trends and digital viruses was child's play to the seasoned Violet Sherringford.
Gradually, others had taken up the challenge of dragging the name of Sherlock Holmes out of the dirt; there was now a fully functioning underground movement of 'Sherlockians' (which, admittedly was made up mostly of conspiracy theorists who thought that Elvis was still alive and the Moon Landing was faked). 'Dracula', 'Serenity269', 'Dumbledore', 'Starbuck' and 'Medusa' were but a few of the names actively playing the great game, quietly and anonymously blackmailing members of government, newspaper editors and certain members of Scotland Yard into allowing the 'Holmesgate Scandal'-as it was now being called-to die down.
In the meantime, Sherlock had been out of the country, hunting down what was left of Moriarty's Criminal Network. Two months ago, he'd arrived back at Heathrow Airport, looking bruised and tanned and had informed Violet that the last of it had gone to ground and probably wouldn't be found.
So, all that was left to do was to reinsert Sherlock Holmes back into society. It was by no means an impossible task-oh no-simply rather complicated and extremely difficult. The plan included:
Having Kitty Riley dropped from her newspaper for her use of 'questionable sources',
Blackmailing Scotland Yard's Superintendent into suspending Sergeants Donovan and Anderson for misconduct (Violet wouldn't call herself 'vindictive' precisely…but that was what she was) and
Hacking into the computer of a certain Mycroft Holmes, which was no mean feat, to write him a word document consisting of the words:
"Dear Mr Holmes,
I know it'll be rather difficult for you, but do try not to screw up, this time. Honestly, who would be stupid enough to give their brother's personal information to a mentally ill criminal mastermind?
Yours,
Medusa"
But the process was achingly slow and Sherlock was beginning to get bored, according to 'Dracula's SOS message and a bored Sherlock was not something to be willingly endured. So, why she was on a bus at about midnight, she had no idea.
Author's Note: The Soundtrack for this chapter is: 'Dark Horse' by Kidneythieves.
I'm going to say, before this goes any further, that I don't know the first thing about hacking, and I'm both sorry and glad that I'll undoubtedly get things wrong with regards to the intricacies and hierarchies of hacking. Sorry, because the subject is cool and it's a shame to misrepresent it. Glad, because if I did represent it properly, then I'd: 1. Be handing out secrets, which would be stupid, and 2. Probably be arrested because they think I'm a Hacker who has defrauded someone at some point…ah well.
Also, I think I should point out, just in case there's any confusion, that 'The Doctor' refers to Sherlock. I just felt like being a smartarse; both 'Sherlock' and 'Doctor Who' are linked by the brilliant Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss, who, by the way, own 'Sherlock' and all characters therein-so, no copyright infringement intended. I only own Moira and all the other Hackers.
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