Chapter 2
Sherlock sighed heavily and then replied, "I'm feeling a strong murderous compulsion myself, but let's wait until we get to the hotel and I can get in touch with Mycroft. I'm sure he can account for all this, clear it all up, as it were."
Feeling Aoife flinch beside her at the mention of his brother's name, he stared at her in shocked surprise. She took another long staggered breath and Sherlock knew she was approaching breakpoint. Her pulse was racing and her breathing was accelerated. He opted not to discuss the issue any further until they'd settled Aoife into her hotel. Without turning her head from her fixed gaze out the car window, Aoife murmured quietly but firmly,
"let me be very clear here, I'll explain all I know of events to you Sherlock, when I get the chance to catch my breath, but I do not wish to speak to Mycroft Holmes any time soon. Any and all contact will be through my solicitor or you personally, if you are willing," and the broken quiver half way through her statement elicited another colourful expletive from a highly concerned Michael.
"Alright Aoife," Sherlock agreed, "look, we're here now, let's get in and have a nice cup of tea." That brought the tracing of a rueful smile to her lips, and then it was gone. Michael pulled the car up to the front door, hopped out and throwing the keys to the valet, he opened the car door for Aoife, his concern etched on his handsome features. As she stepped out he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his broad frame. She sighed and wrapping an arm around his waist, she gripped his hip and rested her head on his shoulder, letting him lead her into the hotel.
Sherlock was slightly ahead of them and on her other side, shielding her with his body and gesturing to the concierge. They were expecting her, and somehow, that didn't surprise her in the least. Mycroft was nothing if not thorough. He'd reserved the best suite for her and for the first time, she felt a surge of rage sweep through her. This was her hotel; the fucking cheek of him. She sucked in a breath, and as they approached the lifts, they were rushed by not one, but two photographers. Knowing she looked pale and sick, she turned her face further into Michael's wide shoulder. They got in her face as much as they could though, shouting rude questions about 'swapping Holmes brothers' until Sherlock nudged them roughly out of the way and the lift doors shut them out, leaving a stunned silence in their wake as the lift sped up to the penthouse suite.
"They were expecting us," Michael stated, incredulously. "What in the name of God is going on here?" Sherlock's lips set in a thin line but otherwise he remained silent until they'd closed the door of the penthouse suite behind them. He ushered Aoife gently to a chair and got her a glass of water. Her hand shook as she raised it to her lips and Michael cursed again. Aoife stood up suddenly, excused herself and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Michael looked at Sherlock and for once, he had no snappy answers. He lifted his phone and called Molly Hooper, leaving her a message to get there immediately because Aoife needed her. Then the two friends winced at each other because they could hear the wretched sounds of Aoife emptying the contents of her stomach in the bathroom. Michael ran his hand through his hair in distress and strode towards the bathroom door. She came out though, just as he reached it.
"Can someone ring Dr McKenzie please?" A trembling hand held a business card out towards Michael. "Can you ask him to come immediately, tell him that I'm afraid I'm losing my baby." He gasped in shock and caught her as she fell to the floor. Sherlock stared as Michael and grabbed the card as Michael carried a collapsing Aoife over to lay her on a bed. Sherlock called the doctor, who promised to be there in the next half an hour. Michael pulled off Aoife's shoes and opened her trousers button. The men took her jacket off and Sherlock tapped her very lightly on the face. "Come on now Aoife, open your eyes, you just fainted. Come on now, that's a good girl." Her eyelids fluttered and she raised a clammy hand to stall Sherlock tapping on her cheeks.
"I did not bloody faint! And did you just call me a 'good girl'? She threw him a glare, and he smothered a relieved grin. Michael gave a small splutter,
"Ah, there she is, she's back. You hang on darlin, the doctor is coming."
She nodded at him, and smiled wanly. She reached her arms out and gripped his shoulder and he climbed up onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his. Aoife finally let go, sobbing into his chest. Michael rocked her in his arms, soothing her, and widened his eyes in shock at Sherlock. He, for the want of something to do, called the concierge and demanded that the doctor and Molly Hooper be brought directly to the suite as soon as they arrived. He paced and put on the kettle and after a while Aoife quietened and Michael just continued to murmur to her, in English and in Irish, and she trembled and was quiet but silent tears poured down her cheeks and Sherlock thought they were worse than her sobs. Finally sated, she sighed deeply and pulling away from Michael, she sat up and gave her two friends a brave smile.
"You just wait, Aoife Quinn, that's a Quinn Holmes you have there, and that's the toughest it gets." Her smile got a little wider. "I hope you're right Sherlock…" she replied, glancing at the door as both Molly and the gynaecologist arrived at the same time. The two men looked at each other in undisguised relief. The cavalry had arrived. His brilliant, empathetic girl took in the situation in a split second, pulled him into a quick hug, and then ushered Sherlock and Michael towards the door.
"Leave her with me, Sherlock. You go and find Mycroft, find out what the hell that plonker has done."
Pulling the door sharply open as the two doctors approached his friend, lying so quiet and afraid on the bed, Michael hissed out, "me first" and launched, enraged, out of the room.
"Stay with her until we get back Molly, please," Sherlock called over his shoulder as he ran after his furious friend. He let Michael rant until they got into the car and he'd turned the engine and asked him where Mycroft was likely to be. He looked calmly at him.
"Let's be sensible here Michael. Mycroft worships the ground that woman walks on, so there are three possible scenarios at play here; one, Mycroft has deliberately pushed her away because of a serious threat to her due to her relationship with him. Two, she really did betray him, highly unlikely or she's the best liar I've ever seen, or three, and this is the one I'm leaning towards, someone has managed to attack my brother at his Achilles heel, as it were, and set them both up. So, as distressing as it is to see Aoife in such pain, kindly refrain from killing my brother as it is without any question that he is in as much pain as she is, especially if he knows about his child, which, by now, he does. Now, let's go to the Diogenes Club because that is where he is likely to be."
Michael stared at his friend's impassive face and shook his head in exasperation. "Jaysus, how do you do that? Now I'm almost feeling sorry for the guy." Sherlock pursed his lips contemplatively as the car pulled away from the hotel and into the London traffic.
"That's what John always says."
The two men gave a rueful laugh and then Michael sighed, heartbroken for Aoife. "Well then, lets sort this mess out Sherlock, but I do know one thing now for certain…" he allowed a little smirk as Sherlock raised an enquiring brow, "love makes fools of us all."
Sherlock laughed and then his eyes popped in delight. "Yes! Finally! I am the smart one!"
Michael glared at him. "Inappropriate, Sherlock."
"Yep. John always says that too." Michael rolled his eyes to the sky and mentioned God again. Ater a few minutes of contemplative silence, Sherlock looked sideways at him.
"You were good with her there, Michael, when she was upset. You knew what to say and when to say nothing."
"She's my family, Sherlock. I love her."
He nodded in response.
"Well, she's carrying my family now, and I…think she's very special too." Michael laughed at his inept friend.
"She loves you too, Sherlock."
In his private room in the Diogenes Club, Mycroft Holmes took the A5 brown manila envelope from his senior agent and then waved him out of the room. He waited until the door closed and took a swig from his second glass of whiskey before opening it. He knew that it contained the pendant he'd given Aoife but he was almost afraid to have his suspicions on the other contents of the other small envelope confirmed.
With shaking hands, he opened it and stared in horror at the sonography photograph with Aoife's name on the top, time stamped and dated for 10:00am that very morning. His hands flew to his face and he drew a deep breath. Every conviction he had of Aoife's guilt flew out the window. She'd been hiding something alright, but what if it was this, and only this? 'Oh Christ,' he groaned, 'what have I done?" He grabbed frantically for his phone and turned it back on. He needed Sherlock first, and then he needed to see Aoife.
Molly called Sherlock just as the car pulled up outside the front door of the club. "How is she Molly?"
"Oh Sherlock, she's fine, the baby's fine. It was just a bit of 'spotting,' perfectly normal. She just panicked a bit because she'd already had a shock." Sherlock expelled the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding and smiled broadly at Michael, who muttered a relieved "thank Christ" under his breath.
"She wants to talk to you, she says, fill you in properly on her version of events."
"That's fine, Molly, I want to talk to her too. She needs to rest a while now though. Don't let her leave, if you can manage that. Tell her I'm coming back to interview her. That'll keep her there. Can you stay with her until Michael and I get back please?"
"Umm, of course." Molly lowered her voice to a whisper. "Mycroft just tried to call her, and she declined it and blocked him. Now she's crying again." Sherlock sighed.
"Molly, if I ever show any signs of behaving like a total ass, you have my full permission to slap me."
Molly giggled, in the way he loved, into his ear.
"Oh Sherlock, I couldn't possibly do that. You'd be permanently marked."
He spluttered an indignant laugh and growled into the phone, "you, woman, will pay for that later," He soaked up her little gasp and then hung up the phone, ignoring Michael's exaggerated eye-rolling. Lighter now, both of them, they trotted up the steps and into the lobby, where a white faced Mycroft Holmes was pacing and waiting for them.
"Why was Dr McKensy seeing Aoife at the Connacht, Sherlock? Is she ok?
Sherlock took his brother's arm and led him none too gently towards his private room. "She's fine, she just had a scare. Mycroft, let's discuss this in private."
Mycroft sighed in relief and ushering them into the room, he closed the door firmly. He looked at Michael, grim faced, "you have my full permission to punch me in the face."
"Believe me mate, if I feel you deserve it, I won't need your fucking permission." Sherlock tutted at the two of them.
"This is not getting us anywhere, now just sit down, both of you, and Mycroft, why don't you start telling us why you eviscerated the woman you love on the morning she found out she as the mother of your child?"
Mycroft flinched, and silently nodded his head. The three men sat down at a small conference table. Mycroft opened his briefcase and swallowed a pained breath as Aoife's diamond pendant glistened up at him. He lifted it and slipped it into his inside pocket. Then he took out a folder, and his infamous laptop, switching it on. He met the curious gazes of his brother and the Irish detective.
"let me start with what I know, but first Sherlock, I want to hire you personally, to find out who's behind this. I thought I did know, and in a knee jerk, emotive reaction, I 'eviscerated the woman I love,' but now, I no longer believe that and I want to find the bastard who did this to us."
"I can't take your case, Mycroft," he raised a finger at his brother, who had started to protest, "I can't, because Aoife has already hired me to achieve the same outcome; to clear her name. Hardly the reaction of a devious, scheming and victorious industrial spy, now is it?"
Mycroft buried his face in his hands again. "No, it is not. Nor was her reaction to my accusations when I watched it back just now."
Michael leaned his whole body forward towards Mycroft and his face was flushed. "You filmed it?" Mycroft flushed with shame. "The camera on my front door filmed it." It took Michael a second but then he leapt to his feet and reaching across the table, he lifted Mycroft out of his chair by his lapels. "You locked her out of the house!"
"Go ahead and punch me Michael. Believe me, I know I deserve it." Sherlock sighed and pulled the two men apart.
"For God's sake stop! Sit down, both of you. I don't have time for this, and Aoife certainly deserves better." The two men froze instantly and dropped back in their seats.
"Thank you. Mycroft, start at the beginning and leave nothing out."
Michael sat back far in his seat and crossed his arms on his chest, glaring at Mycroft. Sherlock turned to him directly.
"Michael, I'll hear him out myself, but I need you to start gathering intelligence from the Irish side right now though. Find out about every member of their team negotiating for the Google tender." He frowned and looked at Mycroft. "Wait a damn minute, aren't they already in Dublin for bloody years?" Mycroft and Michael nodded simultaneously.
"Yes, but they need to expand and the lease is up on the building they are currently occupying."
Sherlock laughed.
"They're playing both sides. For God sake Mycroft, the staff are settled there for years, they have mortgages, children in schools, lives there, did we really think, what with ya know…, Brexit, and the Irish corporate tax rate at only 12%, that Google would even consider moving from Dublin?"
"No, not really." He responded.
"So the tender was just bait?"
"No, definitely not! We decided it was worth a shot."
He pulled a sheet out of the file and handed it to Michael.
"That's the list of names on the Irish Government side, I don't believe that any of them are involved, not knowingly anyway. They're mainly just senior civil servants. But check lifestyle changes or unusual bank balances. I would appreciate it, however, if you could also assist me in getting intelligence on the board members of Oisin Holdings." Michael stared at him with narrowed eyes.
"You suspect one of them?"
"I do, one or more. There's been 'pressure' on Aoife of late to float her company on the stock market. She, quite wisely, refuses to do so. They weathered the tide during Ireland's economic collapse because they were not exposed to the stock market, and the vulture capitalists that prey on vulnerable companies. Aoife intends to keep it in the family, but not everyone is happy about it. Board members would gain millions if they floated the company. Her moving her own centre of interest away from Dublin, to London, may have weakened her position. While the cat's away, kind of thing."
She'd exposed herself for him, and he'd slapped it back in her face. Michael bit back his initial insulting response. Hell, the guy was hurting enough as it was. So he just nodded and agreed to get on the next flight back to Dublin. He stood up to leave and looked hard at Mycroft.
"Do you want her back?"
Mycroft locked eyes with him and nodded his head determinedly.
"More than my next breath. Just tell me how?"
Michael laughed harshly but as he turned to leave he relented and smiled pityingly at him.
"You do what men in love have had to do since we crawled out of the cave. You grovel," and he closed the door loudly behind him.
