Horror filled silence spread through the room, and John's grip on Felicity suddenly became so tight that it was almost suffocating. Sherlock's pacing instantly stopped, his feet pointing him in the direction that faced his brother. He had to see the truth on his face to fully accept that some group of monsters was after his daughter. The confirmation in Mycroft's eyes made his heart go cold in fear. "Called the Blochados, this group is a confirmed terror cell. Their operations have involved gathering weapons from Russians and Americans, manufacturing bombs, forging money, etc. Their most recent plan was responsible for the attacks upon double-decker buses in 2005. Because we reduced our efforts to follow this cell to just observation, their renewed interest in Charley and now Felicity have come as a surprise." Mycroft informed them in a heavy tone.
"Are you absolutely sure they are after Felicity? Maybe they are unaware that Charley was killed and are just looking for him," John argued, and Mycroft grimaced.
"I wish that could be true, John. However, our surveillance picked up a report that shows with undeniable proof that the Blochados have been digging into Felicity's past. They confirmed that you and John adopted her," Mycroft told Sherlock as the detective let out something that was a mix between a hiss and a frown.
"Do you have any idea what they want to know? What they think I might know?" Felicity asked, voice hoarse. Despite all of the support around her, she was forcibly removing herself from her emotions. She couldn't bear to think that her parents had been murdered, her brother killed in a misguided attempt to keep him safe. She knew that none of this was Mycroft's fault- no one could have prevented what occurred. She had to press on, to end the threat before it grew bigger. She couldn't let her nagging terror of being hunted by a terror cell eat at her until she could react privately.
"Yes." It was Mummy who spoke up, who had remained silent for most of the exchange. As soon as she spoke, some of the tension left Mycroft, and some of Sherlock's anger seemed to deflate. In her presence, everything seemed to find some sort of order, no matter how chaotic things actually were. "Your parents had an informant who was a double agent among the Blochados. Apparently, your parents died to protect the secret of who that person was." Mummy's voice was solemn, but brisk.
"This is ridiculous! You two are expecting Felicity to remember something that happened to her parents, not to her, but to her parents when she was only five?!" John sounded like each word was torture for him to say, and he gripped Felicity tighter. Her face was still buried in John's jumper so that her face could twist with grief without anyone seeing. She was putting forth her best effort to remain emotionless, but with each second they discussed the conditions of her parent's murder, the worse she felt.
"No, John. We aren't expecting anything from Felicity because this is not her burden to bear. The Blochados are the ones who are expecting Felicity to know of this informant. As of this moment, we are unaware if their claim is true or if it is more desperate hope than reality." Mycroft replied, voice cool.
"You think they have a reason to believe that Felicity could know this person?" If Mycroft's voice was cool, Sherlock's was icy. His glare was trying to cut Mycroft to ribbons as he moved to stand behind John's chair, placing a protective arm on the back of it as he spoke.
"That depends if Felicity can answer a few questions for us." Mummy replied, her voice unexpectedly gentle. "If you remember your parents talking about anyone, if you remember a name, a face, anything, that might be our clue. You are very intelligent, Felicity, and even at five years old you may have remembered something without even realizing it."
After a moment to rearrange her expression, Felicity removed her face from John's jumper and faced Mummy and Mycroft, holding tight to John's hand. She could feel her grief building, and knew that she wouldn't be able to keep up appearances for long, but her heart still insisted that she try, for everyone's sake. Breaking down into a sobbing mess would make all of the people she loved around her feel terrible. The information they had burdened her with was just as horrible, but it was only because they wanted to protect her. "Nothing stands out; I'm sorry. Besides, my memories of the last few weeks that my parents were alive hardly exist anymore. The 'accident' made sure of that." She ended bitterly, forcibly wiping away tears.
"Maybe the only reason why they want to find Felicity is to ensure that she doesn't remember anything. Have you thought of that?" John asked, and Mycroft glanced at Mummy before replying.
"Of course we have. We looked over every scrap of information we have, trying to figure out what the Blochados want with Felicity. Our only conclusion is this- that they are still seeking the identity of their double agent. According to MI5 records, Felicity's parents were in contact with this informant often, but they never listed a name, photo, or address, to protect their anonymity. Without MI5 files to steal, this terror cell is doing everything in their power to hunt down someone who would know the informant. Their strongest lead is Felicity."
As Mycroft said 'hunt down', Sherlock noted how Felicity flinched in a barely perceptible movement, looking down towards the rug. That was the last straw for him. He and John had barely had time to breathe since returning from their wonderful honeymoon, and already things were thrown into chaos and Mycroft and Mummy were making his personal sun frightened. That would not do. "That's enough," he interjected sharply, going over and taking Felicity's hand. "If you have no more secrets that endanger my daughter's life to tell us, then we're leaving." He declared, and Felicity's grip tightened on his hand in a silent thank you.
"I must insist that you not leave the Estate," Mummy said instantly, and Sherlock scowled.
"Don't be dull- of course we're not leaving. Felicity simply needs time to be away from all of this. You cannot dump horrible information on her and then expect her to be able to give you what you want." Sherlock snapped, and for once stood up to Mummy's cool look in response to him calling her 'dull'. It was one of the few times he could get away with being even the tiniest bit rude to her. However, her cool look smoothed off her face as she glanced at Felicity, sitting pale and still on John's knee.
"Of course. Felicity- we are very sorry for this awful news- my condolences." Mummy told her softly, and Felicity barely had a chance to offer her a weak, sad smile before Sherlock was practically towing her out the door, John just behind. Once they were a few stories up, in Sherlock and John's bedroom, Sherlock released her hand only to hug her hard. Felicity, who had been expecting an interrogation, relaxed into the hug, grateful that Sherlock wasn't hounding her for answers- not yet, anyway. She knew that the identity of the double agent was key to getting this terror cell off her trail. If she could remember who they were, if that was even possible, the identity could be used to free her from the Blochados scrutiny.
"I will never let anyone, much less these 'Blochados' hurt you," Sherlock's deep voice vowed in her ear, and Felicity felt herself relax further, her fear starting to vanish. She knew that along with trying to comfort her, Sherlock was deadly serious. She knew that both he and John would go to the ends of the Earth to keep her safe.
"Besides, here, with Mycroft and Mummy and all of MI5 with us too, you are probably safer than the Queen," John reasoned, and Felicity smiled into Sherlock's shirt, knowing that he would feel it and feel better knowing that she wasn't quite as scared anymore. True to her prediction, Sherlock pulled away and smoothed her hair.
"However, Felicity, what you told me before has never been clearer to me. John and I cannot hunker down with you like cowards and expect life to be simple and safe for the next few decades. We need to face this problem head on, and that is why I must ask you to go through your mind-skyscraper to look for anything that might help us to figure out who the informant is. Alright?" Sherlock requested, looking at her face carefully for distress or fear. She knew that trying to keep a perfect face in front of Sherlock would never work, but she gave it her best effort anyway, ignoring the pang of sadness that washed through her. She had almost never gone through her childhood memories with only the intent to view them- her parents were gone and nothing was going to change that. She'd avoided those memories in an attempt to remain free from the influence of her parent's deaths.
"I understand and agree," Felicity said quietly, shooting a sad smile at John when he went to interject. Placating John would be the last step she had to take before retreating to the skyscraper. Comforting John, her human side, was almost better than comforting herself. "This has to be done sometime, John. The circumstances of my parent's deaths are unfortunate and very sad for me, but it changes nothing to the fact that they are dead. The only way to get justice for them is to do what is required of me." She told him, and John grimaced.
"I'm still worried about seeing the memories themselves- that's going to be hard for you. If it becomes too much, please stop, Felicity. I don't want this to hurt you." John insisted, placing one hand on Sherlock's shoulder and one hand on hers, her hurt shoulder from Moran's attack. That silent and unintentional reminder gave her only another reason to ignore John's advice. She would be extremely thorough in order to try to gain as much information as possible to help Mycroft's search.
"It won't," Felicity lied blatantly, but once John had gotten his point across with one last look, he didn't push her on it. Instead, he gave a military style nod and released his grip on their shoulders. Sherlock stood back up to his full height and wrapped an arm around John's waist. "I'm going to go over all of my memories now; it'll probably take a while, and I know you are dying to look at Mycroft's files more closely. By all means, go ahead. I'll be fine here," Felicity pushed, reading Sherlock like an open book. Besides, for this, she wanted to be alone- no distractions, and no one to see her fall into misery- if that were to happen. She hadn't seen these memories in ages, and she didn't know how she'd react. That scared her almost more than her current threat.
Sherlock stared at her a moment, calculating. Yes, he wanted to see the file, and badly. That aside, he had some strong words for Mycroft that neither Mummy, John, nor Felicity could ever hear him say. He didn't want to leave Felicity as she went through something so horrible and sad, but he had to- time was of the essence. "Promise that you'll come find us if you are distressed?" Sherlock bargained, and Felicity solemnly held out her hand to shake on it, making Sherlock's lip twitch with amusement. He kissed her forehead, and then John did as well before they departed with faces that were grim as soon as the door closed behind them.
"You're going to yell at Mycroft, aren't you?" John asked in an undertone as the two of them set off down the hallway. Sherlock gave a half angry and half dismissive flick of his head in reply, face a grimace. That was all the answer that John needed, and his arm shot out to stop Sherlock. "Can you just wait for a second? We need to talk about this," John insisted, and Sherlock's eyes flashed with irritation, his posture tensing.
"What is there to discuss, John?" He asked in a bored tone, starting to revert back to the stubborn, arrogant man he'd been before any of this happened. It made John's hackles raise slightly- Sherlock hadn't used that tone with him in a long time. Besides, if he was reverting to going on the offensive, his consulting detective was probably a lethal cocktail of emotions beneath the surface of his perfectly bored, superior look.
"Sherlock," John uttered softly, pity and a warning in his tone all at once. His tone made Sherlock's shoulders slump in defeat, his hand shooting up to grip John's tightly.
"We have failed as guardians, John! We first adopt Felicity and fail to notice a beating she received while at school. Then we letSebastian Moran," The name snarling off his lips, "take her, hurt her, nearly kill her. Finally, when you and I leave on honeymoon and return, we find that she was in danger the whole time we were gone!" Sherlock's voice grew more and more distressed, and John had to catch his other hand to keep him from tugging on his hair in frustration and worry.
"The world is certainly against us, but Sherlock, think rationally. There was nothing we could do to prevent that beating- you know that. Also, Moran wasn't our fault. He was a madman; he was unpredictable. You can't beat yourself up for any of that." John soothed, stroking the side of Sherlock's face, trying to soothe out the worry lines that his fingertips ran over. Sherlock deflated further, pressing his cheek to John's touch. "We need to do what we have always done- and that is move forward. Having a row with Mycroft might be satisfying, but that won't solve this any quicker." John reminded him, and Sherlock let out a slow breath, interlocking their fingers as his mind started to think in overdrive.
"You're right, John, as always," he murmured, staring at the hallway in front of him, eyes starting to glaze over as he thought frantically. He needed to strategize with Mycroft as soon as possible, not yell at him, no matter how he longed to vent his displaced anger. John smirked at him slightly, kissing the skin by Sherlock's collar.
"I don't hear that enough, but thanks," John joked humorlessly, smoothing the fabric of Sherlock's expensive shirt. "Go on, think. I'll talk to your mother," John offered, but Sherlock's grip tightened, his mercury-gaze meeting John's.
"No, John. I want you with me. You mediate Mycroft and I beautifully, and while your temper has been known to rise, mine is much quicker to ignite when it comes to working with my brother. I need you," Sherlock insisted, and a warm feeling bloomed in John's chest.
"Of course," he acquiesced, and Sherlock wasted no time in dragging him down the hall, never letting go of him for a second.