THE DIOGENES CLUB

Very little ever surprised Mycroft Holmes. But the sight of his wayward younger brother, Doctor Hooper, along with a stray they'd clearly collected making their way towards him, certainly qualified as one of those rare occasions.

Getting to his feet he led them to the only area in The Diogenes Club where speaking was allowed, the Visitors Room.

THE DIOGENES CLUB – VISITORS ROOM

No sooner had the heavy wooden door closed than a barrage of barbs punctuated the air.

Mycroft began with a dismissive gesture, indicating the unfortunate Wiggins. "Still collecting waifs and strays I see."

"Still gaining weight," came back the immediate retort.

"Still using?"

Billy quickly found the petty squabbling between the two brothers annoying, especially since there were clearly far more important issues at stake, if the little that had been hinted at was any judge to go by.

"So, anyone gonna bother to explain?" he asked, his question reminding the two brothers that there were others present. Satisfied that he had their full attention, Billy added with a nod towards Molly. "That's why we're here, in it?"

"Yes," Sherlock admitted, becoming aware of Molly's growing distress, he walked over to her. "Let's get this over with."

Once they were all seated, Sherlock turned to Billy and asked. "Have you heard of James Moriarty and Irene Adler?"

Billy nodded, though he'd, thankfully never had any personal dealings with them. He'd heard enough from others to know to give them both a very wide birth.

There had been rumours doing the rounds for years that the majority of all the crime committed in London was orchestrated by a couple that were referred to as 'The Professor, and The Woman'.

Though Scotland Yard knew their names, they'd never yet been able to obtain enough evidence against the pair to secure a conviction. Victims were generally too afraid to make statements. Those brave souls that did would suspiciously vanish just before court cases were to take place. On the rare occasions when they did get to court, any evidence of their illegal activities was dismissed as inadmissible.

As for their rivals… those that hadn't come to a sticky end refused to speak to the authorities.

Yet the crime-wave continued, with no one clever enough to outwit them.

Save one.

Realisation finally hit Billy, who looked at Sherlock in amazement. Not just the detective in the funny hat, but the man who dared to take on possibly the largest criminal organizations single-handed.

Given that they no longer plagued London, it was fair to assume he'd won.

Then Billy's gaze moved to Molly. What had been the cost?

"Indeed," Sherlock agreed, as though he'd read his thoughts.

"So how does the curse work? And how did it come about?"

"Basically it works like this," Molly explained. "Our souls are trapped between the spirit world and the world of the living. Sherlock has one foot in the living, and I have one in the spirit. If we are to have any hope of breaking this curse we must remain in close proximity to each other."

"Or what? Billy asked, becoming curious.

"If either of us should forget the other exists, and believe me the constant pull to go fully into the world we're both partially placed is extremely strong, would condemn the other to a half life, trapped between the two."

"How come others around you aren't aware that something's amiss?" Billy asked. "Your situation, its not occurred to anyone to regard it… odd?"

Molly let out a wistful sigh. "If only it was that simple," she replied. "But it appears anyone who comes into contact with us, also becomes influenced by the curse. Like its perfectly normal to have only a sense that both of us are around, even though they can clearly only see one of us…" The frustration she felt about their situation all too evident in her voice. Unable to continue, Sherlock took over, answering Billy's second question.

"As to how it came about. I was able to track their movements and had gathered more than enough incriminating evidence that connected them directly to a number of ongoing police investigations," Sherlock explained. "At that point they had no idea just how close I was to bringing their organization crumbling down."

"So what happened?"

The impassive expression on Sherlock's face faltered briefly as he indicated his elder brother.

Mycroft looked at Wiggins as if he'd discovered a fly in his soup. "I don't see why I have to explain anything to…"

"Please Mycroft," Molly softly pleaded with the elder Holmes. "He needs to hear the whole story."

Mycroft looked over at the young woman, and something inside him softened. After all, she was the innocent victim here.

"Very well," he agreed. "It was never my intention to jeopardise Sherlock's investigation," he began.

Sherlock gave a snort of derision.

Mycroft ignored him. "But I did see an… opportunity. I thought that if I could engage with the couple, that I might be able to obtain vital information that might help to disrupt not only their operation, but every other criminal syndicate they associated with."

"Translation, he jumped into bed with them, metaphorically speaking," Sherlock clarified.

Billy nodded. "So what went wrong?"

"Bright boy," Sherlock congratulated him.

"I underestimated them," Mycroft admitted frankly. "It hadn't occurred to me that among their many dark deeds they were also well versed in the occult. And I…"

"Betrayed me, and endangered Molly," Sherlock finished for him.

"Yes," Mycroft admitted. "I thought I'd gained their trust. But what I didn't realise was that they'd used magic on me, a truth spell if you like. And with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever on my part, I told them everything."

"Everything?" Billy asked. "About the investigation."

"And everything about Sherlock, including that he possessed a significant weak spot, and I gave them her name."

Sherlock continued the story. "The first I knew of my brother's betrayal was when I received a call."

221B BAKER STREET – TWO YEARS BEFORE

Without bothering to check the caller ID, Sherlock answered the persistent ringing of his mobile. "Yes, what is it?" he snapped impatiently.

"Its not a what Sherlock, rather a who, and one that you should be concerned about, or so we've been told."

"I wont back off if that's why you're calling Moriarty."

"Then you'd better check the attachment we've sent you," Moriarty replied, before adding. "Unless of course she really didn't matter the most after all."

Then the line went dead.

Opening the attachment, Sherlock was confronted with the image of Molly Hooper bound hand and foot to a stake. The caption underneath read: 'If you don't stop your investigation immediately, Sherlock, you will never see your little miss Molly ever again… though she will see you, and haunt you the rest of your days.'

Tampering down his initial feelings of outrage and anger, Sherlock instead focussed on the little details in the image that would lead him to where Molly was being held captive.

And then he received another text message.

'The clock is ticking, Sherlock. It's time to make your decision. Meet us at our centre of operations, we know you know where that is.'

Sherlock pocketed his mobile, grabbed his belstaff and rushed down the stairs and out the door.

KING WILLIAM STREET STATION

The King William Street Station like the Sumatra Road Station was abandoned. But unlike Sumatra Road it had at least been used, with its line open between 1890-1900. Though the station above had been demolished long ago, the platforms still remained, with parts of it converted in the 1930s to be used as a public air-raid shelter during World War Two.

Access to the platform today was only possible via a manhole that was located in the basement of Regis House. And it was this entrance Sherlock used, descending down the cast iron spiral staircase that led to the platform.

Moriarty and Adler had certainly chosen their operating headquarters well. With not only the station, but also the whole route the station was part of now permanently closed, it soon passed out of the memory of many.

They had purchased Regis House where they'd set up a semi-legitimate business. But it was underground, out of sight that they set up their true network, a criminal empire that sucked the life from the once energetic city up above.

Sherlock strode purposefully along the platform. He saw little point in sneaking around, as he had been summoned here. As he walked along he became aware of a constant hum, but as he got closer he realised it was the reciting of some sort of incantation.

Spotting an ominous glow up ahead, Sherlock made his way cautiously towards it, eventually entering a large, cavernous room. Standing before a crudely built altar was The Woman and The Professor.

To their left stood Molly, still bound and gagged.

When she spotted the consulting detective her eyes widened briefly, and she gave an imperceptible shake of her head.

Sherlock ignored her silent instruction. He wasn't leaving without her.

"So good of you to join us," Moriarty remarked gleefully. "But you're too late I'm afraid."

As the couple moved towards Molly, Sherlock could see that their hands glowed a hellish red.

"You really should have heeded our warnings," The Woman purred.

When they raised their hands Sherlock made his move, sprinting towards Molly he managed to get to her, just as the curse was unleashed, striking them both…

THE DIOGENES CLUB – VISITORS ROOM

Billy sat quietly as he digested all that he had been told. It all seemed too fantastical to be true. And yet, looking at those around him, it was clear they were not the type to indulge in pointless melodrama.

And then something occurred to him. "If what you say is true," Billy said. "How is it that me and ya brother aren't affected by this curse?"

"As it happens, I've been giving that some thought," Sherlock acknowledged. "And I believe I've come up with an answer, and a way to break this damnable curse once and for all."