Burning Hearts
Chapter Seven
"Well, well, well, what a moving family reunion"
Detective inspector Gregory Lestrade pulled his gun quickly, cocking it and holding it towards the voice's owner. Molly jumped back from Sherlock, taking a step directly behind John, who had stepped in front of her protectively. Mycroft himself had taken a half step towards Mary, a mere acquaintance, before he recognised the voice.
The woman stood in the doorway, pulling the fingers of her glove to remove the item of clothing. Molly peeped around John at the familiar face that she honestly could not place.
Greg still stood, his gun pointed at the intruder.
"Put that down, detective inspector" Irene said seductively, entering the room and moving on to the removal of her second glove. "I'd hate for you to prematurely discharge it."
John looked from the woman to Sherlock. The words "But she's dead" left his mouth.
And suddenly he was doubled over in laughter. Uncontrollable giggles bubbling up from the very pit of his stomach. He gripped his sides, allowing the laughter to spill out of him. It seemed all who were dead were coming back these days. First Moriarty, then Sherlock, of course Adler would be next. Molly, taken aback by her friends behaviour, looked back towards Mary, who shrugged, also lost at her partners mirth. Surprisingly, Sherlock soon started laughing. The low rumble of his laugh made John straighten up, and the two laughed a while longer before finally pulling themselves together.
Greg lowered his gun only slightly "Right, someone tell me what the devil is going on. And make it quick!"
Irene stepped closer to Greg, holding out her hand. "Irene Adler"
Sherlock looked at the detective. "Professionally known as the Woman"
Molly took in the woman who as now standing a little too closely to Lestrade. "I did your autopsy" she blurted when it all clicked into place.
"Yes, that was the…" Irene seemed to be calculating something in her mind "The third time I faked my death." Irene took a step towards Molly "You're cute. I see what you saw in her, Sherlock. The innocence covering rock hard strength. You're…"
John cut off whatever the woman was about to say by wrapping a hand around her wrist and dragging her away from Molly. Molly shot his and thankful glance. John then turned his face to Mycroft, who looked as baffled as he did.
"You are dead. Karachi, remember" John shot at Irene.
Irene smiled, moving her attention to Sherlock, running a hand down his chest. "Sherlock, forever a knight in shining armour"
Sherlock stepped away from Irene, stating to the room. "A business acquaintance."
Lestrade returned his gun to its holster. "A friend Sherlock?"
Sherlock took a step towards Greg "An acquaintance" he muttered again before holding out his hand to shake the detective inspectors. This was their equivalent of a hug, Greg realised.
Sherlock then turned to the man by the window. No one expected it, but the pair reached out for each other simultaneously. They held each other slightly, and then pulled away, neither saying anything.
Sherlock then turned to Mary. Mary cowered a little.
"John" he said firmly. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancé?"
It was just like old times. Mary stood, astonished at the fact that Sherlock had known who she was. John took a step forward. "Mary Morstan, Sherlock Holmes"
Sherlock shook her hand, pumping it once, and then answered the question in her eyes. "The only person in here I did not recognise. Possibly friend of Molly's and I know for a fact that you are, the bond of friendship is evident, not to mention you are present in many photographs around the room. However, the look Molly shot you before suggest that you know John better, wait, not better, differently from the way that Molly knows him. You are obviously in a closer relationship with John then Molly is, suggesting sexual in nature because I am assuming that Molly and John have been strongly attached since my disappearance. You have been hiding in the corner since I got here, suggesting that you did not want to get in the way of this" he gestured to the room "but that you care about John and Molly equally, wanting to know that they are both emotionally ok with my return to their lives. Lives that you helped put back together after my demise. You have your hand in your pocket right now, something I think you have been doing subconsciously for the last 24 hours or so. There is a slight indentation of the seam of your pocket on the top of your hand. That hand only, however, you are hiding something. My guess, a ring, an engagement ring. This is all recent, the engagement I mean, you ad John were going to announce it all to your friends, but a spanner by the name of James Moriarty was thrown into the works. You are conflicted. You want to be happy that you are engaged to a man that you obviously adore. You want to be able to pull your best female friend aside and ask her to be maid of honour, but the timing is wrong. You can't celebrate the happiness you feel while a young boy is missing. Even if the engagement happened on Thursday night, a whole 18 hours before he was taken. You are a little bitter about that. But you know better then to voice that, because you love Henry. So does John. And obviously, so does Molly."
Sherlock ended his deduction by turning to Molly and asking "Why is Mary not Henry's god-mother?"
It had been years since she had heard Sherlock deduce anyone. Her breath was momentarily stolen. Molly shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Mrs Hudson is"
"Of course" Sherlock replied, looking around the room. "Where is Mrs Hudson."
Molly paused, raising a hand to her mouth, in all of the commotion, she had forgotten to inform Mrs Hudson of what was happening. Mary jumped in to save the day "I informed her yesterday. She thought it wise to keep a bit of a distance at the moment. She didn't want to get in the way of the police officers. Her hip was giving her a little trouble too I think. I am keeping her updated with text messages. She is beside herself with worry."
Molly's look of sheer gratitude was interrupted by Sherlock's baffled "Mrs Hudson can text now?"
A phone interrupted them. Greg took his spot behind the machinery with a quick look at john and the words "ten minutes"
John nodded. The prediction had been correct.
"Answer it Molly" Greg encouraged. Sherlock stepped to the phone however, lifted the receiver and hit the button to put it on speaker.
"Jim" he greeted sternly.
"Hello Sherlock" Jim's voice echoed though the apartment. "Did you miss me babe?"
Sherlock smirked. "Everyday"
James Moriarty's laugher flooded the room. Mary, who had never had a run in with the man before, felt faint at the sound of it, and steadied herself on the back of the sofa.
"I believe you have something that belongs to me"
Moriarty stopped laughing. "Belongs to you? No, I have something that belongs to Molly. You there, Molly-mouse, dear?"
Molly, sounding way braver then she felt, responded "Yes"
"And the entourage, I suppose? Hello Detective inspector, John, Mary and, wait, is that Mycroft? And Irene, well, aren't you looking gorgeous."
Greg paused. He was right about the surveillance, it seemed.
"Let me speak to Henry" Molly interrupted.
"No, I'd much rather talk to Sherlock. I want to catch up. I am interested in how he's been. Last I heard he took a pretty serious tumble"
"And you met with the business end of a hand gun. Seems we do have some catching up to do"
Molly slammed her hands down on the table, shocking everyone in the room. "Let me speak to Henry"
"Well, the mouse has become a lioness" Moriarty smiled. "Don't worry, he's alive"
"I want to speak with him. Now!"
There was a tense thirty seconds of silence before Moriarty sighed and handed over the phone. The sound of Henry's voice filled the room. "Mumma?"
"I am here baby, I am here" Molly sobbed, all act of bravado gone now.
"Mumma, I had spaghetti" Henry said, the grin evident in his voice.
"Did you sweetie?"
"Mumma, come get me?" Henry said next, and Molly couldn't stop the avalanche of tears that fell down her cheeks.
"I will sweetie, very soon, very soon" she whispered through her tears. "I am trying to get to you. Really I am, I just don't know where you are right now. I am trying to find you. But you have to be very brave, understand. You have to be very strong and very brave and stay out of trouble"
"I not trouble to Mr Jim, Mumma"
Her blood boiled, and Molly had to hold back the hot bile that was rising in her throat. Hearing her son refer to Moriarty in such a way was like a dagger to the heart. She had been raising Henry to show respect to all, but hearing that respect given to a man that was lower than mud made her feel faint. At that point, Mary vaulted the sofa and reached her friend just as her knees collapsed out from under her. Mary sat on the floor; her friend curled onto her lap, and let Molly cry into her hair.
"He really is no trouble" Jim's voice was back on the line. "Go back to watching TV Henry. Jim needs to talk to your daddy"
"If you hurt him…" Molly threatened weakly.
"I said I am talking to Sherlock now" Jim bellowed. John recoiled at the change in the mad man's voice. He had forgotten the unusual patterns of speech the consulting criminal used. He was, as previously claimed, so changeable. Molly cried harder at the background noise on Moriarty's end of the call. Henry, shocked and scared by the outburst, was crying too.
Sherlock, fists clenched, leant closer to the receiver. "I am listening"
"We start again where we ended this last time." Moriarty told him. St. Bart's roof. "One hour"
The phone clicked off as Moriarty hung up. Sherlock moved to the couch, sat with his hands steepled against his lips, and thought.
No one said anything. The only noise in the room was Molly, sitting in a heap with Mary, still crying softly.
"Do shut up Molly" Sherlock barked. "I am trying to think."
Bit not good? A lot not good more like it.
A blur of movement followed. Molly launched herself at Sherlock. He hadn't anticipated the movement, but was soon pinned to the couch as the smaller woman began pummelling his upper body with tightly balled fists. He looked down at her as she wasted energy, confused as to what was happening. He would admit later, however, that she had gotten a few prize hits in and left him bruised.
John grabbed her arms and tried to detach the flailing woman from the consulting detective even though his first instinct was to let her continue attacking him. He couldn't get a good enough grip on her, however, and it took both Greg and John restraining her to finally get Molly to stop her assault.
Greg had the crying, screaming and at this point swearing pathologist in his arms. She still thrashed against him, but John was before them, holding onto her hands and talking her through it.
Sherlock, the git, just stared, as though the crazy woman who had just used him as a punching bag was an everyday thing. As the screams subsided, what she was actually saying became clearer.
"I hate him John, I hate him"
"I know" he ran and hand over her head as she stopped kicking, sinking back into Greg's firm grip. "We all hate Moriarty"
Greg took that as his cue to carry the calmer woman down the hall and out of the tense situation in the living room. He kicked her bedroom door open gently, and laid her on the bed.
"Greg?" she stopped him as the older detective inspector turned to leave. "I didn't mean that I hate Moriarty"
Greg sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. "You don't mean that Molly. He is a prat, but you don't hate Sherlock"
No energy left with which to argue, Molly rolled over to face the opposite wall. Greg stood and left to give her some privacy.
He stopped in the hallway when he saw Sherlock, reclined against Henry's closed bedroom door. "Why haven't you told Molly you love her yet?"
A/N: thanks for all of the continued support guys. I hope that Sherlock's deduction was ok. I tried to picture it in my mind as they show it on TV (close up of pictures of Molly, Mary and John, the visualisation of words ect.) it was really fun to write actually. And at least we know now that Henry is ok.
