I Am. . . .
Chapter 9
Raven Adler
Emma hadn't realized it was nearly two a.m. by the time they walked out of the hospital, quiet honestly she didn't care. Within the last three days she'd spent way too much time in hospitals, real or abandoned. She promised herself she would not be going back, well not as a patient. Emma had insisted on saying goodbye to John and Mary. Mycroft had been reluctant but Emma had given him a glare that could have frozen hell over.
Mary hadn't liked the idea of her leaving so soon, but Emma had reassured her that she felt a hundred times better. At one point, John and Mycroft had stepped out of the room, using the excuse of giving the ladies some private time.
"I just know John is out there trying to convince Mycroft not to let me walk out of here," Emma informed Mary.
"Well," Mary replied, "I don't blame my husband. I think you should stay, if for no other reason than I don't want to be the only one here." She rubbed her belly as she spoke, "This kid better hurry and make an appearance. I'm going stir crazy."
For just a moment Emma had been tempted to offer to stay with her so John could go get some sleep, but it was just a moment. She also knew John would not want to leave Mary's side. The fact that he had when she and Mycroft had gone missing, made her feel guilty. John could have missed the birth of his daughter.
Once the two men re-entered the room, Emma's suspicions were confirmed. John went to open his mouth but Emma held up her hand, looked him right in the eyes and told him firmly, "No!" That had been the end of that conversation.
Stepping out in to the night air, Emma noticed a black SUV waiting for them at the curb. "For us?" she asked looking over to Mycroft. He seemed to be grinning at her.
"What do you think?" he asked, his tone clearly patronizing her.
Emma took a deep breathing, fighting the urge to throat punch him. "You know what they say about assuming, it makes an ass out of you." She walked towards the car, intentionally not finishing the statement; she didn't want to call herself an ass.
"And me," Mycroft finished for her. This caused Emma to stop, realizing what he had just said. She hadn't deliberately tricked him into calling himself an ass but now that he had, she looked over her shoulder and giggled at him. Even if she hadn't been facing him, she still would have known he rolled his eyes at her, she could practically hear it. "Oh, very mature Emma."
"You said it, Mycroft, not me." Smiling she got into the car, he followed but didn't seem to happy now.
They sat in silence for a few blocks before she spoke up, "So, it's two in the morning, you have a young girl with little memory, where do you take her?"
Mycroft didn't seem to be paying attention; he was gazing out the murky window. In fact she wasn't entirely sure he had heard her, until he turned to face her and simply answered, "Home."
She nodded, "Baker Street it is."
His entire body shifted towards her, "Odd. I say home and you think Baker Street."
Eye rolls were becoming a thing for Emma. If she wasn't careful she was going to sprain them. "It is the only place I've ever been. Well, other than hospitals and I am not about to call those things my home." She leaned closer to him, "So stop trying to psychoanalyze me."
He said nothing, just turned back to the darkened window. Emma huffed and leaned her back against her seat, crossing her arms. They rode in silence until they reached 221B Baker Street. Emma was a little shocked when Mycroft exited the car, then came around to her side to open her door for her. She thought he was just going to drop her off and take off.
"Do you really think I need an escort?" she asked, taking the offered hand. "The door is right there."
"True, but I believe Sherlock and I need to talk." Mycroft held the front door open and she walked in, a little surprised she could hear Sherlock playing.
At least she thought he was playing. But when she and Mycroft walked into the flat, Sherlock was sitting on the couch his head leaning back against the wall, with his eyes closed. It was an iPod sitting on the desk that playing a violin melody Emma didn't recognize.
"So," Emma commented as she took a seat next to him, "is this what you do at two in the morning?"
Mycroft took a seat at the table.
"Normally I am running an experiment," Sherlock informed her, opening his eyes and getting to his feet. He grabbed the iPod and shut the music off. "So is this what you do at two in the morning?" he countered. "Escape from hospitals?"
Emma stretched out on the now empty couch, "If by escape you mean I had to throw a tantrum and threaten physical violence just to get them to sign me out Against Medical Advice. Then yes." She sat up on her elbow and jerked her chin at Mycroft, "Then your brother comes sweeping in and 'poof'," she mimicked a small explosion with her hands "the doctor agrees to discharge me."
Mycroft seemed to be ignoring the conversation, but Sherlock grinned, "Yes, well my brother dear can be useful at times." Emma just shrugged and laid back down.
Emma hadn't realized how tired she really was. In the hospital she hadn't been able to relax enough to even think about sleep. Then she had been so focused on not staying there that she didn't think she had even laid in the hospital bed once she woke up. Now that she was out of that place and somewhere she felt safe, her entire body started to relax all at once. To say that sleep wanted to hit her like a ton of bricks would have been an enormous understatement.
"You know something, don't you Mycroft?" Emma could hear Sherlock asking his brother but was too tired to track the conversation
If there was one thing Sherlock knew about his brother, it was when he was either lying or holding something back. While Mycroft's face and body language betrayed nothing, Sherlock knew he was hiding something. It came from knowing this man his whole life.
"I think we should discuss it somewhere else," Mycroft said in a hushed tone, nodding to Emma who, by now, was asleep on the couch.
Sherlock walked over to the couch and kicked it, "Emma." She simply rolled over giving him her back. "She's out." He faced his brother again. "Talk."
"How about some tea," Mycroft asked getting to his feet.
It was a stall technique and Sherlock knew it. "Mycroft," he growled, even going so far as to reach out and grab his brother's arm before he could move towards the kitchen. "Talk."
Mycroft sighed, "Sherlock, it is two in the morning, I was shot and I need something to keep me awake. Now if you don't mind."
"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock bellowed.
Mycroft looked over to Emma, expecting her to wake to that, but she didn't even stir. "Really Sherlock."
Before he could say anything else, there was Mrs. Hudson carrying a tray with tea and coffee. He looked at her in confusion as to why she was up this late. She set the tray down, noticed the puzzlement on his face and answered it, "I wanted to know how Emma was doing so I waited up. Since I know you boys well enough, I made some tea and coffee." She moved to the girl, brushed back a strain of her vivid red hair, "Are you sure she shouldn't have stayed overnight in the hospital?"
It was actually Sherlock who answered, "It would have meant forcing her, Mrs. Hudson." He was pouring himself a cup of tea.
Mrs. Hudson nodded, grabbed the light blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over Emma, "No sense putting her through all that. Well if you boys need anything else, please wait till morning before hollering for me. I'm going to bed."
Sherlock waited till he heard Mrs. Hudson's door close and then latch, before turning to his brother. "Talk."
Mycroft sighed then moved to pour his own coffee, he would have preferred tea but he needed something a little stronger. "Very well." His brother was not as in to the niceties as he was.
"The man, who took us, Zack Kovack, has been on our radar for the past three years. Zach is currently on MI5, NSA, SIS, CIA, FBI and any other government department with three initials, Cyber watch list. He recently moved from number two to number one."
Sherlock scoffed, "What did he do, kill is competition?"
Mycroft set his cup down and shook his head, "No. His competition switched sides, a hacker who goes by the name ScyRae. ScyRae was kind enough too helped out with another little problem."
Sherlock smirked, there was only one other case his brother would have needed a hacker for. "He's the one who confirmed Moriarty's claim about the computer codes."
Mycroft simply inclined his head to indicate his brother was right. "We were simply covering all the bases. We needed someone who specializes in computer coding to verify that it would not be possible to create a master key program." Mycroft shrugged, "Well, not with those parameters. Apparently Mr. Kovack spent the last two years working on it and recently managed to create a master key program he's calling Serenity. Lucky for us he also managed to get the thing stolen six days ago by Raven."
"And how does this involve Emma?" Sherlock asked, casting a glance towards the sleeping girl.
"Sherlock, allow me to introduce you to Raven Adler, known to us as Emma." Mycroft nodded his head towards Emma.
Mycroft noticed Sherlock give a slight twitch the mention of Adler. Impossible for anyone to see, well impossible for anyone but Mycroft, but chose not to mention it. "Our Intel said three months ago Zack attempted to recruit Raven. The best we can tell she turned him down and then took it upon herself to relieve him Serenity.
Sherlock rose from his seat, "What do you find out about Emma?" If Mycroft had Emma's real name then there was no doubt he would have background information one the girl. He couldn't care less about this Zack or a missing Master Key.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, "Born to Robert and Iris Morrison in Brussels, twenty-five years ago. They moved to Irvine, California, due to Roberts's job, when Raven was three years old. Both killed in a car crash when she was sixteen and she went to live with an aunt and started going by her mothers maiden name. She moved back to London a little over two years ago." Mycroft held up a business looking card, "Is currently residing at 40 Lower Thames Street, which just happens to be right across from the Belfast."
"Damn," Sherlock hissed, looking out his window.
"What?"
"I was wrong about the foster care system."
"We both were," Mycroft stated. "But you were closer regarding how long she's been here."
Sherlock snatched the card, "Let me guess, you want me to investigate Emma."
Mycroft got to his feet, "It is fieldwork," he rubbed his shoulder, "and we both know how I detest fieldwork." He took his umbrella, "Do keep me informed."
Sherlock was incredible shocked, "You actually care what happens to Emma." It was not a question.
"I find her interesting and it's not often I can say a goldfish interests me." He saluted with his umbrella, then left. Sherlock could only smile after his brother.
The next morning Emma found herself waking in Sherlock's bed, her face and shoulder sore but not hurting too bad. The last thing she remembered was lying on the couch, Sherlock must have carried her to his bed sometime after she had fallen asleep. Emma glanced down at herself; she was still in the same cloths as yesterday so at least he hadn't taken that liberty. He was moving around in the living room, she could hear him, so she tossed the covers back and walked out there
Emma found Sherlock still wearing the same robe from last night and sitting in his normal chair reading the news paper, or at least pretending to, his eyes weren't moving across the paper
"Morning Raven," Sherlock greeted her without looking up, but she shook her head.
"Please don't call me that."
He looked up from the paper and tiled his head, "But it is your name."
She noticed a tray of tea and coffee and took a seat in John's old spot, "Yes, but it doesn't feel like my name." She poured herself a cup of coffee to try and wake up more, "Can we just stick with Emma until I remember."
Sherlock grinned. "Of course," he replied while returning to the paper. He wasn't going to tell Emma but it gave him a self-satisfied feeling that she would still chose to go by the name he had chosen for her.
"And wipe that smug look off your face," Emma told him as she sipped the warm coffee.
Pulling the paper higher in front of his face, he simply grinned bigger. "So are you up for an adventure today?"
Emma leaned into the chair, "What do you have in mind?"
Sherlock tossed the paper over his shoulder and held out a black, laminated business card. Emma sat forward and took it. Cheval Three Quays was written in gold calligraphy, with an address right below it. "What is this?" she asked looking at Sherlock with suspension.
He seemed a little too excited and Emma tried hard not to let that enthusiasm get her hopes up. "The Cheval Three Quays is an upscale apartment building," was all he told her.
She thought for a moment, than it clicked and her eyes widened, "This is my address?" It was a rhetorical question. "It's where I live. How?"
He nodded towards her room as he answered, "Believe it or not there is an upside to having Mycroft as my brother. Now, go get ready." He didn't wait for her answer, just got to his feet and headed to his room.
Emma sat there for all of three seconds before jumping to her feet and rushing to change her cloths.
Upscale was an understatement. The Cheval Three Quays was more than just an apartment building. It was a luxurious hotel combined with apartment buildings. The front of the building was large tan bricks; the windows on the first floor gave passer-bye an easy view into the lobby.
"I live here?" Emma asked in disbelief as she exited the cabbie. She craned her neck trying to get a view of the top of the building, but it was too high. "I must be rich," she commented looking over at Sherlock as he paid the driver.
On the drive, Sherlock had explained that since Mycroft now had her name he was able to track her personal information. He had left out the part about her parents being dead, instead simply telling her she had grown up with an Aunt. She hadn't questioned him, but she could tell he was keeping something to himself. She wondered if the Holmes brothers realized they were incredible easy to read, or at least for her they were. So now knew her name, age, place of birth and where she lived, which was more then she knew about herself yesterday.
"So what now?" she asked once Sherlock had joined her. "You don't think they'll just give us access to my apartment without a key?"
Sherlock just shrugged and walked in, tossing over his shoulder, "Let's find out."
Emma had to jog to keep up with Sherlock, but the lobby was breath taking. The marble floor was offset by the black pillars which had gold stripes in them, but it was the front counter that drew your attention. While the rest of the design was meant to scream elegance, the front desk was bright orange, shaped like a bowel, and pulled the eye straight to it.
Emma was about to complain to Sherlock about the speed he was walking when the man at the front desk looked up from the elderly woman he was speaking to. His eyes lit up and he politely excused himself, meeting Sherlock and Emma halfway to the desk.
"Mrs. Raven," he greeted, his voice laced with excitement and concern. "It is so good to see you back. What happened to your face?" His hand actually started to move towards her face before he caught himself.
Without a mirror to look in, Emma had forgotten about the bruises on her face and she found her right hand lightly touching the black eye. "I recently had a nasty accident." His name tag read Franklin, "I'm hoping you could help me Frank." She gestured to Sherlock, "Mr. Holmes was nice enough to walk me here, but I am missing, well everything, wallet, purse, key to my apartment." My memory, she thought to herself.
Franklin waved it off, "It is not a problem." Guiding them to the desk, Franklin apologized once more to the elderly woman, "I'll be just a moment Mrs. Erikson."
"Raven," Mrs. Erikson said, "Where have you been? Bella missed her and Charlie's Thursday play date. I had to get Franklin to walk him, the poor little thing wouldn't stop whining."
For a second Emma wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious Charlie was a dog, but that would mean she had a dog too. "I am so sorry Mrs. Erikson. I had some personal matters to attend to."
Mrs. Erikson glanced around, "Where's Bella, you didn't leave her by herself for a week in that apartment did you?"
Without thinking Emma shouted, "Of Course Not!"
Mrs. Erikson looked a little shocked at Emma's outburst, in fact Emma was a little shocked at it as well. It was like back at the hospital when Sherlock had been rude to the doctor and she had chastised him for it.
"I'm terribly sorry; it's been a rough week." Emma tried to think of something to placate this woman without letting on she had no idea where this Bella was. Luckily it was Sherlock who came to the rescue.
"Bella's with a family friend." He said bluntly then positioned himself to block Emma from the woman's view.
"Raven," Franklin got her attention. He held out a plain looking plastic card, "Your replacement key and I went ahead and deactivated your other card, also," he leaned forward and motioned for her to do the same. "About five days ago," he whispered, "a young man comes looking for you; he seemed very intent on finding you."
"Was his name Zack Kovack?" Franklin nodded and Emma pointed to her face, "He found me."
The word anger wouldn't have begun to describe Franklin's face. He was livid, "He did that? In that case I am very happy to say he was thrown out of here. You did call the police?"
Emma smiled and nodded, "They are looking for him as we speak. Is there anything else?" She was hoping to glean her room number out of him without him knowing. He simply shook his head.
Sherlock gently took her arm and lead her towards the elevators. Emma waited for the doors to slide close before she turned to Sherlock, "I have no idea what floor I'm on, or what room I'm in."
"Penthouse," he told her taking the card key from her and swiping it in front of a panel. That was when she noticed the elevator had no floor numbers to push. "While you were talking to that woman, I watched Franklin's hands, he typed in penthouse."
"So," Emma commented more to herself, "I now know two more things about me. I'm rich," she waved her hand to show the elevator. "And I have a dog that I obviously care about."
Sherlock could tell from her tone that she was genuinely worried about the dog. "I'm sure Bella is fine," was all he said.
When the doors parted they emptied out into lavish hallway, with one door on the floor. The hall's decor matched the lobby in both taste and price tag. "I have the whole floor to myself? Man, I must be loaded." Emma walked over to the only door on the floor, waved the card in front of the same type of keypad as the elevator and the two of them walked into her apartment.
