"So, she's just a guest but you've probably got some questions."
John sat in the living room, waiting for Sherlock to finish getting dressed. Janine was in the back room getting ready for work, so now it was just the two of them and John had never been more confused in his lifetime. Sherlock was definitely right, some questions was an understatement.
"Yeah, one or two, pretty much."
"Naturally." Sherlock finished adjusting his overcoat and took a seat in his chair. Both he and John glancing at Janine walking down the hall, and John cleared his throat.
"You have a girlfriend?"
"Yes, I have." Not a lie, "Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark. That's the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John? Stood up close to the glass, those floating, flat faces, those dead eyes? That's what he is. I've dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus Magnussen."
"Not even when Moriarty called Lottie 'Little Lottie'?" John said.
Sherlock sucked in a breath. No, John, please don't do this, "Sorry, what?"
"You have a girlfriend, that's not Lottie?"
Sherlock tried his hardest to not seem fazed by hearing Lottie's name, or the mention of Moriarty and 'Little Lottie', "What? Yes, I'm going out with Janine now. I thought that was fairly obvious."
"Yes. Well, yes," John cleared his throat, "But I mean, you…you were dating Lottie? For a whole year, you loved her, she loved you. More than anything. What happened?"
"John, I would really appreciate it if you didn't talk about my ex in front of Janine." Deep breaths, Sherly. This is for her own good, remember?
"What? So now you really are in a relationship with Janine?"
As much as it pained him, Sherlock sucked it up, looked John straight in the eye, hesitating with tense muscles and confirmed John's greatest fear, "Yes, I am."
"Care to elaborate?"
John was just not going to let this go. Sherlock took another deep breath, "Well, we're in a good place, it's, um," he paused, choosing his words, and forcing the most convincing smile he could, "Very affirming."
"You got that from a book."
"Everyone got that from a book."
"Sherlock, are you going to tell me what you did to Lottie or not?"
But just before Sherlock could confirm or deny anything Janine came in to join them, fully dressed and ready for work with the biggest smile on her face, "Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves. And you, Sherl, you're going to have to tell me where you were last night."
"Working." Sherlock replied, a goofy grin plastered on his face. John couldn't believe his eyes.
"Working?" Janine took a seat in his lap and John felt a strange anger overcome him, getting worse the more she spoke, "Of course. I'm the only one who really knows what you're like. Remember?"
"No, you don't." John cleared his throat when they both looked over at him. Janine furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and Sherlock tried to mimic her features but there was something there that only John would've caught and he knew there was something more to this. He apologized. Blaming his temper on lack of sleep and Janine stood to leave. Sherlock stood with her and when they got to the door she stopped and turned to John with cautious eyes.
"I haven't told Mary about this, I kind of wanted to surprise her."
"Yeah, I think you probably will." John said, adding under his breath, "You definitely surprised me."
"But we should have you two over for dinner really soon."
"Yeah." Sherlock half-heartedly agreed.
"My place, though, not this scuzz dump."
"Great, yeah. Dinner! Yeah." John was really surprised how well Sherlock was keeping his cool. Lottie had worked really hard to keep this place presentable, considering the difficulty of the task and considering who she lived with, John thought she did a great job, and she was the only one who knew Sherlock well enough to keep it just messy enough and arrange his things so that he could still work, and Janine was just throwing all that out the window.
"Oh, I'd better dash. It was brilliant to see you."
"You, too." John stood from his seat, still a little weirded out.
Sherlock saw her out, opening the door for her, much like he'd done with Lottie everywhere they went, "Have a lovely day. Call me later."
Janine turned to him just before stepping out, "I might do. I might call you. Unless I meet someone prettier."
The final straw for John, making him have to turn completely away from the two of them, Janine took Sherlock by the collar and pressed her lips to his, kissing him multiple times before whispering in his ear, "Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes."
She left and Sherlock shut the door behind her, and when he turned back to John, who was just about ready to tear him a new one, his face was stern, uncaring, and completely neutral and John knew right then, that relationship was not real.
"You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner but he is so much more than that." Sherlock continued, "He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail. And he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name is Appledore."
Sherlock had unbuttoned his coat and took a seat at his desk to open up the files on this Appledore to show to John, but John had been barely paying him any attention, still thrown off by him and Janine. So when Sherlock turned his laptop screen to show him all he could do was shake his head.
"Dinner." John said.
"Sorry, what, dinner?" Now Sherlock was confused.
"Me and Mary coming for dinner with wine and…sitting."
Sherlock gave him the strangest look, "Seriously? I've just told you that the Western world is run from this house and you want to talk about dinner?"
"Fine, talk about the house."
Sherlock sighed, "It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world. The Alexandrian library of secrets and scandals. And none of it is on a computer. He's smart. Computers can be hacked. It's all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house. And as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you've ever met is a fantasy."
There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson made her presence known before stepping inside, "Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldn't you hear it?"
"It's in the fridge. It kept ringing."
"Oh, that's not a fault, Sherlock."
"Who is it?" John asked, and he almost immediately regretted asking. She hesitated in her answer, but Sherlock seemed to know exactly who it was. He told Mrs. Hudson to have them come up and he and John only had to wait a few minutes for two men in suits to come up the stairs. Sherlock sighed when he saw them and held out his arms so he could be searched for any weapons he might have been carrying, sounding bored, "Go ahead."
The second man approached John apprehensively and he tried to warn him about the knife and tire leaver he still had on him, but the man continued anyway, pulling out the knife and the piece of metal and giving John the strangest look, making for an awkward moment before John leaned in to whisper to him, "Doesn't mean I'm not pleased to see you."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I can vouch for this man, he is a doctor. If you know who I am, then you know who he is. Don't you, Mr. Magnussen?"
The men searching them stepped aside and John found the he both was and wasn't surprised to find a tall man dressed in glasses and grey suit standing in their doorway. He looked to Sherlock, standing calm and composed as usual.
"I understood we were meeting at your office." He said.
Magnussen looked around, "This is my office."
He stepped inside eyeing John through his classes. Shark was the perfect representation for this man as far as John was concerned. He even looked like one, with his receding hairline and grey scruff of a beard. John would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little violated.
"Well, it is now." Said Magnussen. He picked up some papers off of Sherlock's desk and took a seat on the couch across the room. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
"Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband's letters. Some time ago you put pressure on her concerning those letters." Sherlock has a slight smirk on his face, choosing his words carefully, "She would like those letters back. Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you so with that in mind…"
As Sherlock spoke, John watched this man that was supposed to be so dangerous to the Western world. He was eyeing Sherlock, almost like he was reading a file, literally. He chuckled, causing Sherlock to stop speaking. John saw his brain start working a million miles a minute just like it always did when he was deducing something for a case.
"Something I said?" he asked. Though John was fairly sure he already knew the answer to his own question.
"No, no. I was reading." Magnussen reached for his glasses and John was surprised to find that his assumption was right. Sherlock waited patiently for him to speak, standing tall and confident in his work, until Magnussen started to speak again.
"There's rather a lot." He muttered.
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and he found his heart rate increasing, unafraid to admit to himself that he was a little worried that his plan hadn't worked. He was actually doubting himself for a moment, but he let out a small, unnoticeable breath when Magnussen choose Redbeard as his weakness. Though he still felt his features falter at the name, surprised he hadn't said something about his supposed drug habits. But then, the one thing that he really feared struck him right in his heart as the name slipped from Magnussen's lips, making his breath catch and John furrowed his eyebrows, looking between the two men with concern.
"Charlotte Eloise Blakely."
There was a pause and Sherlock took a few deep breaths before Magnussen waved it off, shaking his head and bringing himself back to the conversation at hand, "Sorry. Sorry, you were probably talking?"
"I…" Sherlock cleared his throat, gathering his bearings, "I was trying to explain that I have been asked to act on behalf…"
"Bathroom?" Magnussen interrupted, addressing one of the men that had accompanied him.
"Along from the kitchen, sir." The man replied.
"Okay."
"I've been asked to negotiate the return of those letters." Sherlock continued, "I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents…"
"Is it like the rest of the flat?" he interrupted again.
"Sir?" his bodyguard questioned.
"The bathroom?"
"Yes, sir."
"Maybe not, then."
John glanced over at Sherlock, observing his features especially after he stuttered at the mention of Lottie's name and found him to be growing extremely frustrated as he tried to continue to speak without being interrupted, "Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?"
Magnussen said nothing at first, gazing out the window at the rare English sun before speaking, "Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her."
"Mr. Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?"
"She's English with a spine." He put his foot on the coffee table in front of him and pushed it away from the couch. Sherlock adjusted his stance, doing his best to keep his cool as Magnussen stood and continued with his speech approaching John and Sherlock as one of his bodyguards removed the cover from the fireplace behind them, "Best thing about the English; You're so domesticated. Always standing around, apologizing. Keeping your little heads down."
He stepped past them, unzipping his trousers. John and Sherlock exchanged a glance without a word but Magnussen wasn't finished yet, "You can do what you like here, no one's ever gonna stop you. A nation of herbivores."
Much to John's surprise, their visitor was urinating on the fireplace, and he was having a hard time keeping his mouth shut, but Sherlock gave him a look, listening to Magnussen's speech without a word, "I've interests all over the world but, uh, everything starts in England. If it works here, I'd try it in a real country."
He finished his business, zipped up his trousers and took a wet wipe from his bodyguard, cleaning off his hands, "The United Kingdom, eh? Petri dish to the Western world. Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those for later, so…I'm keeping them." He dropped the wipe on the floor, "Goodbye."
He started to walk away but turned back to them at the last minute, chuckling, as he pulled the letters from inside his coat pocket, "Anyway, they're funny."
He walked out of the flat, followed by his bodyguards and John cursed as soon as they were alone, turning to Sherlock to ask what exactly was going on but he was surprised to find a mischievous grin etched onto his best friend's face.
"Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?" Sherlock said.
John had trouble finding the words he wanted, "There was a moment that kind of struck in the mind, yeah."
"Exactly. When he showed us the letters." Sherlock stepped past him and he shook his head, deciding to continue on Sherlock's way.
"So," Sherlock continued, "He's brought the letters to London. So no matter what he says, he's ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he's established a person's weaknesses, the 'pressure point', he calls it. So, clearly he believes I'm a drug addict and no serious threat." He pulled his coat on and watched Magnussen get into his car from the living room window, "And of course, because he's in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe, in his London office, while he's out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from 7:00 till 10:00."
"How do you know his schedule?"
"Because I do. Right, I'll see you tonight. I've got some shopping to do." He started down the stairs and John called after him.
"What's tonight?"
"I'll text instructions."
"I'll text you if I'm available."
"You are, I checked!"
John rolled his eyes and started down the stairs after him, closing the door behind them once they were outside.
"Don't bring a gun." Sherlock instructed.
"Why would I bring a gun?"
"Or a knife or a tire lever, probably best not to do any arm-spraining but we'll see how this night goes." He hailed a taxi and waited for one to pull up.
"You're just assuming I'm coming along?"
"Time you got out of the house, John. You've put on seven pounds since you got married and the cycling isn't doing it."
John thought a moment before answering as the cab pulled up to the curb, "It's actually four pounds."
"Mary and I think seven. See you later."
"Now wait just a minute." John put his hands on the rolled down window to stop the car from moving, "When he said there was a lot of them. Did he mean pressure points? Is that what he was doing?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, John."
"Oh, yes, you do. Redbeard? And Lottie?"
Sherlock said nothing, thinning his lips the way he did when he knew he'd lost to John.
"Are you going to tell me what happened to Lottie or not?"
Sherlock sighed. If he wanted this to work he would have to get John off of his back about Lottie. This was not something that he wanted to do, though he already had something planned in case it came down to this, "John, I made a mistake. It's my fault she's gone and she's never coming back."
"Sherlock, what did you do to her?"
"She wants something that I couldn't give her, so she went back to her parents in Doncaster."
John sighed, "Sherlock,"
"No, John. I don't want to talk about it, and neither does she. She said she wanted nothing to do with me, or you, or this life anymore. So, please," he looked him straight in the eyes, "Do us both a favor and just let it be."
John stood there a moment and when he finally decided that's all he was going to get, he stepped back from the car and watched it drive off. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up to the clouds above, cursing Sherlock's lack of people skills. Lottie was good for him, and he ruined it. He shook his head and stuck his hand out to call another taxi to take him home. But down the road in the cab that was taking Sherlock to his destination, his phone sounded from his coat pocket and he pulled it out, quickly sliding open the screen to read the message.
'Yes! – CB'
He was unable to hide the biggest smile when he read the message. It was probably the greatest message he'd received in his whole life, he'd just wished she was there to share it with him.