Door heard the commotion between Molly and Sherlock. She had no idea what was going on, but it was clear that the two needed to be separated for a while. Door ushered Molly to the open French doors at the end of the hallway. The doors opened on to a small courtyard. The walled courtyard was a leftover from an earlier age. Once it had been a small enclosed garden at a magnificent home. One perfect June night, a fire ravaged that section of the city, destroying the house and its pleasing gardens. Door's grandfather had discovered that peaceful June evening lost in the Underside and merged it into the fabric of his home. It was accessible through the formal dining room, and was a popular spot for guests to relax after meals. The Marquis had fled there after his embarrassment at the table. He spent a few gratifying moments crushing flowers, kicking plants and muttering angrily. He hated to give into his tempers, but his frustration had reached a boiling point. He only indulged in his tantrum briefly; he didn't want to soil his clothing. Now he was calm. He knew that Molly would seek him out. He was seated on a small stone bench, waiting, when she entered the courtyard.
Now that she had delivered Molly, Door went back towards Sherlock. She sighed. She wished her parents were there. They were each much more skilled than she at any sort of diplomacy or peacemaking. Door had always known that as a child of the House of Arch, she would be expected to bear certain responsibilities. She just wasn't prepared to do it so soon. At least it would be good practice, smoothing out the ruffled feathers and upset feeling between the two recent arrivals. Door didn't really know what to expect from Sherlock, he had barely spoken or even acknowledged her since his arrival. The fact that the Marquis didn't seem to like him could either go for or against him. When she returned to the dining room, she found Sherlock seated in a chair, eyes closed and fingers pressed together as if in prayer. Door strongly suspected that this man was not the praying sort. He didn't react to her return, so Door took a deep breath and jumped in.
"Hello, I was thinking maybe we could talk a little bit? I know something about your friend Molly, but I'd like to learn a little more about you, Sherlock," she said.
Sherlock remained still. After a lengthy pause, he murmured, "She's not my friend."
Door raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? She did introduce you as her friend, and it's hard to imagine she would have brought some stranger along with her. So you're just some random passerby?" she asked.
Sherlock waited, hoping she would give up and leave. He knew it was useless, he had already realized that she was a stubborn sort. Sherlock sighed, and raised his head. He studied Door for a moment, but for once, kept his deductions to himself. Then he spoke, "Molly has known me for several years. She has helped me with my work in the past. My greatest enemy tried to attack me and hurt people who are important to me, and I asked Molly to help me prevent this by faking my death. Molly helped me accomplish that, she thought that she was helping me by bringing me here. I was ungrateful and rude to her. I have hurt her many times in the past, and do not think she will accept any sort of apology."
Door thought for a moment. "These people who are important to you, Molly wasn't one of them?" she asked.
"My enemy did not believe her to be so. I myself have consistently undervalued her," he replied. Sherlock stood then and walked away, head bowed. He continued, "It is likely better that I allow her to continue on her own. I do not have friends. I am better off alone. She will be better off without me."
"You know, I used to feel much the same way, actually," Door said.
Sherlock snorted in irritation. "Is this where you tell me a heartbreaking story that will convince me to change my foolhardy ways? Because I'd rather you didn't," sneered Sherlock.
"Actually, yes it is, and since this is my home and you're my guest, you can shut the hell up and listen before I dump your ass in the nearest sewer" smiled Door.
Sherlock cocked his head, but remained silent.
"Right then. Here in London Below, well it's not really the sort of place for friends. And I was like everyone else, I had allies and business arraignments, but no real friends. When my family was killed, I was scared and alone. The murderers were chasing me and I was badly wounded. I was able to escape them, and a stranger from London Above found me. Richard. He could have just passed by, and no one would have judged him. He could have sent me to the hospital, and still been thought of as a hero, but I begged him not to. He carried me back to his flat, leaving his fiancé behind, all because I needed help. He patched me up, and I asked him to help me some more, by getting ahold of the Marquis. I knew I was ruining his life, that he would be shoved out of his safe existence and into the mess of London Below, but I still did it. And then I left him." She grimaced as she remembered the whole awful experience, the guilt she had felt at ruining Richard's life.
Door walked closer to Sherlock. She stood right in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes. "Richard caught up to me, he was furious, helping me destroyed his life. I was sorry, but my own life was still in danger. He came along with me, despite the danger. He helped me many more times and we saved each other's lives a few times. When it was all over, he just wanted to get back to his old life. In the end, I helped him go back, because that's what he wanted. I told myself it would be better that way, but it was a lie. I miss him. Maybe it's selfish, but I miss having a real friend. I never thought I would ever trust someone so completely, or that anyone would trust me like that. It's a rare thing. I hope he comes back."
Door sighed. "You still have a chance, don't be an idiot. Molly will find someone to support and help. Would you rather it be you or the Marquis?" she asked.
Sherlock reeled back as if she had struck him. He bowed his head once more. "What if she won't forgive me? I don't deserve any more of her help," he muttered.
Door smiled. "Most of us don't deserve the sacrifices others make for us. If she asked for your help, you'd do it, right?" He nodded. "That's all you have to do, that and be grateful for everything she does for you. Go and talk to her. Be honest and try to be better. She cares for you quite a bit; I think she'll forgive you. Come on, before the Marquis convinces her to help with another crazy scheme."
Sherlock allowed Door to lead him from the dining room. They walked slowly down the hall towards the courtyard doors. He had no idea how to repair things, but he needed to try.
Molly was enchanted by the courtyard. She was stunned to see how many stars she could see. It didn't make any sense, she knew they were deep underground, and yet the warm breezes and stars were definitely real. Flowers bloomed in the darkness and tiny pink roses climbed up the stone walls. The fragrance of the flowers was strong, some had been crushed recently. She followed the path of destruction till she found the Marquis. He was shuffling a deck of cards, making them leap between his hands and perform other minor tricks. She sat next to him on the stone bench. He cleared his throat, and sat up a bit taller.
"Well, now you've seen what remains from my last adventure. I was warned that the life would return to my body, but the damage would remain. I grow weary of waiting for everything to heal," he explained.
"Tell me what happened to you, please?" asked Molly.
The Marquis de Carabas sighed, "I'd really rather not, but no time like the present, eh? Door asked me to help protect her and find out who killed her family. She offered me a really big favor in return, and well, I couldn't resist. I reasoned that the responsible monsters, a Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar, be glad you'll never have to meet them, would be more talkative around a corpse. I got the information I wanted, they got to torture me and it all played out marvelously. I did mention that Deathseer's are rare, did I not? Well, clearly they did not anticipate that I would have hidden my life. I did enjoy surprising them when I came back. Their employer, another charming individual you won't have the misfortune of meeting, happened to be a deranged angel determined to use Door to barge his way back into heaven. Myself, Door and an irritating Upworlder named Richard were able to defeat the three, Door sent them all packing to places unknown, we each licked our wounds and then Richard buggered off back to his life in London Above. The end." The Marquis stood and presented her with a mocking bow at the conclusion of his story.
Molly bit her lip, the reached out to touch his arm. "Can I see your wounds? I think I can help heal them, if you'll let me," she said.
The Marquis stepped back, turning away and thinking for a moment. He circled around the bench, kneeling on Molly's other side. He smirked at her. "This isn't just some attempt at getting me out of my clothes, now is it? Because you only ever had to ask Molly" he drawled.
Molly blushed and swatted him on his arm. "Don't be so obnoxious, I'm trying to help you! You told me Deathseers could heal, and I tried it," she paused. "I tried it on Sherlock; the bastard jumped off a building and was dying. I stopped it. I think if I stitched up that gash in your neck, I might be able to fix it."
"When did you heal Sherlock?" asked the Marquis.
Molly thought for a moment, she had no reference for the time of day anymore. "Maybe a day ago" she guessed.
The Marquis stood. "Impressive. I'm astounded you're still awake. To heal someone like that is supposed to be exhausting. No wonder you passed out on our stroll from London Above. Well, I do intend to take you up on the offer, but sometime later, when you've gained back some strength."
He studied her for a moment. Molly really was very interesting, there was much more to her than most would ever recognize. He thought back to his long ago plans of using her talent to gain power and influence. She would need some sort of skill to survive in London Below, why not use the one she had? He could help set her up, screen parties interested in her particular gift and show her the ins and outs of dealing with the various and sundry rabble that made up London Below society. It wasn't really his nature to be such a helpful fellow, but he knew such an alliance could bring him tidy profits. Of course, she would be grateful as well. Perhaps some time in the future, he would consider having another egg made to contain his life. He pondered how to properly present these ideas when he was interrupted by Door.
"De Carabas? Will you come back into the dining room with me? Please?" she asked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. She was up to something. The Marquis picked up Molly's hand and kissed it, then bowed. He walked towards Door and hissed, "What the hell do you want? I'm busy."
Door practically shoved him back inside, then closed the French doors. With a twist of her hand, she locked them, cutting the courtyard off from the rest of the house temporarily. "Her friend Sherlock needed to speak with her, I thought it best to give them privacy," Door explained.
The Marquis tried to dodge past her and open the door. Realizing it could only be opened by an opener, he swore, "Damn it, what did you go and do that for!" He tried to pound on the glass, but Door stopped him.
"Leave them be, de Carabas, he at least should get a chance to say he's sorry" she said.
The Marquis sulked. "He's an idiot, he has no idea what she can do, what she has already given him. He doesn't deserve her."
"And you do? Come on, you just want to use her for some scheme, I know you. Besides, if he's such an idiot, you can go and try again when he makes a hash of it" replied Door. She turned him around and marched him back through the dining room.