Dear God, He's Gone and Done It: Chapter 11
AN: I had posted this earlier, thinking I was happy with it. And I was, mostly; except for one small detail. So, I deleted the chapter and fixed what I wasn't happy with and have reposted it. Sorry for any confusion. I will be posting an actual new chapter soon (I hope).
No, his little assassin was anything but ordinary. And, Mary was right on a great many points. But, Mycroft had been blissfully ignorant of it until today. Everything in his relationship with Barbary had always been status quo. He was the boss, he gave her the assignment, and she fulfilled it; end of. He had never needed to coddle the others, so he didn't understand until Mary began pointing out a few truths, why it was such a big deal with Barbary. He had overlooked the fact that most of his agents come willingly into the career. They are singled out for their expertise in certain fields or their performance at their previous profession, and they are given a choice of whether they want to join or not. Barbary had been bought and sold on the black market for ages, and had only come to Mycroft's attention as a fluke really. And, although he had given her a world class education and combat training, he had since neglected to see to it that she was cared for. She had even trusted her son's training to him; allowing Tarek to follow in her footsteps when he was old enough to make his own decisions. And what had Mycroft done to deserve her trust? Aside, from saving her life…nothing much.
Now, he had Anthea on the trail to try to find out who Barbary's mother might have been, and for that matter who Barbary used to be before she was Barbary. After all, she was someone's child once upon a time. Surely there was someone out in the world that had missed her and loved her and wanted her back. He couldn't believe that the girl was actually utterly alone in the world, save for her son.
Soon enough, maybe twenty-five minutes later (traffic had been snarled and the driver forced to take a detour), the black sedan pulled up in the car park for the large Holmes mansion; well the city house anyway. Mycroft gave the driver instructions to wait there and he would be out as soon as possible.
Although Mycroft had an unexplainable urge to find those photographs, he took his time, carefully waltzing into the house that had belonged to his family generations. To most people this would seem a grand home; and if Mycroft was quite honest, it was enormous. But, compared to the country estate that they also maintained, this place would be considered almost more of guest quarters; the country estate was positively beyond words, even for a man like Mycroft. And, why his parents chose to live in the little cottage near the River Dart, Mycroft would never understand. Although, it was quite peaceful out there, and the city itself was quite nice…not London, but nice. But his parents had chosen a spot just out of the city limits and Mycroft had to admit to himself, grudgingly, that it was a lovely place. No matter about all of that just now.
Once inside the door of his family's city dwelling, Mycroft changed completely, tossing his umbrella carelessly to the grounds and making a mad dash for the library. Once in the hallowed and quite room Mycroft began rifling through anything that looked like a photo album, finding nothing. Becoming frustrated he stopped and began to just look around the room, studying it. His eyes fell on a rather simple looking wooden box; though once you really looked, it wasn't that simple, it was inlaid with various types of wood to create a myriad of colors with a bit of mother of pearl on the lid for decoration. The box was much like the girl in question; ordinary enough at first glance, but something entirely different once you looked closer. Carefully taking the box down from its shelf, Mycroft sat behind the desk in the library, taking a deep breath before opening it.
Inside there were various letters that had been tied together with a deep purple satin ribbon; the handwriting on the envelopes was that of a woman. They were addressed from a place in Berkshire….the last name of the sender was Halliwell.
'Why is that familiar?' Mycroft thought quietly to himself. He pulled out tickets that had been for some play ages ago that his parents had undoubtedly seen several times. He found an old photograph of his own parents with another couple of about the same age, maybe senior to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes by a few years. Studying that picture it struck Mycroft about this Halliwell lady. She had been a friend of his mother's at some point.
Yes, the Halliwells had been long time friends of the family as far back as anyone could remember. The lady had been a bit taller than average, slim build, carefully styled blonde hair, her make-up was always immaculate. And old man Halliwell was tall and distinguished looking with darker hair that had started going gray years ago, mainly close to the temples (just above his ears). But, for all that they looked the part of members of elite upper society, they had been actually quite normal. Unless you just knew them, you would think that they were any normal well off older couple; the idea that the lady was quite close friends with Her Majesty would never cross your mind. It was no surprise that they had become fast friends of the elder Holmes'.
After shuffling through a few pictures similar in nature to the first few that he found, Mycroft felt as though the world was conspiring against him. Suddenly though he came across several photos he hadn't expected, merely hoped to find. There was a photo of a small girl. Development wise she looked to be about five years old, but she was awfully small physically; if Mycroft had to judge she physically looked as though she was only three years old. It was likely a symptom of poor care and lack of proper feeding.
One photo of the young girl was particularly of note. She was standing there, her saucer sized eyes looking at the camera, and there was weariness in them even though she seemed calm enough. Her hair was golden brown riot of ringlets that hung well past her shoulders, nearly to her waist. Her posture was seemed somewhat stilted. But that could have been down to the young boy with dark curly hair tugging on one of her curls.
Sherlock couldn't have been more than eight years old, but he looked as though he was very nearly twice the young girl's size and he had a handful of hair and was giving it a pretty smart tug.
'A charmer even then it appears,' Mycroft couldn't help smiling to himself. Mycroft knew this was Barbary; the child in the photo had the same eyes and hair, and the fact that the size of the girl was about right….
Digging through more of the pictures, Mycroft found more of Sherlock and the small girl together. In one of them the pair had apparently gotten up to some antics and was hiding just outside the room. Someone must have called their names, because they had been poking their heads around the corner while on their hands and knees; the little girl was closer to the floor and Sherlock was just slightly above her, being taller, the curls from both tumbling completely out of control.
There was a picture of the little girl by herself wearing a large pair of men's shoes and a man's sports coat. Mycroft remembered them as his father's things. She had a mischievous smile on her face, a little dimple showing on her left cheek. Mycroft started going through some of the pictures that he had taken out that had the girl in them, flipping them over to see if any descriptions were written on the backs. He found nothing until he got to one of his father holding the small girl on his lap. The elder Holmes seemed to have been reading to the girl, and they both fell asleep, the girl on the old man's lap, her head resting against his chest, his father's book was perched precariously on his knee, his cheek resting on top of the girl's head. Flipping the picture over he hoped for the best.
Lila Duquesne-April 1984; came to London with Evelyn and Wallace
Halliwell, her grandparents.
The handwriting was his mother's. Barbary's real name was Lila Duquesne; so somewhere in her family there was Norman extraction. That was interesting because, the Holmes family was also of Norman decent, on the mother's side; he would have to investigate more. Mycroft stuck the photos back into the box and shut it, looking around to see if there was anything else he could find that would tell him more. Opening a drawer on the old desk Mycroft found yet another box, similar in size and design as the other, it must have been a set. Inside this second box was only one item; an old video cassette, the likes of which would have been used in a home video camera.
Grabbing both boxes and tucking them under his arm, Mycroft made his way back through the living room and to the front door of the home, grabbing the discarded umbrella. As he carefully stepped outside of the house, he happened to check his surroundings; a man in Mycroft's position always had to be aware of his surroundings. He practically ran the country, this is true. But, you can't always count on others to see to your safety. Besides the possibility of being sold out, there was always basic human error. When he first stepped out of the house, Mycroft had noticed how quiet everything seemed; it was nothing that he could put his finger on, but there was just a crackle in the air. Momentarily he looked towards the black sedan that he frequented, checking the car. Looking in the front seat, he could see his driver, well what was left of him anyway; part of the man's head was missing, around the area of the right temple. There was splatter on the passenger side window with bits of what looked like the poor man's brain. The body was slumped over the console between the two front seats. Mycroft began backing up into the house immediately; as he did so, he heard a popping sound.
'Bullets?'
Diving to the floor, Mycroft slammed the door shut and reached for his phone. Staying close to the floor, he made his way to the ground level restroom; no windows, one way in, one way out. He fired off a text to Anthea.
'999. City house. Driver dead, shots fired. Am unharmed. MH 09:25, 13 Oct. 2015'.
'Help is underway. Moments only. Sweep of area will be done. Check of CCTV in progress. A 09:26, 13 Oct. 2015'.
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13 Oct. 2015 08:00
Breakfast had been good; or at least that's what Mary and John would tell you. Sherlock never ate when he was on a case, and since he considered the dead cabbie in the burned out car a case…..Barbary hadn't come out of her room once Sherlock carried her to the door, meaning in short, that she hadn't eaten. By the time the half hour rolled around Mary and John decided that they needed to get to work. They were needed down at the surgery for a few hours to help out. Sherlock decided to leave with them to go to the morgue. He wanted to see if Molly might have found anything on the body that might help tighten up the case. Yes, he knew that the likely murderer was a man named Kostya that had a link to an assignment that involved both his brother and Barbary years earlier. But, Sherlock being Sherlock, he did not like lose ends.
Sherlock only spent forty-five minutes at the morgue badgering Molly; there was nothing that she found on the body that was unusual. Any particulates were what you would expect to find in the trunk of any car, except charred. Damn!. This Kostya person was good; but if he had even half the training that Mycroft pours into his agents, then that would stand to reason, a good assassin did their best to leave no trace.
At 09:15 in the morning Sherlock found himself bored. Taking a deep breath he hailed a cab and for some reason he could never explain, Sherlock gave the driver the address for Barbary's flat. When he realized his mistake, he decided now was as good a time as any to put his plans into action. He would not be made a fool of. By the time he was through with Barbary she would regret the day she ever heard the name Sherlock Holmes.
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It didn't seem like it was much longer than a few moments when Mycroft heard the door of the house being kicked in. He steadied his breathing, reaching for the gun he always had carefully concealed behind his suit jacket. Checking the clip, he held his breath, waiting. Seconds ticked by so slowly; each one seemed to stretch on for a year. Suddenly the door to the lavatory Mycroft was taking cover in was yanked open, Mycroft aiming carefully. Tarek carefully stuck his head in through the door.
"Son of a….I could have blown your head off."
"Hardly, sir; my reflexes are faster than your bullets. Besides, where would you be then? Come, Anthea says you asked for some help."
"Yes, it seems as though we will need to fill a driver position."
"I saw. I have some men doing a sweep of the buildings that are within range. In the meantime, come with me; I know another way out of here."
"You've never been to this house before that I'm aware of."
"No, but mama has. She has studied it…"
"Blueprints you mean…"
"No, the house itself. She comes here often enough. There is a secret passage that she told me about."
"There is? I grew up in this house, well until I went away to school. How did I not know about this passage?"
"Secret passages are mama's passion; you have to know where to look. Come. We have to get you back to Diogenes. There is a car waiting for us, but we have to go now. If you're a good boy, one day I will tell you of the time I took her to Lyon for her birthday so she could see their Traboules. Lyon is marvelous, you should see it if you haven't already. But, enough for now; we run short on time by sitting here."
The young man helped Mycroft stand. Tarek noticed the boxes that Mycroft retrieved from the floor.
"May I ask, sir, what are those?"
"A project I am working on….for your mother." He watched Tarek's face darken.
"Sir, I don't ordinarily speak against you….one of mama's rules. Whatever Mycroft asks, we do. But, don't you think you've done enough damage assigning her to your brother?"
"This is not about an assignment I want to put her on. I found something that may help explain who your mother really is. I can't go into details just now. I want to take a closer look at the evidence. But, when I find out what I need to know, I want to pass the information on to your mother. It will be hers to do with as she pleases. I just thought it was high time that she know who she truly is. Besides, what do you mean? What damage do you speak of?"
"It's nothing. We should go. Come now."
"No. Just a minute,' Mycroft stopped and grabbed the enormous young man by the arm, slowing his progress a bit. "You need to tell me what you meant."
"Mama will kill me.' Tarek mumbled to himself, shaking his head. "She loves your brother, has for years. But she knows you disapprove. She knows that she's not ….. She thinks she isn't good enough for the likes of him. You've set her up for a great fall, I think."
"What do you mean by all of this?"
"No, I've said too much already."
"I need to know what exactly you mean."
"No matter what happens now, her loyalty to you is going to get her killed….and rather soon I fear. Now, no more talking, we must go."
Mycroft allowed himself to be led through his childhood home to what looked like an ordinary grandfather clock. Tarek opened the glass door and pulled a lever that an untrained eye would just barely make out and then proceeded to slide the entire clock carefully to the right, exposing an entryway.
Taking in Mycroft's astonished face, 'Don't worry, it's likely that your parents didn't even know about this. Though I'm sure your brother did. He strikes me as the type to go off on his on explorations. Come, this way."
Tarek led Mycroft down a steep staircase and then a long narrow corridor. Once they finally came to the end they made their way up another staircase. Once they had exited the passage altogether, it became clear to Mycroft just where they were.
"I see recognition on your face, sir."
"We are in…"
Post AN: Crazy place to cut it all off I know. There will be more. I kind of liked the idea of stuffy old Mycroft having to dodge a bullet, that's what's up. I have to go dream up the whole scenario between Sherlock and Barbary now, what they will say to each other, etc. I have a couple ideas in mind but need to tweak them. R/R so I know what I need to work on, or if ya'll are enjoying it at all still. Until later.
