Author's note: Okay so it's after midnight when I am posting this. I've had a busy day and it will be a long night since I will be editing some things. Just need to keep the tea coming. I should have the next chapter posted sometime next week if all goes well. Disclaimer is I only own Cassandra and a few others. Everyone else belongs to Doyle. I would really appreciate some reviews about how the story is progressing so far. Flames I can do without so don't waste my time or your time writing them.


Memory…is the diary that we all carry about with us."

Oscar Wilde

Chapter 12

I stared at the pale thin shape tucked under the white bedding. A bandage was wrapped around her head, hiding the short copper hair from sight. Restraints were tried from the rails of the bed to her wrists keeping the woman from harming herself. But, beneath the cuffs her skin was already red with blisters from her attempts to free herself.

Even the observations did not detour the fact this woman was my mother. My mother had been frightened out of her wits, and I was trying to analyze her condition. I did not offer her comfort of any sort. I knew it was the only way I would be able to help her, pushing aside my emotions. Doing anything else would not bode well for either of us.

Holmes quietly entered the room and waited a moment before he spoke. "The man had the proper papers to pass as your husband."

"And no one thought anything of it, until Doctor Duchovny thought it odd I was not present." I replied stiffly. "The alarm had been sounded, but by then it was too late. My mother was in a state and the man was gone."

"What have you found?"

"He hadn't harmed her if that is what you are asking, it was not what he was after. This was not some everyday man. This had been carefully planned. The papers had to be obtained, he would have needed to dig deep to find my mother here. I should have had it where no one unless accompanied with me can be admitted to see her."

"The circumstance had been unusual. No one but yourself visits her, it was an easy mistake to be overlooked." Holmes remarked.

"Has the man been identified?"

"Lestrade is speaking to the front desk and looking at the log book for any sort of clue."

"And do you think he will find anything?" I questioned.

"No," Holmes answered. "As you said, this man knows what he is doing. I hardly think he would have left us much of a trace to follow."

I nodded my head slowly. "I feared as much."

"Why is it I have the feeling there is something you have not told me? Cassandra, you know how dangerous-

"I didn't want to worry you, not when you have enough to be concerned about."

Holmes laid his hand on my shoulder. "You will always be my concern, Cass."

I sighed. "No, you are right I should have told you about this sooner. If I had...this never would have happened."

"Your mother seems to be all right now after her ordeal." Holmes commented.

"Because she is heavily sedated," I replied bluntly.

"Is it possible your mother had recognized this man?"

"I don't know if she was in the right mind to do much of anything. I admit, she was not in the best of states to begin with as of late. However, whatever he had said to her, it had affected her badly. The problem is no one knows what had been said as the words were in Russian. Dr Duchovny said she was rather violent, more so than she ever has been. She started to slam her head into the wall." I sighed and closed my eyes. "She had also struck one of the nurses. Under the rules she needs to be placed onto the fourth floor."

"The floor where the worse cases are." Holmes speculated.

"The floor where the patients will akways be in restraints and where they are always mistreated." I confirmed.

"They allow it here?"

"I know this hospital is one of the better ones, but everything has its loophole and the fourth floor is this hospital's one. Patients there will never recover, Holmes. They are placed there because there is no hope for them and the only cure is being highly medicated and death. I was able to convince the doctor to allow her to stay here until her head wound healed. He is humoring me by allowing it as he will monitor her. If she worsens he will send her to the upper floor without my say on the matter."

"Lestrade promised to have a man placed here to keep watch. Your mother will be more protected now."

I nodded slowly before turning to Holmes. "We should speak to Lestrade. He may have found something."

Lestrade was near the front waiting for us. "I asked some of the medical staff further while you were otherwise occupied. One of the nurses was able to give a better description than what has been said by the front desk. We are looking for a man in his late twenties. He is tall with blondish brown hair and brown eyes. He's about six feet and from his accent he is Welsh. She said he seemed to be very trustworthy as he worked with the police." Lestrade read from his notebook. "Sound familiar to you?"

"He does get around doesn't he?" I commented.

"You know this man," Holmes inquired.

"No, but this is not the first time he has been described to me as of late. I have been receiving messages and I believe they are somehow connected to my last case. He's around the same age of the man Hill and young Johnny had described to us. And he also had some sort of accent they said."

"Now he did have to sign in the guest book as is req-well you know how it goes." Lestrade added. "His name is Tomas Jerrimay. Does it mean anything to you?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

"We will have to search the records." Holmes said. "However it is highly probable it is a fake name."

"I will have scouts out for him. Search the trains and what not." Lestrade announced. "With everyone on the look out we can find him."

"No, better to let him go this time." I decided. "He's clever. No doubt he has a place in the city or he has in a disguise of sorts. If the name is false, he either can slip through the crowds or can change his appearance."

"You believe he will be back?"

From my pocket I withdrew the note. "This note only indicates it as the beginning."

We returned to Baker Street soon after and assembled. Since Conners had told Watson of the case with the missing children, I quickly have my explanation to Holmes. Conners and Watson sat raptured as Lestrade and I explained that morning's events. By the end of the explanations I had handed to Holmes the letters in question for him to observe.

Watson was shaking his head as he sat in his chair, I could not tell if it was in disbelief that I had withheld this or from the threats which had been made. Conners was avoiding meeting my eyes, no doubt trying to process everything. Lestrade having heard the story, was sitting in the chair silently with his arms folded.

We were silent as Holmes looked at the messages. No one wanted to break his concretion at a time like this. Holmes finally sighed as he laid the letters upon his knee. "I fear it is no more than what Cassandra has not already seen."

"A broken type writer which needs some keys replaced. Normal cheap butchers paper it could have been bought from any where. The postmarks are throughout Britain, he wants to keep its original location a secret." I stated.

"Telling you everything, but not enough to identify him." Watson observed.

"Exactly. He knows what he is doing. This is not some ammeter at work here. He knows what we would be looking for,"

"Has he threatened you before?"

I shook my head. "No, the first message was purely nothing. The second was unsettling to say the least. This one...this one is a dare."

"You mean to say everything he had said about you and your family is true?" Conners asked.

"Yes, it is, but not many people know the entire story." I admitted. "My father's fate is public knowledge, however my mother's condition is not well known. Only colleagues of my father and my mother's friends knew about her mental break. Father had never wanted it to get out and had able kept where she was a secret. Even the people who knew about it, do not know where she is. This sender had somehow found this information and is baiting me."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "If not many know about this, then it should be simple to find out who is behind this."

"But it is impossible for anyone to learn this information. Her mother's medical files are held in the hospital. The only person allowed access are the medical staff as well as Cassandra herself." Watson pointed out. "No one could have known about this unless..."

"Unless they have followed you for years. The information would not have been as difficult to obtain a few years ago." Holmes stated.

"Why say something to me now? Why not when I was little and vulnerable? Or even fours years ago when I didn't have as much experience?" I inquired.

"You are a worthy opponent now." Holmes answered.

"So than the messages hold the rules."

Conners looked at me and then at Holmes. "You make it sound as if this was a game between them."

"It is." Holmes sat forward. "Don't you see? The business of Lord Findley. The kidnapping of his children, it was a game to see if she was able to solve the puzzle. It was a test of her wits."

"You can't make it sound so casual." Lestrade interjected. "Are you telling someone thought it would be a good idea to kidnap innocent children?"

"Whoever is behind this did not take any part in this per say," Holmes replied. "Rather, they planned the entire affair."

"The man in the pub, Lestrade." I pointed out. "You had seen how carefully the kidnaping was planned out. Even down to the detail of the exact amount Hill and Nightingale needed for their new start. Hill never told him how much he needed, but it was there."

"All of this, just to gain Cassandra's attention for some sort of test?" Watson asked in disbelief.

"Which clearly I passed." I remarked. "He means for this game to continue and it is in some way related to my father."

"There must be a way for you to decline." Watson stammered. "We don't know the first thing about this person. We don't know how dangerous he is."

"She can't refuse this." Holmes insisted. "Cassandra has no choice, but to play. Lives will hang in balance."

"It would be an outrageous game to play." Conners exclaimed. "Nearly a crime is committed everyday. How can we determine which one it is?"

"He would give some sort of hint to what it will be." I pointed out. "Much as he had with the riddles. The game isn't at random. Everything is carefully planned out. The mastermind behind all of this won't be able to do all of this alone."

"Then we need to find out who it is." Lestrade grunted. "You said not many people know about your past. You can narrow it down."

Holmes rubbed his temple and I looked into the fire. "You both know who it is." Watson accused. "You know who is behind this and you haven't said anything."

"No," I intoned. "Its...its complicated."

"Then explain it." Lestrade demanded.

"There are at least three men who know of Cassandra's past." Holmes begin. "There is one other person who is still a mystery."

"Who knows?" Conners asked.

"Edmund Bryson had been one." I answered.

"He knew of her father and that she had been in my care." Holmes explained. "However, nothing about her mother had been discovered."

"Bryson? That blackmailer all those years ago? How could he…" Lestrade stared at me. "You! He kidnapped you! That's why no one at the Yard had questioned you."

"It was still too dangerous for her to be known to the public after her father died." Holmes countered.

"Dangerous?" Conners stared at me in shock. "Just who had your father been?"

"One of the finest medical doctors who later became quite the teacher." Watson praised. "He was also a bit of a scientist. He published many medical journals and articles."

"Who else knew about this?" Conners questioned.

I sighed and closed my eyes. "James Moriarty."

"Christ," Lestrade burst out. "Sorry, but Moriarty knew about her? How'd had it happened?"

"Moriarty was a close friend of Dr. Brennan." Holmes answered. "He had known Cassandra for all of her life. He knew everything."

"Did you know about what he did? I mean...was he always a criminal?" Lestrade wondered.

I shook my head. "No, I never knew what he had done or even his last name, I called him 'professor.' For years he had written to me. He even remembered my birthday. He was saddened by my father's death. I have no doubt if Holmes had not been there after Father was murdered, he would have taken me in. I suppose he was always a criminal, but it was not the front he showed me. At least until Holmes stepped in."

"Your father's death remains unsolved?" Conners asked surprised. "Surely by now-

"Christopher Brennan had been a very quiet man concerning his personal life after his wife became ill." Holmes interrupted. "Before his death he was receiving rather violent messages. The sender was unknown and never found. He had admitted to me he was working on a side project however he never said what it was."

"Did he leave any notes about whet it was he was working on?" Watson asked.

"If he had, I have been unable to find them. For years I did not have much access. Dr Brennan in his will said his journals were to remain locked away and not given to anyone until Cassandra became of age."

"Have you found anything?" Watson asked.

"Father kept many kinds of important documents inside the safe. My mother's full medical record included. Once I had cleaned out the old townhouse I moved his journals there as planned to go over them. I have been in the mist of going through the house, but I haven't gone through everything."

"What of the third man? Who is he?" Lestrade questioned.

"I don't know his name." I stared at the flames for a long moment before I went on. "He was foreign. I had never seen his face fully as it had been covered. But his eyes...they were cold. Father...he had asked for more time. He kept saying it was not ready. The man had noticed me and told Father it would be best if they went somewhere else. I didn't trust him and I begged for Father to not go. But he just promised it would not be long and I never saw him again."

"It was a cold day. Not many people were out and no one could give a good inscription." Holmes added. "He was able to disappear without much trouble. I believe once the shot was fired, he slipped away and then was able to blend into the crowd."

"So this man, he could be the same sender now?" Conners asked.

"It is possible for the man I had seen all those years ago to be the sender. Father had received notes of a threatening nature."

Holmes sighed. "I cannot say for certain as I never have seen a note. Your father never showed me, he merely mentioned it the night I came to your home. Understand it was too much plying to even learn of the trouble he was facing."

I folded my arms over my chest. "I don't intend to ignore this."

"Is it a wise decision?" Lestrade asked rising his brow.

"My father had done something and this man wants to hold him responsible for whatever it. With my father gone, he wants to now hold it to me."

"So he says." Conners commented. "Even if he does know, we have seen what he is capable of doing. It can't be a smart thing to ignore it."

"How do you know if he telling you the truth?" Watson asked. "He could be tricking you."

"He isn't." Holmes announced with his fingers steepled together. "From what he knows the only way he would have been able to gather all of that information is if he has been watching her for years. He is telling the truth."

"And if he is dangerous?"

"He is." Holmes sighed. "For now we will have to wait. There is nothing else we can do until he plays his next move."

"We may need to wait for his move, but it does not mean we cannot be prepared." I remarked.

"I agree," Lestrade added. "If there is something we can do, I for one would rather have some sort of preparation."

"Cassandra, what do you have in mind?" Watson asked.

"When I became of age, I was given all of my father's journals. They have his work in them, research he was doing, even personal musings. The sender has information about my father which I am lacking. Surely whatever it is, must be in one of his journals." I answered. "So we start there."

The next afternoon, Holmes, Watson, Conners, and I set off for my father's house. Throughout the years, it stayed undisturbed on Albemarle Street. When I was young, Holmes and Henry James had seen it had been in good condition if I wished to live there. When I became of age, I had hired a maid to care for it daily. Every month I would try to stop by to check on things and to spend a few days looking through my parents' things.

The brown bricked town house had not been home to me since my father's death. Even though the house had been taken care of for years, it had lost the warmth it once held. It felt strange walking up to the gates of the place I had called home as a young child. It was a different life time, I had learned in the lab of my father, I sat beside my mother in the back garden as she read to me. Yet, it was not my home anymore.

Mrs Manning opened the front door to greet us. She was out of uniform as it was her day off. "Miss Brennan, welcome home."

I smiled. "I trust everything is ready for us?"

She nodded. "Yes, Miss. I did everything you asked."

"Good. Holmes, why don't you show Watson and Conners inside to the parlor? I will only be moment."

When the three man disappeared inside, Mrs Manning reported. "Mrs Finneran wondered if a light lurch should be prepared before she departed for the afternoon."

I shook my head. "No, that will not be necessary. I do not think we will be here too late. You can tell her once her duties are finished she can leave."

"I opened the windows a bit to air out the rooms. While they have been cleaned often there is still a moth smell." She added handing me the keys.

"How are you and Matthew?" I asked pleasantly.

"We are quite well. Matthew has decided he wants to become a doctor when he grows. I am afraid he has browsed the library to read medical texts. I have spoken to him about it."

I waved my hand. "Please, don't. It is perfectly fine, the library is open to him, and yourself as well."

"Miss Brennan, we couldn't-

"My parents never discouraged reading and nor shall I. Please the books should be read. I only ask he takes great care of what he reads."

Miss Manning, knowing it would be pointless to argue, nodded. "Thank you, Miss Brennan. You are far too genius with us. Are you still having those adventures of yours?"

"Part of the reason I am here, I am afraid. You have your coat, are you and young Matthew going out?"

She blushed at my statement, not quite used to my observations. "I thought it was a good day to take Matthew out to the park while this lovely whether lasts. And there us a lovely children's show today."

Mrs Manning was kind enough not to point out she did this whenever I came. The house held too many memories I tried to forget, but would haunt me when I returned. Often I would have outbursts of anger or sadness until I was able to tuck the feelings away again.

"Then it seems a perfect day to do so." I expressed finding my voice.

She smiled and nodded. She called her son and together they walked through the gate. I breathed in and out for a moment, locking away any feelings I held, before walking inside and in to the parlor.

Holmes, Watson, and Conners were standing in the middle of the room. Neither of them had made a move to sit down in the chairs or the settee.

"The room is not made of glass." I announced with a hint of amusement, starting them from their thoughts.

"Your mother's work?" Holmes asked.

"No, mine. The wallpaper begun peeling last summer. You should recall I had spent several weeks here working on it."

"I did not know you were doing all of this." Watson remarked, motioning his hand around the room.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was not on any cases at the moment. It seemed the best option to go through the house and fix several things that needed to be repaired. Some of the furniture had seen better days. I simply sent for the settee and some chairs."

"Where do you think your father kept his journals?" Holmes asked changing the subject. "I know you were given some by the lawyer, but he had only found those that were out in the open."

"Its difficult to say. Father was always working on something wherever he was. The obvious places would be the study, his room, and his lab." I explained.

"Then we shall spilt it between us." Watson decided.

"Mister Conners and I shall look in the lab and your father's room." Holmes agreed. "Watson and yourself will search the study. If the search proves fruitless then move onto the attic."

"Very well. Here take the keys. I don't know if the master bedroom is unlocked." I passed him the key.

Holmes knew how difficult it was for me to be inside the house. It was the reason he had placed me with Watson. Little had changed in the study. It was the same as I had left it some months ago. There was a pile of books near the window, waiting for me to move into Baker Street. My father's desk was a bit of a mess as I had tried to clean it out, but I had given up. For an hour, Watson and I searched in silence. I had added a few more books to the book pile and found some of Father's paperwork.

"I never knew your father had quite the book collection." Watson observed after some time. "There must be books here in all subjects."

"I think it was more of my mother's doing." I smiled. "She had been the one to teach me to read. Often Father came home in the evening to us both in the library."

"So that is where you got your love of books from."

"I remember when I grew tired of reading the same children's books. Father had allowed me to read what I could. Most of the books I had difficulty with. But, Mother would only laugh at the choice as she helped me. Never mind it was some book about history or even a small book on math."

Watson smiled. "She knew you well, then."

"She encouraged my learning. I could ask whatever question I wanted, read any book, and she would always find an answer. She never dismissed it if she did not have an answer. Some days it would take her days of her own research. But, she would always find the answer."

He brought over a pile of journals. "When did her illness begin exactly?"

I shook my head. "I am not certain. She became terrified over the smallest things, almost to the point where it frightened us. Father tried to stay home often, but it was not easy. One day I had been out with a friend and when I returned...she was a mess. She was hugging and screaming at me all at once. I was only five at the time when she became sick. I just remember Father explaining to me she had to go away for a while. I do not think he even knew what exactly had gone wrong."

"The mind is a very confusing thing, Cassandra. I doubt we will ever be able to understand how it truly works."

I placed the book down and gathered a few journals. "Father's work is impressive. I can understand if he was afraid someone would steal his work. I just wish it was simple to find out what it is exactly he was working on or what is it he had done."

"He might not have been able to say anything about what he had been working on, Cassandra."

I looked at Watson. "He never said a word about working on anything. He's whole demeanor simply seemed to have changed over night."

"Are you certain you never knew what it was?" Watson asked looking over a journal.

"No, I'm not." I sighed as I sat down at my father's desk. "Sometimes, I really do wonder about what it was he was doing, but other times I am afraid to know."

"What do you mean?"

"What if the reason Father could never say anything was because what he was working on was illegal?"

"You don't know what it had been for certain, Cassandra." Watson told me gently.

"No, I don't. I'm not even certain if I ever did know him." I admitted softly.

"You must not think that way."

"What am I to believe? Is the man who I remember really him? Or was it all some sort of act for me as well? Has everything he ever told me, everything I was to believe some sort of lie?"

"No, Cassandra. It isn't true. Your father loved you."

"Then why the secrets, why didn't he say anything?" I cried.

"Because you were threatened." Holmes spoke from the doorway. I looked at him as he made his way in front of me. "The last day I had seen your father alive, he did not care his life was threatened. However, when I mentioned your life may be in danger, he grew furious. It had already happened."

"But, he had the chance to tell you." I whispered. "You would have helped him if he had asked."

"Yes, I would have. My help would have also alerted the person behind all of this. He would have known your father admitted everything to me. What then? Your father may not have been the person with the grave marked Brennan." Holmes rested his hand on my shoulder. "I may have asked too much of you. I cannot have you doubting everything, Cassandra."

"I am sorry." I said.

"I know. Go home. You are no use to me in this state. Mister Conners will join you while Watson and I finish here."