Burning Hearts
Chapter 14
In the cab on the way to the industrial district, Sherlock finally got into the mind palace. This brain was still running on the cleansing adrenaline of Molly's kisses, allowing him to finally get in there and sort through his all the new information.
He bypassed the room labelled John and continued down the corridor in his mind. While he worried about his friend, he had a bigger fish to fry.
Although he itched to enter the series of rooms that held his favourite memories of Molly Hooper, he continued. Later, at the end of this ordeal, he would go and store this morning's encounter in there, but in this trip to the palace, there was only one thing he needed to work on.
A newly constructed door alongside Molly's had a bright blue nameplate on it that read Henry. He needed to construct the room better, to store everything that he knew about his son. The last time he had come face to face with Moriarty, it was his lack of knowledge of his son that had foiled him and gotten John shot. It was important that he never be in that situation again.
He had studied the photo album carefully, taking in all he could from the pictures there. Luckily Molly's photo album was also like a scrap book, with little notes about certain events and a pocket in the back for holding important documents. In there had been a copy of his birth certificate, and he dumped all the details he had learnt from that one document into his son's room in the palace.
Henry Hooper, born September 25th .Mother Molly Hooper, Pathologist. Father Sherlock Holmes, Private investigator (deceased). Born at St. Bartholomew's hospital. Delivered by Dr Craig, assisted by Nurse M. Morstan. 6 pound, 8 ounces. God parents Dr J Watson and Mrs J Hudson.
He also unloaded everything else he knew about his son. Avid Spaghetti eater. Enjoyed Goodnight Moon. Had a bunny in dressy clothes that he had named Sir Bunny. Had a preference for a blue and while stripped t-shirt (many of the pictures in the album had the same t-shirt present in them. Although, he argued, it was possible that it was Molly's preference, not his own). Owned red converse sneakers. Second birthday party ended with him covered in cake (he noticed that one off of Molly's phone)
Sherlock feared that that was not enough information. He only got through the last test of knowledge because john was with him. He never would have made the connection between Goodnight Moon and the clues at the eye without his friend. He was truly lost without his blogger.
Maybe he should have spent the morning talking about Henry with Molly, instead of kissing her senseless.
He had a plan, but he was unsure it would work. Sherlock intended on giving himself to Moriarty in exchange for Henry. Henry had been the pawn, the bargaining chip to get him back into the country and out of his 'afterlife'. It had worked, here Sherlock was. Henry wasn't needed anymore.
The cab pulled up outside of the requested address, and Sherlock paid the man. It was a large townhouse in what used to be an industrial part of town, and for some reason that Sherlock couldn't explain, it suited Jim.
He rang the doorbell, and Jim himself opened the door. "Sherlock, you made it. Do come in"
Sherlock pushed past his nemesis and into the townhouse. It was large and spacious, and the first thing he saw was a table with two glasses of whiskey on them.
"A drink, Mr Holmes?"
Sherlock, not usually one to drink, took the offered glass from him, but waited for Jim to take the first sip.
"It's not poisoned, if that's what you are thinking" Jim smiled. "I would never let it be over that easy"
Sherlock took a drink from the cup. "So Moriarty, I am sure you didn't invite me here for this."
"Well observed" he laughed, taking a seat at one end of the long dining table. Sherlock sat at the other end casually, waiting for the other man to continue. It was only then, as he really took a look around the place, that he noticed the gun on the table between them.
"So here's the deal Sherlock" Moriarty began, leaning back in his chair. "I am beginning to bore of your son. He is no way near as fun as hanging out with you. Sure, at first he was. Watching cartoons and reading him books, but man, your child is annoying! Always needing to be fed and cleaned"
"So return him to his mother"
"I was just about to say that!" Jim grinned. "We are still so in tune with each other, even after all these years. Yes, I am willing to return him to Dr Hooper, but first, you have to answer one question for me. Answer it correctly, and I'll return him tonight, incorrectly, and it looks like he will be staying with me until you can prove your worth as a father."
"One question and you'll return him?" Sherlock asked, a voice in his head yelling that this was all too easy. One question and Henry was safe. "I have your word"
"You have to get the question correct first, and I honestly am not sure you will"
Sherlock was also not sure that he would get it right either, but was not willing to outwardly admit it. Moriarty was betting that he would get it wrong. The lack of confidence in him was not unfounded. Sherlock had proven to himself earlier that his knowledge of his son was lacking, and that worried him.
"You won't be able to phone a friend. This isn't a television game show. It will all come down to you" Jim smiled, lifting his drink to his lips and taking another sip, the glass covering the already triumphant look on his face. Sherlock did the same, mainly to calm his nerves.
"You won't harm him if I get it wrong?" he asked, fishing for confirmation. He needed to know exactly what was at stake before he agreed to the terms and conditions.
"I promised no harm will come to Henry" Jim responded, then smiled wickedly, remembering how good it felt to give the shoot order for the bullet that hit Watson.
"I agree to your terms" Sherlock stated, hoping he was not giving away his obvious distress that it was highly likely that he would struggle.
Jim smiled. "Ok, the million dollar question: Sherlock, what is your son's middle name?"
Sherlock's heart began pumping in his chest. He didn't know. He had no idea. He ran through the mind palace quickly, bursting into Henry's room in the hypothetical building and riffling through the small amount of information that was there.
It all came down to what his son's middle name was. He had no idea.
He began deducing quickly, going through as much as he possibly could. Every little detail in the palace, not only about Henry, but about things the others and how they connected to Henry. Anything Henry related flashed in his mind and was dismissed just a quickly.
Moriarty was smiling. He could tell that Sherlock was struggling with the puzzle, he was going to win. Of course he was going to win. He was James Moriarty, he won every game he had ever played. "I am not going to give you all day Sherlock!"
Sherlock turned away from Jim, staring at the wall. He needed to think, to ignore the pressure of the room, to forget what was riding on the answer. He needed to sort thought it all, to sift out the important stuff and discard all of the useless rubbish.
What was his son's middle name?
"Five… Four…" Moriarty began, giving him a countdown.
An idea blossomed in Sherlock's mind.
"…Three…"
He could say it and possibly be right, or he could remain silent and never be given an opportunity like this, he had to just go for it.
"…Two…"
"Henry doesn't have a middle name" Sherlock said, loud but not confidently. "He has a middle initial only"
Moriarty's jaw dropped. Sherlock had worked it out.
The consulting criminal's look boosted the confidence of the consulting detective, who smirked. "I would wager it is the letter J. Am I right?"
Jim just nodded, stunned.
"You see, there is an overabundance of people in Henry's life with names starting with J. John, obviously. Julia Hudson, dear friend and godmother. Molly's own mother's name was Jennifer. My mother's name is June and my father was Jameson. My middle name is also Jameson. I would even assume that Mary Morstan's middle name starts with J. Yes, she strikes me as a Mary Jane." Sherlock pondered, still smirking through the explanation while Moriarty gaped at him. "Molly would have wanted to honour the people most important to her. She had already named our son Henry, her beloved father's name, but she wouldn't have wanted to offend anyone by choosing a particular middle name. The letter J covers many bases. My son does not have a middle name."
Moriarty couldn't believe that his plan had been thwarted like that. He had thought long and hard about that question, and was sure that it would be the one to stump him.
"So how will the boy be returned to Molly?" Sherlock asked, lifting his glass and draining it, hoping the alcohol would quell the adrenaline in his system. He had assumed, quite correctly, that he would not be the one to do the delivering of the child. He wasn't about to be set free any time soon, and he wasn't willing to let Jim out of his sight either.
"I'll have someone take him" Jim replied, then turned and yelled further into the house "Dear, be a honey and prepare our little guest for transport back to his mother's"
Sherlock's heart was pounding. He had done it. None of it was over, not by a long shot, but he had done it, he had successfully returned Henry to his mother. Henry was no longer at risk from this mad man. He had trusted that Moriarty would not have injured Henry, his bargaining chip, and now he had gotten what he was after, Henry was safe. Molly would be over the moon, and he only wished he had the opportunity to be there with her when he was returned.
They sat in silence, staring down the table at each other until almost ten minutes later; there was the sound of a door closing.
"Oh, am I glad I get to witness this" Moriarty laughed, rubbing his hands together in glee. Sherlock knew exactly what he meant. In just a few minutes, he would be setting eyes on his son, in the flesh, for the very first time.
From the very second he entered the room; Sherlock had his eyes locked on the boy. He had just been woken up, and was clutching his bunny with one hand as he rubbed his sleepy eyes with the other. Sherlock stood, his chair tumbling backwards. But he didn't care.
The youngster had brown curls, unruly, just like his. They were a shade lighter than his though, a combination of his shade of brunette and Molly's. His tired eyes were a storm of blue and green. Similar to his own. Even for a youngster, he had a very defined upper lip also.
He took a tentative step towards his son, who was being carried into the room. The boy looked at him, curious, and then buried his head into the crook of the neck of the person holding him.
It was only then that he glanced up at the face of the person, no, the woman that was holding him. "Irene?"
Irene Adler avoided his gaze. She had Henry in one arm and a small bag packed with books and clothes in the other. "I'll just…I'll just take him back to Molly's…"
"Irene!" Sherlock began. "What is going on?"
Moriarty chuckled. "Ignore a pretty woman long enough Sherlock and she'll go elsewhere to feel wanted"
Irene was staring at the floor. Sherlock could not believe what he was seeing. But he also didn't want to take anything for granted, jumping at the opportunity to get Henry home before Jim changed his mind. He stepped towards her and muttered "I don't care about what is going on here. We'll talk about this later. Take him to Molly's."
He then lowered his voice even more "Can I trust you?"
Irene's nod was so small, Sherlock only just caught it. She then dismissed herself without a word.
Heading to the car, Irene carefully placed Henry into his car seat. "Where we going, Miss Irene?"
Irene smiled at the young man, the smaller version of Sherlock Holmes that she was strapping into the car seat. "I am taking you home to mummy sweetie"
It was about lunch time and Molly felt useless. She was sitting on the couch in her living room, in the strangely silent apartment. Greg was at work, Mycroft, John and Mary still at the hospital, Sherlock was off with Moriarty.
God, she hoped everyone was going to be ok.
She fiddled with her phone, debating on whether or not to check in with Mary. It had been 12 hours. Surely John was out of surgery by now. It was odd that no one had told her anything yet. But she tried not to overthink it.
She was just about to slide open her phone and send a text when there was a knock at the front door. Molly crossed to it, and burst into tears when she saw what was on the other side.
Irene Adler stood on the landing, a sorry look on her face, and in her arms was her gorgeous son.
Molly pulled her son out of the other woman's arms and collapsed to the floor with him, holding him tightly and promising though her sobs that she was never going to let him go ever again.
A/N: I couldn't deal with the separation between mother and son any more.