14: Scandal - Part II

Quick question for everyone reading. For season three should I put Parker in the place of Mary or should I do a Parker/another OC thing and probably never see Sherlock or John in this story again unless I find a place to sneak them in? Just tell me what you think should happen. Thanks!

Shmuuyaassyyy - Superheroes and detectives, unite! :D

Ready aim fire (guest) - You've gotta love Moriarty's voice.

SH (guest) - I heard they made one but I haven't seen it yet.

Enjoy!

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock had taken off his coat and was sitting on a sofa in the elegant sitting room and looking around. Elizabeth was in a large armchair nearby. As they heard footsteps approaching, Sherlock sat up a little and held the handkerchief to his cheek. Elizabeth grabbed the area around her knee.

"Hello," came a voice. "Sorry to hear that you two have been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your names."

"I'm so sorry," Sherlock said. "We're…" He turned and looked at Irene Adler as she walked into view and stopped at the doorway. His voice failed him as he realised that, with the exception of high-heeled shoes, she was stark naked. His jaw dropped a little and Elizabeth immediately hid her face as soon as she could.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" Irene said. She walked into the room and stood directly in front of Sherlock, straddling his legs and half-kneeling on the sofa, then reaches forward and pulled the white plastic from his shirt collar. "There now – we're both defrocked…" She smiled down at him. "…Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Miss Adler, I presume," Sherlock said calmly in his normal voice.

Irene gazed down at his face. "Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" Elizabeth sniggered and both people in the room ignored it. Narrowing her eyes, Irene lifted the white plastic to her mouth and bit down on it.

As Sherlock stared up at her in confusion, Parker walked into the room carrying a bowl of water and John right behind with a fabric napkin. Parker's eyes were lowered to the bowl to avoid spilling its contents. "Right, this should do it." She lifted her eyes and saw the scene in front of her, and without braking her stride, handed the bowl to John, turned on her heel, and strode away quickly, face furiously red. Irene looked round to her and John when Parker had entered, the plastic still in her teeth. She watched Nightingale walk away and John looked at Irene awkwardly, then down at the bowl he was given before looking up again. "I've missed something, haven't I?"

Irene took the plastic from her teeth. "Please, sit down. Maybe even get that friend of yours to get back here." She stepped back from Sherlock, who fidgeted uncomfortably on the sofa as Irene walked away. "Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid."

"I had some at the Palace."

"I know." She sat down in a nearby armchair and crossed her legs, folding her arms gracefully to obscure the view of her chest.

"Clearly," said Sherlock. They stared silently at each other for several seconds, weighing each other up. Elizabeth raised her head from her lap and she and John looked at them awkwardly.

"We had a tea, too," said John, "Elizabeth, Parker, and I, at the Palace, if anyone's interested." Sherlock's eyes were still fixed on Irene as he attempted to make as many deductions as he could about her. His final analysis was:

?

Bewildered, he turned and looked at John and started to analyse him.

Two Day Shirt

Electric not blade

Date tonight

John frowned as Sherlock looked away and at Elizabeth.

Electric toothbrush

New shirt

Late night out with friend(s)

Relieved that he hadn't had a brain embolism, Sherlock slowly turned his head and looked at Irene again. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he applied all his deductive reasoning as she smiled confidently back at him, and he quickly came to the conclusion:

?

He frowned. "D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene inquired. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Finally fed up with the tightness of his shirt, Sherlock started unbuttoning the top two buttons. Irene leaned forward. "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."

She glanced across to John momentarily. John forced a laugh. "Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." He looked down at what he was holding. "A napkin."

"Why?" asked Adler. "Are you feeling exposed?"

Sherlock stood up. "I don't think John knows where to look," he said. He picked up his coat, shook it out and held it out to Irene. Ignoring him for the moment, she stood up and walked closer to John, who rolled his head on his neck uncomfortably and forced himself to maintain eye contact with her and not to let his eyes wander lower.

"No, I think he knows exactly where." She turned to Sherlock who was still holding out the coat while steadfastly keeping his gaze averted. Irene took the coat from him as she spoke. "I'm not sure about you."

"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop," said Sherlock. Elizabeth coughed awkwardly.

"You do borrow my laptop," John said.

"I confiscate it," Sherlock corrected. He walked over to the fireplace opposite the sofa.

Irene put the coat on and wrapped it around herself. "Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know." She walked over to the sofa and sat down. "How was it done?"

"What?" wondered Elizabeth.

Irene took her shoes off. "The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?"

Everyone looked confused. "That's not why we're here," said Sherlock.

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway–"

"That story's not been on the news yet," John said. "How do you know about it?"

"I know one of the policemen," said Irene with a shrug. "Well, I know what he likes."

"Oh." He sat down beside her. "And you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories – and detectives. Brainy's the new sexy."

"Positionofthecar…" Sherlock said incoherently. John and Elizabeth turned their heads and stared at him as he pulled himself together. Sherlock started to pace slowly. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?"

"He wasn't."

"You don't think it was murder?"

"I know it wasn't."

"How?"

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room."

Irene shifted a bit. "Okay, but how?"

"So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no one in. Ms. Pennies, go collect your embarrassed friend and leave."

Sherlock and John exchanged a significant look, then John got up and put the bowl and napkin on a table before leaving the room and closing the door behind him; after Elizabeth had stepped out of course. In the hallway he looked around, then picked up a magazine from a nearby table and rolled it up. Back in the sitting room, Irene sat up straighter, looking suspiciously at the closed door.

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Later, out in the hall, John had set light to the end of the rolled-up magazine, blown it mostly out again and allowed the smoke to drift upwards. He waved his hand over the magazine and blew on it to try to put it out completely. In the sitting room, Irene turned and looked at the large mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock turned his head and followed her gaze. "Thank you," he said. "On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." He walked over to the fireplace and began running his fingers underneath the mantelpiece. Finding a switch under there, he pressed it and the mirror slid upwards, revealing a small wall safe behind it. Sherlock turned and looked at Irene as she stood up. "Really hope you don't have a baby in here. All right, John," he called out, "you can turn it off now."

In the hall, John was still trying to put out the smouldering magazine. "I said you can turn it off now," Sherlock said loudly.

"Give me a minute!" He started thwacking the end of the magazine on the table, but then looked round as four men and one woman ran down the stairs. One had a gun pointed at Parker and another had his pistol aimed at Elizabeth. The woman raised an enormous pistol – the silencer of which was so long that she must be compensating for some other shortcoming – and fired it up at the smoke alarm, shattering it. The beeping stopped. One of the other men hurried towards John, aiming his pistol at him and John instantly raised his hands, looking at the woman as she walked over and stopped in front of him. "Thank you," he said.

In the sitting room Sherlock was looking closely at the number pad on the front of the safe. He bit his lip. "Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so…"

"I'd tell you the code right now," said Irene, "but you know what? I already have." Sherlock frowned at her. "Think."

The door burst open and the leader of the group, who was none other then Faith from the Palace, came in and aimed her pistol at Sherlock. "Hands behind your head," she ordered. She turned to Irene. "On the floor. Keep it still."

Another man went over to Irene and walked her nearer to John, Elizabeth, and Parker, who were being bundled in by a three other men. "Sorry, Sherlock," John apologised.

As Sherlock raised his hands, Faith looked round at Irene. "Ms. Adler, on the floor," she said sternly. Faith's colleague shoved Irene to her knees beside John who had also been pushed to his knees along with the two heroes and was doubled over with his hands behind his head and a pistol pointed to the back of his neck.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want me on the floor too?"

"No, sir," said Faith, "I want you to open the safe."

Sherlock clocked her accent. "American. Interesting. Why would you care?" He glanced across at Irene as she put her hands behind her head.

"Sir, the safe, now, please."

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't."

Faith sighed irritably. "I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh, for goodness sake!" said Elizabeth. "She's the one who knows the code," she jerked her head towards Irene. "Ask her!"

"Yes, ma'am," said Faith. "She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."

Irene tried to speak up. "Mr. Holmes doesn't–"

"Shut. Up," Faith said viciously. "One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship." Sherlock glared at her ferociously. "Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson."

"What?!" exclaimed John.

"I don't have the code," Sherlock insisted.

John cowered down as Archer pressed the muzzle of his pistol into the back of his neck and cocked the gun. "One."

"I don't know the code," Sherlock said emphatically.

"Two."

"She didn't tell me." He raised his voice. "I don't know it!"

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now." Sherlock looked across to Irene who lowered her gaze pointedly downwards. "Three!"

"No, stop!"

Faith held up her free hand to stop Archer. John closed his eyes. Parker breathed out a sigh of relief. Sherlock's gaze became distant as his mind worked frantically, then he slowly turned towards the safe and lowered his hands. As Faith watched him closely, he slowly reached out a finger towards the keypad and punched the '3' and then the '2'. Hesitating for a moment, he then punched '2' and '4'. Pausing again, he hit '3' and '4'. The safe beeped and noisily unlocked. Irene smiled in satisfaction as Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes briefly. John sagged lower on his knees and shut his own eyes.

Faith smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please."

Twisting the button that would open the door, Sherlock looked across to Irene again who lowered her gaze to the floor and made a tiny jerk with her head. He turned back to the safe. "Vatican cameos," he said clearly. Instantly, John threw himself to the floor. At the same moment Sherlock pulled open the door of the safe while ducking down below the fireplace.

Inside the safe, a tripwire attached to the door tugged on the trigger of a pistol with an equally long and over-compensatory silencer which was aimed straight out of the safe. The gun fired and Archer – who happened to be standing directly in front of it – was shot in the chest. Sherlock grabbed for Faith's pistol as Irene spun around on her knees and savagely elbowed her guard in the groin. Elizabeth whipped around and blasted a hand-beam right into the chest if the man standing over her. Pulling the pistol from Faith's grip, Sherlock held the silencer end and smashed the butt across her face and Faith dropped to the floor unconscious. Parker used her telekinesis to smash a very large, very heavy vase into her guard's head. As Irene's guard crumpled under her blow, she grappled for his pistol and was on her feet and aiming it down at him while he was still falling.

Sherlock turned to her. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

As her guard tried to get up again, she slammed the gun across his face and knocked him unconscious. While she was distracted, Sherlock reached into the safe and took something out of it. Nearby, John had checked Archer over and stood up. "He's dead," he announced.

Irene spoke to Sherlock as she continued aiming her pistol down at her guard. "Thank you. You were very observant."

"Observant?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be."

"Flattered?" John asked.

"There'll be more of them," said Sherlock. "They'll be keeping a eye on the building." Still holding Faith's pistol but having removed the silencer, he hurried out of the room as John tucked Archer's gun into the back of his jeans and followed him. Elizabeth and Parker exchanged a few words and glances before Parker took the pistol from the unconscious man's hand, and they stepped out. Once everyone had left, Irene went over to the safe and stared into it wide-eyed.

Sherlock trotted out onto the street with John behind him. "We should call the police," John advised.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed. Pointing the pistol into the air, he fired it five times. Nearby, tyres screeched. "On their way." He turned and trotted back into the house.

"For Pete's sake!"

"Oh, shut up. It's quick." Sherlock went back into the sitting room as Irene turned around from the safe. "Check the rest of the house," Sherlock told John. Parker and Elizabeth walked in. "See how they got in." As John headed off with Parker following, Sherlock took the item which he just stole from the safe out of his pocket and tossed it nonchalantly into the air. "Well, that's the knighthood in the bag."

"Ah," said Irene. "And that's mine." She held out her hand. Ignoring her, Sherlock switched on the security lock on the phone he was holding. It required four letters or numbers to activate it and it had "I AM" above the four spaces and "LOCKED" below them.

"All the photographs are on here, I presume."

"I have copies, of course."

"No you don't," said Elizabeth and Irene turned towards her. Sherlock glanced at her and she continued to speak to Irene. "You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

Irene lowered her hand. "Who said I'm selling?"

Sherlock looked at the dead and unconscious bodies lying on the floor. "Well, why would they be interested?" he asked, stealing Elizabeth's thunder. "Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs."

"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it." She walked closer and held her hand out again. "It's my protection."

"Sherlock!" called out John.

Sherlock pulled the phone back and looked at Irene pointedly. "It was," he corrected. He turned and left the room. Irene chased after him.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Parker was kneeling over the silent figure of Kate lying on the floor. Putting her ear to her mouth to check her breathing, she straightened up and took her pulse. Standing up, she glanced at the people entering the room and John went into the en suite bathroom and looked at the open window in there. Sherlock came into the bedroom followed by Elizabeth and Irene. "Must have come in this way," John said.

"Clearly," said Sherlock. He went into the bathroom to look out of the window as Irene walked anxiously towards Kate.

"It's all right," Parker assured. "She's just out cold."

"Well, she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it," she said, glancing across everyone. Sherlock came out of the bathroom and nodded to John.

"Sure," John said. He left the room as Irene went over to the dressing table, opened a drawer and covertly took two syringes out of it. Sherlock was looking at the camera phone and Parker was watching Elizabeth go after John; neither of them noticed Irene take it out.

"You're very calm," said Parker. Irene looked round at her blankly and Sherlock glanced at her briefly. "Well, your booby trap did just kill a man," she said to Irene. She turned to Sherlock. "And you just attacked a woman."

"He would have killed me," said Irene. "It was self defence in advance."

"Gender doesn't matter in situations like these," Sherlock said to Parker.

Walking across to Sherlock, Irene stroked her hand down his left arm. As he looked down at her hand she stepped around behind him and stabbed one of the syringes into his right arm. He gasped and spun around, trying to grab at it. Parker stepped back in shock. "What?" asked Sherlock. "What is that? What…?" As his face turned towards her again, she slapped him hard. He stumbled and fell to the floor.

Parker rushed forward to apprehend Irene when she whipped around and did the same to her with the other syringe. Parker stumbled back when Irene gave her a simple, small shove. Irene turned to Sherlock and held out her hand to him. "Give it to me. Now. Give it to me."

Sherlock's vision was going fuzzy. Grunting, he tried to get back to his feet. "No."

"Give it to me."

Starting to lose control of his muscles, Sherlock slumped to his hands and knees, still holding onto the phone. "No."

"Oh, for goodness sake," muttered Irene. Parker fell to the ground in a heap, fighting to stay conscious. Irene picked up her riding crop from the dressing table and wielded it at Sherlock. "Drop it," she said sternly. Sherlock continued trying to struggle to his feet. "I–" she thrashed him, "–said–" she thrashed him again, "–drop it!" She struck him a third time and he fell to the floor, unintentionally dropping the phone. "Ah. Thank you, dear."

As Sherlock lied on his back unable to move, she picked up the phone and typed on it, standing over Sherlock and looking down at him smugly. "Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They're not for blackmail, just for insurance." She put the phone into the pocket of Sherlock's coat which she was still wearing. "Besides, I might want to see her again." Grunting, Sherlock tried to get up. Irene pressed him back down to the floor with the end of her crop. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it." She gently stroked the end of the crop against his face. "This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you."

Sherlock's vision was becoming more fuzzy. "Goodnight, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

She headed for the bathroom just as John and Elizabeth walked back into the bedroom. "Wha'?!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse. Same goes for the girl." She sat on the windowsill in the bathroom, put her feet up on the edge of the bath and took hold of a cord hanging from the ledge.

Elizabeth picked up the syringe lying on the floor near Parker. "What's this? What have you given her? Parker!"

"They'll be fine," Irene reassured. "I've used it on loads of my friends."

John knelt and looked down at his flatmate. "Sherlock, can you hear me?"

"You know," said Irene, "I was wrong about him. He did know where to look."

John went over to Parker and check her over but continued to talk to Irene. "For what?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The key code to my safe."

"What was it?" Elizabeth wondered.

Irene looked down to Sherlock who was gazing at her barely conscious but still trying in vain to get up. "Shall I tell them?" Elizabeth dropped next to her friend, trying to test her coherency. John looked over at his flatmate for a moment then stood up and turned back to Irene just as sirens announce the arrival of the police. Irene smiled at him. "My measurements." And with that she pushed her feet against the edge of the bath and toppled backwards out of the window, still holding what looked like a cord but was apparently more like a thin rope. John hurried over to the window and looked out while Sherlock still tried vainly to lift himself up but continued to fall back helplessly.

Elizabeth gently slapped Parker's face. "Hey, stay awake." She picked up the syringe again and looked at it for a bit before throwing it back to the floor. "Parker? Parker, blink three times if you can here me." Parker wanted to blink, she really did. She understood what was happening, even though everything was a bit fuzzy. Her hearing began to white out and she fell unconscious.

Parker remembered a few, vague things. She remembered Elizabeth helping her into a police car and she remembered someone videoing her on Elizabeth's phone. She heard mixed and mumbled voices, none of which making a whole lot of sense.

Parker jerked back into consciousness and found herself alone and in bed in her own bedroom, fully clothed and covered with a sheet. She lifted her head. "'Liz'b'th? She shook her head, trying to clear it. "Elizabeth!" she said louder.

In the living room, Elizabeth looked round towards Parker's room. Parker threw the sheet off and kneeled up on the bed, then promptly lost her balance, fell forward, and rolled over the foot of the bed and onto the floor. Elizabeth opened the bedroom door and came in as she sat up. "You okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How did I get here?" Parker asked, ignoring the question.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much," said Elizabeth, rubbing the back of her neck. "You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, and I had Sergeant Donovan film you on my phone and I'm sending it to Lily. To be completely honest, you were acting hilarious."

Parker got to her feet. "Where are they?"

"Where's who?"

"Them! And the woman. That woman."

"Who? What woman?"

Parker stumbled around the room aimlessly. "Sherlock. John. The woman. The woman woman!"

"What, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her." Parker stumbled over to the window and opened it, looking around. "John said he'll visit later and see how you're doing." Turning around, Parker promptly fell down again and started to drag herself across the floor. "What are you…?" Elizabeth wondered. "What…? No, no, no, no." She hauled Parker up and dropped her face-down onto the bed. "Back to bed." She covered her over with the sheet again. "You'll be fine in the morning…I think…Just sleep."

"Of course I'll be fine," said Parker blearily. "I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, okay, you're great. Now I'll be next door if you need me."

"Why would I need you? You're not a doctor. John…I need John!"

Elizabeth walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, not responding to Parker's last remarks. Her coat was hanging on the back of the door. A few moments later, her coat pocket lit up as her phone activated and trilled a text alert. Parker opened her eyes and sat up, looking blearily across to her coat. Frowning at it because she would have to walk all the way over there, she got out of bed and wobbled across the floor towards it, losing her balance a couple of times en route but managing to stay on her feet. Finally, she got to the door and took the phone out of her coat pocket. Bracing herself against the wall she activated the phone. A new text message read: I'm coming over in fifteen -John. Parker peered at it for a long moment and then looked around with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment.

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The next morning, Parker – now fully recovered – and Elizabeth were sitting at the table in the living room. Parker was finishing eating breakfast while Elizabeth was reading a newspaper. Grant was standing nearby. "The photographs are perfectly safe," Elizabeth assured.

"In the hands of Irene Adler," Grant said irritably, "that is hardly considered safe."

"She's not interested in blackmail," Parker spoke up, swallowing a bite of egg. "She wants…protection for some reason. How do you know much about this anyway? Weren't Wesley and Sherlock's brother the ones on this?"

"People like us all have connections," Grant said. He turned towards Elizabeth. "How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

"She'd applaud your choice of words," Elizabeth said. "You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'Get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Grant."

"Though not the way she treats royalty," Parker said. She smiled round at Grant sarcastically, who returned the smile humourlessly. Just then, a text alert rang out. Parker got up and went over to pick up her phone from nearby. She looked at the message which read: You fully recovered? -John

Elizabeth cleared her throat and looked back to her brother. "Did you know there were other people after her too, Grant, before you sent Parker, Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes, and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at my guess."

Parker grunted unappreciatively and went back to the table and sant down again as she looked back at Grant. "Yeah, thanks for that, Grant. Tell my brother I said thanks too." She quickly tapped a response to John's text.

Mrs. Coleman brought in a plate of breakfast from the kitchen and then put it down in front of Elizabeth. "It's a disgrace," she said, "sending your little sister into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Grant Pennies."

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Coleman!" Grant said.

"GRANT!" Elizabeth said furiously.

Parker spoke simultaneously and equally as furiously. "OI!"

Grant looked at their angry faces glaring at him, then cringed and looks contritely at Mrs. Coleman. "Apologies."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Coleman with a huff. Parker's phone trilled again and she looked at it. Good -John.

Elizabeth sighed. "There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

"I can put maximum surveillance on her," Grant suggested.

Elizabeth huffed. "Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is 'TheWhipHand'."

"Yes," said Grant with a tight smile. "Most amusing." His phone rang and he took it from his pocket. "'Scuse me." He walked out into the hall. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

Elizabeth watched him leave, frowning suspiciously. Parker looked at her. "You said you sent Lily a video of me when I was…drugged?" she started hesitantly.

Elizabeth glanced at her worriedly. "Yes."

Parker slowly nodded. "Has she responded yet?" Elizabeth nodded. Parker quirked an eyebrow. "Can I see her message?" Elizabeth – blushing furiously – took out her BlackBerry and showed her the text that followed after the sent video. It was as follows:

1) Oh my gosh, are you guys okay?!
2) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Parker bit her lip in thought and Elizabeth put down the phone and went back to reading the paper which was showing the headline 'Refit for Historical Hospital'. In the sublines, the hospital was mentioned by the name: 'Reichenbach'.

Parker looked at her plate for a moment. Grant came back into the room, still talking on his phone. "Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." He hung up.

Elizabeth looked at him. "What else does she have?" she asked. Grant looked at her enquiringly. "Irene Adler," Elizabeth clarified. "The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." She stood up and faced her brother. "Much more." Grant looked at her, stony-faced. Elizabeth walked closer to him. "Something big's coming, isn't it?" Suddenly, she had a question pop into her head. "Wait a second, what's that woman's name anyway? The one from the Palace?"

Grant cleared his throat. "Bond," he said. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Faith Bond." Parker choked on a laugh as she took a bite of her meal and Elizabeth burst out laughing. Grant glowered at both of them. "Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours," he said sternly. "From now on you will stay out of this."

The two siblings were locked in a glaring contest for a few, tense moments. "Now," said Grant, "if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

Elizabeth picked up Parker's violin. "Do give her my love." She began to tune the instrument. Grant rolled his eyes, turned, and left the room, Elizabeth following along behind him as Parker glanced at Elizabeth in slight annoyance.

As Grant hurried down the stairs, Elizabeth turned back and walked over to the window, still tuning. Parker stood up and walked over to Elizabeth, snatching the violin and bow from her. "Gimme my violin back," she muttered.

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Time passed and it was Christmas before anyone knew it. Fairy lights were strung up around the window frame of 221B Baker Street and it was snowing outside. Inside, the living room was festooned with Christmas decorations and cards, and Sherlock was walking around playing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on his violin. Mrs. Hudson was sitting in his chair with a glass in her hand, watching him happily. Lestrade was standing at the entrance to the kitchen holding a wine glass, and John walked across the room with a cup and saucer in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. As Sherlock finished the tune with a fancy flourish, Lestrade whistled in appreciation. "Lovely!" said Mrs. Hudson. "Sherlock, that was lovely!"

"Marvellous!" John praised.

Mrs. Hudson giggled up at Sherlock. "I wish you could have worn the antlers!"

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said.

John handed her a cup of tea. "Mrs. H," he said. Parker brought over a tray containing mince pies and slices of cake and offered it to Sherlock.

"No thank you, Nightingale," Sherlock said politely.

The room went dead silent.

John cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sherlock…" he warned, glancing quickly at Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. John hurried over to Parker and put his arm around her as she turned away nervously. John awkwardly shepherded Parker away. Luckily, the next person to join them drew everyone's attention away from Parker and they forgot what had just been said.

Sherlock looked across to the door at the new arrival. "Oh, no," he muttered.

Molly Hooper walked in, smiling shyly and carrying two bags which were full of presents. "Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello." John walked over to greet her, smiling. "Er, it said on the door just to come up," she said.

Everyone greeted her cheerfully. "Hi Molly!" said Parker with a happy wave. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other," he said sarcastically. "How wonderful!"

Smiling at him nervously, Molly started to take her coat and scarf off. John was standing ready to take her coat. "Let me, er…holy!"

Lestrade gawped in similar appreciation as Molly revealed that she was wearing a very attractive black dress. "Wow!" he said.

"Having a Christmas drinkies, then?" Molly asked nervously.

Sherlock sat down at the table. "No stopping them, apparently," he said.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me," Mrs. Hudson said, "so it's almost worth it!"

Molly giggled nervously again, her eyes fixed on Sherlock as he started typing on John's laptop. John brought a chair over for her. "Have a seat," he said, offering it to her.

"John?" said Sherlock.

"Mmm?"

As he went over to see what Sherlock was looking at, Lestrade touched Molly's arm to get her attention. "Molly?" She turned to him. "Want a drink?"

As she accepted his offer, John leaned over Sherlock's shoulder to look at the screen. "The counter on your blog: still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

John pulled a mock-angry face. "Ooh, no! Christmas is cancelled!"

Sherlock pointed to the side bar which had one of the press pictures of him in his deerstalker. "And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat!?" Sherlock said irritably.

"People like the hat," said John.

"No they don't. What people?"

He continued looking at the laptop as John walked away. Molly turned to Mrs. Hudson. "How's the hip?" she asked.

"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I've seen much worse," said Molly, "but then I do post-mortems." An awkward silence fell over them. Molly looked embarrassed. "Oh, gosh. Sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly," Sherlock advised.

"No," said Molly. "Sorry." Lestrade handed her a glass of red wine. "Thank you," she said. "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

Lestrade shrugged. "That's first thing in the morning. Me and the wife – we're back together. It's all sorted." He grinned at her.

Sherlock didn't even bother looking up from the computer. "No, she's sleeping with a P.E. teacher."

Lestrade's smile became rather fixed. Molly turned to John who was sitting on the arm of his armchair. Parker was sitting in the chair itself. "And John. I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?"

"Yeah."

She turned to Parker. "And you to your younger brother's."

"Yep," said Parker happily.

"Elizabeth was complaining to me when I last saw her."

Parker smiled and chuckled. "First time ever, he's cleaned up his act. He's off the booze."

"Nope," Sherlock said.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John said, defending Parker and shooting him a glare.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly," said Sherlock, as if nothing had happened, "and you're serious about him."

"Sorry," said Molly, "what?" She was a bit confused, and yet somewhat nervous.

"In fact," Sherlock continued, "you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

John sighed then spoke in quiet exasperation. "Take a day off," he muttered to Sherlock.

Lestrade took a glass across to the table and put it down near Sherlock. "Shut up and have a drink," he advised.

"Oh, come on," said Sherlock. "Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." He stood up and walked towards Molly, looking at the other presents which weren't as carefully wrapped. "It's for someone special, then." He picked up the well-wrapped present. "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind," he said, having fun with the word 'love'. "The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all." Both John and Parker looked at Molly anxiously as she squirmed in front of Sherlock. "That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing." He smiled smugly across to John and Parker and started to turn over the gift tag attached to the present. "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts…"

He trailed off as he looked down at the writing on the tag. Written in red ink, the greeting read:

Dearest Sherlock
Love Molly xxx

Sherlock gazed at the words in shock as he realised the terrible thing that he had just done. Molly gasped quietly. "You always say," she began nervously, "such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always."

As she fought back tears, Sherlock turned to walk away…but then stopped and turned back to her. "I am sorry…Forgive me. John looked up, startled and amazed at such a human reaction from his friend. Sherlock stepped closer to Molly. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said quietly. He leaned forward and gently kissed her on the cheek. It was a sweet and beautiful moment, which was instantly ruined by the sound of an orgasmic sigh. Molly gasped in shock.

"No!" Molly said. "That wasn't…I – I didn't–"

"No, it was me," said Sherlock.

"My g– really?!" Lestrade said, bewildered.

"What?!" asked Molly in shock.

Parker shot him a weird look.

"My phone," Sherlock corrected.

He reached into his jacket pocket to get the phone. John narrowed his eyes. "Fifty-seven?"

"Sorry, what?" said Sherlock.

"Fifty-seven of those texts – the ones I've heard."

Sherlock looked at the message which read simply: Mantelpiece.

Sherlock walked over to the mantelpiece. "Thrilling that you've been counting." He picked up a small box wrapped in blood-red paper and tied with black rope-like string. Instantly he flashed back to the colour of Irene's lipstick, which was identical to this paper. "'Scuse me," he said. Sherlock walked toward the kitchen.

"What – what's up, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock spoke but continuing walking. "I said excuse me."

John called after him. "D'you ever reply?"

Ignoring him, Sherlock walked into his bedroom.

-:-:-;-;-:-:-;-;-:-:-;-;-:-:-;-;-:-:-;-;-:-:-;-;-:-:-

Sherlock had left a while ago, Molly not long afterwards. Soon, just Mrs. Hudson, John, and Parker were left in the flat. There was a knock on the door. "I'll go get that, shall I?" said Mrs. Hudson. She went downstairs to answer the door.

Parker cleared her throat and looked at John who sat next to her on the couch. "When did you tell him?" she asked.

John looked up. "Hm?"

Parker cleared her throat. "When did you tell Sherlock I was Nightingale? You promised you wouldn't say anything."

John sighed. "I never told him," he said. "He is…master of deductions, it only took one day after our Chinese, kidnapping gangsters for him to find out." He looked at his lap for a moment, trying to put his thoughts together. "Were you ever planning on telling me?"

Parker looked John in the eyes then shifted her position on the couch. "I dunno," she said with a shrug. "Not sure."

"Why not?" John asked.

Parker sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "Look…" she started awkwardly, "…I was engaged."

John stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat. "Erm…hm…okay, and…uh…okay…" He glanced back and forth between his lap and Parker. "Why are you saying this?"

Parker closed her eyes again for a second, trying to put the right words together. "Not even Lily and Elizabeth know. I try to keep it from people, ya know?" She cleared her throat awkwardly. "For those who do know, they think I left him; they think I got scared. That's not true." She fought back tears and sighed. "I told Derrick I was Nightingale about a month before we got engaged. The same night he proposed to me he was…he was…" She stumbled a bit and paused. "Some people found out he knew who Nightingale was, so…" Parker closed her eyes again, trying to take a calming breath. "Well…people think I left him. People think I was scared. That's not true. I wasn't scared…He died." She looked away and tried to keep herself under control.

After a few moments, Parker felt an arm go around her shoulders. John was silent for a bit. "So you were afraid?" he concluded. "Afraid of telling someone else?"

Parker nodded, holding back tears. "I never wanted that to happen to anyone again," she said. Her voice became whisper. "Never again."

Mrs. Hudson came up the staircase. "Marie – sorry – dear, a young man is outside saying he needs to speak to you."

Parker stood up. "Alright," she said.

She stepped out of the flat and went down the stairs. She exited 221 and saw Wesley standing near Speedy's. He looked up at his younger sister as she approached. Wesley nodded at Parker and she looked around, shivering a bit, having not grabbed her coat before stepping outside. "Marie," Wesley greeted. Parker merely nodded, rubbing her eyes a bit. Wesley sighed. "Irene Adler is dead," he informed.

Parker looked at her brother in shock. "What?" she asked. She looked around as if checking to see if they were being watched. "How? What happened?"

Wesley sighed. "She had an item that her life depended on…" he sighed briefly, "…and she gave it away." Parker instantly thought about Sherlock's gift on the mantelpiece and knew where the item was. She looked down the street and spotted a restaurant that she used to visit all the time with D–

The name got caught in her thoughts and her throat clenched. Wesley noticed. He sighed. "You've been worried about John Watson, haven't you?" he asked. Parker merely nodded, staring at the building full of memories.

Parker took in a shaky breath, turning towards her brother. "Is there something wrong with me?" she asked.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You have superhuman abilities, that's not exactly—"

"You know what I mean," interrupted Parker.

Wesley sighed. "You are hesitant to let anyone past the level of friendship ever since what happened to Derrick." Parker choked up. "You've let Dr. Watson passed that and now you're worried. But you don't need to be worried. After all…all lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage…" he turned to Parker, "…Marie."

Parker looked up into her brother's eyes. Her own eyes were brimming with tears. She embraced her older brother without a second thought. Wesley was a bit taken aback. She hadn't done that since they were both in primary school. For a moment he hesitated, then he accepted the warming embrace. Parker sniffled. "Tell that to your wife and kids," she muttered. Wesley couldn't help but quirk a small smile.

"Caring may not be an advantage, but that shouldn't stop us from trying to make it one."

Parker smiled and stepped away. She began to walk back to 221B. "Merry Christmas, Wesley," she said over her shoulder.

Wesley nodded. "And a happy new year," he added as she stepped inside.

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