Chapter 21: Upton Park

Sherlock wandered the streets for a while after leaving Molly's. He truly had nowhere to go. Normal people would go to a friend's house for comfort. But he wasn't normal. And John still thought he was dead. As the clock struck 11pm, he found himself in Kensington knocking on his brother's door.

If Mycroft was surprised to see his younger brother, he did not let on. Sherlock followed him into the study, where a fire was lit, even though it was summer. Mycroft was wearing a dressing gown and smoking a pipe – the very picture of eccentricity. Sherlock sat down in a chair by the fire, taking the glass of scotch Mycroft held out.

"I told you so," said the elder.

"You did."

"I presume she took it badly?"

"You mean you weren't watching?"

"Some things are private, Sherlock. The reunion could have gone two ways, and in reality what happened was the more likely outcome, I had no wish to potentially see Molly and you be intimate."

The look on Sherlock's face told Mycroft all he needed to know. He'd obviously been clinging to the notion that she might instantly forgive him and hold out her arms.

"I did warn you…" he began, but Sherlock held up a hand.

"I don't want to discuss it, Myc." The use of his childhood nickname was jarring. This then was Sherlock as upset as he'd ever seen him.

"I'm sure this will sound trite but now you can focus on the work. It's time to finish and come back to life. Keeping you dead is exhausting."

Sherlock laughed in spite of his inner anguish.

"Yes, I've been thinking about something."

"The fact that the package wouldn't originally have contained hair dye and contact lenses?"

"Exactly. Jim Moriarty did not know my intentions before he met me on the roof. Jamesy must have changed the contents, which means that the plan has altered. I'm willing to bet that working on his own initiative wasn't in the original blueprint. Perhaps he's made a mistake?"

"Originally, they must have planned something that would hurt Molly – the result is the same, but it may have been physical."

"There's no point in trying to guess now, Mycroft. We'll start from the basis that the plan has changed. Your surveillance stays in place. What did your staff find from the packaging?"

"Well, we've traced it. Delivered to the post office near Upton Park tube station the day before yesterday."

"So Jamesy is a West Ham fan?"

"I suppose somebody has to be," grinned Mycroft.

"Do they have cameras?"

"Yes, he didn't deliver it personally. This man brought the package in: he paid cash."

Mycroft passed over some stills of a blond man aged about 40.

"Moran!"

"Yes, I was surprised too. Obviously, there was no prior evidence of them working together, but now we know they are, we can pool the intelligence on both parties."

Excited to have something to ruminate on, Sherlock and Mycroft reviewed the file on Moran, comparing it to what they knew about both Moriarty men. After a couple of hours, a few facts were clearer.

"Right, if this is all coming to a head, it's time for me to retire Martin Crieff officially."

"I agree: certainly, you'll have to remain in London for the time being. Shall I take care of it?"

"No, I'll do it myself. But I'll need a place to stay…"

"I'll have Anthea find you a nice safe house."

"What's wrong with this one?"

"Urgh, really, you want to stay here with me? It's not advisable."

"But it is secure, and the fewer people who know my movements the better."

Mycroft sighed, exasperated, but he knew Sherlock spoke sense.

"Fine. Now, about your other idea. Are you sure you want to bring John into this?"

"I think having John watch out for Molly is a good idea. He'll look after her."

"And what if she slips and tells him about you?"

"She won't. She's risked a lot to help keep me alive. She won't ruin it now because we are involved."

"Were involved. Alright. I'll speak to John tomorrow."

Mycroft called on John the following morning, as he breakfasted. It was strange to be back in Baker St. He'd expected John to vacate the place after the events of the previous year but after a brief spell staying with his sister, John had returned. Mycroft arranged to pay Sherlock's half of the rent, and had told John that Sherlock had left instructions to do so. He was in no position, either mentally or financially, to question it at the time.

John answered the door with a mug of coffee in hand. He was still in his dressing gown.

"Mycroft, this is unexpected."

"John, may I come in?"

John widened the door to allow him entrance.

"Coffee?"

"Thank you, no, I only drink tea."

"Well, teabags are over there, help yourself. What's up?"

Mycroft sneered slightly at the notion of teabags, particularly Tesco own-brand ones, but nevertheless made himself a cup of tea.

"It's Molly Hooper. You will be aware that I keep tabs on all of my brother's closest friends."

John nodded. A little thing like Sherlock's death would hardly stop Mycroft interfering in his life.

"She has recently broken up with her boyfriend, and is very down about it. I was hoping you might look in on her."

"I didn't know she was seeing someone. I just met up with her about 6 weeks ago. She didn't mention a guy. And it would have been topical because I introduced her to my girlfriend, Mary."

"I would surmise it was in the very early stages then but progressed quite quickly. At any rate, it was doomed and she is now distraught."

"I will of course get in touch with her today – but why don't you look in her yourself, Mycroft?"

"And remind her of my brother, another man who regularly hurt her feelings? I may have nudged countries into wars, and ordered the deaths of vicious criminals, but I would not wish to hurt Molly Hooper further."

So the Iceman had a heart after all, thought John.

They chatted for a few more minutes and then Mycroft left. His Tesco tea remained untouched on the draining board. John got himself together and headed for the hospital to call in on Molly.