Author's note: This is Sir Aurthur Conan Doyle's story, that I've just adapted and modernized for your enjoyment. I rather think I'll be having fun too. Even if it does take me forever to finish it, due to a tremendous headache. I'm going to try and finish it today though, so bear with me.
Sherlock holds the door open for John as the two enter the flat.
"Well that was pointless."
"It was the cinema Sherlock. It was Sarah's choice today and you didn't have to come you know."
"And stay here by myself. Again? You do know she's cheating on you right?"
"I'm not even going to ask why you think that."
"I don't think John, I see the facts. You're just being ignorant. As usual." He sits down in his favorite armchair, pulling John's laptop into his lap, turning it on and waiting for his email to come up. John takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table, facing Sherlock.
"Why do you want to destroy my relationship with Sarah? That's just…. Rude, and not like a flat mate at all." Sherlock glances up at John, rolling his eyes,
"I'm not trying to 'destroy your relationship with Sarah'. I'm trying to make it so you observe and embrace the facts. It's only logical that because you live with me you should harness the same amount of- ," He cuts himself off midsentence, "Oh dear God no." John stands up, looking over Sherlock's shoulder.
"Who's Charles Milverton?"
"One of the fiercest blackmailers this city has ever seen. And someone I don't want to deal with today. Oh bugger. He says he's coming by at six. How long does that give us John?"
"Ten minutes." Sherlock frowns, lines creasing his face. He closes the laptop and leans back in his chair. He purses his lips and presses his fingertips together, placing them under his chin. "Who is he Sherlock?"
"When you go to the Zoo, and you see those snakes, the ones with the flat faces and the slithering slimy bodies, do you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, both of fear and of disgust? That's how I feel about Charles Milverton."
"Sherlock. No games."
"He's the king of blackmail. If you've got dirt, he'll dig it up and threaten you with it. He'll squeeze you till you're dry and he won't stop squeezing. I've worked on thousands of cases John, most of them murder cases, and none have made me feel more sick than this man does. God help the poor soul he's found something on. What he does is he bribes his way into getting the information. I know for a fact that he bribed his way past a social security worker, for two lines of script. That was the downfall of the family. He paid over seven thousand pounds for it too. He does it for fun John."
"Can't they just arrest him? I mean it can't be legal." Sherlock closes his eyes and leans back in his chair.
"That's the beauty of it John. Technically he's not within the law, but no one says anything because what would be the point. What would be the point of getting him a few month of imprisonment when as soon as he got out he'd release the information that you got him imprisoned for having. That would be your downfall, not his. There is not point John. He's got a system."
"Then why is he coming here?"
"We have a client. A one Eva Blackwell who asked for my help."
"You never told me."
"You were sleeping. I didn't see the point."
"What are the terms?"
"She's due to be married. Milverton shot a few emails to a few people who would have the marriage broken off, asking a large sum of money from the marrying couple. If they don't pay you can ensure that the marriage will be foiled."
"Well then this doesn't really concern you does it?"
"Not usually no. But I've been commissioned to meet with old Charlie boy and agree on terms that are more reasonable. I've been expecting this email for a long time. There. That's him on the stairs. Quick John, pretend to talk with me."
"I am talking with you."
"Pretend to be a client!" He leans toward John, a look of interest masking his face. John smiles a sly smile before beginning.
"You see, Mr. Holmes, I need your help. My brother got in with some bad people, I need your help to get him out." Sherlock leans back,
"I don't see how I can help you John."
"Please." John pleads. Sherlock glances over his shoulder at the large man blocking their door.
"I'm sorry John. This will have to wait. I have more important matters."
"But-"
"No. Just sit there. What do you want Charlie?" The large dark haired man enters the room slowly, much like a whale.
"You know why I'm here Sherlock."
"To discuss Miss Eva's terms." The man gestures to John.
"Should we talk somewhere more private?"
"It's fine."
"Are you-"
"Just sit down." He takes a seat, glancing at John every few minutes. He straightens his suit before facing Sherlock.
"You understand the terms."
"Right now? Yes. Seven thousand pounds. And the alternative?"
"There isn't one. If the money isn't paid on the fourteenth, there will be no wedding on the eighteenth." Sherlock glares at the man sitting in front of him.
"That's it then? You clearly haven't thought this through. We won't pay the money and on the day of the wedding we'll tell the husband the story and pray for his mercy."
"You clearly don't know the groom."
"Should it matter? The problem can't be that horrible."
"The lady was a very…. Flirtatious young woman. The Earl won't be merciful. I'll just get these emails and show them to the Earl and…." Sherlock sits up, anger flaring in his eyes.
"Hold on a moment. We don't want to be too hasty." Milverton sits back in his chair.
"I was sure you'd see it like that."
"Eva isn't a very wealthy woman. Two thousand pounds would drain her. Seven thousand… Well that's just impossible. I'm sure we can agree on a price that I'll set." Milverton laughs coldly.
"I'm aware of the ladies money situation. All the same, a wedding is a good time for friends to give money. I'm sure these emails would make her much happier than any present her friends could supply."
"It's impossible Charlie."
"Well, well, well. It just seems horrible that just a push of a button, and the whole wedding can be called off. A little section in the news announcing that the wedding is off and for what? A few letters that seven thousand pounds could have cleared up. Isn't it just pitiful?"
"Stop playing games. You know she can't give that much."
"You know I can't work on your terms." He stands up to leave and John makes for the door to stop him.
"Give it up John, we can't hold him here."
"Very good Mr. Holmes. I expected more, I can say that you rather disappointed me. At least now I can say we've met face to face. It's been a pleasure working with you. At last a correspondence between us that does not end in one of us threatening the other." He pulls the door open and leaves in a rush. John frowns at Sherlock, sitting in front of the fireplace, deep in thought.
"What did he mean Sherlock? Has he threatened you before?"
"Yes. I'll figure something out. Go to bed John. You need the rest."