25.
She didn't sleep much. It had been a few days since Elspeth saw Moriarty, and his words kept running through her mind, and she honestly couldn't remember the last time she got a good night's sleep when this ordeal began. Her shoulders slightly cramped and her legs aching from being tightly curled up, Elspeth sat up, stretched her limbs, and groggily reached for the medication she kept in her bedside table. Grimacing at the warm water she washed pill down with, Elspeth picked her jumper up from the floor, pulling it on over the flimsy shirt she wore to bed.
Opening her bedroom door and hearing voices, Elspeth decided to leave the comforts of her bedroom while trying to force herself to fully wake up. It wasn't easy. The sudden bump of her hitting the wall helped, though.
The living room was full when Elspeth walked in. Sherlock paced back and forth, his phone glued to his ear, wearing a large scowl. John and Mary, who leaned back in her seat with her hands folded over her stomach, sat at the table, while Irene had appropriated Sherlock's armchair as her own.
". . . do you mean?" Sherlock asked angrily, acknowledging Elspeth with a glance. He was talking to Mycroft; she could tell by the tone of his voice.
Mary slid a plate of toast across the table when Elspeth sat down. She nibbled on the edge absent mindedly and watched Sherlock pace, his tone growing more and more irritable. Elspeth glanced over at Irene. She was filing her nails.
"What's he talking about?" Elspeth whispered to Mary.
"No idea. He was on the phone when we got here."
Elspeth jumped when Sherlock's phone was suddenly thrust into her face, held by her scowling father. "You talk to him," he snapped at her. She took the phone.
"Hi Mycroft."
Turning around, Sherlock aimed his scowl at Irene, who continue to file her nails and drape herself across his armchair like she owned it. She ignored him.
"Ellie," Mycroft said with exasperation. "Would you please tell that insufferable father of yours to listen to me?"
"Mmm, I don't know, he never really listens to anyone," Elspeth teased, turning to grin at Sherlock, who didn't notice as he continued pacing. John watched his friend closely and Mary covered her hand with his, both of them aware that something was wrong with Sherlock. Something was very wrong.
"Elspeth, for once in your life could you behave?" Mycroft snapped back. He rarely used her full name, only when he was angry or she was in serious trouble. When she was young and people first started to call her Ellie, Mycroft was the only one to continue using her full name, referring to her by her nickname only when she refused to respond to anything else. Elspeth felt herself bristling slightly, wearing an identical scowl as Sherlock. "This is a serious matter –"
"What is?" she interrupted impatiently. John tore his eyes from Sherlock and looked at her then, wearing a grim expression that Mary knew well. No good ever came from that look. Elspeth's scowl faded. Her face paled slightly and her hand tightened around the phone, and Sherlock glanced at her as well. He knew what Mycroft was telling her. "Right," Elspeth said, her tone quiet, uncertain. "Yeah, erm – I – we'll be there soon, I guess. Bye."
Mary glanced at John, then looked at Elspeth. "Is everything alright, Ellie?" Biting her lip, Elspeth slowly lowered the phone onto the table, stood up, and slowly crossed the room. "Did . . . did you have anything to do with this?" she asked Irene, calm – too calm.
Irene raised her eyebrows. "Did I have anything to do with what?"
"Moriarty breaks out of one of the most secure cells in England a few days after you turn up, and you expect me to believe it's just a coincidence." Sherlock's expression turned to one of slight alarm, John rising to his feet when he saw that Elspeth's temper was increasing. "What did you do?" she shouted.
"Alright, Ellie, that's enough," Sherlock said quickly, grabbing hold of his daughter's arm and tugging away from Irene, who hadn't even flinched at Elspeth's outburst. "Irene Adler had nothing to do with Moriarty breaking out, Mycroft and I both know that."
Elspeth tried to tug her arm from Sherlock but he tightened his grip. "Then how did it happen?" she demanded angrily.
"We don't know, that's why we're going back to look."
"You may be, I'm not," Elspeth snarled. She yanked away from Sherlock, and that time he let her. With a dark look in Irene's direction, she turned and stormed out of the living room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Mary sighed. "Someone should go after her."
"Don't bother," Sherlock said dismissively. "She won't listen to anyone." He knew Elspeth; she was too angry, too worked up. There was no point in trying to reason with her. "Are you coming?" he asked John, who stared back at him.
"Coming where?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "To the cells, I can't go alone."
"Uh . . ." John frowned uncertainly, glancing over his shoulder at Mary, who frowned back at him.
"Don't look at me like that, you can do what you want," she retorted. With a noise of slight discomfort, she pushed herself up and climbed to her feet, joining Sherlock and John in the living room. Smiling at her husband, Mary squeezed his shoulder. "Just get me home first. I won't be much help like this."
"There's CCTV footage there," Sherlock told her. "If you want to help, you can watch that."
"Oh, and when was this dropped off?" Mary asked Sherlock with a bemused frown.
"This morning."
Mary smiled to herself, confusing Sherlock, and then turned to John. "Well, you'd best get me home fast," she said in a light, teasing voice. "I need to make myself useful."
Promising to meet Sherlock, John went with Mary out of the living room, his hand on her back when they walked down the stairs. Sherlock looked at Irene, who continued to sit in his armchair and file her nails like nothing bothered her. She'd barely even acknowledged Elspeth's outburst. It took her a few seconds to realise that Sherlock was staring at her.
"Yes?"
"What about you?"
"I thought I would just stay here, make sure that Ellie is alright," Irene said with a smile in Sherlock's direction. It wasn't very sincere. As she said this, however, Elspeth's footsteps pounded against the stairs, followed by the front door shutting with more force than necessary. Sherlock frowned unhappily, annoyed that Elspeth had run out, and then turned to Irene again. "Oh," she said. "Well, on that note, I'd best get going. Things to do, people to see."
Picking up her bag, Irene smirked at Sherlock, starting to walk out of the room. She was stopped when Sherlock reached out, holding her arm in a firm but gentle grip. "Don't make me regret helping you," he told her in a low voice.
Irene gazed up at Sherlock, taking a small step back when he let go of her arm. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
"Don't worry, Mr Holmes," Irene purred with a sly smile. "I'll do no such thing."
Perhaps running out wasn't the best option, Elspeth realised, but she couldn't stay home for any longer, not when Irene was just sitting there . . . she believed Sherlock when he told that Irene had nothing to do with Moriarty's escape but she couldn't help but feel suspicious. Everything felt like a big mess and Elspeth just had to get away. Jeez, she had major issues.
Frowning, Elspeth took a sip of her drink, deep in thought. The pub was small and dark and dirty, the ideal place to think; no one would bother her there. A few of the drunken patrons had glanced up at her arrival but she gave them such a dark look that they just turned away again. Only one man – youngish, tall, somewhat handsome, she supposed – smiled at her, and he stood by the bar not too far from her.
Elspeth could recall every word that Moriarty had said to her, the way he gazed at her imprinted in her mind, and though she hated him so much, she couldn't deny that Moriarty had made a home in her head. She scowled to herself, finishing her drink, and waited for the bartender to ask her if she wanted another one. Not for the first time, Elspeth cursed her antidepressants; a proper drink was what she needed at that point, not Coke.
"Cheer up," the man standing at the bar called to her with an easy grin, which widened when Elspeth looked at him. "Might never happen."
Elspeth smiled back dryly. "Already has," she muttered.
For some reason, the man took this as an invitation, picking up his drink and wandering towards her. He sat down on the stool next to Elspeth and rested his arm on the bar, his head tilted to the side as his eyes assessed her.
"You look familiar."
"Bet you say that to all the girls," Elspeth said with a smirk, shaking her head.
"No, really, you do. I know! Last year, at that festival in the line for the bogs – you and I made sweet music together."
Elspeth laughed incredulously, raising her eyebrows at the man. "Seriously?" she asked him. "That's the best you could come up with? Sweet music together?"
"Hey, I got you to smile," the man teased with a playful grin that Elspeth couldn't help but return. "No, honestly, you do look familiar, even if we haven't met." His head in his hand, he stared closely at her, his eyes lighting up with sudden realisation. "You've been in the newspaper, right? You're that Holmes girl?"
That Holmes girl. Elspeth wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult.
"Yes, I'm that Holmes girl."
"It's nice to meet you, that Holmes girl, my name's Seb." Elspeth shook Seb's outstretched hand. "And what is your actual name?" he asked her. "Unless you'd prefer me to call you Holmes."
"Ellie," Elspeth told him. "My name's Ellie."
"Nice to meet you, Ellie. Can I get you another drink?"
Elspeth's eyes flickered uncertainly between her empty glass and Seb, who continued to smile at her pleasantly, remembering the last time that someone had bought her a drink. "Erm . . . yeah, I guess," she said warily. "Just a Coke, thanks."
"Same again please, mate," Seb called to the bartender. "Sure I can't get you a proper drink, Ellie?"
"No, I can't," Elspeth said with an apologetic tone, her nose scrunching up slightly. "I'm pregnant." Seb stared back at her, his eyes wide with alarm, and Elspeth laughed. "I'm joking, I'm really not pregnant." She giggled. "Oh jeez, my Dad would kill me if I was."
"Not much of a drinker, then?" he asked her, grinning over his pint.
"Medication. I can't." Elspeth grimaced. "Well, I can," she added. "But it's generally unadvisable and I really cannot be bothered to deal with the lecture from everyone about why I shouldn't be drinking." Elspeth didn't mention that it would probably be Mary giving the lecture. "I really don't have the energy to deal with that."
"Sounds like you really need a proper drink," Seb teased, Elspeth laughing at the remark.
"Sounds like you're trying to get me in trouble, which I don't appreciate, by the way."
Seb's grin was roguish, wicked. "I can't help it, I love a bad girl. What do you say? Is there any possible way I can tempt you?"
Tilting her head to the side and looking as if she was considering it, Elspeth grinned back. "No, I'm afraid not," she said apologetically. "That was a damn good go, though, I'm impressed."
"Bet you say that to all the boys," Seb commented, his grin widening. Elspeth laughed, turning away and trying to remember the last time that a guy had made her stomach feel like it was fluttering the way Seb did. But her head was a mess and he was older than her and Elspeth knew that now wasn't the time to be starting a relationship or even just hooking up with someone, not when she could hardly walk down the street without feeling paranoid. Her smile faded slightly.
Biting her lip, Elspeth gazed down at the bar, tracing the markings of the wood with the tip of her finger for a second. Seb frowned at her.
"Everything alright?"
"Uh – yeah," Elspeth said firmly. "You know what? I think I will have that drink."
Her arms full of paperwork, Molly pushed the door to her office open with some difficulty, kicking it shut with her toes so she wouldn't be disturbed. Turning around, she gasped a little when she saw Sherlock sitting in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on her desk.
"You're usually in the lab," she commented when she regained her composure. "Or the mortuary."
"There's people already in there," Sherlock said, his fingers pressed together in front of him. He frowned up at Molly, looking both confused and concerned. His eyes lingered on the paperwork. "Why are there interns in your lab?"
Her lab. Molly couldn't help but smile at that. "We've always had interns in the lab," she told Sherlock. "I was an intern, remember?"
"Yes." Of course he remembered. That was how he met Molly. She'd been a mousy, meek young woman who had barely been able to look Sherlock in the eye to begin with, and when they first met, Molly thought that Sherlock was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. The dream of a gorgeous, intelligent man striding into the lab and whisking her off her feet every day disappeared very quickly, however, when Sherlock rather rudely barked at her to get out so he could work.
"I can't trust any of them to do the paperwork, though," Molly said lightly. "They're more than happy to poke dead bodies and work out the cause of death, but ask them to do a bit of writing and their brains just turn to mush." Putting the work down, Molly sighed and sat in the other chair at her desk. "I was never like that." Sherlock was silent. "Sorry, I'm talking too much . . . I'll just . . ."
"Have you heard from him?" Sherlock asked abruptly. He didn't look at Molly, even when she gazed at him over her shoulder, surprised.
". . . who?"
"Moriarty – Jim." He spat the name out, his nose scrunching up with repulsion, and Molly's eyes widened a little bit. She'd been in the lab when she saw the footage; Sherlock had told her about who Jim really was, what he had done – to Sherlock, to John, to all those innocent people . . . to Elspeth. It terrified Molly to think that she had fallen for it. "Have you heard from him?"
"No, not since we broke up." Molly resisted the urge to insist that she had dumped Jim, even though she had. "Why, have you?"
"Yes. He contacted me," Sherlock said slowly. "and Ellie."
"Oh," Molly murmured. The paperwork was forgotten on the desk, Molly's chair turning completely so she could face Sherlock. "What did he want? If," she added quickly. "you don't mind me asking. You don't have to tell me, of course, but sometimes it helps –"
"Molly," Sherlock interrupted. He gave her a stern look and Molly stopped babbling, chewing down on her bottom lip. After a moment's silence, Sherlock spoke again. "He wanted to mock us, mostly, wanted to know if I knew how he survived his suicide."
"I didn't help him, in case you're wondering," Molly told him. "I don't just help anyone fake their death." Sherlock's lips twitched into a slight smile, his eyes meeting hers.
"He spoke to Ellie, as well. He didn't tell her anything though."
"Bet it helped her though."
Sherlock frowned at Molly. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Molly said slowly, carefully choosing her words. "Sometimes, it's considered . . . helpful for people who have been attacked in one way or another to confront the person who hurt them." Sherlock's brow creased a little while he listened, thinking back to how Elspeth had spoken to Moriarty. "So, in a way, talking to Jim – Moriarty, may have helped Ellie." Molly frowned. "Sorry, why are we talking about this?"
"Jim Moriarty managed to escape from one of the most secure cells in England, and I don't know how," Sherlock hissed with frustration. "How does he do it?"
How did Jim Moriarty do anything? Fake his suicide, escape from Mycroft's cell . . . he needed someone on the inside. Having Irene on their side helped, but she wasn't entirely dependable, more of a wildcard actually. She only really cared about herself and her safety.
"There wasn't anyone there who could've helped him?" Molly suggested. Sherlock shook his head.
"John said that. Mycroft did extensive and regular background checks."
"Maybe someone snuck in. Or Moriarty paid someone to go behind your brother's back and help him out." Molly wasn't sure why she was trying to help Sherlock, but he seemed to be listening and that only encouraged her. "Didn't you say the best way to hide was to do it in plain sight?" she asked eagerly.
Sherlock nodded. "I need to think," he said quietly, talking more to himself than her, and Molly's smile faded slightly. Still, she assured herself, he hadn't dismissed her thoughts or help in any way.
"I'll be right here if you need me," she promised. Sherlock didn't notice. He was too engrossed in his thoughts.
"Willing participants," he muttered under his breath. "All it takes is some willing participants."
"Bartender, another round!"
The bartender – a middle aged man with a beer belly and receding hairline – smirked at Elspeth's request, watching the way she wobbled about on her stool unsteadily, several empty glasses gathered in front of her. To her side, Seb was trying not to laugh.
"I think you've had enough, don't you?"
"How dare you?" Elspeth demanded, affronted. "I'll have you know that there is no such thing as too much al – al – drink." She slammed her hand on the bar, making herself jump, and then took a few seconds to steady herself. "Fetch me another drink, my good man, and hurry up."
"You'd better take her home, mate," the bartender told Seb, who was laughing openly at Elspeth's sudden eloquence. Despite her polite manner, she was slurring terribly, and had obviously had one too many drinks.
"Great idea. Come on, Ellie."
Seb grabbed her arm to help her off her stool, and immediately Elspeth flipped out. "Don't touch me," she yelled, throwing his arm away and tumbling off her stool in the process. She somehow managed to fall on her feet, stumbled, then straightened herself up and glared angrily at Seb. "Don't ever touch me again," she told him. "Or I – I – I . . . will make you regret it."
The threat would've been slightly more intimidating if Elspeth wasn't very drunk, and considerably smaller than Seb, who seemed to tower over her even when they were sitting.
"Look, Ellie, let me take you home –"
"No, I can make my own way back, thank you."
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Elspeth staggered past Seb with as much dignity as she could muster, ignoring his snicker when she tripped over. She got about halfway down the street before realising there was no chance of getting home in the state she was in, and with no money to pay for a cab, Elspeth had no choice but to take her phone and call for someone to collect her.
Elspeth's thumb hovered between two numbers. Sherlock, or John. Sherlock would probably be quicker, and wouldn't lecture her like John would, but she knew he'd sit there in disappointed silence and somehow that seemed worse than being told off. Leaning against a lamppost for support, Elspeth called John.
"Hello?"
"John," Elspeth whined. "John, I got drunk and I don't know how it happened. I'm sorry."
"What? What do you mean you got drunk?" John asked her – followed by Mary's outburst in the background of, "she's drunk?" – incredulously. "Where are you?" Elspeth searched for a street sign for a few seconds, then gave up and asked a passing tourist, who gave her a strange look but the name of the street. "Alright, stay where you are – I'm being serious, Ellie, don't wander off. I'll be there as soon as I can."
John hung up and Elspeth tucked her phone back into her pocket, running a tired hand down her face. She was regretting getting drunk already. Alcohol and antidepressants were not a good mix.
She didn't know if it was the alcohol making her feel that way, but Elspeth was certain that there were eyes on her, someone watching her. Elspeth lifted her head, glancing across the road . . . she froze.
Moriarty. Though he was wearing jeans and a hoodie, a tourist's baseball cap with I LOVE LONDON printed on the front and the front pulled down low, Elspeth could recognise his dark eyes anywhere. Her heart raced. Still clutching the lamppost, Elspeth felt herself take a step backwards but didn't register it, unable to tear her eyes from him. He'd only escaped that morning, how . . .
A stream of traffic rushed past, a bus blocking Elspeth's view for a minute. By the time it moved on, Moriarty had already disappeared.
Thank you iwanttobeaneverdeen, xxxMadameMysteryxxx, Ms Moonshoes Potter, LittleGee, EICochrane, GeorgyannWayson, Bookworm45669, ElizabethCullen08, Adrillian1497, Fantasy-Mania31, dngr dys, nakari ash, bellechat, TheDoctor'sAmazingCompanion, ScissorLuv143, Kayla, Darcy, Tayla and Aimee for reviewing!