A/N: In this chapter there's mention of suicide and how Evelyn thinks its selfish. I do not agree with these views, but it makes since for her to see it this way. Just wanted to put that out there. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Happy reading :D

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Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show

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Chapter two: Negotiations

Two Weeks Ago

Evelyn paced the room they put her in. It looked like an interrogation room in the criminal shows. It had a table and two chairs as well as a mirror she assumed was a two way one. On the table sat an ice bucket, whiskey and two glasses. The coldness of the room did what is was meant to do. She was on edge, and that was not likely to change while in this room. It borderlines being too small.

After what felt like forever, the door opened to a large man, not large as in overweight, large as in tall and muscular. The man stood six feet and three inches, his black hair was as it always was, cut short, and those gunmetal grey eyes were cold as steel.

"Evan," Evelyn greeted, crossing her arms over her chest, and planting her feet. It was nothing more than a show. She felt like a feather could knock her over, but it made her look steady, and that's what counted.

Evan said nothing. He stepped aside, revealing the man who raised her. The man she detested. "Evan, you haven't greeted our guest."

"Nice to see you," Evan said after grinding his molars.

"Oh lookie there! He does speak," Evelyn replied. She watched as he fought for control, and lucky for her, he won. Even was always an arsehole. As kids he liked locking her in closets, or pushing her in the pool. Sometimes he would do something bad, and blame her.

"Must you always cause a ruckus?" Elijah remarked, annoyed at his youngest child.

"Sorry, Elijah. Apparently being away hasn't changed me as much as I hoped."

"Elijah? Does father no longer suite you?" Elijah walked over to the table where the whiskey sat. He poured out two glasses, holding one up to her.

"I didn't come here for pleasantries, and you are not my father." A father wouldn't treat his child the way he treated her. Hell, the way he treats all woman is horrible, but he seemed especially terrible to her.

"You have a lot of nerve to disrespect father!" Evan spat. "You've always been an ungrateful little twit!"

"And your nose will forever be stained brown!"

"Why you little…"

"Leave us, Evan, your sister and I have business to discuss," Elijah cut in.

"Good boy!" Evelyn called after him, but was cut off short by the closing of the door. She shifted her attention to Elijah, and wished Evan would come back. At least that way she wasn't alone with the monster who haunted her dreams.

"You've got nerve, Ivy. I'll give you that. Sure you don't want a drink?"

Evelyn! My name is Evelyn! Her brain screamed. "Can we get to why I'm here? What is it you want from me?"

Elijah chuckled. "You've got a fire in yah. That's one of the reasons I took you in. I knew you'd be worth it to me."

"I would have fared better on the streets," she countered.

"You would have been dead in months."

"Better than the abuse I suffered at your hands. The hands of your men! The things you made me do…" She broke off. No, she wasn't going to think about that now. Not now. There was no point at any rate. Rehashing her abusive past would do nothing for her now. Besides, Elijah would never admit to any wrong, because he believes he's right in the way he raised her.

"I taught you how to steal. How to survive. I taught you how to fake your way in society to come out on top. I took your talent for theatrics, and molded it into a survival skill. Everything you know is because I taught you." He said this all calmly. He was used to her ungratefulness and attitude.

"You taught me that men can use woman how they please. You taught me that love means nothing. You taught me that money and power are the only things that bring true happiness." Jesus, he taught her how to be a damn whore. To use men for their money. To get close to said men to steal from, and find a reason to blackmail them. That's what she was to him. A pretty face with a nice body. "Everything I hate about myself, you taught me."

"Perception dearest, Ivy. I taught valuable lessons. How you took them is on you. Now, on to what I brought you here for. I need you to be my eyes and ears. I have an elaborate heist on the horizon. Something I've been planning for years. But I need the best of the best, therefore I need to test my men. A contest if you will. While all the burglaries shouldn't be able to be connected, there is one man who can connect the dots if he looks close enough, and I need to know the moment he starts looking."

"You need me for this? Breanne or Willy could do that."

"I need a professional liar. Someone who can live the role given to her. Someone who will not mess up the lie." Elijah lifted is glass in salute to her. "You are the best. Prettier than Breanne, bless her heart. You know how to bend men's wills. I think you could get closer than anyone else I know."

Evelyn sat now. Yes, she was good at living a lie. That was the only way she survived her childhood. She used to pretend that someone would come rescue her. Or that the abuse was happening to someone else. Anyone else. She once spent an entire year pretending she was a boy. She acted like one, dressed like one. Though looking back she supposed that's when Elijah realized she was capable of living a lie. She had convinced anyone who didn't know her that she was, in fact, a boy.

"You need a spy? That's all? No thieving? No killing?"

"Not from you. You just need to know what this man is doing. I want you to learn who he is, and what makes him weak."

She was about to ask why he would need that kind of information, but the answer came to her before she asked. Of course he would want to know what his weakness was. He would use it to keep the man off his trail. "Who is this man? Why do you think he will get on to you?" Elijah was a smart man. He planned for things months in advance. He had contingency plans for his contingency plan.

"Sherlock Holmes. A bit of a celebrity in the recent years. You will have to read up on him. He is not a man who misses much. He has an immense intellect. One shouldn't doubt his abilities. He has taken down some of the best criminals I know."

Sherlock Holmes? Yeah, the name rang a bell. "What of Oliver? You going to keep a child from his mother for months?"

Elijah seemed to consider her words. "I'm willing to make some kind of arrangement. If the boy's caretaker is willing to cooperate."

"Rachel is his mother. Treat her as such."

"That woman shouldn't be raising my grandson. My daughter should be."

"I'm not your daughter, and Oliver his not your grandson." She paused. " How did you know? Really know? Obviously he's not actually your blood like you said."

"Frances saw you a few months after you left us. You were both in South Carolina I believe it was. She rang me up and congratulated me on the expansion of the family. Then when I looked in on you a few months ago, I put two and two together."

Frances has always had a big mouth. She remembered seeing Frances then, but she was unaware that Frances had seen her. "I should have left. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around." She rubbed her hands on her face. Something she did when stressed.

"Yes, well. A mother doesn't easily leave her child."

Was there admiration is his tone? "Will have Rachel come here? To London?" Evelyn asked, redirecting the conversation back to what was really important.

"Yes. I will put them up in one of my flats. Guarded of course. Don't want the two running off in the middle of the night."

Evelyn took the glass of whiskey and downed it. The glass met the table with a loud thud as the liquid burned her throat. She really didn't want to do this.

"Do we have a deal?"

Do I have a choice? She thought to herself. "If I do this, Oliver goes unharmed?"

"Yes. The boy will not me touched."

She thought it over a moment. "I want pardoned. If I do this, Oliver and I will never be called upon by you. We are free forever." She wouldn't have Oliver in this life. She would do anything to ensure that he lived a normal life. Sure, he was blind, but Elijah was the type of bastard who could make use of anyone.

It was Elijah's turn to finish his drink, though he did it slower, and put the glass down softly. "Your son will go unharmed, and you will both get my pardon."

Evelyn stood now. She was more than ready to get out of this room. "Where do I find this Sherlock Holmes?"

Elijah stood as he pulled out a file from his suit jacket. "I had my sister get ahold of an old friend. They were close once a long time ago. She said her niece needed a place to stay for a bit while she got resettled into London."

"Aunt Jenny?" Evelyn stood there confused. Jenny was fifteen years older than Elijah, and from what she understood, died a year or so ago. She was devastated to find it out, and felt sick about missing the funeral. Jenny was the only person to ever show her kindness. "I thought she had passed."

"And where did you hear such things?"

"I have friends in your circle. I was informed by one ." She watched the anger creep onto his face, but he covered it up quickly.

"Her death was never announced. Therefore, Mrs. Hudson is unaware it took place. She agreed to give you the extra flat. You, of course, need to pay rent, but she would give you a deal on that. I have taken care of the rent for the first six months. I will give you cash for anything else you might need."

Evelyn took the file, as well as the envelope that was no doubt filled with said cash. He informed her that there was a car waiting for her. She was to spend a week at one of his places, then relocate to 221B Baker street. She opened the door and was about to leave when her curiosity got the best of her. "What do you plan on stealing? What is so important that you need to make sure this guy doesn't see?"

Elijah smiled at her. "That is information I will not share until necessary."

"Then how am I supposed to know if Sherlock is barking up your tree?"

"I will keep you posted. Off you go now. I have appointments to keep."

He didn't have to tell her twice. She left the room as quickly as she could. Once in the car, she took her first full breath in what felt like forever. She hated that man with everything she had. But this was her way out, and she had to do it. No matter how much it turned her stomach.

Now

Sherlock sat in his chair, and hardly listened as the woman tearfully explained that her husband wouldn't commit suicide. Why would he? What with the job promotion and the baby on the way. He looked across the way to John, who looked at the woman with sad, compassionate eyes.

"From what I can see, there doesn't seem to be anything suggesting otherwise," John said, in a soothing tone.

"I'm suggesting otherwise!" the woman argued. "He's the happiest man I know." She looked down at her hands. "Knew," she corrected.

"Do you know of anyone who would want him dead?" Sherlock put in. John looked at him with questioning eyes, but he ignored that.

The woman thought it through a moment, but shook her head. "No, not that I can think of."

"Lie." Sherlock said, leaning forward in his chair. "You paused. Most people would respond immediately, but you had to think it through. Your husband wasn't a lawyer, or someone in the public eye, he was a professor, so why would you have to think about it? Who came to mind?"

The woman looked at him puzzled. "I…Well Josh comes to mind. They have been friends for years, but things have been horrible between them."

"So bad you think he'd want your husband dead?"

"I wouldn't think it, but the last time they were together, Josh told Andrew that he could kill him, because he's so angry."

"And what did they have the falling out over?" Sherlock cut in.

"I don't know. They went away for a weekend. About..." The woman thought about it just a moment. "Oh, about five months ago. It was right after I told Andrew about the baby." She put her hand on her belly now. A protective notion.

"Mrs. Hunt, I'm sorry to inform you this, but I do believe your husband committed suicide."

"Oh, sorry boys!" Mrs. Hudson said, as she walked in the open door, With the new tenet on her heels. The woman, Eve? Evelyn? Kept her head down. She didn't avoid eye contact, but didn't initiate it either. "I thought you could do with some lunch."

The ladies went over to the table, and the guys brought their attention back to Mrs. Hunt. "You're husband went on these weekends with Josh often?"

"Yes. Once a month. Why?"

"Mrs. Hunt." Sherlock's eyes flicked to John and he could see John understood. "Your husband was involved with Josh. When you told him of your pregnancy, he then wanted to cut romantic ties with Josh, which lead to their falling out. The separation from his lover was far too much to bare, yet he couldn't, no wouldn't, shame you by getting a divorce so he could be free to be with Josh. But being away from Josh was equally heartbreaking. He thought suicide was the best option. To his mind, the only one.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Hudson said, sending Mrs. Hunt a look of pity.

After a minute or so, Mrs. Hunt rose slowly, clearly Sherlock's deductions made everything click into place, because the woman went from fighting the idea of suicide, to silent understanding. Like things that made no sense before, fell into place. "Thank you for your time." Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed.

Once she was gone, John let out a long breath. "Poor woman."

Sherlock went to the window as he nodded. Cases like this reminded him of Mary. She didn't take her own life per se, but she took a bullet for him, and effectively ended her life.

"It's selfish," a voice Sherlock wasn't yet used to, said. He assumed it was Evelyn who spoke, but didn't bother to look at her. "To take your own life. It's the ones left behind that suffer. I mean, I get hurting so bad that I can't take it anymore, but you end your own suffering at the expense of those who love you?"

"You've had experience with that?" John asked.

Evelyn didn't reply right away, but eventually said, "No. Not personally."

Sherlock turned to see her leave. "She's lying, you know."

"Yeah. It doesn't take a genius to see that." John stood. "I'm off to get Rosie." he went by the table on his way out to snag a sandwich, then nodded his head in goodbye to Sherlock.

Sherlock stood where he was a moment longer before sitting back down at his laptop. Seriously, there had to be something good to fall in their laps. He truly was going crazy.

"My son," the man paused, his voice shaking. "My only boy was murdered."

John looked over the reports. "It says here that he overdosed."

"I know what the reports say. But I'm telling you, he didn't. Liam had been clean for years."

"Mr. Dixon, addicts can go years without using, that doesn't mean that at some point they won't use again. You're always an addict. That never goes away."

John looked at Sherlock, and he wished he could disagree with him, but it was true. A fact that was always on his mind. There is nothing worse than having to wonder which event pulls your loved one back into their habits, or which use takes their life.

"Please, I beg of you to look into it. Something just isn't right." Mr. Dixon's eyes were pleading.

"We will look into it," John said, giving Sherlock his 'be nice' look.

"Fine, we will look into it, but I'm sure it's a waste of time." Sherlock stood then. "We will ring you to let you know what we do, or don't, find."

Mr. Dixon stood a bit flustered and thanked them, though he seemed unsure that they would actually look into it. He left quickly, and with a prayer that they would find it in their hearts to look.

"Liam had been clean for ten years," John mumbled to himself.

Sherlock looked at John. "As I said, once and addict, always an addict."

"The amount of drugs in his system was lethal. Why would an experienced addict take so much?"

"People are idiots, Watson. They don't calculate right."

"Well, let's get to work, shall we?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's a waste of time," he said while putting his coat on. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

They started down, but were intercepted by Evelyn. John smiled at her warmly. "Afternoon."

"You guys leaving?"

"No, we were going up the stairs backwards."

John looked disapprovingly at Sherlock. "We just got a case."

"Yep, important case. No time to talk," Sherlock replied, pushing past the both of them.

Evelyn looked after Sherlock a moment before looking back at John who looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. He's an arsehole."

Evelyn laughed. "It's alright. I actually find it refreshing. It's better to not pretend that you're something you're not. So what's the case?"

"Oh, Just suspicious overdose. Most likely nothing more than it appears." John started down the stairs. "Did you need something? You were heading up?"

"Sugar. I ran out, so I was going to see if you guys had any. Mrs. Hudson is out as well."

"It's not likely. But you can have a look. We keep it on the counter." He nodded his goodbye.

"She's been here a month, Sherlock, you think you could be a little nicer?"

Sherlock looked a bit confused. "Have I been mean?"

"Indifferent."

"I am indifferent. She's just another person. Sweet, and caring, but why should that matter to me?"

John let out a short laugh as they climbed into the cab. Sherlock gave the cabby the address before John said, "Just be nicer. She doesn't seem to have a lot of friends."

Sherlock seemed to think on it a moment. "Fine, I'll make small talk the next time I see her."

"Thank you."

Evelyn watched the cab pull away before she took a look about. She touched nothing, because she was sure Sherlock would notice if something was just a little out of place. She took note that while the flat wasn't exactly tidy, it was by no means unorganized. There was an orderly feel to the mess. It made her smile a bit.

In fact, the whole flat made her smile. She grew up in a structured and clean home. Everything had its place, and it had better find its way back to that place or you were in for a beating. She went down the hall that lead to a washroom and bedroom. The bedroom was vary unlike the living room. She would bet her last dollar that Sherlock spent very little time in here. Perhaps he even spent most nights on the sofa.

Next she went to the kitchen, and since she was actually out of sugar, she looked on the counter, where John told her it would be. She was in luck. She opened the bag to take what she needed but grimaced once she looked in. Was that a toe? She took the bag closer to the light, and sure enough it was a toe. In the sugar.

"Evie?"

Evelyn jumped, nearly dropping the sugar. She put the bag down, looking at Mrs. Hudson, who was clearly trying not to smile. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Oh I'm sorry, Dear. What are you doing in here?"

"John said I could barrow sugar if they had any. They do, but I don't think anyone will be using it."

Mrs. Hudson looked a little grossed out. "Some body part I'd imagine?"

"I would say it's a toe."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Yes, well. That's Sherlock for you. It's not going to be the last unusual thing you will find here. I assure you of that. Came on then. We shell go to the store."

Evelyn put the sugar back where she found it before following Mrs. Hudson down the stairs. Sherlock was the most interesting man she'd ever had to get close to. She hated what she was doing, but at least this time the man was interesting. Even John was interesting in his own way.

Evelyn shook her head. No. She couldn't find them interesting. She needed to keep a mental distance. If you get too close, then things will go south. They were nothing but a mission, and she'd better remember that.

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I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D