Disclaimer: Still don't own Holmes…
A/N: Thanks to coolpuella for the review—I'm glad that not everyone's abandoned this fic yet, as there's still quite a bit to come (most of the action is still on the way). This chapter is a bit different from the previous ones, as it is narrated from a perspective you haven't seen yet. I had an interesting time writing it, and I hope you enjoy the result . So, without further ado, on with the plot!
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Chapter 5-Counterpoint
Fire is an element of the utmost intrigue, is it not? It is the source of all light on this earth—giving rise to both day and night—and has the power to bestow both life and death. As I sit before the brightly crackling hearth in this darkened room, the leaping tongues of fire are my only source of illumination and heat, tenderly licking at my stiff and aching bones. Fire was a gift from the gods, yet these same dancing flames—so alluring in their hypnotic beauty—have the potential to harm and destroy, leaving behind only dusty barrenness—the same cold darkness it so readily conquers.
The quiet click of the door from behind breaks me from my reverie. "He's here," the deep, rich voice of my Tigerlily announces softly as she steps forward to rest her small hand upon my shoulder in reassurance.
"Thank you, my dear," I respond as lightly as I can, silently beckoning her for a few more moments of peace.
The comforting pressure on my shoulder disappears after giving me one last fleeting squeeze, before her footsteps resound through my ears once again. "I'll be waiting downstairs with him."
Settling back into my plush, leather covered chair, I return my gaze to the blazing conflagration before me. As much as I would have liked to become entranced by the flames once more, my thoughts turn irrevocably to the impending match I would be forced to play against my one-time foe.
I have kept the presence of the faction clandestine for as long as possible—the current small size of Omega has facilitated my efforts in diverting the notice of the prying eyes of Scotland Yard's bungling constabulary. Over the past three months, my close group of most trusted agents recouped from our first reign has worked tirelessly to rebuild the network by replenishing our pecuniary supply and slowly expanding our web of influence. Our operations have come to a stage such that the time is ripe for a more daring undertaking. After all, Omega is not a mere band of drunken hooligans committing petty crimes—our system allowed and will allow again access to all the treasures of London. Only one more task is necessary before we will have enough strength and manpower to bring ourselves into the light.
The plan is not my own—very little was in this faction; James had spoken of it before we had left for Reichenbach Falls.
"In the extremely unlikely event that we do not both return from this undertaking, my friend, I have made the necessary arrangements to ensure the continuation of our organization," he had told me, slipping a thin slip of notebook paper into my hands with a slight pursing of his thin mouth that was his version of a smile. "I have left a list of all contacts in one of my government offices. Here is the combination to the safe."
"Where is this office?" I had asked with silent pride at this appointment.
"That, I'm afraid you will not discover from me, Shikari," he countered lightly as if merely speaking of the weather. "Although I have faith in your will and your abilities in the hunt, I do not believe that you are capable of fully grasping the extensive and intricate nature of this faction; it will not be to you alone that the gauntlet will fall. You will enlist the services of Mr. Sherlock Holmes should there come a time when I am not present."
The instruction had startled me almost out of my chair with its absurdity. "Why would you place the fate Omega's into the hands of that fiend? He's responsible for the very persecution and degradation of our cause! What makes you think that he would be willing to help us?"
The professor had not seemed fazed at all by my reaction, fixing me with a shrewd calculating glance before calmly explaining as if he were giving a lecture. "The man is on the same intellectual plane as my own, and would thus be most suited to undertake the development of our more ambitious tactics.
"I have taken into account his…virtuous morals. He possesses enough reason to understand our aims. He shall be more forthcoming once you provide ample leverage; every man has his price."
This "leverage" comes in the form of the small, oval-shaped sterling silver locket intricately etched with spirals and swirls that I withdraw from my waistcoat pocket as I leave the comfort of my chair.
If I didn't have so much respect for my late friend, and if there were some other practical course of action, I would have sought for a better way out of this situation—one that ensures ample doses of pain and suffering upon the part of that meddlesome villain who had brought about the first destruction of this organization. Now, I must protect and tend to the wishes of the one man whom I wish revenge upon beyond any other—the man who forced years of anguish and torment upon me. Still, I can be persuasive when necessary, and perhaps the added incentive of the brother will be enough. With successful completion, second reign of power will be upon us, and until then, I must bite back my anger—I have come too far to let the faction that I rebuilt from its crumbling foundations go to waste again.
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He lies there, quite still, slumped on the cracked, roughly hewn kitchen table with wrists uncomfortably bound to the sturdy legs by a piece of rough fabric. The light from a single gas lamp on the nearby cabinet casts heavy shadows upon his otherwise strikingly pallid features. Bringing the lantern closer, I distinguish the typical reddening from scraped knuckles and regard with a morbid smirk the slight pool of dark liquid seeping onto the wooden surface beneath his skull.
"Did you really have to hit him that hard, my dear?" I ask, shaking my head in morbid amusement at my Tigerlily's…tenacity.
"I had only wanted to make sure," she retorts coldly. "He'd injured Peterson quite severely."
"Of course," I respond with a smile. "You are quite right not to take chances with him. However, the wound may make him less inclined to trust us."
She glances at me in incredulity at this, as if gauging my sanity. "Why would we want him to do that?"
"Because his trust is imperative for the success of our plan," I respond simply, returning my gaze to the unconscious man before me as he begins to stir.
"Stand back, he's coming to," Tigerlily cautions me as his eyelids flutter open to reveal bleary, grey eyes. They remain disoriented for a brief moment as they roll this way and that, scanning the darkened room with bemusement. When his eyes finally fix upon mine, his features harden into a mask of stony defiance.
"'Journeys end in lovers' meetings,' isn't that right, Mr. Holmes?" I inquire mockingly, hardly able to contain the smirk that tugs at my lips now that the tables have turned so obviously.
He raises an eyebrow at this, clearly recalling, as I have, those same words uttered during our precious meeting. "It seems pleasantly so, Colonel Moran," he acknowledges evenly, his emotions unreadable from his quiet tone.
"Welcome to the Omega headquarters," I continue in a jovial voice. "You should consider yourself fortunate, Mr. Holmes. Very few have stepped past the threshold of our oak doors."
"Forgive me if I don't seem too honoured, Shikari," comes the curt reply.
The smile on my face falters slightly at the jibe, before returning once more. "You should be more careful of what you say, Mr. Holmes—you don't want more deaths on your hands now do you?"
His jaws clench slightly, but he is unable to provide a rebuttal, choosing instead to pose a question of his own. "Why did you go to such trouble just to bring me here? It is evident that you do not want me dead, yet I hardly think that you would undertake such measures only to enjoy a chat with your old foe."
"You think you're so clever, Holmes," I reply with narrowed eyes, "but you fail to see what is right before your eyes. The explanation is simple: you have something that I want, and I have something that you want—perhaps we can come to an agreement of some sort."
"What makes you so sure that I will give it to you?"
"I'm sure you are willing to negotiate at the very least," I state smugly, before affixing a questioning glance at him. "That is why you have come, is it not?"
He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts as he realises that my deck is higher than his. "What do you want?"
My face cracks a slight smirk of triumph as I match his piercing gaze evenly. "You have a piece of information for me from the late professor—"
"No."
"Please, Mr. Holmes—"
"There is nothing you can offer me that will convince me to comply," he asserted firmly, fixing me with a sharp glare that showed his inflexibility.
"Do not be so rash in coming to such decisions" I continue admonishingly, speaking slowly as if to a tantrum-inclined five-year-old. "Your brother's welfare is in your hands, after all."
He paused slightly at this, and there was a glint of something in his eyes, before he reined his features back into apathy. "Fine. Kill him."
"You asked earlier why I have gone to such lengths to bring you here, but I could turn to you with the same question. Carefully consider why you have answered my summons this evening, Mr. Holmes," I warn, inserting a slight menace into my voice. "Would you really leave your own kin to that fate," I posed, not affronted by his brunt decline, "even though you have come all this way to meet me?"
"One life is a small price to pay to ensure that others are spared from your persecution," he replies stonily, clearly prepared to stand his ground.
"Spare me the melodrama, Holmes," I drawl sardonically with a dismissing wave. "You are wasting both of our times."
"Good, then we are both in agreement."
Closing my eyes to stay off the mounting frustration surging within me, I take a deep breath. "Perhaps I should give you some time to reconsider your decision. I shall return in the morning."
"Do as you wish, Shikari," he retorts in an apathetic voice that grates on my nerves. "My decision will not be swayed."
Sneering inwardly, I force my features to remain neutral as I step away from the table and exit the darkened room. 'I would not be so sure, Mr. Holmes.'
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Morning always comes too early in the summertime, I realise as I am dragged from a restless sleep by bright shafts of sunlight streaming in between the curtains. With the coming of this new day, the dilemmas arising from my last conversation with Holmes return in full force, demanding to be resolved.
Qualms have begun to mount within me as I recall Holmes's stubborn refusal to concede the night before. As I take out the silver locket to examine it once more, I start to doubt its efficacy in bending his will. How will this simple necklace make him change his mind when the fate of his own brother did nothing to budge him? Of course, there are other, less pleasant ways of attaining the necessary information, but I am not willing to resort to any sort of physical torture just yet.
Thinking back to our conversation the night before, I realise that I had been too rushed in my actions. Holmes did have a genuine concern for his brother—otherwise he would not have made an appearance at Trafalgar Square. Yet, he called my bluff and stood by it firmly enough to buy him a few more hours. Well, bluffing is a game that two can play, and I've been known for my aptitude for cards. 'You won't manage to pull the same trick twice, you devil.'
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"Have you reconsidered my proposition, Mr. Holmes?" I inquire, standing before his bound form once more.
Silence greets me in response as Holmes fixes me with a sullen stare.
"Since you appear to have lost your tongue, perhaps I should help you recover it," I continue more sternly than before. "Since you have apparently no regard for your brother's life—" (he clenches his jaw with bristling anger at this) "—I will place something else on the bargaining table."
I let the silver locket slip from my fingers, dangling alluringly before Holmes's face with graceful arcs on its delicate chain. "Do you recognise this? It once belonged to someone you know," I explain quietly, bringing the chain closer, swaying it before him as if it were a pendulum.
At first, his eyes narrow in suspicion, as if questioning my sanity and intelligence in choosing this tiny little trinket—after all, why would he submit to my wishes for a jewel when he would not in exchange for his brother's life? But just as I begin to think that he is going to spit out another refusal, his features soften into an expression akin to those worn by the hypnotised and his eyes become entranced as they follow each swing of the hanging pendant.
"I shall comply with your wishes," he concedes dreamily, still engrossed by the necklace before him.
"Very well," I respond quietly still surprised at the inexplicable effect the jewellery had upon the detective. "I'm glad you made the prudent decision."
My words seem to snap him out of his daze, but he makes no move to withdraw his assent—not that I would have taken it in any case—opting instead to pose a question. "Will you release me from these bonds now that I have agreed to your terms?"
"How do I know that you are not tricking me?" I blurt out, suddenly suspicious at his unexpected consent—as easily drawn from him today as it was difficult to sway him from his immovable stance the day before.
"I could ask you the same thing," he shoots back quickly. "You still have Mycroft in captivity, after all."
"Indeed," I concede slightly, fixing him with my stare. "Tell me where it is."
"I can't do that."
"What?"
"There would be no point—you do not know of the location, I'm sure. I will show you where it is."
Grinding my teeth, I extract a small, intricately carved dagger from its casing concealed within the folds of my coat and stride imperiously towards him. The action must have seemed intimidating, I note with internal satisfaction, as his eyes widen almost imperceptibly in alarm. With a swift stroke, I sever the one of the ties binding Holmes's wrists, leaving him to untie the other himself.
"Let me see Mycroft alone," he implores once he extricates from the second restraint in a firm tone that is more commanding than pleading.
I am reluctant to concede to his wishes, as this may be the first step towards a conspiracy between the two brothers against my organization and me. So much can go wrong, even at this late stage of the game—together, they could lead me into a trap while pretending to retrieve the list.
Sensing my clear disinclination, he adds overbearingly, "he will assist us in gaining access to the building."
With this statement, I find that my hands are tied. "Five minutes alone with him, and not a second more," I affirm resolutely, before turning my attention to Tigerlily, who has surreptitiously observed our exchange from the shadows since I had entered the room. "Julia, would you kindly show our guest to Mr. Holmes's current residence, my dear?"
She nods coldly in assent—understanding all of my instruction—before motioning towards to door. "If you'll come this way..."
My lips curl slightly into a small smirk as the door closes behind their departing figures, glad for a moment's calm and respite. 'Two can play the game of deception, Mr. Holmes.'