Two knocks on the door and he enters the room. "Yes?" The man on the desk asks as he enters.
"Mr. Holmes," he addresses. Mr. Holmes looks up at him.
"James, please. Do sit down." Mr. Holmes gestures for him.
He enters and rather than sitting, he stands by the window, looking out at the Holmes Manor view.
"What is it that you want?" Mr. Holmes asks, bored.
"I've been threatening your son."
"I know. I gave you my blessing."
"I need your help."
"Depends."
"On?" He turns around to see Mr. Holmes continuing his paper work.
"How much I'd be willing to help you."
"That's not a problem," he grins. Mr. Holmes turns to look at him.
"Oh."
"Yes. You'll love it."
Mr. Holmes leans on his chair and listens intently on what James has in mind.
"You're a fine mastermind, James. I am proud that I have found the rightful protègè for my web."
"When will you give your web?"
"When I am done with it."
"Which is?"
"When I am bored with it."
Silence.
"When should I start the plan?"
"Anytime. I just want my part of the bargain. God knows I need it."
"I suppose so. I can see you twitching in delight upon my plan."
"Try to observe me again, James, and I will have your fingers on a platter and I will force you to watch me eat your own fingers in front of you."
He smiles at Mr. Holmes.
He has such a brilliant boss. Awfully violent but logical.
"I happen to cross paths with James Moriarty years ago."
"That much is obvious."
Irene raises a brow at him, "Oh?"
"It's obvious that while you have been studying and been manipulating people as a means to get what you want, someone, probably James Moriarty, saw your potential and ever since then, has taken you as a part of his... whatever it is that he has."
Irene smirks at him, "So far so good. Amanda was an old friend of mine. We were very close."
If he was drinking anything, he would've choked already and if John was here, he would have fainted already. Irene laughs at his reaction.
"You'd say we had a friendship as strong as your friendship with that soon-to-be-doctor of yours. Nothing else," she smirks. "The things I found out about my good friend, Amanda. She was a lonely one, I remember. She probably saw something in me that would make her talk to me."
"You liked her company."
"A simple crack of the rules."
"What rules?"
"My rules: never get close to anyone."
"Why?" He asks.
She smirks, "My business is not exactly safe, Mister Holmes."
"Then why would you break rules you made for yourself?"
"You see, as she was distracted, I found out more about her potential and about her horrid past. She's good. And her blood lineage is surprising. It's quite impressive, I can tell you that. People fight each other to hire her. That's how good she is."
"And what does she do?" He asks.
"You haven't figured it out?" He shakes his head. "Well, I think you should find out now, shouldn't you?"
When Irene stands up and leaves the room, he settles himself back to his armchair to see everything.
Irene walks back to his room. Walking in a way John would think is "seductive". She probably knows he can see her.
She comes back with a phone in her hand. She dials a number.
A voice. Mary's voice echoes in the quiet room in 221B.
"Who is this?"
"Amanda darling, how could you ever forget me?" Irene says, sitting on John's chair. Her phone is near her ear and mouth even if it is on loudspeaker. Probably not to let Mary-Amanda know she's on loudspeaker. Pretty clever of Miss Adler.
"Irene Adler, is that you?"
"Who else? Listen, James Moriarty sends his love."
A pause. "Is he there?"
"No. But he would like to let you know how he misses you."
"I don't want to work for him anymore, thank you."
He keeps quiet even if he knows how painful this is if John finds out. The first successful relationship John gets is with a liar.
"But Amanda sweetie, how can you resist?"
"I'm not Amanda anymore."
"So I've heard. Listen, I'm in Baker Street right now and I would love it if you would come over for dinner."
"I'm not falling for one of your traps. I know you too well."
"I'm alone, Mary Morstan. I'd like to have a chat regarding John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."
"But why in 221B?"
"Because where's the fun in talking somewhere not dangerous?"
"I'll be there in ten minutes." Mary hangs up.
He and Irene maintain eye contact and finally he asks, "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" She smirks.
"Letting me know about Mary."
"So you would know how much is at stake. That's what he told me. I may not be on your side, Mister Holmes, but I am not on his side either. I'm not your next dragon for you to slay. I am merely a part of your giant game of chess."
"With whom?"
"James Moriarty, of course you are familiar with him."
"I do."
"Good. Be aware. He is not a man you would want to cross."
"Is he a man you wouldn't want to cross?"
"Of course not."
"Then why associate with such a man?"
"Because he doesn't bore me," she smirks. "He doesn't ask for anything. He just likes to cause trouble now that's my kind of man."
"And why would you want to cause me some trouble."
"Because I know your brother is a certain Mycroft Holmes and he will not harm me in anyway."
"What makes you so sure of that?"
"Because on my phone I've got pictures and secrets and scandals that can topple your whole word. You have no idea how much havoc that could cause and have exactly one way to stop me. Unless you want the whole world to find out about Amanda and the fall apart John's hope in happiness?"
He clenches his jaw. Irene is a clever woman. She isn't blackmailing. She wants protection for herself.
"That's it, for now, and please dear, hide now before our beloved friend comes by to say hello."
"I don't like being ordered."
"Do as I say."
"Alright then, Miss Adler."
She can't believe this. Irene, in 221B. She thought she was dead. Of course, how could she believe Irene? She's manipulative anyway. She regrets ever getting into that woman's circle.
The door is open at 221B, as what Irene texted earlier to her. She creeps into the flat, taking a step over the creaking step Sherlock always avoids. The lights are closed and no one seems to be around anywhere.
"Amanda." Irene says, coming out from the corner and settling herself on Sherlock's armchair.
"Irene," she says, sitting on John's seat. "Why did you call me here?"
"Ever so straight forward. I just want a nice little chat."
"That's not like the Irene I know."
"Who is the Irene you know?"
"Irene is a manipulative woman who copied everything from my private files and used them to blackmail me into doing things I don't want to do."
"It helped me get the money I needed. You and James would have had lots of fun ruining everyone's lives. I wonder if you will still have your precious John if you were never taken."
"Don't get John involved."
"It's a pity John Watson himself doesn't know who you are. You can only imagine if a person with trust issues and had to deal with the lies of his best friend would do if you are exposed."
And she does. John is the only one that matters and he can't let her go away.
"John can't ever know that I lied to him."
"Which is why you cannot kill me. I can easily send something to a certain Sherlock Holmes some files about you before I die. So, you can't hunt me down now can you, Miss Abbington?"
Damn Sherlock and his deductive reasoning.
"No." She says through gritted teeth. "No. I can't."
She stands up, not wanting to put up with Irene's shit anymore.
"I still have some papers due tomorrow and I don't want to cross any professors."
"Ever the good girl," Irene laughs.
"Good night." She says with a mocking smile. Before turning around and leaving 221B.
She gives out a shaky breath. Things are spiralling down. There are things that must be done in order to prevent John from leaving him. She has to get rid of Irene but can't.
She has to get rid of Sherlock.
"What was it that she does?" He asks, coming out from the shadow. Irene looks up at him from his armchair.
"Undercover agent. Started in Russia. Moved to the Czech Republic."
"And where does James Moriarty fit in all this?"
Irene merely smirks at him. "Well, telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore."
"She's going to get rid of me."
"Indeed," Irene says, sighing.
Thankfully, Irene moves to sit on John's chair and he goes to his own seat.
"And why would you push her direction to me?"
"Because I have a way for her not to get rid of you."
"And what would that be."
"There was a man. An MOD official and I knew what he liked." She looks at her phone, scrolling. "One of the things he liked was showing off." She hands him her phone and sees a code. "He told me this image is going to save the country. He didn't know it but I photographed it. I got the best cryptographers to take a look at it but he was mostly upside down as I recall. Couldn't figure it out."
He looks at the photograph.
"What can you do, Mister Holmes?" She asks, sitting on the arm of the chair, leaning down on him. "Come on, impress a girl."
He answers, speaking rapidly. "There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the country. Not sure how thayvan be true but give me a moment. I've only seen the photograph for eight seconds."
Irene looks at him oddly surprised and amused.
"Oh come on. It's not a code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look. There's not letter, i, because it can be mistake for a 1. No letters past K. The width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have runs of sequence all over the place. Families and couple sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter K or rows past 55. Which is why there is always an upstairs. There's a row 13 which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number 007 that eliminates a few more. And assuming a British point of origin which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the incresed pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent. The only flight that matches the criteria and departs within the week is the 6:30 to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport."
Irene stares at him and he stares. She is looking at him in a way no one else has before. Is that lust? The only things he saw when people look at him is annoyance, pity, disgust, anger and concern.
He continues. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language.
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."
That is definitely lust.
"I never begged for mercy in my life."
"Twice."
"Sherlock?" They hear John ask, as he comes up on the stairs. "Got your text. I assumed it would be- hey..." he stops. "Still here."
"Doctor Watson."
"Not a doctor yet."
"Title fits you."
"...okay."
"Lastly, would you mind telling me why you bothered writing me those letters I've been receiving?" He asks Irene before she leaves.
"James Moriarty. That's all the answer you need."
"Yes, but why sent you."
She turns to him and smirks, "Because he sends his best people on the job."
With that she leaves without turning back.
"What happened there?" John asks.
"I have absolutely no idea."
He looks at John. His best friend. God, Mary will break him.
"So... What was that all about with that Irene woman?" he asks Sherlock.
"The woman?" Sherlock asks.
"Yes, Irene Adler."
"A negotiation," Sherlock tells him.
"What kind of negotiation?" he asks.
"I don't know yet." Sherlock tells him.
"Right..."
Good morning, Mr. Holmes IA
Have you thought about what I said?
Who's it going to be? AGRA or Jim Moriarty?
What do you mean? SH
Finally replying now, are we? IA
"AGRA or Jim Moriarty?" Explain. SH
You're quite commanding. IA
Explain. SH
Well, you've got to get rid of someone before they get rid of you now, haven't you? IA
I am not a murderer. SH
And yet your two years of being in the streets prove that wrong. IA
I shan't kill anyone. SH
If that's what you like. IA
You could say goodbye to Amanda... Or Mary Morstan. IA
Her phone rings.
She checks the caller - Sherlock. What could he possibly need this time?
"Sherlock? What is it?" she asks.
"I'm in Leinster Gardens." Sherlock says, in a tired voice.
"Sherlock, why are you in Leinster Gardens? And why would you tell me about it?" she asks.
"Because we have to talk about some things. In private." she hears Sherlock's ragged breath but she doesn't want to think about it.
She laughs, "Oh Sherlock, you can just come over if you'd like. John's not going to mind."
"I don't think you understand what I'm saying, Amanda."
A shiver runs through her spine at the mention of that name. She doesn't bother replying. She knows Sherlock knows she is listening.
"We have to talk about John."
"Why?" she asks.
"Let me help, Mary."
"Ten minutes."
"Good." a whisper.
She hangs up. This is not good.
Sherlock knows about her. And he wants to talk about John. That bastard. Sherlock will tell John, she knows it.
As quickly as she can, she grabs her gun.
"HEY ARSEHOLE!" Someone yelled behind him.
He quickly went on a sprint as a group of mindless bullies chased him. This is ridiculous. He's in uni. And the people around him still act like children.
Unfortunately, days of not eating took a toll on him and the bullies caught him.
"Hey freak," Sebastian Wilkes said.
"Seb," he said mockingly.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Sebastian told him.
"Yes. I'm pretty sure you're sore from shagging Olivia last night. And you should be ashamed of yourself, Olivia did more job than you did. Also... Really Peter," he looked at Sebastian's friend. "Haven't you noticed? Or were you too busy seducing Professor Hampton?"
Unsurprisingly Sebastian looked at him angrily and walked to the side. Peter, on the other hand, punched him in the jaw which caused him to double back. He tried to fight Peter. But suddenly, he was moaning and clutching himself tight in a ball as everyone was kicking him everywhere. Anywhere that was flesh.
He never begged them to stop. Because they never do. Begging makes it worse, makes them happier, gives them more adrenaline.
Just like his father.
Eventually, they stopped and they all walked away, laughing and giving each other pats on the back on what a splendid job they did.
They ought to be ashamed of themselves.
He can't go to the flat looking like that.
So here he is now, one hour later, trying to calm himself as he sits by the mattress in the corner of this lonely but effective bolthole. He has patched himself up but they were poor attempts. How can he when he winces every time he moves?
He'll have to keep to himself for a long time. He has texted John that he has been called in uni for some conference and he might not be present for a week at least. John trusts him. Bless John.
John is such a good person. Mary could be good for him. They are lovely together. But Mary shouldn't lie to someone. Someone like John.
He has to do this as soon as possible.
And right now is perfect.
He takes his phone and calls Mary.
Her phone rings and she picks up... "Sherlock? What is it?" she asks.
Time to meet up with Amanda. Besides, Mary will never hurt him.