Two
The ride back to Baker Street was quiet. After shaking Mary's hand with his jaw hanging to the floor, John had followed the Holmes siblings out the back door where Mycroft's car was waiting. Mycroft wasn't in the car, which made John wonder what "things" he was taking care of.
Mary sat in between John and Sherlock staring blankly ahead, her only movement was due to the turns of the car. Sherlock didn't speak to her; he didn't even look at her, choosing instead to stare out the window. John felt extremely awkward. He silently thanked God when they arrived at 221B. He got out with Mary following right behind. She seemed to struggle with her enormous rucksack so John stepped closer.
"May I?" he asked holding out his hand, gesturing to her bag. She seemed surprised but nodded all the same, handing him the strap.
"Thank you," she said, still surprised. When John turned around, heaving the straps over his shoulders, he saw Sherlock already unlocking the front door and strolling in. John, ever the gentleman, allowed Mary in first before walking in and locking the door behind him. Upstairs, a violin began playing a rather irritated tune.
When John and Mary walked into the living room, Sherlock paused his playing to point to John's chair with his bow. Mary sat in it while he began to play again. John wasn't sure what to do so he placed her bag on the couch and went to make tea.
By the time he had handed Mary a cup Sherlock still hadn't stopped his self-composed tune. Mary seemed to have endless patience, unlike Mycroft, for Sherlock's playing; she just watched him with a hint of amusement. She seemed to be waiting for a scolding.
Finally, after a rather aggravated finale, Sherlock sat in his chair placing his violin and bow on the table. He looked at Mary for a long moment before leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded like he was praying.
"Start from the beginning," he said softly. "What happened?"
Finally, John thought, someone's going to provide some answers.
"About six months ago," Mary began. "Danny and I were having a row. We've had a lot of them in the past year, but this time it became physical. He slammed me against the wall and left bruises on my arms. Mycroft would have called you in then but you know my work leaves me banged up a lot so it didn't raise any alarms for him." John silently wondered what her work was. "Then it happened again a few weeks later. It became more and more frequent. We'd yell, he'd throw a punch, then the next morning he'd apologize and take me to lunch. Finally, Mycroft became suspicious. He planned a little experiment. He sent Danny and I on a trip to Paris for my birthday. We were gone for a month, got back two days ago. When I came back with bruises still, he figured out who gave them to me. Yesterday, around noon, Mycroft called me and told me about his plan and what he'd deduced. He told me he'd take care of things and hung up. Then I saw you at the club and knew that when he said 'things' he meant Danny."
Mary had kept her head down during most of her explanation. She'd glance at Sherlock every once in a while but couldn't look him in the eyes for very long. John remained standing in between the kitchen and the living room as she spoke. Some of his answers had been answered at least. Mary was Sherlock and Mycroft's sister. She had been abused by either a boyfriend or a husband. She would be staying with them until Mycroft "took care" of this Danny fellow.
"Well then," Sherlock said. "Whatever Mycroft is up to, it will probably take some time. You're probably tired after your performance. You may have my bed tonight. Goodnight Mary."
Mary looked like she wanted to argue but instead stood up and grabbed her bag. She paused before walking over to Sherlock and kissing his cheek. He made a face of disgust which she giggled at before leaving the room. When she wasn't looking, John saw Sherlock's face go from disgusted to touched. It was a strange expression on the face of Sherlock Holmes. John sat down in his chair and looked at Sherlock.
"So," he said. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a sister?"
"I didn't see it as necessary." Sherlock replied. "The only sibling of mine that interferes with my life is Mycroft so he was the only one you needed to know. Mary tends to stay out of the way. Likes detaching herself for the Holmes name, she does."
"Alright, then," John said slowly. "This Danny; is it her boyfriend or-"
"Husband, obviously," Sherlock scolded. "Didn't you see the ring on her finger? Even if she wasn't my sister, that fact would have been clear as day."
"Right," John wasn't quite sure where to go next. "Um, what exactly is Mycroft planning?"
"Who knows," Sherlock dismissed. "He could be threatening the man to leave the country, or planning to kill the man in his sleep. That doesn't matter. Our job is to keep an eye on Mary until he's done."
With that, Sherlock stood up and went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea. John followed him.
"Okay, one last question," John spoke. "What is her job that leaves her so bruised her brother can't tell she'd being abused?"
"It's complicated," Sherlock said trying to explain himself. "Basically she works undercover for the police. You'll have to ask her to explain it. I'm going to take a shower."
After he left, John stood in the kitchen for a while. When he was nearly done his tea, Mary came out of Sherlock's room. She gave him a shy smile before walking over and sitting across from him.
"Sherlock said you wanted to know about my work," she stated. John looked up at her and nodded. He poured her a cup of tea as she began.
"In a way, I do just what Sherlock does; I read people. Specifically, I read the creeps, the rapists, and the killers. It's why my band and I perform in such a shady area. All the criminals are in that club. My job is to flirt with them, get their attention off of any other women, and become the perfect victim for them. Once I've got solid proof of what they are, I detain them and call Lestrade. My testimony and evidence are given privately to a judge so the men I put away never suspect. It's practically fool-proof. But like I said, I can get banged up. Some of the more abusive ones leave a few marks on me. But it only serves as more evidence, so I don't mind."
"I see it now," John whispered. Mary looked at him curiously. "At first I couldn't see any resemblance between you and Sherlock. But you both get very excited when you talk about your work. It's in the eyes. Almost like a child with candy."
This made Mary smile. She had a lovely smile.
"So besides following my brother all over England to sniff dead bodies, what do you do?" she asked. Her phrasing made John laugh.
"There's not much time for anything else. I've got a part time job. Sometimes I'll have a few dates, between cases, of course. But helping Sherlock is a full-time job, I'm afraid. And he's rubbish at giving vacations."
This made Mary laugh. She had a lovely laugh.
It was then that Sherlock appeared, dressed in pajamas, hair wet. He seemed surprised to see Mary.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he sounded like her father. She glanced sideways at John, rolling her eyes at her brother, then gave John one last smile before leaving. Sherlock went to his desk and began typing on his laptop. John decided now would be a good time to write on his blog.
Their most recent solved case had been a woman at the bottom of the Thames. Sherlock had found her killer just by her nail polish. It had only taken a few hours but the process had been tedious and exhausting. It took John about an hour to type up every detail. After posting it, he noticed a comment on it in less than a minute. Painting your nails was completely necessary, John. I needed to see the amount of time it took to dry to determine if the killer's alibi was legitimate, which it was not. John turned around to glare at the back of Sherlock's head.
"Have you been sitting there refreshing the page repeatedly, waiting to comment on this?" he asked. Sherlock didn't turn to face him as he answered.
"I have to be sure you are presenting the case properly," he said. "You are getting better, but you still write about the unimportant details instead of the ones that truly helped the case."
"People like to read about the unimportant stuff," John explained, "gives them a better picture of what was happening."
Even though John couldn't see his face, the exasperated sigh Sherlock let out implied he was rolling his eyes.
Before Sherlock could make another comment, the two men heard a cry from Sherlock's room. It sounded like someone being tortured. Sherlock was on his feet, knocking over his chair, in less than a second. John followed him into his room where they found Mary curled in a ball, clutching her head, screaming with tears running down her face. Sherlock sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. If he wasn't so concerned for Mary, John would have been shocked by Sherlock's display of affection. Mary stopped screaming but continued to sob into Sherlock's chest. John couldn't even tell if she was awake or not.
Sherlock held Mary tight, stroking her hair and soothing her. John felt a little intrusive so he went back to the kitchen to find something to calm Mary down and help her sleep more peacefully. He felt a tug at his heart when he thought about how miserable she looked. He'd seen women cry before but this was far worse. Mary's emotions seemed to be causing her physical pain. He wanted to help her. Without even realizing it, John had made a promise to take all the misery out of this one girl's life.
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