Chapter 17

A couple of hours later and Sherlock was pacing the hall as he waited for Michael to arrive. Molly, wisely, had found things to do elsewhere as his impatience increased. He settled though, as soon as he ushered Michael into the house and was relaxed when Aoife and Mycroft appeared twenty minutes later. He eyed Mycroft's laptop speculatively as, curiously for him, he volunteered to help his brother carry his luggage upstairs.

Aoife hugged Molly warmly in greeting in the kitchen, laughingly acknowledging that Molly was welcoming her to her own home. The two women grinned at each other conspiratorially, stifling their laughter as they overheard Mycroft's warning comment to his younger brother as they both clambered up the stairs.

"Hands off my laptop Sherlock. You know that's out of bounds." Molly clasped a hand over her mouth at his petulant response.

"And you know I can access it anytime I feel like it..."

"Like hell you can!"

"Try me!"

"Even if you did you'd never get through the encryption..."

"That? Pfft! Childs play!"

"Sherlock! We have just been through all of this at Christmas! Do I now have to warn everyone not to drink anything you make?"

"No!" He could be heard protesting indignantly, "I promised Molly I'd never do that again."

"Thank God for Molly then!"

"Oh, do shut up Mycroft!"

Michael had no concerns about discretion or being overheard and his shoulders shook as he roared with laughter.

"Jesus! There's never a dull moment with those boys, is there ladies?" Aoife laughed as she hugged him in greeting.

"I know. I just adore listening to them bickering. They can turn into kids at the drop of a hat. It's quite delightful." Molly joined in their laughter and added,

"I kind of adore it too, it's hilarious, especially when you consider who they both are!" Sherlock's deep voice carried into the kitchen as he came back down the stairs.

"I heard that, Molly Hooper!" His sheepish grin on entering the kitchen belied his tone though, and he hugged her waist and kissed her as he passed her, smirking then at her blushing cheeks.

"I suppose I'm making the tea," he grumbled, and Aoife held her head in her hands in a gesture of exaggerated exasperation,

"Seriously? It's the least you can do, you brat, you've wreaked my week off!"

Sherlock paused as he passed her, and then patted her shoulder and kissed her on the crown of her head. She looked up at him, touched by the gesture, as he gave her his best 'puppy dog' eyes.

"Yes, um, I am sorry about that Aoife, although, to be fair, it's not exactly my fault..." Aoife smiled up at him wistfully.

"Oisin used to say that all the time when we got into trouble."

Silence descended in the room momentarily. Everyone was aware of Sherlock's close resemblance to Aoife's twin brother, and of what had happened to Oisin at the hands of a young Jim Moriarty. Mycroft, who'd arrived quietly into the kitchen, sat down beside her and briefly covered her hand in his. Then, clearing his throat for attention, he opened his laptop.

"I've received the file of the recorded interview with 'Uncle Moriarty' in the nursing home last night from the FBI. I suggest we have a listen to it without comment while we drink the tea Sherlock was just about to make for his guests."

Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly and went for the kettle, and minutes later they began to listen in relative silence to the interview. It was gripping from the opening. Initially, the old man was cranky and obstructive. He refused to confirm his name, he just kept repeating to the psychiatrist, in an irritated tone, that she knew who he was, his raspy voice sneering at her,

"What are you, thick?

They were lucky though, Sherlock thought, because he was quite lucid, far more compos mentis then he had been on the night he'd visited him the week before, and his interrogator was highly competent. She slowly hooked him with friendly banter. It was when the psychiatrist asked him about his family, things got more interesting. She asked him if he had any children, and he was slow to answer. He finally responded with a cryptic "you could say that..".

When she asked him for clarification he became irritated and defensive. "Well I may as well have had them myself, sure didn't I rear them?" The Doctor was very clever, Sherlock thought because she praised him then, and placated him.

"Did you?", she enquired sympathetically. "That was very decent of you. Why did you have to do that? What happened to their father?" There was a disparaging hiss from the old man.

"That fella? He wouldn't be fucking told, would he?" When he didn't follow up on that statement, the Doctor did it again, used an emphatic and conspiratorial tone to coax a response.

"Oh", she said, "tell me about it! I have a sister who's exactly the same. Can't take advice or make proper decisions. Think's she knows it all. Was your brother like that?" Cackles of laughter from the old man.

"He was. Stupid prick! He thought he could take on the IRA, for fucks sake!"

Every head at the kitchen table shot up. Sherlock smirked. A jigsaw piece had just slotted into place. On the recording, the Doctor, whom Sherlock was beginning to realise was one of the best interrogators he'd ever heard, continued on questioning him, barely missing a beat at his revelation.

"You're joking! What was he thinking? That's madness. Tell me what happened?" The old man grew a little more cautious then.

"Sure, he had to do a runner, didn't he?. You don't mess with them boys."

"You certainly do not! So he ran off and left his wife and kids?"

"He did, the waster, although, in fairness, they didn't give him much choice!" He gave a raspy laugh again.

"You were very good to step in. What happened then? I suppose it's natural, you and she got together." There was a long silence and then he could be heard sighing sadly.

"She was a fine woman, in her day. Pity she turned out to be a treacherous bitch. Ah well.."

There was a silence again for a moment, both on the tape and in the room in Wicklow. It was quite the statement. It looked more likely that this brother had possible been involved in, or at least complicit with, the murder of the Moriarty matriarch. Then the Doctor asked him subtly,

"Did you ever hear from Jim again after that?" There was no answer to that question, so she repeated it softly. There was a long silence and then, when his voice did come back, it sounded tired and agitated again. The window of lucidity was closing.

"Ah, on and off." She gave a sypathetic sigh.

"Have you any idea where he settled?"

"Who cares? Why are you asking me all this shit?"

"Well, we do need to know your next of kin.." There was another pause, and a self-pitying sigh, and then he answered.

"Oh. He's got homes in a few places. Here and in London, that I know of. I'm not sure! He could easily be back in Ireland now too." The man's voice grew melancholy. "It was all so long ago. Don't be asking me any more stupid questions."

The Doctors voice could be heard then, winding down the interview. She thanked him, telling him she'd be back to see him tomorrow, and the recording finished. There was a brief silence in the kitchen and then everyone seemed to talk at the same time. Sherlock held up a commanding hand and the group fell silent again.

"Hang on a minute everyone, let me give the synopsis. OK?" Sherlock stood up and began to pace as he spoke.

"Jim Moriarty Senior operated a criminal enterprise in the seventies and early eighties in the Republic of Ireland, probably Dublin. However, back then, during 'the troubles', in order to be allowed operate, you had to pay the paramilitaries a cut of all your takings. Bank robberies, kidnappings etc. were a major source of funding for the IRA, and no other criminal gang could operate without cutting them in on the takings. They ruled the roost and that was that. If, for example, your gang wanted to rob a bank, you needed their permission and approval on which bank branch you could hit, and you paid them a generous cut afterwards. Jim Moriarty Snr, from what we can ascertain from the interview, thought he was a cut above all that, and ignored them. His antics wouldn't have escaped their attention for long. Either a hit was put out on him, and he fled, which I doubt, because they would have just done it themselves without warning, or, he was given a warning and exiled. It had to have been the latter."

He turned then and grinned at Aoife like a cheshire cat. She groaned.

"Oh God! Here we go..." Sherlock put on his best 'offended' face.

"Don't be like that Aoife, we're practically family." She smothered a grin and tried to look sternly at him.

"What do you want?" As he made to answer she continued, "no, don't tell me, let me guess. You want access to highly classified intelligence files pertaining to the national security of the Republic of Ireland. Not a chance Sherlock." She shook her head firmly to emphasise the point.

"Ah Aoife, I know I can't access them..." He retorted leadingly. She sighed and looked over at Michael. He raised a speculative brow, trying not to smirk. She rolled her eyes at him. "You're worse then him, Michael!" He laughed.

"Ah, what's the harm? He gestured to Mycroft. "Sure, your fella there has probably hacked them all anyway." Mycroft spluttered indignantly.

"I most certainly have not!" Michael chuckled at his tone of righteous indignation.

"I don't mean you personally. I'm sure you're far too busy to be doing all that hacking yourself."

"Any intelligence sharing has been with the full permission of the Irish authorities," Mycroft responded pompously. Even Aoife joined in the general laughter that greeted that statement.

"Never mind that now," she said, "alright Sherlock. Michael and I shall go up to Dublin Castle today and start a search. Let's see how we get on. Jim Moriarty's name wouldn't have come up on any previous searches there because we were looking at criminal files, not terrorist ones. We are now talking about different levels of security altogether. The other database searches made were for offences unrelated to offences against the State."

"Oh I know," he replied. He paused, deliberating how to proceed with his next request. "There's another thing too." Mycroft glared at Sherlock.

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh come on Mycroft! You know it makes sense. Surely we're all friends now anyway?" he retorted, a touch sardonically.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft's best warning voice was now in place.

Molly looked quizzically at Aoife. She groaned. "You want me to ask Sinn Fein if they know where he is now, don't you?" Mycroft's features set in a grim line.

"That is a very bad idea Aoife. You know what happens when we go there looking for favours. It costs!" He checked his tone as her eyes narrowed at him. "Look," he said placatingly, "why don't we see how you both get on first? I'll make my own enquiries, we'll compare notes, and then we can decide if such a move is necessary?" She nodded at him.

"Agreed," she said.

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest and shut it again when he saw her expression. She looked solomnly at him and said firmly, "Sherlock. It is imperative that you do not approach anybody from that party informally and make any such request. You are a British citizen and a direct relative of the head of the British Intelligence Services. It would cause havoc. Promise me you will not make contact with them until we discuss all this later?" He looked seriously at her and nodded.

"I promise, Aoife." She smiled in relief.

"Thank you. Right, I'm making brunch. Who's in?"

During the bustle of the meal, Molly caught Sherlock's eye and smiled happily at him. He made his way over to her and sitting beside her and asked her "what was that for?"

"It's for you. It's for these people that I love, that will stop everything to help us at the drop of a hat. I feel like I have a new family now." He smiled tenderly at her.

"Well, they love you Molly, and that's an easy thing to do."

"They love you too Sherlock, and that's not half as difficult as you like to think." Sherlock rolled his eyes and tried not to show just how pleased he felt. She wrapped an arm around his waist under his jacket and hugged him.

"What are you planning on doing today?" He ran a hand down the back of her head, stroking her hair as he glanced at the three heads strategizing together across the table from him. He tilted Molly's chin up to him and kissed her lips.

"I'm planning on taking the love of my life up to Dublin for the day." Molly's eyes brimmed with emotion at his words and she gazed adoringly at him.

"However, if she keeps looking at me like that I'm taking her straight back to the Shelbourne Hotel for the afternoon..." Molly gasped excitedly. It was the place where she'd first made love with him. She popped her eyes wide and smiled excitedly at him and he laughed and gave her hair a gentle tug.

"Well, that settles that then." He took out his phone and called the hotel.