Chapter 21

Sherlock looked speculatively at Aoife from the back of the car as they cruised down the motorway to Wicklow. She was a ball of energy, and her eyes were glittering with barely suppressed excitement. He leaned forward and nudged her shoulder. "Well come on then Aoife, spill. What have you found out? She turned around and grinned at him.

"Wait for Mycroft, or, tell me the addresses."

Sherlock paused suddenly. He wanted to discuss the Kerry address with Mycroft first. He thought the location in Co. Kerry was very close to the place where Aoife's twin brother was murdered by Moriarty. He was reluctant to spring that on her in case the actual address was more significant than he thought. He was very fond of Aoife and would do nothing to upset her if it could be avoided. He turned to Michael and joked, "how about you Michael, productive day?" Aoife snorted with laughter.

"Not a chance Sherlock, come on now, give me at least the Irish one?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nice try, Ms. Quinn. I never said there was an 'Irish' one." She chuckled and then teased him.

"We had such an eventful afternoon. A mine of information, that place." Sherlock spluttered out an amused laugh.

"Whatever do we do now Aoife?" She turned her head right around; the curiosity was killing her, and she knew it was killing him, not to have all the information available.

"'Quid pro quo'. You give me something and I'll give you something."

"Fine. You first," he retorted. She threw her eyes in the air and laughed.

"Oh, all right then. We had no difficulty finding information about Jim Moriarty Snr. in the Intelligence Unit. They have lots and lots of juicy data on him," she paused for effect and he tutted with impatience, so she grinned and continued. "I thought it was odd, that he wasn't killed by the IRA for threading on their toes so brazenly here. 'Exile' was usually a punishment for lesser 'crimes' than his. I was right. His file is current."

" It was a ruse. He never fell out with them. He worked for them from America," Sherlock scoffed, "were his family here in on it too?"

"That's all you get. My turn." Sherlock smiled knowingly.

"Three addresses. One in Manhattan, one in White Plains, New York State, and one in Ireland." Aoife pursed her lips speculatively.

"They're upscale areas. Owned or rented? Where in Ireland? Oh come on," she pleaded, "tell me!" Sherlock shook his head with a grin.

"Nope. That's all you're getting."

Michael rolled his eyes and told them to "grow up, the pair of you, we'll be home in a few minutes," and Sherlock caught Molly grinning at him in amusement from the corner of his eye. He pouted at her and she choked out the laugh she'd been trying to subdue. His lips quirked and he covered her hand with his and raised an eyebrow at her enquiringly.

"Something amusing you, Dr Hooper?"

"Just you, darling." He pretended to frown at her and she looked at him indulgently. She leaned over and whispered, "you're adorable," into his ear. He glowered in response.

"Dr Hooper. I am the world's only 'Consulting Detective'. I have an international reputation. I am far from 'adorable'. Take that back this instant!" Molly and Aoife laughed in unison. Then Aoife looked at him affectionately.

"For the record, I think you're quite adorable too, Sherlock." Michael laughed loudly from the front of the car.

"Don't know what your problem is mate. Two hot women find you adorable." Sherlock paused comically to consider this.

"I suppose that could be another way of looking at it," and the women laughed again at his shenanigans.

Sherlock resumed his earlier game of making Molly blush. Well, he reasoned, he was bored, she was the one that was really 'adorable', and besides, it was most amusing. He stroked the palm of her hand lightly with his thumb. She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see her colour rising and feel her pulse accelerating under his fingers. He grinned boldly at her and she widened her eyes at him warningly, and tried to tug her hand away. He tugged it right back and raised it playfully to his lips, and she smothered a giggle.

Michael glanced at Aoife in amusement and she smiled conspiratorially back at him, but they both said nothing, because this was supposed to be Sherlock and Molly's romantic week alone together after months of separation, and once again, their plans had been thwarted. Aoife suspected that Sherlock was trying to distract Molly from their imminent separation too, and judging from his gravelly whispering and her low giggles and attempts at 'shushing' him from the back seat, he was succeeding admirably.

She thought of Mycroft then, waiting in her home for their return. Their home now, she thought, because she loved her house so much more with him in it. Sherlock and Molly too, because they were fast beginning to feel like family. Mycroft loved his younger brother deeply, for all their pretence of sibling rivalry. He talked about him a lot to her, about how brilliant he was, and all his accomplishments, along with their difficult history. She knew how much Sherlock and Molly loved being in her house too, and she was happy about that. Since Oisin died, Aoife had always felt alone. She had lots of good friends, and loving parents, but the loss of her twin brother had left a void in her life, until Mycroft.

He was, quite simply, the centre of her world now, and seldom out of her thoughts for long. He was quite brilliant of course, and strong and powerful; all of that she knew, and it undoubtedly attracted her, but it was the way he made her feel cherished, safe and loved, that really drew her to him. It was extraordinary, she thought, how much he understood her. In just a matter of the first few days of being with him, he could read her mood perfectly, no matter what front she put up. He let her be herself though, and waited for her to come to him when she needed him, rather than crowd her or try to control her, and that made her love him all the more, because power and control were second nature to this man.

She was used to power and control too. She was the CEO of the biggest company in Ireland, and by default, she was also the wealthiest female in Ireland. She had properties and hotels all over the world and she was on secondment from that company to work for the Irish Government as a consultant in security and development. All of that had intimidated other men before, or worse, attracted less scrupulous ones. Not Mycroft though. She smiled to herself. There wasn't a person on the planet that could intimidate him, and he was very wealthy in his own right. She was sometimes concerned about conflict of interest between them on a political level, but it had not been an issue to date, and they had agreed a strategy to manage it, should the occasion arise.

She began to think about this latest threat, and of what they'd discovered in Central Intelligence. She considered the tip off information Michael and Sherlock had received from different sources and thought how easy the case should be to resolve. Something wasn't right though; something was 'off'. Aoife frowned, and a feeling of dreadful foreboding swept over her. She felt her heartbeat accelerating with the force of the wave of anxiety suddenly consuming her.

Inhaling long deep breaths, she forced herself to bring it under control, knowing it was irrational, and hoped nobody had noticed, but as Michael steered the car up her driveway and they all clambered out and into the house, Sherlock paused in the hall and touched her elbow, frowning quizzically at her. "Are you alright, Aoife?" he enquired quietly. She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded at him and then suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. Sherlock returned her embrace without a second's hesitation.

"You will be careful Sherlock, won't you?" she pleaded, as she clasped him to her. He smiled gently at her. "Not you and all Aoife! As if this old gangster is any match for me." She tapped his forehead lightly with her finger.

"Brains cannot stop a bullet, my dear. I just ask that you be extra vigilant. Ok?" He looked solemnly at her and nodded his head. Mycroft was watching from the door of the study and Sherlock caught his eye and signalled silently to him. He hardly needed to though. He'd already picked up the tension in Aoife. Sherlock released her with a quick peck on her cheek and began to follow Molly up the stairs.

"Hey Mykie. We're just going to freshen up. How about we reconvene in a half hour in the kitchen?" Mycroft smiled at the nickname and nodded at his brother.

"Does that suit you too Michael?" he checked, and Michael nodded.

"Yes, that's grand. I have some calls to make. I'll see you all then," and he disappeared into the living room. Mycroft looked in tender enquiry at Aoife and she smiled weakly at him. He opened his arms and she melted into them. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her into him, stroking the back of her head with the other. Aoife gripped his back, clenching his shirt tightly with her fingers, and he continued to hold her, and drop gentle kisses on her forehead, and on the crown of her head, until her fingers began to slacken and he felt her pulse evening out. Turning back to the study, he clasped her to his hip and led her in, closing the door behind them.

He settled her on the couch close beside him and pulled her back into his arms. She sighed as she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist. She was silent for a long while, and he waited her out. Finally, she tilted her head up and kissed him deeply. "I'm sorry Mycroft, please don't worry. There's nothing wrong." He shook his head slowly at her.

"No Aoife. You are not a woman that upsets easily, so please don't be embarrassed or apologetic. I'd rather you just tell me what happened?" She looked up earnestly at him, her sharp green eyes meeting his.

"That's just it, Mycroft. Nothing happened." She paused to gather her thoughts. "We were on our way home in the car, slagging Sherlock, and everything was fine." Mycroft laughed gently and urged her to continue. "He'd started messing with Molly, you know what he's like with her, teasing her and making her blush, and the two of them were so wonderful." She smiled shyly then and told him, "I thought of you then, and how good you are to me; how good you are for me," she stopped and ran her fingers along his cheek, "and how much I love you."

He smiled and kissed her, but still he said nothing for he knew there was more. "I was thinking of how happy we are, all of us, and how this case should be a doddle, and then the strangest thing, Mycroft. I got this awful sense of danger and yes, it did upset me a lot, because I couldn't bear it if anything happened to any of us. Not now, when we've just found real happiness."

She shook her head, as if to clear it and then looked startled at him. "This is a trap Mycroft. I don't mean Sherlock's meeting with Moriarty in New York. There's something else going on entirely. We're being set up. I can feel it, in fact, I'm sure of it, but I don't think the trap is in America at all." She was almost pleading with him now. "I don't have any evidence to back it up though. It's pure instinct, intuition, if you like, and I know you don't rate that very highly, but you must listen to me, please Mycroft; something is not right."

Mycroft smiled softly and her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Oh my dear girl, you are so very smart, and, for the record, I trust your 'instincts' implicitly. They've certainly served both our nations well in the past. I also happen to think you are quite right. In fact, I'm sure of it, and by now, I'll bet you, so is Sherlock." Relief flooded through Aoife. She hugged him more tightly and leaned her forehead against his.

"Then what is it, Mycroft. What's really going on?" He checked his watch and then stroked her hair.

"I have a fair idea but let's wait until we pool all the information together. Between the lot of us, we'll figure it out and respond accordingly. I particularly want to hear about the 'Sinn Fein' intervention in the Shelbourne, word for word. I believe that was a thinly veiled warning, Aoife, and an opportune one at that. Was there an Irish address, did Sherlock say?"

"Yes there was, but he wouldn't tell me where. To be fair, that was because I wouldn't tell him much either; I told him he had to wait for you." She bit her lip guiltily, but Mycroft just laughed. His mind was racing though. Sherlock should have asked Aoife details about an Irish address. He knew his brother and knew he would want information about the area, and want it immediately; but something had stopped him. That meant the address was possibly connected to her and he didn't want to upset her, or wanted Mycroft to be informed first. He needed to speak to Sherlock now.

Sherlock, meanwhile, was lying on their bed watching Molly as she finished changing her clothes. He was disappointed about the removal of her stockings, and told her so, eliciting yet another eye roll and smile from her. She had donned a slim fitting track suit which hugged her in all the right places though, so he was happy enough with that, he informed her. He was happier again when she climbed up and lay beside him, snuggling into his chest. "Do you share every thought that enters your head, Sherlock?" she teased him and he tickled her hip in retaliation, making her squirm and shriek with laughter. His beautiful, laughing face loomed over hers and she pulled him down for a deep kiss, sighing happily as he coaxed her mouth open and explored it thoroughly with his tongue. Then, satisfied, he smacked one last kiss on her lips and answered his breathless pathologist. "Oh no Molly. You'd have a permanent blush if that were the case," and she grinned at him.

He pulled her back into his arms and she purred contentedly and lay her head on his chest, idly drawing imaginary circles over his ribs. He twirled strands of her hair around his fingers and mentally reviewed the case to date. Something was bothering him. He picked up his phone and texted Mycroft the address in Kerry and a question mark. It was a long minute before his brother answered.

'Half a mile from that fatal cliff, and the house that JM stayed in. Kitchen, now, please Sherlock'.

Sherlock frowned at the phone and then tilted Molly's head up to look at her. "I have to go have a word with Mycroft. Will you go find Aoife and keep her company please Molly? This case has just got personal for her, relating to Oisin." Molly's eyes widened in alarm and she jumped off the bed without another word, and went in search of Aoife.

Sherlock found his normally unrufflable brother pacing the kitchen floor in agitation. He walked straight to the large dresser and took out the bottle of Middletons he knew Aoife kept there, and then extracted two Waterford crystal whiskey glasses from the cabinet. Pouring a generous measure, he pressed the glass into his brother's hand. "Drink this, while I recount verbatim what Desmond Murphy, the Sinn Fein guy, said earlier." As Mycroft raised his glass to his lips, he did just that. Mycroft paid particular attention to the reference to Aoife.

"This is an entirely unofficial visit, Mr Holmes. Please be clear, I do not come here this afternoon on behalf of the Party like, but as a general courtesy to Aoife Quinn, and I suppose by default, to your brother, of whom we in the Party are well acquainted," Sherlock directly quoted.

Mycroft sighed deeply. "That was a direct tip-off Sherlock, or as close as it gets from a party ultra- sensitive to any accusation of 'informing'. It's a juggling act for them, to keep their more hard-line Republican members satisfied with the power-sharing arrangement. If it got out that they assisted Aoife, or even worse for them, me, by providing information on a known 'accomplice', well, it would cause a whole load of problems for them."

"They did though Mycroft, and they did it for Aoife, because she's the target, not me. Aoife has sought justice for her brother's murder for over a decade. She came to you, and ultimately, me, for assistance, setting off a chain of events that culminated in the death of his last two children, right here in her home. This 'meeting' I was summonsed to in New York was a ruse to get her out of the safety of your home in London, remove her from your impenetrable protection, and, by drawing me out of this house, away from mine." Mycroft's mouth was set in a grim line, and his hand was on his phone when Aoife, Michael and Molly arrived into the kitchen.

"Wait Mycroft, please, before you call London. Let's sit down for a minute. We're safe here for a while, at least until Sherlock leaves for New York." Sherlock looked at her in astonishment.

"I'm not going to New York now, Aoife!" She turned to him and answered him firmly and calmly.

"Yes, Sherlock. You are."