Still do not own these characters, just borrowed them, honest.
Many thanks to those who left reviews, glad you're enjoying this strange idea that wouldn't go away.
As soon as the wooden door slammed, the group was plunged into darkness. The Marquis drew a long taper from another pocket and lit it. He turned to his latest traveling companions. "Look, from now on, these are the rules. If I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions. No arguments. There's all sorts of nastiness that won't hesitate to maim, throttle or kill you. Molly, if there's trouble, I'll help you as best I can, your friend is on his own" he stated.
Silently, they began to walk through a brick tunnel, the Marquis in the lead, Molly right behind him and Sherlock at the rear. The tunnel was a relic of a past building project that had become obsolete before it was finished. It was cramped and smelled unpleasantly of mold and sour milk. As they walked, the Marquis de Carabas was debating if it would be worth it to order Molly's obnoxious friend to do something silly, just to see if he would do it. The idea of making him crow like a rooster had a certain immediate appeal. However, while amusing, it would likely upset Molly and make the tall pale pain-in-the-ass less likely to listen if the Marquis did need to issue orders. Sometimes, life just wasn't fair mused the Marquis.
Molly was right at his heels. She was busy with her own thoughts. She hadn't given Sherlock much information about what she was getting them into. She was worried he would come to despise her as he learned more about his new home. She kept glancing back to make sure that Sherlock was still following them. He was not far behind her, eyes focused on the ground. The tunnel began sloping downwards. Drips of water fell intermittently from the ceiling. The air grew cooler as they passed beneath the river.
Now the tunnel was sloping back upwards. The Marquis stopped before a rusty door set in the brick work. He pulled a strangely shaped piece of metal from within his coat and stuck it in a keyhole. He yanked on it and the door opened. Next he ushered Molly and Sherlock through. They began walking down another tunnel, this one in slightly better repair, it was wider and there was no water leaking from the ceiling. As they continued the Marquis turned and spoke to Molly. "So, why bother me now, and please, do explain why you felt the need to bring along such a charming guest" he asked.
Molly giggled nervously. "Um, well, I haven't been really using my death sense, which is kind of funny, because I work with dead people, or at least I did, doing autopsies. And Sherlock, he's a detective and solves crimes, so he would come by sometimes and need to look at a corpse or something. And, well, so, I helped him sometimes" she trailed off at this point in the story. She looked back at Sherlock, who still seemed to be far away, deep in his own mind. Molly took a deep breath and continued.
"Um, and then there was this other man, he said his name was Jim Moriarty, but that could be an alias, I don't know. And we went on a few dates, but he was really just interested in finding out about Sherlock."
The Marquis looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Please tell me Molly that this isn't your way of dealing with some debauched love misadventure" he drawled.
Molly turned beet red. "No! I mean, Jim was this crazy criminal guy, and he was playing this sick game with Sherlock. Oh, and I think Jim is a Deathseer too"
"Stop" the Marquis interrupted. "Did you just say you met another Deathseer, and a male one at that?" he asked.
"Oh, um, yes, see he was killing people, really evil, and Sherlock was trying to stop him, but uh, Jim he managed to trick everyone into thinking that Sherlock was the bad one, but he's not! And then Sherlock asked for my help, to fake his death, but Jim is still out there and I didn't know what to do … I thought we might be safe down here" Molly sighed. "I know it's all crazy and idiotic sounding, but I've been awake for oh, thirty some odd hours now and it seemed like a good idea at the time."
Tears began to flow down her face. The Marquis stopped and brushed a few off her cheek. "Molly, it was a terrible idea" he told her tenderly. She cried harder at this, hiccupping as she sobbed. Sherlock loomed next to them and scowled at the Marquis.
"Why is she crying?" Sherlock demanded.
The Marquis opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Molly covered his mouth with her hand. She spoke instead, "I'm okay, I'm just really, really tired." She shivered and yawned. Suddenly her eyes fluttered and she slumped against the Marquis. Both he and Sherlock tried to grab her, but they ended up shoving each other out of the way, and Molly slowly drooped to the floor.
"Now look what you've done" chided the Marquis as he knelt down next to Molly. Sherlock glared at him. "She's passed out, exhausted." The Marquis paused, and then gathered Molly up in his arms.
In an alarmed tone Sherlock said "Maybe we should let her rest."
The Marquis was already striding away, carrying Molly. He called back over his shoulder, "Yes, that's a splendid plan; you just go on and stay right there. Let us know how it works out."
Sherlock snorted, and then followed along at a leisurely pace. He would not run to catch up even if it killed him. They continued along, the Marquis carrying a snoring Molly. Sherlock was left to hold her bags and follow the strangely dressed man and the sleeping pathologist. They twisted and turned more times. Finally they entered a sewer. After an hour, the terrain became noticeably more difficult. This section of sewer had been abandoned for over a century and fallen bricks littered the path. The Marquis spun around and grinned at Sherlock. "You know, you're the one that's caused all this, you can repay her by helping to carry" he announced. The Marquis shoved the still sleeping Molly at Sherlock who quickly dropped the bags in order to keep her from falling. Molly just sighed and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's neck. The Marquis smirked at Sherlock and marched along, delicately traipsing over the debris.
Neither man would look at the other for most of the remainder of the journey. Sherlock struggled to carry Molly through the derelict sewers and tunnels, but he refused to ask the so-called Marquis for help of any kind. Sherlock wondered how on earth sweet and innocent Molly had met such a fiend. He was also troubled by her seeming fondness for him. As they walked, Sherlock was rapidly deducing as much as possible about his new environment and disliking everything about it. For most of the journey, he was also fighting a battle against his emotions, and losing. If he chose to admit it, he would have to say he was terrified, angry and depressed. He refused to admit anything, least of all to himself. He fought to keep his face a blank mask whenever the Marquis glanced back at him.
The roundabout route the Marquis had taken them on was now passing through an open space. For the first time, they could see evidence of others. From out of the shadows came a pair of pale young women dressed in dark velvet. Both hissed at the Marquis, who merely smiled and gave them a mocking bow. Lanterns were flickering on the walls, tunnels and pipes branched out in various directions. The Marquis turned into another tunnel. Then Molly began to stir in Sherlock's arms. She stretched, opening her eyes. Upon realizing she was being carried by Sherlock, she squeaked, arms and legs flailing about everywhere. Before Sherlock could drop her, the Marquis was there to assist her to standing.
"You passed out, no trouble, my dear. Sherlock was gallant enough to carry you for a while, but fear not, we've almost arrived" the Marquis smiled. He took Molly by the hand once more. Molly was still blushing. She thought she ought to thank Sherlock, but was afraid to see the look on his face. They walked in silence for another forty minutes and then stopped in front of rather unremarkable patch of wall. The Marquis made quite a show of tapping a series of bricks. Shortly after he finished, a line of light raced across the bricks, creating a roughly rectangular shape. The light flared once, and there was now an opening in the wall. Wooden stairs could be seen leading upwards. After they stepped through the doorway, the bricks quickly reappeared. The Marquis marched up the stairs and knocked on the door at the top. There was another brief pause, and then the door opened.
In a bored tone, the Marquis announced, "Lady Door, may I present my old friend, Molly Hooper. Oh, and her irritating traveling companion whose name I have forgotten. I should also add that I was unaware that Molly felt so compelled to bring the brute with her, as I was only intending to bring one stray to your home."
Molly looked around the Marquis to see who he was speaking to. A young woman stood on the other side of the door. Molly thought the woman was younger than her, but it was hard to tell. She wore a strange assortment of clothes, red leather trousers underneath a wispy tulle and lace skirt plus a ripped up Clash t-shirt. Over everything she wore an extremely large purple plaid cardigan. Her short hair was somewhere between red and brown, the color seemed to shift as she moved. She smiled at Molly and held out her hand, "Hello, I'm Door, you needn't bother with the 'Lady' bit, he just does that to impress people. I'm excited to meet you; I don't often meet people that this maniac owes favors to."
The Marquis de Carabas rolled his eyes and pushed past them. He went to a nearby couch and flopped on it, closing his eyes. Molly shook hands with Door. She then reached back for Sherlock's hand and said "Thank you, I'm Molly and this is my …" She paused and thought. Forcefully, she announced "he's my friend, Sherlock, and um we're both sort of new here…"
Door smiled at them both and gestured for them to come inside. "Welcome, this is my home, the Marquis told me you'd need some help getting settled. Why don't you both rest a bit and we can all talk more when it's time to eat." And so Molly and Sherlock entered the House without Doors.
As they stood in the entrance hall, Door briefly explained to her guests how her unusual home worked. "It's sort of a security feature; I guess you could say; only openers like my family can easily get from room to room. I'll take you to the guest suites, you won't be able to leave till I come back for you, but there are two bedrooms and bathrooms, and a fireplace. If you really need something, just bang on the door, I'll hear it and check on you."
Door led Molly and Sherlock across the bright white entry room and stopped before one of the many paintings on the wall. "You two hold hands, and Molly you take my hand. Um, you might see some things as we travel, they're old memories, it's a little weird the first time" Door explained. She reached up and touched the painting.
A man and a young girl have just entered an ornate sitting room. There is a roaring fire in the fireplace and the whole space is cozy and inviting. The man gestures to one of the armchairs. Another man is sleeping there. He snorts and twitches in his sleep. He has white hair and an eye patch. The little girl whispers, "Dad, who is that?" Her father replies "Door, I'd like to introduce you to the Earl of Earl's Court."
Molly blinked and realized she's standing in the same room she just saw. Quickly, she checked the armchairs, but no one is seated there now. She looked back to Door, who drew a shaky breath. "Sorry, um, I haven't been here in a while, I wasn't expecting to see that" she said. Molly knew that Door was about to cry, so she reached up to pat her on the shoulder.
"Thank you Door. This is a really lovely room, thank you so much for allowing us to stay here" Molly replied. Sherlock remained silent. He stalked across the room, studying everything along the way.
Door smiled back at Molly. "I'll explain more later, I hope to learn more about you too, Molly. It's a hard thing to earn a favor from the Marquis, I'm dying of curiosity. Oh, there's bound to be some clothes in the wardrobes, please take them if you need to change. There's some stuff for tea up here as well, the kettle's next to the fireplace. I'll be back in a few hours to take you to diner. Just pound on the door if you need me before then." And with that, Door left.
Molly dropped her bags and then collapsed in the closest armchair. A small fire was burning in the fireplace, warming the room considerably. Molly slowly scanned the whole room, behind her, the door they entered through, and on either side of the fireplace was another closed door. There were bookshelves along one wall, each shelf stuffed with books, scrolls, and other oddities. Sherlock was examining some sort of brass and wood instrument on one of the shelves while Molly sat. A heavily carved wooden desk rested in front of the bookshelves. The walls were covered in thick, ornate drapes that covered a pair of windows. Molly was almost afraid to breathe on anything; it looked like a set from a BBC historical drama. Sherlock was evidentially not as impressed. He fiddled with the desk, removing drawers and scowling at the contents. Molly sighed, and then stood up to check the bedrooms.
The bedrooms were equally lavish. Each room featured a massive bed, complete with canopy and brocade curtains. The room to the right of the fireplace was decorated in a more feminine style, mostly pink colors and a dainty dressing table. Molly tossed her bags in that room. Both bedrooms had large wardrobes, which must be direct connections to Narnia, Molly thought. She was disappointed to find just clothes, but cheered up slightly when she realized she had never seen clothes like these. Each wardrobe was stuffed with clothes from a myriad of eras, velvet and taffeta mixing with lace and denim. It was the best set of dress up clothes Molly has ever seen. Strangely, Molly felt herself start to unwind. She wandered back toward the armchairs and the fireplace. Molly was almost completely relaxed, but then Sherlock startled her. He appeared silently behind her with an ominous scowl on his face.
"I'm hoping Molly, that you will shed some more light on this interesting situation I find myself in" he intoned darkly.
"Um, right, well, remember I said there is another London, and, uh, that's where we are, London Below. Um, when I was just 19, I met the Marquis and he told me all about it. He could tell that I have this talent, he called it, I can see people's death" Molly began. She risked a glance at Sherlock, who was obviously dubious and clearly unimpressed.
Molly continued, "So, what he really wanted was get me to hide his life away in this egg, I didn't really understand it at the time. The Marquis told me how to make my death sense stronger, and I got pretty good at controlling it. They we made this egg, and it kinda freaked me out, but the Marquis he wanted me to come down here. I didn't want to at the time, but he had told me people with this death sense, sometimes they go crazy, and it's easier to deal with in London Below. So we made a deal, that I could call him to come back if I wanted to leave for London Below. And that's what I did, I called him, he came and now we're here." Molly bit her lip; she knew this explanation was a terrible one.
Sherlock just looked angrier. "You have not yet explained why I am here, nor given me a single reason to believe any of this nonsense you have regurgitated."
"I know this is, um, a bit weird, but please believe me, I can sense death, I can tell when people are going to die. And I'm fairly certain that Jim Moriarty has the same abilities I do, maybe more, he's probably more dangerous that we even know. There's no way you would be safe, you said he's still out there, it won't take him long to figure out you didn't die, and it won't take him long to figure out I helped you. I just wanted to keep us both safe" explained Molly.
Sherlock strode about the room furiously. "Molly, you can't be serious. Take me back to Baker Street. Immediately" he growled.
"Ah, well, as I understand it, we, um are sort of a part of London Below now. People in London Above, regular London, they can't see us. We don't exist to them anymore. I know it's all very weird and insane, but please trust me. I think maybe Jim Moriarty came from down here, maybe we can find out more about him and figure out how to stop him. Please Sherlock, I truly didn't know what else to do, I promise I'll help you make this all work out" Molly begged.
Sherlock was silent. He continued to pace, head bowed. After another ten very tense minutes, he flung himself in the other armchair. Molly stared at her hands, and then took a deep breath. She stood, going next to his armchair and kneeling down. Molly patted Sherlock's forearm and whispered "I'm going to help you, no matter what, you'll fix all of this and then we can find a way to go home."
Like a monster, rising from the depths, Sherlock stood, and stormed away from Molly. His rage was nearly incandescent. He shouted "Stop it! I can't bear any more of this idiocy! Go away! I don't want your pity, I don't want your help and I don't want you!" He whirled away, stalking back to the bookshelves on the other side of the room, knocking things over as he went.
Molly turned and fled to the pink bedroom. After she slammed the door, she locked it, knowing that Sherlock could easily pick the lock if he chose to. She sobbed as she sank to the floor. But, no, it was not far enough away, so Molly jumped back up almost immediately. She raced to the bathroom and locked that door too. The floors and walls of the bathroom were all gleaming marble. The bathtub was immense and inviting. Molly turned on the tap and breathed in the rising steam. She noticed an assortment of small bottles of bath salts and fragrant oils. Seeking any sort of distraction, Molly fiddled with the bottles, adding different amounts to the rising water. She climbed in the bathtub and sank into the warmth of the water and silence.