Sherlock laid on the bed in what was now "his" bedroom. He had intended to continue cataloging and sorting the information he has received about the murder of Door's family and the disappearance of her sister. However, he was having difficulty concentrating. He kept returning to the image of the Marquis kissing Molly. He clenched his fists and indulged in some fantasies of punching the man in the face, repeatedly. This was not the first time he had had such a reaction. He realized with a start, that every time he thought Molly was involved with another man, he became increasingly irrational. Sherlock knew that he was a selfish man. He hated having to share the few people he kept close to him. What was worrying him now was the fact that Molly's female friendships didn't provoke such strong reactions. Molly and Door could interact without arousing such a response. Sherlock forced these thoughts away and tried to lock them up deep within his mind palace. He resumed focusing on Door's lost sister.
Molly slept deeply. She dreamed of two headed dragons chasing her. One head spat fire and the other blood. Strangely, she didn't feel frightened. She awoke, and couldn't remember where she was at first. The heavy fabric hangings around the bed quickly reminded her. She stumbled toward the bathroom. When she was finished, she felt a bit more awake and alert. She thought back to how she had healed the Marquis. She was astonished that it had worked as well as it had. Then she thought back to the beautiful planes of the Marquis' body, and of him kissing her. She couldn't help but blush once more. He was an excellent kisser. Why the hell did Sherlock always try to ruin these things? Molly moped, it's not like he was ever interested. Maybe he just liked spoiling things for other people. Molly did recall John complaining about Sherlock always sabotaging his dates, or plain scaring interested women away. Molly sighed and left the bedroom. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Molly was actually somewhat relieved. She didn't feel quite up to speaking with him just yet.
After the Marquis had left, Door decided to take care of other matters around the house. She knew the Marquis would be back after he finished sulking. He tended to come and go when he pleased anyway. She returned to her father's study and resumed going through his papers. Her father, Portico, had had a dream about uniting all of London Below. Door wasn't sure if it was really possible, but she was curious about his ideas. She also kept searching for anything that might lead her to her sister. She hated not knowing. It was painful to think about Ingress, lost and alone, thinking all her family was dead. Or worse, perhaps Ingress was dead, left somewhere like trash. Door just wished she knew where her little sister was. She had tried to search for her, asking around at the Floating Market, searching the slave traders and worse. There had been no information, no sign of her sister. Door had no idea what else to try. She was somewhat cheered by the interest Sherlock had shown in her missing sister. Door believed Molly when she had said that Sherlock was the best at solving such mysteries. She worked through her father's files and notes, trying to put them in some order for another few hours. Just when she was starting to feel in need of a break, she heard someone knocking. Her guests were summoning her.
When Sherlock left his bedroom, he was slightly startled to see Molly, sitting in an armchair, reading. She was still wearing a nightgown and it was oddly fascinating. The long white nightgown made her seem smaller, and childlike. Sherlock was nearly overwhelmed with an urge to keep all others away from her. He swallowed and walked away, toward the bookshelves. He moved some books and things around, scowling. He paced around the desk and fiddled with the inkwell, nearly knocking it over. He sighed dramatically then looked back at Molly. "Molly. In the future I would appreciate it if you didn't expend all your energies in such a fashion. I require your assistance and your exhaustion hinders me," Sherlock complained.
Molly looked up, slightly started. "You need my help, so I'm not allowed to sleep?" she asked, confused.
"No, I merely prefer you focus you energy on more important matters, primarily assisting me."
"Sherlock, you're not the only person on the planet, you know. Besides, what I do and who I help is my business, not yours" scowled Molly.
Sherlock ignored her last statement entirely and moved on to a new topic. He clasped his hands behind his back, head thrown back in his classic arrogant pose. "I am going to ask Door to show us the rest of the house, where her family was killed to look for clues. I am also preparing to venture out and seek new sources of information about the whereabouts of Ingress. I suggest you change into something more appropriate if you intend to accompany us."
It wasn't worth trying to fight, Molly decided. She returned to her room and changed back into clothes more suited for crime-fighting. By the time she returned to the sitting room, Door had already arrived. She and Sherlock were speaking quietly. Molly approached them. Door smiled at her and began speaking. "So, Molly, we're going to tour the rest of the house, Sherlock is looking for clues. Do you want to come? Um there might be some unpleasant memories as we go along. We'll start in the conservatory. Ready?"
Molly and Sherlock each took one of Door's hands as she reached out to touch the door. The three of them spent the next four hours going from room to room. The memories that they were shown as they moved from room to room were indeed unpleasant. Molly had no trouble with dead bodies, but she didn't think she would ever grow accustomed to seeing violence being inflicted. The murder of Door's family had been brutal. Croup and Vandemar had been truly terrifying, Molly was certain they would haunt her dreams. She felt slightly better knowing they had been sucked off into some faraway dimension, but was a bit worried it wasn't far enough away. Sherlock was relentless, always searching, or asking probing questions. Molly could tell that Door was wearing down and that Sherlock was oblivious to that fact. Finally, they stopped back in the entry hall. Before Sherlock could start up again, Molly said, "Okay, well, I think I could use a little break, maybe something to eat? Anyone else?"
Door gave her a grateful look; Sherlock gave her an incredulous glare. "I'm getting kind of tired too, actually, how about we go see the kitchens? There's probably something ready to eat. Somehow my grandfather managed to do some sort of magic and the kitchens work by themselves. The whole house is sort of sentient, actually," said Door.
Sherlock glowered at Molly. "Indeed. However, I am not finished. I need to go and speak to some of the individuals you told me that you have already questioned. Eating is a waste of time," he spat.
"Sherlock, we need a break, all right? Door wants to find her sister even more than you do, but none of us will be any good at anything if we're collapsing from exhaustion and hunger," pleaded Molly.
Sherlock stormed stiffly away from the two women. Door shrugged and said, "I'll be right back, I'll just bring some stuff back, okay? Thanks Molly."
Door left and Molly sat down at a nearby table. She watched Sherlock pace angrily for a while. He was muttering to himself, stopping at times to touch the paintings on the walls. Sherlock was thinking furiously, keeping his complaints to himself. Molly was clearly no John Watson. John never would have stopped for something as mundane as food. John lived for the chase as much as Sherlock did. Thinking about his best friend only made Sherlock angrier. He was out of his depth here. It had taken years of careful work to build his homeless network and to gain the many other contacts and sources he had in London. He knew London completely. Everything he needed had been at his fingertips. Now he was stuck somewhere weird with only Molly as an ally, no knowledge of the lay of the land and a whole host of other problems. He hated having to rely on Door to move from room to room, worse yet, he couldn't leave the house without someone to guide him. Helpless, he loathed feeling so helpless. Sherlock almost wished the idiotic Marquis was there to pick a fight with. He wanted to shout at someone. But, he had promised Molly that he would try to be better, so he had avoided shouting at her and Door when they decided to take their little tea break. He doubted they appreciated his efforts.
Door returned with a tray of food, some sandwiches, fruit and pastries. She and Molly ate and talked quietly. "Where's the Marquis? I really should check those stitches, most of them should probably come out" said Molly.
Door swallowed a piece of sandwich. "Um, he left a while ago, when you were asleep. He'll be back. He can come in and out of the house when he wants," she explained.
As if he knew they were talking about him, a door opened and the Marquis strode in. He walked swiftly to Door and Molly. "Ladies," he said with a bow, "I have discovered that tonight the Floating Market is at the National Gallery, shall we go, Molly?" he asked.
Molly watched Sherlock stride towards them, a dark look on his face. Door leapt from her seat. "Actually, that's a great idea, Sherlock wants to talk to some people, so we can all go," said Door. Within a few minutes, the group was headed out the door.
Molly had been fascinated with the idea of the Floating Markets since the Marquis had first told her about them. She was excited about finally getting to see one. As they walked through assorted tunnels and sewers, Door told Sherlock a little about the markets. As they approached the market, Molly could see that the Marquis was correct in his descriptions. Booths spilled out of the museum buildings. Everyone wore strange and outlandish clothes and the wares they sold were even more unusual. One booth was filled with bottles in every shape, size and color. Most of the bottles were filled, some with swirling liquids, colored sand and a few definitely contained body parts. Another stand sold jewelry made of bits of trash. Around a corner a bored looking man was giving another fellow a half-hearted shave while a long line waited. Molly spied a woman was walking around with a rat on her head. Molly realized that the rat was giving the woman directions. Sherlock, of course, managed to look bored to tears. Door was pointing someone out to Sherlock. The Marquis took this opportunity to take Molly by the hand and drag her in another direction.
"Well, here you are finally. What do you think?" he asked.
"It's overwhelming. I can't believe the rest of London doesn't notice this," said Molly.
"Hmm, yes, well come along, I want to make sure you get a chance to see things, I'm sure your dear friend won't be as considerate," said the Marquis.
They walked along through the market together. Molly noticed that most people seemed to have a strong reaction to the Marquis. Some smiled, but most looked uncomfortable. A few looked murderous. One made a distinctly threatening gesture. There were also whispers following them. Molly noticed some people staring and pointing at the Marquis' neck. The Marquis gave no indication that he saw any of this. He strolled through the Market as though on a Sunday promenade. He continued to educate Molly about the various ins and outs of life in London Below. It was a good education, he told Molly about the rat-speakers, the Velvets and the sewer folk. He also pointed out some of his many associates; they stopped to speak with Old Bailey. Molly was delighted by the man and his birds. He gave Molly a bundle of feathers tied with red string, and promised her it would offer her protection. Molly was enjoying herself greatly when Sherlock suddenly appeared at her side. He glared at her and the Marquis. Door was right behind him.
"Molly, where have you been? You did promise to assist me, did you not? So far you have done a poor job of it," complained Sherlock.
Molly sighed, Sherlock was definitely back to being himself. "What do you need?" she asked.
Sherlock didn't answer, just stalked away. Door and Molly rushed to follow him. Sherlock stopped abruptly in front of a small cardboard sign that read "BODIE-GUARDS! Cheep!" Sherlock whirled back around, "Door, you did say that the murders had hired several others, bodyguards, to hunt you, that and they placed the double agent Hunter within your ranks, under the guise of a bodyguard. It stands to reason that perhaps they spoke with other bodyguards. Have you attempted to contact any of them?" he demanded.
"Well, sort of, I mean I tried, but, well Croup and Vandemar had a bad habit of killing anyone they talked to, or looked at, or might have heard about one time." Door shivered as she remembered the assassins.
"What about Hunter? She's dead, right? Who were her known associates?" asked Sherlock.
Door paled. Molly was surprised to see that the Marquis also looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Um, I don't know, she traveled a lot, always going to other cities looking for things to kill. But, we did meet one person who called her a friend," Door paused and gulped, "Serpentine of the Seven Sisters" she whispered.
"Yes, here's a splendid plan. Let's send Sherlock to go speak with her. I can only imagine what a delightful experience that will be. I eagerly await hearing of your meeting," smirked the Marquis.
"Who's Serpentine?" asked Molly. She spoke a bit too loudly; all the vendors and customers around them visibly flinched and moved away. Door winced and grabbed Molly's arm.
"Don't say that name so loud! Temple and Arch! They'll accuse you of starting a riot. I'll tell you more, back home, okay?" explained Door. She took a deep breath, and then continued, "Okay, Sherlock, actually, terrifying as it is, it sort of does make sense to talk to her, but that could be a death sentence, so we may need to regroup and think of some other plans. De Carabas? Can you think of anyone else who might have associated with either Hunter or Croup and Vandemar?"
The Marquis pretended to study some speck of dirt on his lacy cuffs. He sighed, "Well, it's about time someone asked. Honestly, I can't think of any, but allow me to do some asking around. I may be able to locate some information." He stopped and frowned at Sherlock. "Please keep in mind Door, that I do this only as a favor to you and your family, for the many kindnesses they have shown me" he finished.
Sherlock just smiled at him. The Marquis gave both Door and Molly a swift kiss on the back of their hands, then disappeared into the crowds. "Well, now on to more important matters. Namely procuring my personal effects, on to Baker Street." said Sherlock. He turned and began to march toward one of the exits.
"Wait! Damn it Sherlock! Stop, this is not a good idea!" shouted Molly as she raced after him. Sherlock ignored her and walked through the exit and began walking down the street. He attempted to hail an empty cab. It drove past him. Then two more did. Never in his life had Sherlock ever encountered any difficulty in hailing a cab. He scowled, remembering what Molly had told him. Door and Molly had both caught up with him and were each tugging on a sleeve of his coat.
"Sherlock! You can't just march into your old flat and start taking your stuff! Someone will notice! Besides, remember what I told you about Jim? What if he is from the Underside? What if he's watching your flat and sees us?" Molly begged.
"Who's Jim?" asked Door. "And, Molly's right, even if people can't see you, this is not such a good idea," she continued.
Sherlock glared at the two women who had latched themselves onto his coat. Neither was cowed by his glare. "Fine. Please explain, with very concrete examples why it is not a good idea to reclaim my property. As to your question Door, Jim is a criminal mastermind who is the cause of my currently diminished status. Molly seems to think that he shares some sort of mystical Death seeing ability with her, and is possibly a former resident of London Below, or some such nonsense." stated Sherlock.
Molly and Door looked at each other. Door went first. "Right, so yes, most London Above people can't see us, not unless we get in their face and make a scene, even then, they usually forget about us right away, still … people will notice if your stuff disappears, especially since you're supposed to be, um dead, and it's probably not a great idea to clue them into you being, you know, not dead. And if the guy you are trying to hide from puts two and two together…." Door trailed off. "What is it you want anyway?" she asked.
"I need my clothing, my phone and my violin" stated Sherlock.
"Oh, well, the phone's kind of a waste, they don't work in the Underside, sorry" explained Door.
Molly thought Sherlock might cry. She tried to rub his arm in a comforting way. "Maybe we could buy you a violin at the Market?" she tried.
Sherlock looked at her with disgust, yanking his arm away from her. He threw up his arms and marched further away from Door and Molly. He started to shout, "Buy a violin! Buy a violin! What a capital idea! Certainly, please let's throw away the marvelous instrument you already possess in order to obtain a piece of trash, discarded junk or other broken down garbage! What an absolutely brilliant plan Molly! Yes, let's just go do that!" He muttered darkly to himself as he strode along the street.
Molly looked at Door helplessly. "I'm sorry, he can be … difficult sometimes," she murmured. Molly was fighting back tears; she was doing terribly at her vow not to cry anymore because of Sherlock.
"Is his violin really that important?" asked Door.
Molly nodded. "Yeah, I think it's the only thing he likes besides solving crimes. He'll never admit it, but he's having a hard time with all this. Having his violin would probably be a big help. "
"Because, well, I think I know how we could get it for him, but he won't like it," Door paused. She looked Molly in the eye. "The Marquis could steal it."
"Oh god, I don't know what would be worse. Him without his violin or being indebted to the Marquis" Molly sighed. "He'd know too, there's no way we could hide it from him if the Marquis got his violin back, besides de Carabas would be thrilled at the chance to gloat."
Door thought a few moments more. "Okay, well, it's probably that or nothing. I guess we'll see how bad he gets, anyway, let's find him before he gets into more trouble."
The two women turned and raced after Sherlock. He had disappeared back into the crowds of the Floating Market. After half an hour of searching, Molly was growing frantic. Then Door spotted him standing next to a curry stall, looking annoyed. After some negotiation, the two women were able to cajole him into staying with them. They decided to get Sherlock some things to amuse himself with. Door traded for some stuff, including a box of lost cell phones and some new clothes that Sherlock insisted on choosing. This seemed to placate him a little. After the final purchases were made, they headed back to Door's home.