The Marquis de Carabas was seated, sipping tea in the small café where he and Molly had once met, years ago. It was a good location to speak with people who might otherwise be unwilling to do so. Finding things out was his specialty, and he was enjoying having his hand back in the game. He had located a bravo who had worked with Hunter a few times. The bravo in question was a woman named Baxter, whose weapon of choice was a massive pike. She and Hunter had hunted monsters in various parts of Europe. Baxter had been with Hunter in Berlin recently. It was there that Hunter suddenly decided to return to London after years abroad. "She got a message. Didn't tell me exactly what it said, something about the Great Beast of London. She could never resist the really spectacular monsters. Always worked alone when it was something big; she was prideful like that. Me, I just care about the money, but she was in it for glory mostly" explained Baxter.
"Who sent the message?" asked the Marquis.
Baxter shrugged. "No idea. She wasn't much for sharing. I do know that the reason she'd never gone after the Beast before was that she didn't have the right weapon. She bitched about it once, hated that, when you had to have some special magical weapon to kill something, thought it wasn't fair. Figured if you were good enough, it shouldn't matter, should be able to kill the beasties with whatever you wanted" said the bravo.
"Did Hunter ever speak about Serpentine? Or any of the Seven Sisters?" The Marquis asked.
"No, not that I can remember, she was never much for sharing. I know she worked for some of them, but that's only cause I heard it around. Besides, the less I have to do with them, the better" answered Baxter, shivering slightly.
They both took a sip of tea, thinking. The Marquis tried one last question. "What do you know about a Mr. Croup and a Mr. Vandemar?" he asked.
Baxter flinched. "Bad news, those two. Pop up in different places, different times, always ends the same, wholesale slaughter. Heard they were here recently, only came back cause I heard they'd gone again. Had a friend once, told me he was going to work for them, two days later they found his body, what was left of it at least, the uneaten bits. Bad news, those two." She shook her head at the memory. She looked uncomfortable, "Right, well, I don't think I can remember any more, so pay up" she demanded.
The Marquis reached into a deep pocket of his coat, felt around a bit and then pulled out a grenade. He offered it to Baxter but she shook her head firmly. He shrugged, and then tried another pocket. This time he removed a sheath that held a pair of throwing knives. Baxter frowned briefly, but then nodded and took it. She left the café without another word.
The Marquis leaned back to think. He hadn't really learned anything new. He already knew that Hunter's betrayal had been bought with the spear, not that it did her much good in the end. Whether or not Croup and Vandemar or Islington or someone else had been the ones to send the message didn't seem to matter. And it wasn't exactly news that Croup and Vandemar didn't leave behind any acquaintances. Furthermore, it was also unlikely that Islington had many associates. While the Underside was generally aware of his existence, everyone also knew that to go for a visit to his home involved a trip through the labyrinth and few were foolish enough to want to do that. Portico had visited Islington, but that was only possible due to his abilities as an opener. Of course, Portico had ended up paying for that visit with his life, and the lives of most of his family. De Carabas had actually been a little sad when he had learned of Portico's death. Portico had been a good man, if perhaps too naïve. The Marquis knew he didn't stand much of a chance going to try and speak with Serpentine. She would almost certainly eviscerate him the moment she saw him. He'd have to think of another approach.
Back in the House without Doors, Sherlock was also concentrating on the problem of Door's lost sister. He was focusing on the mysterious Serpentine. Door was currently telling Molly and Sherlock about the Seven Sisters. Even in the safety of her own home, Door looked worried just to be talking about them.
"They haven't spoken to each other in a long time, 30 years at least, but they've all been around a lot longer than that, centuries. Olympia is the oldest. They are all pretty intimidating, they're not exactly known for being nice, more like the bogeymen that eat babies….." Door shuddered thinking about them.
"Have they ever been known to eat babies? Or is that just some charming fable from here in Never Never Land?" smirked Sherlock.
It was Door's turn for a ferocious glare. "Trust me, they are all scary. People go out of their way to avoid dealing with them in any fashion. The oldest two especially, are not people you want to meet," she said firmly.
"On the contrary, I am quite looking forward to it. I have already sent introductory greetings to Serpentine and eagerly anticipate hearing from her in the near future," said Sherlock with a triumphant grin.
Molly was sitting at the table with Door. As Sherlock finished speaking, Door blanched and nearly fell off her chair. She started gulping air like she was about to hyperventilate. "What … did … you … do?" gasped Door.
"I found a representative of Serpentine at the Market. It was easy enough to figure out, who else would wear a device with the letter S surrounded by seven stars? I indicated that I wished to speak with her mistress and would appreciate her assistance in facilitating the matter. I made sure she knew where to reach me and asked for a response to my request." Sherlock seemed rather pleased with himself. Molly thought Door was going to cry or hit Sherlock. Molly understood the feeling all too well. She often felt the same way when dealing with Sherlock. Door staggered from the room, in the general direction of the dining room. Sherlock looked confused. He turned to Molly.
"Not good?" he asked.
"I don't know, I don't really know anything about Serpentine, but Door seems terrified and even de Carabas seemed a little intimidated by these Seven Sisters" sighed Molly.
Sherlock frowned and resumed pacing. Molly was exhausted; she curled up on a nearby couch. Sherlock perched on a chair and went to his mind palace to review recent events and the data he had accumulated. While Molly slept, the Marquis de Carabas returned. He ignored Sherlock and went to find Door. Thirty minutes later, Molly was being woken from her nap by Door.
"Hey, it's late, and um, it's been a really exciting day, why don't you go back to the guest suite and sleep? I've opened it up, you and Sherlock just have to touch the painting, and you'll go there by yourself, you won't need me to take you," explained Door.
Molly wished her host good-night and then returned to the guest suite. Sherlock was already there, sitting on the floor, surrounded by pieces of phones. He had been taking them apart and examining the innards. He looked up at Molly with excitement as she returned. "Molly! Fetch me that tool kit," he ordered.
Molly picked up the box of tools from the desk and walked it over to Sherlock. He took them wordlessly and resumed taking the phones apart. Molly heated up some water in the kettle and fixed herself and Sherlock some tea. He took the tea with a small nod of thanks. Molly sat down on the armchair next to Sherlock. After finishing her tea, she picked up the book she had left there earlier. She read in silence while Sherlock happily hummed and sorted small pieces of metal and plastic. The armchair was large and roomy; Molly tucked her feet underneath her. Her head drooped as she drifted off to sleep.
Door and the Marquis were discussing the day's events. The Marquis explained that his investigations had not been very fruitful. He was surprised to learn of Sherlock's bold maneuver of sending a message to Serpentine. It either proved that the man was a raving lunatic or very brave. In all likelihood, he decided, the answer was a combination of both. Door also told the story of Sherlock trying to return to his flat in Baker Street. The Marquis was actually strangely interested in Sherlock's desire to reclaim his belongings. Obtaining these items would be a challenge. And it is well known that the Marquis was fond of such challenges, especially since it would irritate his current sparring partner. Besides, it had been a while since he had the chance to steal anything interesting. Door began to yawn heavily. After she left for bed, the Marquis left the House without Doors. He was on a mission.
Molly spent the night sleeping in the armchair next to the fire. She hadn't intended to, she had drifted off while reading. She was covered up in a warm blanket that she didn't remember having before. She smiled when she realized that Sherlock must have done it. He had moved during the night, she could hear him fiddling with something at the desk. Of course, he had left an entire pile of cell phone particles on the floor at her feet. She had to stand carefully to avoid impaling her toes on some circuit boards. She went to take a bath and freshen up. The marble bathtub was just as inviting as it had been the first time. After a long soak and a careful consideration of her clothing options, Molly felt ready for the day's adventure. Sherlock had also clearly been preparing for the day. He had shaved and changed clothes since last night. Molly was also impressed to see that he had cleaned up the dismembered cell phones.
"Coffee Molly, I require coffee. Also, I am anticipating an answer to my missive, shall we?" he asked. Together they returned to the entry hall.
The entry hall is filled with potted palms. A couple of burly men are standing around arguing about which one to move first. One man steps aside and orders the others to be quiet. The conservatory will be a gift for his wife. If they keep shouting, it won't be a surprise for much longer. They finally choose one to move. The men grunt and strain to lift it towards the new painting on the wall.
Door was already sitting at a table with assorted breakfast items. But neither Molly nor Sherlock noticed her. Instead their eyes were immediately drawn to the Marquis. He had posed himself, somewhat provocatively, on the long banqueting table. In front of him, a neatly folded pile of Sherlock's clothing and his violin. Once Molly realized what she was seeing, she risked a glance at Sherlock. It was not a pretty picture. She had never seen his face redden like that. Sherlock stomped over to the table. "What is the meaning of this?" he hissed.
"I thought you were a genius. At least that's what the papers all say. Must have been mistaken. Well, then I'll just see what the going rate at the Market is for all my ill-gotten goods" smirked the Marquis.
Sherlock began to sputter and gesture wildly. Before he resorted to violence, Molly rested a hand of his arm. "Just say thanks" she whispered to him.
Sherlock glared at her like she had just stomped on his precious violin. He opened his mouth to speak, and Molly winced. Sherlock realized she was afraid of what he was going to say to her and felt ashamed. He did promise to try and behave. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "While I remain mystified as to your motives, if your intent is to return my belongings, then I appreciate what you have done" he managed to spit out through his gritted teeth. Molly smiled at him and squeezed his arm. Sherlock felt a curious flutter in his stomach at her touch. This disturbed him; he pulled his arm away from her quickly, a look of alarm plain on his face. Molly's face fell, and she turned away from the two men. Once again, she had done the wrong thing it seemed. She hurried over to Door and away from further humiliation.
The Marquis was delighted at this little tableau. He laughed and leapt from the table. "Oh Sherlock, you do amuse me so. What a charming surprise for my sweet Molly to bring me, you're quite welcome by the way," he mocked as he swept past Sherlock and on to breakfast.
Sherlock was furious with himself yet again. Trying to be nice was proving to be far more difficult than he had anticipated. Somehow this was all John Watson's fault, he was sure of it. He busied himself with collecting the pile of clothing and his violin. He removed his belongings to the safety of the guest suite. When he returned, he silently joined the group seated around the table. Before he was able to say or do anything, Molly handed him a cup of coffee. It was perfect, like always. Yet again, Sherlock was unsure of what to say or do. Should he try and apologize to Molly? What exactly was he apologizing for anyway? He was already frowning when the damnable Marquis pulled out his next trick.
"Why, what do I have here? A bit of scandalous newsprint…" The Marquis delicately unfolded a tabloid. Sherlock's face was splashed across the front, along with the words FRAUD DETECTIVE!
"Oh no, please, don't" stammered Molly as she tried to snatch the paper.
"But Molly, my dear, you're mentioned too" smiled de Carabas. "See, here on page 3" The Marquis read aloud with gusto, "Dr. Molly Hooper, a pathologist who was known to have collaborated with Sherlock Holmes and was the one to perform his autopsy, has been declared missing. Colleagues report that she was last seen leaving St. Bart's after the suicide of the alleged genius detective. Her car was found, abandoned near the Thames. Anyone with information about her whereabouts is asked to call the police." He smirked and handed the tabloid to Molly. "You're famous my dear"
Molly looked at the paper and groaned. She bit her lip as she read. The articles gushed on and on about the downfall of the man they had once lauded. Photos of Sherlock and John were liberally sprinkled with damning quotes from Sherlock's detractors. They all seemed to jump at the chance to blacken his name. Molly was near tears again.
Sherlock grabbed the paper out of Molly's hands. He folded it up and placed it on the floor, underneath his chair. Molly glanced down at it. Jim Moriarty's psychotic smile beamed up at her, framed by the phrase "INNOCENT VICTIM?" Sherlock continued as though nothing had happened, and began to scoop food onto his plate. This was startling. Molly was fascinated, she couldn't think of another time she had ever seen Sherlock actually eat a meal. It was hard to get him to stop and eat a snack most times. She was also pleased to see that the Marquis was eating and drinking. As he finished eating, Molly spoke.
"Um, if you don't mind, I'd like to check your injuries. Most of your stiches should come out, I think."
"Of course, shall we do it here?" asked the Marquis.
Molly nodded. "I just need to get some supplies. I'll be right back."
When she returned to the entry hall, Sherlock was gone and so was the tabloid. Door had also left for regions unknown. De Carabas was lounging on a sofa, juggling three jeweled daggers. As Molly approached, he finished, catching all three daggers in one hand, and then spinning them away with an extra bit of fanfare. He followed Molly towards the long banqueting table, removing his coat and shirt as he walked. He lay down on the table as Molly washed her hands. She looked over the Marquis. It was still unbelievable just how well he had healed. Molly flushed with pleasure as she thought about what she had accomplished. She had spent so many years hiding her talent and trying to suppress it that she had forgotten just how powerful she really was. "Well, I'm going to wash the area first, and then remove the stitches. Um, I don't usually take stitches out, at least out of living people," she stammered. "I'm sorry if it hurts, okay?"
"I've had worse" he shrugged.
Molly set to work. She began with the stitches at his neck. Carefully, she snipped each stitch and removed it. She debated with herself about beginning this conversation, but was dying of curiosity. She couldn't resist any longer. "So, why did you go and get his things? I mean, it was nice, but … you always told me that you weren't … nice," she began
"I was bored. And I knew it would make you happy and him angry" explained the Marquis. "Besides, I prefer to remain unpredictable."
Molly kept snipping. She wiped away the tiny beads of blood that appear when she pulled out the threads. "Where did everyone else go?" she asked.
"Who cares?" Molly gave him a look. The Marquis sighed. "Very well, I wasn't really paying attention; I suspect they've gone to Portico's study. Door is always looking for things there. Her father collected lots of information and a fair bit of junk. She's always hoping to find something to understand all this. And of course, as the last known member of the House of Arch, she will be faced with certain responsibilities" he continued. Molly thought about this, she felt sorry for Door and hoped she and Sherlock could help find her sister. She continued working in silence.
After an hour of work, Molly was finished. She cleaned the Marquis up and he redressed in his typically outlandish clothes. He thanked Molly and pronounced her efforts a success. Then he strode to the exit and left the house without another word. Alone, Molly returned her supplies back to the guest suite and picked up her book. It was a copy of Sense and Sensibility. Perhaps it had been left behind on the Tube one day. She wondered if the Underside had its own authors and artists. It must, of course. What sort of strange creations would they come up with? Maybe they dreamed of the exotic lives of London Above, tales of businessmen and students, the mundane now the surreal. She daydreamed and read till she was interrupted by the arrival of the Marquis. For once, he looked flustered and a bit afraid. "You need to come with me, your idiot friend has probably doomed us all," he hissed. Molly dashed over to him and they returned to the entry hall.
The entry hall is barren; there is no furniture at all. Only four paintings hang on the walls. A rectangle of light appears in one blank wall. A man strides through it. He is carrying a large empty gilded frame. He hangs it on a wall. As the frame is hung, a picture of a room fills in the inside of the frame. Once the picture is complete, the man touches it, and disappears.
Standing in the entry hall was a pale woman dressed all in black leather. A tight corset bound her waist. Across her chest was a white sash. Door and Sherlock stood near her. Sherlock was reading a letter and Door was wringing her hands. She rushed over to Molly and the Marquis as soon as they entered. "Molly! She's a messenger! From Serpentine! She wants us to come with her! Do you understand just how bad this is? It's bad! And I say that as someone who was recently menaced by a fallen angel and pair of demonic murderers for hire!" whispered Door furiously. Molly honestly had no idea what to say. She hoped that Door didn't expect her to be able to control Sherlock in some way. Apparently no one could do that. Molly was saved from having to speak by Sherlock appearing at her side.
"Molly. We have received an invitation to visit with Serpentine. I would like you to accompany me, though I understand if you are reluctant" he intoned. He held out the letter to her. She took it and read. The Marquis read over her shoulder.
Mr. Holmes,
My page has told me of your request. I am intrigued. You and the Lady Door may accompany my page to my home. I promise my protection and guarantee your safety. If you choose not to accompany her, do not attempt to contact me ever again. If you do attempt to contact me again, I will personally ensure that your demise is agonizing and slow.
S.
"Well, that seems straightforward" smirked the Marquis. "I say we send him, should end well."
"Sherlock, you want me to come with you?" asked Molly.
"Obviously, why else would I ask?" Sherlock said.
Door twisted her hands in her short hair. She looked at the Marquis. "De Carabas, what do you think?" she asked.
"Me? I think it's a terrible idea, the worst I've heard since Molly decided to make a permanent change of address and bring along the most hideous piece of tripe she could find. But, I've already gone along with so many of your other charming adventures, I might as well take this opportunity to visit another of our collective nightmares," he shrugged.
The woman in black began to walk away, toward the exit. Door bit her lip, but followed quickly behind her. Molly rushed after her to catch up. Sherlock passed both women with his long strides. The Marquis strolled along after the group as though he had all the time in the world.