Before Sherlock could completely destroy Door's home, Molly approached him with plans to discover more about Jim Moriarty and if he had links to the Underside. She told him she had a lead on who to ask about Deathseers. She didn't mention who the lead came from; Sherlock still looked murderous any time the missing Marquis was mentioned. They set off for the Floating Market that evening, looking to make contact with Old Bailey. Door knew of Old Bailey, but had never had much to do with him. She was surprised that the Marquis knew him. Old Bailey was known as a character, but not considered a very important or interesting person, unless one was looking for a bird.
Door had also discovered that there was a great deal of interest in the Underside about Sherlock and Molly. She had told no one how she had recovered her sister, so of course, everyone knew all about it, or at least believed they did. Some of the gossip was clearly false, but it was generally recognized as true that the two recent arrivals from London Above had something to do with it. Door had warned Molly and Sherlock about the level of interest they had generated. She also suggested that they consider adopting new names. Names could have power, and since they were in hiding anyway, better to be safe.
Sherlock had chosen to go by the name Vernet, in a rare moment of nostalgia, he had explained to Molly that Vernet was his maternal grandmother's maiden name. Molly decided on Mary, her mother's name. They set out for the Market once the matter of the new names was settled. This evening the Market was being held at Saint Paul's Cathedral. Molly wanted to look around, but Sherlock was too intent on the matter at hand. Old Bailey was easy to find, one just had to follow the squawks. They spoke with him briefly and made arraignments to meet with him privately at his current rooftop campsite. Sherlock had brought the newspaper that the Marquis had taunted him with. He had shown the picture of Jim Moriarty to a few people, but no one recognized the name or face. With no further objectives, Sherlock relented and wandered the stalls with Molly for a while. She was thinking of looking for some new clothes. Sherlock put a stop to that. After he nonchalantly insulted her taste in clothing once time too many, they left to return to Door and Ingress.
The next morning Sherlock and Molly left to go and visit Old Bailey. He was currently residing on the roof of a non-descript office building. They walked along, passed by the residents of London Above. Molly noticed they seemed to shy away from her and Sherlock. Person after person gave them a wide berth, changing their path without seeming to realize. It was also clear to Molly that Sherlock was curious about their responses. As they entered the building where Old Bailey had made his home, she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. It started with him going directly to a security officer, who blankly answered the inquiry about the elevators and then focused on something else. As they waited for the elevators, a small crowd joined them. When the doors opened, the crowd waited, allowing Molly and Sherlock to enter first.
Sherlock whispered to the woman in front of them to push the button for the 25th floor. She did so without pause. Now his eyes really lit up. Moly tugged on his arm, "Hey! No experiments on people!" she hissed.
Sherlock looked at her with what he believed to be an innocent expression. "Pardon?" he asked.
"You're thinking about experimenting on these people, don't!"
"I most certainly am not," he huffed.
"You are! You get that look!" Molly insisted.
"I do not get any sort of a look."
"Yes you do! I've seen it before, the glee of experiments! You can't experiment on people, it's not ethical!" she begged.
"Ha! That's never stopped me before!" he sneered.
"Oh my god, who did you experiment on, it was John, wasn't it, what the hell did you do?" she asked.
"Hmph. I merely allowed him to come into contact with an experimental drug that produced fearful visual and auditory hallucinations then provided some stimulus to see what happened under laboratory conditions. It was nothing," he grumbled.
"You drugged him! Oh god, that's terrible! You can't drug your friends!"
"It was for a case! I needed to know if others would react as I had." Sherlock frowned and folded his arms tightly. Molly noticed that while they had been arguing the elevator had gone to the top floor and back down to the ground floor. The elevator emptied. As the elevator filled back up, Molly whispered the number twenty-five to a man in a business suit. He pushed the proper button then checked his watch. This time the ride was silent as Sherlock continued to pout.
Molly and Sherlock stepped off the elevator at the 25th floor, they were the only people left on the elevator. The offices on the upper floor had recently been vacated and were currently being renovated. Rolls of carpet were stacked in the hallways. Sherlock and Molly walked down a corridor to a sturdy door that was clearly marked MAINTENANCE ONLY. It swung open at their touch, allowing them to walk up a small flight of stairs to the roof.
Old Bailey was somewhat nomadic; he tended to move from one rooftop to another as the mood struck him. He had a decent set up at his current stopping place. His tent was pitched in the lee of the wind and a small fire burned in a metal trash can. Birds of all sorts were scattered around the roof, some in cages and some untethered. Old Bailey was adjusting his feathered cape when Sherlock and Molly approached. He greeted them eagerly, "Hey, here you are then! Nice, innit? Always like a good roof, far better than livin under the muck, no place for a bird or a man, I say, good to see you both! Now, what are we discussing about then?" he asked rubbing his hands together.
"Well, I was told that I should ask you about Deathseers, um, I am really curious about male Deathseers actually" Molly began.
"Oh, they're a bad sort, the men Deathseers they are. Killers. Crazy they are. Of course the girls is crazy too, but they don't go for the killing and torture so much, good ones to speak to if you want to know how long you've left." Old Bailey said. Sherlock gave Molly a pointed look.
"Um, have you heard of any Deathseers, specifically male ones, in London?" Molly continued.
Old Bailey scratched his ear with a feather he plucked from his cape. "Naw, no Deathseers about. Well, someone must have done that egg for his foolishness the Marquis, don't think he ever went no where though. Probably some nutter girl somewhere, theys more common anyhow. She's hid herself good, or dead, or absolutely bonkers. Years ago, did hear there was a man Deathseer in Dublin, but that must a been sometime ago, might have been in a war then. Think he was even selling services, which is odd, usually they just stick with cutting and chopping and not asking permission."
Sherlock brandished the newspaper clipping with Jim Moriarty's picture. "Have you ever seen this man?" he asked.
Old Bailey took the paper and stared at it for a moment, adjusting his glasses, and then moving the picture closer and farther away from his face, trying to focus on it. He frowned and shook his head. "Don't think so, unpleasant looking sort though, too much teeth" he said.
Sherlock began to pace, fiddling with some junk he had picked up, clearly this interview wasn't fruitful enough. Molly tried one more topic. "If someone wanted to look like another person, a perfect copy of them, could they do it? I mean have you ever heard of anything like that?" she asked.
"Sorta sounds like what the fairy stories call a glamour. Some sort of a fairy gift, they can make you see what they want, it's how no one has ever noticed em before. Can make themselves look normal, hide things, make stuff invisible or see something that's not there, you know, all the usual tricks. Never saw a fairy before, but then there you have it, that glamour they use" Old Bailey explained.
"Are there any people in the Underside who could do that?" Molly asked.
"Oncet in a while, I suppose, the smart ones they keep it to themselves of course, not wanting to be sharing a talent like that with any body that came down the pike. It's another thing the Irish have a knack for, comes from all them fairies they got carousing around, probably heaps of people underneath Dublin could do it." An angry squawking began to sound all around them. The wind picked up and swirled trash around the rooftop. Old Bailey's birds became agitated; most of the free ones flew away. The old man chased after them shouting curses to no avail. He stopped and coughed before grumbling back toward his guests as the wind died down. Molly thought a little more.
"What about a Deathseer? Could they make a glamour?" she asked.
"Eh, I doubt it, too much magic in one body, doesn't happen, body can't bear it. And both are not so common to begin with" he said. He turned around and started counting the birds that remained.
Molly looked at Sherlock; he shook his head and walked towards the roof access door. Molly thanked Old Bailey and gave him some scissors and a coil of clothesline for his information. He smiled and winked at her. "Oh, when you see the Marquis again, make sure you tell him he's a fool and so says I. Oh, and it's alright dearie, I won't tell anyone about your deathseeing. You've done good not losing your mind, no wonder you could make that bastard such an egg, good luck then" he finished. He shook her hand firmly and waved goodbye as she hurried to catch up with her long legged companion.
Sherlock was quiet for the return journey to the House without Doors, obviously annoyed. Molly was just glad that Old Bailey hadn't brought up the Marquis de Carabas very much. If he had, Sherlock would definitely be in an even fouler mood. When they entered Door's home, it was dinner time. The smell of food was wafting from the dining room. Ingress came running out of the dining room, having heard Sherlock and Molly return. She grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him toward the dining room. He attempted to protest, but quite meekly. Molly had noticed that he tended to obey most of her whims. Door was carrying some trays of serving dishes as Molly entered the dining room. Molly helped her set everything down and then took her usual seat next to Sherlock. The kitchen had sent up a huge tureen of beef stew and it smelled delicious. There were also massive fresh warm rolls and butter. Door filled Ingress's bowl and then her own. Molly also took a large serving of stew, hungry after hiking all over London Above and Below.
Molly dug right in, the stew was fantastic. She broke open a roll and breathed the warm steam that arose. As she took a sip of water, she noticed that Ingress had paused and was glaring across the table. Sherlock hadn't touched a thing. Molly brought her napkin up to her mouth, attempting to hide her smile. Another battle in the ongoing war between Sherlock and Ingress was clearly brewing. Door always had dinner in the dining room now that Ingress was back. Sherlock and Molly usually joined them. It hadn't taken long for Ingress to note that Sherlock rarely ate. A battle of wills between the two of them had begun, with Ingress determined to force Sherlock to eat, and he reluctant to do so.
Ingress stood on her chair and leaned over the table. She pushed a candelabrum to the side, affording her a better view of Sherlock's empty bowl. She pointed at his bowl and glared. Door was also trying not to laugh out loud now. Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. Ingress leaned further now, dragging the hem of her dress into her bowl of stew. She ferociously pointed at the tureen of stew, then Sherlock's empty bowl and then his mouth.
Sherlock leaned back in his chair, turned his head, sniffed and said, "No thank you."
Now Ingress clambered up on top of the table. With a determined look, she stomped to the tureen and began messily ladling stew into Sherlock's bowl. Molly and Door were both snickering now. Ingress grabbed Sherlock's spoon and thrust it into his face. For a moment, the two combatants stared each other down. Then Ingress grabbed Sherlock's chin, filled the spoon and was about to shove the spoon in his mouth when he finally relented. "All right! Fine!" he shouted. He grabbed the spoon and angrily ate a bite. Ingress smiled and walked back across the table and neatly sat in her chair.
Molly and Door were howling. They clutched each other and ran from the room, nearly collapsing from laughing so hard. When they returned, Sherlock and Ingress were peacefully eating as though nothing had occurred. Sherlock's shirt had stew spattered on it from Ingress's assault and the little girl's dress was also dripping with stew. Sherlock glared at the two still giggling women and muttered something under his breath about their atrocious table manners. Molly snorted and resumed eating. Door just smiled and rubbed Ingress's hair.