A Silent End To Belgravia
Silent Negotiations
The car ride was short but silent as Rose simply watched the buildings pass by, trying to get the sight of the passengers out of her mind. Finally the car rolled to a stop and the quickly got out - Rose throwing down several notes for the driver - following the Holmes brothers into the tall, expensive looking building, Irene Adler slipping to walk between them all, stride confident as she held her head high.
Mycroft lead them into a large room, expensive, dark wood table at one end with matching chairs surrounding it. An arm chair sat facing away from it and a few chairs lined the wall by the door. Mycroft held the door for them all, Sherlock taking the arm chair as Irene chose a chair at the end of the table, placing her handbag on the table in front of her. John took a chair by the wall as Rose - who exchanged a flicker of a glance with Mycroft - took the seat next to the good doctor. Mycroft himself sat opposite The Woman.
Irene took out the camera phone and placed it on the table between herself and the older Holmes, who took the device, inspecting it as he turned it in his hand. Pressing a button, he saw it required a password.
He let out a sigh, putting it back on the table between them. Indicating to the device, he told her, "We have people who can get into this."
"I tested that theory for you." She countered. "I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months. Sherlock dear, tell him what you found when you x-rayed my phone."
Sherlock pushed past his failings, explaining the requested information to them. "There are four additional units wired inside the casing. I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."
"Explosive." Irene confirmed. "It's more me."
"Some data is always recoverable." Mycroft told her.
She nodded. "Take that risk."
He looked to the phone again. "You have a pass code to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."
His words sent a chill up the spines of the doctor and the assistant; they didn't hear any regret in his tone. Rose knew he was powerful and what it meant to be a Holmes, but somehow she hadn't thought he would be so…cold.
Irene looked tired though. "Sherlock?"
"There will be two passwords." Sherlock explained on cue. "One to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress, you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."
"He's good isn't he?" The Woman complimented. "I should have him on a leash. In fact, I might."
"We destroy this then." Mycroft countered, ignoring the implied meaning behind the dominatrix's words about his little brother. "No one has the information."
"Fine. Good idea." Irene agreed, nodding. "Unless there are lives of British citizens that depend on the information you're about to burn."
"Are there?" Mycroft asked.
She pulled a face. "Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore." She opened her handbag then, producing a letter, sliding it across the table to the man in front of her. "A list of my requests. And some ideas about my protection once they're granted. I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a whole in the wealth of a nation… but then I'd be lying."
Rose turned to John, seeing he was still watching the events unfold in front of him. Turning back, she saw Mycroft's eyes widen - the closest she'd seen to shock on his features - as he read the request.
"I imagine you'd like to sleep on it?" Irene asked, an understanding look on her painted features.
Mycroft didn't look up. "Yes, thank you."
"Too bad." That made him look up as his little brother closed his eyes in defeat, the two on lookers wondering what was going to happen, trying to think of anything they could do to turn the tables on The Woman. "Off you pop and talk to people."
Mycroft let out a heavy sigh, sitting back in his chair, the letter still in his hands. "You've been very… thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you."
"I can't take all the credit. I had a bit of help." She answered, turning to call to Sherlock. "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love."
Sherlock let out a sigh then, echoing his big brother as his two flatmates looked at each other in worry, Rose turning a shade paler at the memory of their last encounter with the insane criminal.
"Yes, he's been in touch." Mycroft replied. "Seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged." Rose didn't miss the darker tone his voice took at his last few words, doubt starting to creep into her mind about who Mycroft Holmes really was.
"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it." Irene told them, standing up, heels clicking on the floor as she perched on the end of the table, taller than them all now she was standing. "Thank god for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advise about how to play the Holmes boys. Do you know what he calls you?" She taunted. "The Iceman….and the virgin." Neither man blinked at the names, both very used to being called names by their peers over the years. "Didn't even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man." Rose and John didn't miss the slight defeat that crept through their friend's posture at The Woman's words.
"And here you are." Mycroft said, trying to hide the touch of pride he felt at such an opponent. "The dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees. Nicely played." He turned to head out of another door, the letter folded in his hands as he went to talk to other government officials. He froze though at the word that rang out through the room.
"No."
"Sorry?" Irene questioned.
"I said no." Sherlock repeated, turning away form his flatmates and toward his brother and the criminal woman; but not before Rose caught a flicker of that familiar glint in his cold eyes, the sudden gloating confidence in his posture - he was on to something. Standing up to face them, he continued. "Very, very close, but no. You got carried away. The game was too elaborate, you were enjoying yourself too much."
"No such thing as too much." Irene corrected, eyes the only thing betraying her sudden defensiveness for the approaching man.
"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine." Sherlock replied, gaze, flickering to his brother in a silent taunt, but carried on with the job at hand. "Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathise entirely, but sentiment?" His words made them all frown slightly. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."
"Sentiment?" Irene repeated, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"
"You." Sherlock retorted, confident in his theory.
Her eyes widened, shock clear on her features, pity lacing itself along with it. "Oh, dear god…look at the poor man. You don't actually believe I was interested in you?" Sherlock held a steady gaze though, not breaking the eye contact he suspected was making her fight back a little more. "Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"
"No." He replied, moving in closer to her, reaching out to hold her wrist, leaning in to whisper - though they could all still hear quite clearing in the silent room - right into her ear, inches away from her. "Because I took your pulse. Elevated. Your pupils dilated." He released her, reaching behind her to pick up the phone on the table, every set of eyes on him; though two sets were discreetly aware of the other in their peripheral vision, both taking in what Sherlock was saying."I imagine my flatmates think love is a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive."
Walking to the centre of the room he turned, Irene having following a few steps behind. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self portrait; how true of you. The combination to your safe; your measurements. But this…" He said, flipping the phone in the air, starting to type in whatever he thought the pass word was; it was his last chance. "This is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head. You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for. But you just couldn't resist it, could you? I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof."
A hand shot up then, holding the wrist closely attached to the phone. "Everything I said, it's not real; I was just playing the game."
"I know." Sherlock replied, understanding in his features. "And this is just losing." He was glad to not hear the infernal buzzer, meaning it was the right pass word. He handed the unlocked phone to Mycroft. "There you are brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."
"I'm certain they will." Mycroft replied, relief obvious to anyone who could observe properly.
"If you're feeling kind lock her up." Sherlock told him, turning away from The Woman and the tears falling down her face. "Otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her protection."
"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene asked, desperation clear in her voice.
"Yes." Sherlock replied, not missing a beat, but pausing in his stride.
She took a shaky breath, trying to fight the tears that were welling up quickly. "Please…you're right. I wont even last six months."
He turned to look at her, eyes cold as they took her in. "Sorry about dinner."
She watched him leave, not noticing the other two follow him out. Mycroft however did notice the look Rose Spence gave him, wondering - for how many times, he'd lost count - what she was thinking.
However, simply, she was thinking that she had a lot to think about; both about the case, and the suited man, to which she'd seen a new side of.
And she didn't quite know what to make of it.