Oh boy an update! Here we have more aftermath of Anthea's attack, and also some good old Sherlolly feels. I'll let you get right to it! ;)
For the second night in a row, Sherlock galloped through the darkness. The moment he had figured things out, he'd left Seaborne and taken his horse to ride into town. John insisted on coming with him. Sherlock had to agree that if he was about to go after a criminal as evil as he suspected, it couldn't hurt to have a bit of help. He didn't have high hopes of catching the man tonight though. So he wasn't surprised to discover what he did when they reached the inn.
After Sherlock pounded on the innkeeper's door for an extended period of time, the man finally unbolted the door and opened it, staring out at Sherlock with sleepy eyes.
"Mr. Holmes?" the man questioned.
"Yes, I am looking for a guest of yours. I need to find Mr. James Moriarty."
The man's expression perked up. "Well, what do you know? He was right after all...come in."
Sherlock frowned at John and they both entered the inn, following the man to his front desk. He set his lantern on the wooden surface, unlocked a drawer, and took out a sealed envelope.
"Mr. Moriarty checked out late yesterday. But when he left, he handed me this envelope and told me 'if Mr. Sherlock Holmes comes looking for me, I want you to give him this.' He didn't explain anything further. I thought it odd, and was beginning to wonder if I should seek you out and give it to you anyway. But here you are! Just as he said."
Sherlock took the envelope from the man's hand and peered at his own name scribbled neatly on the front before turning it over, opening it, and pulling the letter out.
Mr. Holmes,
Finally figured it out did you? Took you long enough. I believe all these weeks in the country have dulled your senses. That's what you'll become if you're not careful...dull. I bet it took you a full day to come looking for me! I suppose I have to take what little I can get. You are still, by far, the most fun. I've enjoyed watching you from afar...and your family too.
Such a shame about your sister-in-law. I do hope the baby will be all right. And how is your big brother? I hope his heartbreak won't be enough to compromise his work in the government. That would be such a sad loss...pitiful, the both of you. You could do such marvelous things if you could only shut off that stupid heart and use your brain more.
I expect you'll be trying to find me now. You will certainly need to use your brain for that. I'm not an easy man to catch. And just think, all those weeks, I was right under your nose! Poor Mr. Holmes. Been a bit distracted by other things I imagine.
I'll be off now. I've gotten what I wanted out of this little town...I'm hardly through with you though. I think our fun has only just begun. Until next time, Mr. Holmes!
J. Moriarty
Sherlock sighed as he finished reading. John had been reading over his shoulder, and was the one to speak to the innkeeper next.
"Did Mr. Moriarty give any indication of where he was going?"
"No, none at all. Forgive me, if I'd known you would want to find him I would have asked where he was off to."
"No matter. He would not have told you anyway," Sherlock said as he stuffed the letter back into the envelope. "At least this is what I needed to confirm my suspicions. He clearly likes to play games. Apparently he considers me a worthy opponent. And he has just made the first move."
At that, Sherlock turned and left he inn without another word. John was left to thank the innkeeper and apologize for the bother of waking him. Then he ran after Sherlock and had to quickly mount his horse to catch up.
"What are we going to do?" John asked.
"I'll send out word. I'll send word to London and every other notable contact I have in the far corners of England. I want everyone on alert. I will have to search for him...and soon. And tomorrow, I will also have to detail all of this to my brother."
"Should we call off the wedding for now?"
"No. It's only a week away. I have no idea where he could have gone. I can't go running off this instant. I need something to go on. Some sort of evidence of where he might be. Till I get that, I may as well stay here and plan my steps carefully."
"But will you need me to come with you?" John asked, and Sherlock could hear the sincerity in his friend's offer.
"No, Watson. You'll not disrupt your entire life for this. I will handle it. I missed something all these weeks, and it almost cost us two lives. I will fix this. And when all is said and done, the world will be a safer place for you and your family...for our family." He gave John a quick smile.
John looked at Sherlock with concern after he'd already turned away. He was taking it all upon his own shoulders, which was not uncommon. The sentiment behind it was endearing, but John wondered if he was also trying to fill a hole. Perhaps there was an emptiness inside his friend which he imagined could be filled with the hunting of a dangerous criminal. But John was very sure that when all was said and done, their family may be safer...but the emptiness in Sherlock would remain.
They returned to Seaborne and the house was almost completely dark. John went right upstairs to bed, but Sherlock trudged down to his lab.
He lit a solitary lamp and set it on his table. Redbeard wound back and forth around his legs, seeming a bit nervous. Sherlock took a moment to crouch down and give him some much needed attention. The poor thing was obviously a bit nerved up from all the commotion in the past day or so. Sherlock accepted some sloppy kisses from the puppy and tried to get him to relax a little. He tried to relax a little himself...
The reality was sinking in, and he knew that this was big. It was bigger than he'd anticipated. He hadn't thought that his sister-in-law going missing would snowball into something like this. The idea that a criminal had been living right near them all this time and he'd been blind to it...it was disheartening. And it did drive Sherlock to want to make things right.
"What am I going to do with you?" he whispered to Redbeard.
He would most likely leave soon after John and Mary's wedding to begin searching for Moriarty. But he had no idea how long he would be gone.
The truth of the matter was that Sherlock knew exactly what needed to be done with Redbeard. This would be best for his pet, and put his mind at ease. Though it could be a bit difficult...she would say yes, he was sure of it. He would have to speak to her on this matter sooner rather than later.
Sherlock spent the majority of the night down in his lab, sitting with Redbeard, and then doing some organizing. He only got a couple of hours sleep that night, and before long the sun was up, rudely streaming into his bedroom window.
Mycroft walked into the dining room looking like a very different man.
"Good morning, darling! How is she?" his mother asked right away.
Mycroft smiled, almost shyly. "She is well, thank you. Feeling better already."
"Oh, what lovely news!" Lady Holmes said with an excited grin.
"I'll look in on her after breakfast," John assured him.
"Thank you, Dr. Watson...where is my brother?"
John cleared his throat. "I am not sure where he is, but I know he would like to speak to you. Sherlock has reason to believe he knows who attacked your wife."
Mycroft's eyes widened. "Does he? Well, good. We don't want to waste any time. I want whoever did this to pay dearly. Preferably...with their lives," he hissed out as he began to drink his tea.
The butler came in, excusing the disturbance of breakfast. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes is in the study and has asked to see Lord Holmes. Shall I tell him to wait?"
Mycroft set his tea cup down again. "Apparently he cannot come find me himself. And no, you needn't tell him to wait. I shall follow you directly."
"What about your breakfast?" his mother fussed.
"I shall eat later, Mother." He left the room quickly.
"I do hope they are able to get this sorted by your wedding day," Lady Holmes said as she smiled at the two of them.
"Justice takes priority. If it disrupts the wedding day, so be it," Mary said with a smile at John.
John smiled back at her and took her hand under the table. He hoped it would all get sorted. But he also knew, just like Sherlock did, that this was something bigger than any of them had realized...and it would have to be dealt with, one way or another.
Mycroft sat on the other side of the desk staring back at his younger brother, with fingers pressed together against his chin. "This is certainly difficult. How in God's name can we possibly determine where they've gone now?"
Sherlock was getting up as Mycroft spoke. He carried a large stack of correspondence to the doorway and rang the bell. "That is what I am beginning to take care of."
The butler came back in and Sherlock handed him all the envelopes. "I want you to send these out immediately. Not a moment to waste."
"Yes, sir." The butler hurried from the room.
"I have sent information to all my contacts, including Inspector Lestrade in London. Everyone will be on alert. I will begin tracing his possible steps very soon. I have an idea of the highest crime areas in England. Where there is smoke, there is fire...I will find him." Sherlock took a seat at the desk again. "Will you be returning to London soon as well?"
Mycroft drew a deep breath. "As a matter of fact, I plan to remain here at least until Dr. Watson marries. I do not wish to go through the upheaval of moving again till we are sure of Anthea's condition...and I will not leave her."
Sherlock nodded slowly, seeing the obvious change in his brother, which happened literally overnight. He was glad. Everything was as it should be.
"A wise decision, brother," Sherlock said with a half-smile. "I had planned to stay for the wedding as well, if only for the reason that my letters will surely take time to reach each of their destinations."
Mycroft agreed. "Yes, stay. It will only help to give your message time to spread. He cannot hide from us forever, and he will pay for what he did...for what he could have done."
Sherlock leaned back against his chair, recalling what his sister-in-law had shared with him. "It makes sense now. Anthea had told me that he seemed almost pleased to have run into her on the road. She had assumed it was because he could see she was a wealthy woman, but I believe it was because he was all too pleased to send our family a message. He said, 'you are the wife of Lord Holmes, are you not?' She wouldn't answer, but he chuckled happily. Before she could move her horse they crowded around her and grabbed the reins. They didn't even bother to ask for her jewels and give her the chance to comply. They simply pulled her to the ground."
Mycroft clasped his hands tightly together, wishing he could use them mercilessly against these men who had hurt his wife.
"They did rip her jewelry from her then, but there was no cause for any of their other violence. After they'd injured her and damaged her clothing, she had pleaded with them to let her go. One of them said, 'why would I want to keep you? You'll be much more use if we leave you right here.' She said he swung at her and that's the last thing she remembers. That blow must have knocked her unconscious, and that is where we found her."
"He obviously wanted to leave her to be found, and thus convey his message to us loud and clear."
Sherlock looked at his brother with a steady gaze. "We will send our own message. He will hear it, whether he likes it or not."
"Yes," Mycroft said through gritted teeth. "And it should be one of the last things he hears."
A few days later, the family sat quietly around the breakfast table. Sherlock had reluctantly dressed and come to the dining room. Redbeard had smelled the sausages and wouldn't hear of staying away. He was currently being covertly fed bits under the table as Sherlock sipped his tea.
"Where is Mycroft and Anthea? She was well enough to come downstairs yesterday! Then suddenly they are nowhere to be found at dinner last night. And now breakfast as well!" Lady Holmes gestured to one of the servers. "Are my son and Mrs. Holmes coming down, do you know?"
The serving boy blushed slightly. "Um, Mrs. Holmes maid was sent to the kitchen with a request for their breakfast to be sent upstairs and left outside her bedroom door."
Lady Holmes rolled her eyes a little. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered into her teacup.
Mary covered her mouth as she snorted out a laugh.
"Well, better late than never. Good news, I would say. I cannot blame them," John said with a smirk. He glanced at Mary and added. "I myself do not plan to see a breakfast table for many weeks in the near future."
Lady Holmes cup hit the saucer with a clank. "This is hardly dining room conversation, Dr. Watson! Honestly!" she huffed.
John stifled a laugh as he apologized, but he also exchanged another warm glance with Mary. She bit her lip, smiling back and trying not to laugh as well.
The heated glances between the couple did not go unnoticed by Sherlock, even though he tried to ignore it. It was not to say that Sherlock was not pleased for his friend and cousin, and his brother and sister-in-law, and the fact that they had found happiness in each other. He was pleased for them, of course. But he had never realized how uncomfortable it could be, to be surrounded by happily matched couples. It was uncomfortable now...because it made him feel his own loss much more intensely.
Sherlock cleared his throat after swallowing his last bite of toast and gulping down the last of his tea. He stood from the table. "Excuse me, I will be back later. There is something I need to see to before I leave in a few days."
He walked out of the room and Mary leaned over to John and said under her breath, "I do hope he is referring to a certain person."
John nodded in agreement. He hoped so, but he also knew his friend. Whatever was going on in Sherlock's head, it would be awfully difficult to break through.
Sherlock neared Molly's home with Redbeard in tow, and he kept reminding himself that he was visiting on business. He needed to be there, and this was not a social call. He was absolutely not thinking of the pleasure of seeing her, or so he kept telling himself.
When he rounded some hedges though, he felt a renewed surge of jealously. He was greeted by the sight of Tom speaking to Molly at the end of the road to her home. He knew he shouldn't feel an inner satisfaction at interrupting them...but he did.
"Oh, Mr. Holmes!" Molly said immediately, and smiled as he approached. "Good day."
"Good day, Mr. Holmes." Tom smiled at him as well.
"Good day, Miss Hooper...Dr. Charles." He looked back and forth between the two people and made an insincere face of concern. "Oh, forgive me, was I intruding?"
"Oh no, not at all," Tom said kindly. "I was just leaving. I need to see some patients, but I happened to be going by this way, so...well, thank you for the tea, Miss Hooper."
"It was my pleasure, Dr. Charles," she said with a warm smile. "And remember, do not let Mr. Fleming boss you around! Do not let him forget who the doctor is, or he will never respect you. My father certainly had his work cut out for him with that one!"
Tom laughed and smiled at her as he started backing away. "I'll remember, thank you. Well, good day to you both."
Sherlock nodded ever so slightly. Molly waved and smiled as he walked away. After he had turned the corner, Molly smiled up at Sherlock.
"Out on another walk by this way, Mr. Holmes?" She scratched behind Redbeard's ears as he perched his front legs against her leg.
"Yes...but it was by design. I had wanted to speak to you, Miss Hooper. Perhaps you could spare a few minutes?"
Molly almost couldn't find words. Her heart immediately started to race. "Well, yes, yes of course. Um, why don't we head into the house and then we can...talk."
The one minute walk into her house seemed like an eternity to Molly. She was too nervous and couldn't bear the silence.
"I am pleased you stopped by. I have the last two sketches ready for you."
"That's good to hear," he said, offering her a brief smile.
They went into the house and got settled in the sun filled sitting room. Molly sat down and gave Redbeard more pats as he stood on hind legs to reach her lap. She looked over at Sherlock who was staring back at her and his dog. Molly felt the need to speak again, uncomfortable with the silent staring.
"I do hope Anthea is well."
"She is, yes. Everything seems to be fine. She is feeling better and keeping herself...busy." He cleared his throat. "Actually, Anthea is somewhat the reason for my calling here today."
"Oh," Molly said, with surprise, and a little disappointment. "Is it?"
"I have very good reason to believe that I know who was behind her robbery and injuries. I believe it was Mr. James Moriarty."
Molly's eyes became saucers. "What? Mr. Moriarty?! A-are you sure?"
"I am. He as much as confessed it in a note left for me at the inn. He had already checked out, unfortunately, by the time I realized I should seek him out for questioning."
"Do you think this was...about you?"
"Mmm." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps not just about me though. More likely it was a message of hatred to both myself and my brother. I am hated for my work with Scotland Yard, and my brother for his influence in government."
Molly asked her next question hesitantly. "And you are going to try to catch him, aren't you?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yes, Miss Hooper, I am. I will be leaving very soon. Dr. Watson's wedding is in a few days and I plan to leave soon after that. I have already laid some of the ground work for my search. I have sent word to every possible contact I could think of. It will not be myself alone that is on the watch for him."
Molly looked down at Redbeard, having trouble meeting Sherlock's eyes for a moment. She eventually looked back at him, giving him a carefully controlled smile.
"You will surely be missed," she said softly.
Sherlock's resolve almost crumbled before his eyes. He swallowed hard and forced himself to speak again in a casual tone. "I was going to be leaving shortly anyway. It was never my intent to stay here in the country. The summer is almost over."
"Yes, I suppose it is," she said sadly.
Get to the point, man! he screamed at himself. "Miss Hooper, I have a favor to ask of you, given my imminent departure."
Her expression perked up and she answered instantly. "Of course. I am sure I would be happy to help however I can...anything you need."
God, this is harder than I imagined it would be. "I, um, I am not sure how long I will be gone. It could be weeks, it could be months. There is no way for me to tell. But I do not intend to return to my home in London till my search is complete. As I contemplate my lengthy journey, I find my worries often settle on...Redbeard."
Molly began to smile ever so slightly. This was no cheery conversation, but the concern that Sherlock had for his pet was nothing short of endearing.
"I can hardly leave him here. He would be fed and perhaps taken outside twice a day by a servant, but I cannot imagine him getting much attention. Mrs. Hudson would absolutely have my head if I was to leave him with her. I believe she is hardly cut out for the constant care of a dog...especially a young one with lots of energy. So, that brings me to my obvious request...will you take him, Miss Hooper?"
Molly pressed her lips together tightly and blinked a couple of times. There was something awfully moving about his plea. And she knew what her answer would be even before he spoke it.
"Yes," she said with a slight tremor in her voice. She cleared her throat and spoke more clearly. "Yes, of course I'll take care of him. I would be honored."
Sherlock smiled and released a breath, looking relieved. "Good...I am glad. As I said though, I cannot promise how long I will be gone. I hope he will not prove to be a nuisance, since I know your life is not likely to remain...as it is for much longer."
Molly couldn't conceal a bit of surprise at his words. He had not yet made any sort of reference to Tom's obvious interest, but it seemed that he was alluding to it now. So he does realize it, she thought. He knows, and he does not mind.
Molly could not bring herself to speak freely about it. "Redbeard could never be a nuisance," she said honestly.
Sherlock reached his hand down, snapping his fingers and beckoning Redbeard to come to him. He seemed to want the comfort as he went on speaking.
"There is perhaps one more thing I should add. If anything should...happen to me...I should like for you to keep him." Sherlock looked at Molly very seriously, and she could swear he was having difficulty speaking. "Do you think you could do that for me?"
Molly stared back at him and couldn't conceal the fact that she had to sniff away some tears. "Do you um, think that something like that could happen?" she asked in a whisper.
Sherlock tried to straighten up and appear a bit more unconcerned. He shrugged. "James Moriarty does seem a particularly ruthless kind of criminal. Besides, such a thing is always a realistic possibility in my line of work. Apparently I am human." He gave her a half smile, trying to lighten the mood.
She nodded slowly, took a cleansing breath, and looked at him again. "Of course I will agree to take care of Redbeard if...I prefer not to think of it in a permanent way, but let us just say that it will be for as long as you are away, however long that may be." Molly forced a cheery smile.
"And now my mind is at rest," Sherlock lied with a smile. Of course he was genuinely happy to have Redbeard's care settled. But the truth was that this conversation was proving to add more weight, of a different sort, to his mind.
How could he leave her soon, wondering if he would never see her again? His only comfort was in the knowledge that she would likely find her own happiness. He wanted that, he really did. And surely he would only interfere with it in the long run. In fact, he was beginning to formulate a plan in his mind. Perhaps it would be best, partly for himself, if he did not ever return. He could always send for Redbeard. Plenty of servants could make sure that he was safely returned to Baker Street...
"The, um, sketches," Molly brought up, mercifully changing the subject. She got up and went for the door. "I'll be right back."
Sherlock worked to collect his thoughts while she was out of the room. Redbeard placed his paws in Sherlock's knees, looking up at him.
"You'll be happy here. She'll take good care of you," he whispered. He scratched underneath Redbeard's soft chin. "You take care of her as well, all right?"
A moment later, Molly reappeared. "Here they are. There's the shell and the flower petal. I hope you like them."
Sherlock smiled as he looked them over. "They're just perfect, thank you. These will go well with the rest."
Molly didn't want to ask what he meant by that. In a drawer? In a box? As kindling? Well, no matter. She enjoyed doing it, and that was all she should care about.
As Sherlock continued staring at the sketches, he said, "Dr. Charles has been visiting often, has he not?"
Molly's breath caught in her throat again at his mention of the uncomfortable topic. "Well, yes, I suppose. A few times since he's come to town."
He looked at her again. "You...welcome his visits then?" he asked, examining her face carefully.
Not as welcome as your visits. "Yes, he is...welcome," she managed to say with a smile.
"Good," he smiled back. But when he looked away, Molly could swear she saw his jaw clench tightly. He looked down at Redbeard. "We should be on our way."
They both rose from their seats and Molly was again struck by some sort of undefinable discomfort that Sherlock was giving off. She looked up at him expectantly.
"I will return with Redbeard in less than a weeks' time, I believe," he said.
"That will be fine." No it won't, she thought. How will I even be able to breathe again?
"Good day, Miss Hooper."
"Good day, Mr. Holmes."
She watched him walk away and thought, one more time. I'll see him one more time, and then I have to watch him walk away for who knows how long.
Molly honestly wondered how she would bear it.
Little did she know that Sherlock was walking the path away from her house, thinking about the next time he would be here, and wondering how he would manage to take these very steps again...one last time.
We are in the home stretch, people! I am a crazy lady for having ended up with yet another multi chapter fic of this length. Even though I knew almost from the start that this would be a multi chap, I did not think it would get this long! Ah well, what can I do? The plot took over! So I would estimate maybe 3 more chapters at this point...Idk, I haven't totally mapped it all out so I could be wrong. But I just wanted to give you a bit of an idea about where we are in the stream of time. :)
Thanks again, Pillowslave, for editing on this one! ;D And for the rest of you, since my last update, this has now become my second most followed fic! I'm pretty excited about that, so thank you ever so much! :) I'll likely have chapter 19 up next week. Love to hear your thoughts on this one, and I'll see you next time! ;)