The Case of the Cuddle Chapter 8

Warning: Contains graphic references to male rape and child sexual abuse.

Mycroft, in his brilliance, knows there is nothing he can do to a man that is crueller than that which a man does to himself...

The Nicholls household was in a quiet, Edwardian suburb of Reading. Mycroft waited patiently outside while Lestrade went in, accompanied this time by a representative of the Thames Valley force. Mycroft preferred not to see the face of the wife or those of her two pretty daughters. He'd had James Nicholls thoroughly checked out, and he was a model citizen. What was more, it appeared he'd had no contact with Lasky since they left school. That inclined him to be a little more lenient.

Nicholls pulled onto the tessellated bricks of the drive in a shiny new Jag, and was fishing about on the back seat for his briefcase when he noticed Mycroft. He immediately got out. The two men stared at each other across the car's roof.

'I've been waiting for you, Mycroft. ' His face was drawn. There was something hunted in his eyes. 'All these years. I knew you'd find me in the end.'

Mycroft looked back at him, trying to appear impassive.

'How is he?' Nicholls asked.

The elder Homes shrugged. 'Surviving.'

'It won't do any good to tell you I'm sorry, I suppose?'

'No.'

'Well, I am. Just so you know.' Nicholls slammed the car door and walked around the bonnet to face Mycroft.

'Yes,' he replied, examining the solicitor in that prescient Holmesian way. 'I think you probably are.'

'I was horrified when I heard how badly hurt he was. Peter and I had this huge row.'

'You must have known how bad it was,' Mycroft pointed out. 'You left him bleeding. Haemorrhaging, in fact. You knew how badly injured he was, but you still left him like that, and never called for help.'

'You don't understand. I was scared,' Nicholls said, as if that made a difference. 'I threatened to turn Peter in. He said if I did, he'd see I went down for it as well. I was too afraid of him to talk. I was always afraid of him. That's why I went along with it in the first place. Fear.'

He swallowed and went on, desperate to unburden himself after all these years.

'I had no idea what he meant to do when we went in there, I swear to you. I thought we were just going to scare them up a bit. I knew he did some stuff to the younger boys sometimes, but I didn't really know any details. It wasn't something I was into. But we were drunk and he threatened me. So I did it. We did it together. Both of us at once. It was hideous. I was sick afterwards.' He shook his head. 'I remember thinking that it would have been better if Sherlock had screamed. Peter kept trying to make him. It was as if he wanted him to, like he'd get off on it. But Sherlock wouldn't. He was so brave. You should be proud of him.'

'I am.'

'He must have suffered very much.'

'Yes. He has.'

'I'm sorry.' He looked up at his front door, at the warm pools of light spilling onto the drive, so welcoming. 'What are you going to do?'

'The police are already with your wife,' Mycroft said, feeling almost sorry for this pathetic man. 'I don't know if there will be a prosecution. It would be your word against Sherlock's and I doubt he would be willing, let alone able, to testify. Lasky, however, is already in custody for subsequent crimes, so you may be called to testify yourself.'

Nicholls stared at him in horror. 'You mean, he-'

'If you had stood up to him, if you'd had the courage to say something at the time, you might have saved several, perhaps dozens of other boys.'

Mycroft watched as Nicholls doubled over, clutching at his stomach, and let out a wail.

'I wish I could offer you some comfort, but I have none.'

'No,' Nicholls sobbed eventually. 'I don't deserve any. Especially not from you.'

Then the front door opened, and Lestrade appeared. 'Mr Nicholls?'

Nicholls struggled upright and turned to Mycroft with pleading eyes. 'Just tell him I'm so, so sorry,' he said, as the DCI steered him inside.

Tomorrow, news arrives at Baker Street...