"The next morning, my mom burst through my room in tears, telling me what happened to dad over the night," Molly said. She was no longer crying, simply just stating the facts. Her voice was raw and monotone, and it broke Mary's heart that Molly had to go through something like that alone. "I played the part. I cried at the funeral. I grieved. I acted like none of it was my fault. But it was. Everything was my fault. Do you know how much it killed me to watch my family and his friends grieve?"
Mary reached out a hand to touch Molly's. Mary's thoughts flitted back to Sherlock's supposed "death". John was complaining to her that Molly knew that the detective was still alive, which greatly surprised and angered him. He saw Molly at the funeral and somewhat regularly at the hospital, and no one thought Molly was capable of such deceit, the girl was an awful liar after all. Mary sighed. Molly pulled off her acting about Sherlock's death because it wasn't the first time she had done so.
Mary awkwardly got up with a hand on her belly and pulled Molly in for a hug, who stiffened.
"Mary?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Don't you hate me? Don't you find me despicable?"
Mary laughed. "Molly, you're talking to an ex-assassin. I thought that's why you came to me in the first place?"
Molly relaxed in Mary's embrace. "Yes, but. I killed someone that I loved. Someone near and dear to me."
Mary leaned back and looked in Molly's face. "You did it out of mercy."
"But...if I had waited. Maybe dad would have gotten better. Maybe it was just the drugs that was confusing him. Maybe he wasn't in his right mind. If I had just-"
Mary stopped Molly gently. "If you had waited, your dad would have suffered needlessly in pain." Mary frowned. "Thank you for telling me, trusting me with this. But now, we have to figure out what to do about your blackmailer."
Molly shuddered. "I honestly don't even know how he, or she, found out. And I don't know what to do."
"You have to tell Sherlock," Mary said.
Molly's eyes widened. "No! I can't!" She grabbed Mary's hands. "Please, Mary, don't tell anyone. If anyone found out, they would hate me."
Mary sighed. "Molly, I know, and I don't hate you."
Molly shifted uncomfortably. "Yes but, but you're..." Her words trailed off.
Mary internally cringed. "Yes. I'm the ex-assassin. I've killed so much more. I have much more blood on my hands." Mary turned away. "But that doesn't change the fact that Sherlock is probably your best bet right now. You have to tell him at least that you are being blackmailed. You can tell him the secret itself when you're ready." She glanced at Molly's shamed face. "...if ever," Mary added. "You can't let this blackmailer control your life."
"Thanks, Mary." Molly glanced at the clock. "I have to go now. I want to do some thinking, alone." She got up, reached for her coat, and headed towards the door.
"Remember what I said," Mary called after her. "Your actions were justified, and you have to get some help."
Molly nodded, opened the doors, and walked into the night.
Sherlock twisted the key in the door, and stepped in, not bothering to wait for John who had grumbled about having to pay the for the cab again. Sherlock shrugged his coat off and hung it on the rack by the door. John came in a beat later. The pair had just come from a finished case that was not quite exhilarating as Sherlock would have liked it to be, but John insisted because it was good pay. Sherlock turned and mounted the stairs and John followed him. Sherlock's keen eyes glanced at the steps in the darkness. He noticed a few details here and there and deduced that there was someone in the flat. Sherlock mumbled quietly to John.
"There's someone waiting for us upstairs."
John raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word. Sherlock continued his walk up the stairs at the same fairly quick rate, not wanting to alert the person in his flat that he noticed their presence. Thoughts raced and flew through his mind. A client was here. Sherlock was musing about how exactly they got in when he stepped into the living room.
And for the first time in a very long time, Sherlock was shocked. He faltered at the doorway when he saw the sight of Molly sitting in a stool in the center of the room. Molly sat with her back stooped and her head resting in her hands. Her eyes warily looked up at him and John, waiting for them to say something.
As Sherlock stood there, unsure of what to do, a realization dawned upon John. Molly was sitting in the same chair that Mary sat in all those months ago. Molly was sitting in the chair all the clients sat in. An unpleasant memory replayed in his mind.
Sit. You're a client. This is where you sit and talk, and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.
John took a seat in his usual armchair and waited for Sherlock to do the same. The detective waited a moment, and then fluidly sat in his place.
"So," John began, "tell us your case."
Molly had left long ago, yet Sherlock and John remained in their seats in the living room, deep in contemplation.
An odd feeling sat in John's chest. Throughout Molly's presentation of her problem, Sherlock and John treated her just like a client. John had even only addressed her as Ms. Hooper instead of Molly. John jotted down some notes, and Sherlock was quiet throughout the entirety of the event. Molly had told them the bare minimum, that someone that went by Cam knew her secret, a secret that Molly preferred not to have known by the world.
The entire time she avoided Sherlock's gaze, and spoke mainly to John. At the end of it all, he promised they would help and she left. John tried to ask Sherlock about how he felt about all this, but John might as well have been asking a brick wall because the detective never answered.
After what seemed like a long time, John fell asleep in his chair. When he awoke in the morning, a crick had appeared in his neck and the detective had disappeared.
Days passed. Molly was hiding in her apartment and John had no idea where Sherlock was, but he checked into the flat daily to see if the detective had shown up. He didn't.
Sherlock Holmes was doing some detective work on his own. He needed to think, and think on his own. Molly Hooper. His beloved Molly Hooper had a secret. He considered doing some snooping around to find out what the secret was, but a voice in his mind urged him not to. He made a vow to himself not to ever lose Molly again, and he wouldn't dare go and disrespect her wishes and risk losing her in the process.
It had hurt him a bit that Molly waited so long to tell him. And to channel that hurt and pain away, he focused his energy on the being that dared try to threaten Molly, Cam. Just thinking about the man made Sherlock tighten his fist and his blood pressure rise.
The past few days proved to be quite successful. Sherlock recognized the name Cam from CAM Global News, the building he and John broke into a few months prior. Molly was being blackmailed. Lady Smallwood was being blackmailed. Sherlock connected the dots and figured that the only other person in that building with significant enough power was Charles Augustus Magnussen. Sherlock frowned. His pride was injured when he had pointed the wrong finger at Janine, accusing her of blackmailing Lady Smallwood.
Sherlock did his research, and found some very interesting tidbits of information about Magnussen. For one thing, he was so much more than just a newspaper owner. Magnussen used his power and wealth to gain information; the more he acquired, the greater his wealth and power. Charles Augustus Magnussen knew the critical pressure point on every person of influence in the whole of the western world and probably beyond. He was the Napoleon of blackmail. Sherlock grimaced as he thought of Magnussen. The detective had dealt with murders, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. Yet none of them could make his stomach turn like Charles Augustus Magnussen.
Sherlock was currently on the way to meet with his older brother Mycroft. He had a few questions to ask the man who was the British government.
The two Holmes brothers were in Mycroft's office, engaged in a heated debate after Sherlock stormed in, shooed all the government officials and executives out who were in the middle of a meeting, and demanded to speak to his brother alone.
"Magnussen is not your business," Mycroft stated sternly to Sherlock.
"Oh, you mean he's yours," Sherlock retorted.
"You may consider him under my protection."
"I consider you under his thumb," Sherlock replied vehemently.
Mycroft placed his palms on his desk and leaned forward. He spoke quietly and ominously. "If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me."
Sherlock snorted. "Okay. I'll let you know if I notice." He turned his back on Mycroft and left the room with his usual dramatic flare.
Sherlock returned to his flat and found John in his chair, reading a book. Sherlock sat across from him and explained everything that he knew about the situation to John.
"You recall that case with Lady Smallwood?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah. The one with...Janine."
"Precisely. Well, obviously she wasn't Lady Smallwood's blackmailer, Magnussen was. Magnussen is also Molly's blackmailer. I've arranged a meeting with him. I'm going to pursue Lady Smallwood's case."
"But what about Molly?" John asked.
"If I can figure out where Magnussen is keeping Lady Smallwood's letters, then I can also find out where he's keeping Molly's. We don't want to draw any attention to her," he said quietly. John nodded.
Sherlock pulled out his laptop and opened up a few pictures of Magnussen's home. "He is the Napoleon of blackmail and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name is Appledore. It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world, the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals, and none of it is on a computer. He's smart, computers can be hacked. It's all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house. And as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you've ever met is a fantasy."
The two heard a knock on the door downstairs. Mrs. Hudson shortly after poked her head in the living room.
"Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldn't you hear it?"
"Who is it?" John asked.
Mrs. Hudson went back downstairs and answered the door. "Mr. Holmes said you can go right up."
Three men in dark suits walked up the stairs, followed by a fourth man wearing eye glasses. The three men were clearly security guards. Sherlock and John were standing with their backs toward the fireplace and the men faced them.
Sherlock spread his arms. "Oh, go ahead." A guard searched him and John followed in Sherlock's example and allowed a guard to search him as well. The third guard looked generally around the room.
Sherlock stared at the fourth man who was standing still on the other side of the room, watching him.
"Mr. Magnussen, I understood we were meeting at your office."
Magnussen looked around the room. "This is my office." He lazily walked around, picked up a newspaper lying on a table, and finally settled on the couch. "Well, it is now."
"Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband's letters."
Magnussen seemed to be ignoring him, appearing to be more interested in the newspaper in his hand.
"Some time ago you...put pressure on her concerning those letters."
Magnussen finally looked up at him and leaned back in the sofa. He regarded the detective, recalling his information and pressure points.
Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective.
Pressure point: Irene Adler. Jim Moriarty. Redbeard. Hounds of the Baskerville. Opium. John Watson. Molly Hooper.
Sherlock continued. "Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind...I've been asked to act on behalf of-"
"Bathroom?" Magnussen interrupted.
A security guard motioned to his right. "Along from the kitchen, sir."
"Okay," Magnussen said.
Sherlock spoke more firmly. "I've been asked to negotiate the return of those letters. I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents."
Magnussen gestured around the living room. "Is it like the rest of the flat?" he asked the security guard.
"Sir?" the security guard asked.
"The bathroom?"
"Er, yes, sir."
"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Sherlock asked.
Magnussen met his eyes for a moment and then turned his gaze toward the window. "If by Lady Smallwood you mean Molly Hooper," he got up and moved to stand in front of the fireplace, "and by letters you mean Molly's records," he unzipped his pants, "and by 'put pressure' you mean killing her cat." The sound of Magnussen urinating could be heard.
John rapidly blinked, simply appalled and half-turned his head toward Sherlock. Magnussen finished and zipped up his pants. He turned around and a security guard held out a packet of wet wipes. Magnussen took one, wiped his fingers, and dropped it on the floor.
Magnussen chuckled lightly. "Ms. Hooper could go to prison with the information I have on her." He licked his lips. "Tell her that I might need those records, so I'm keeping them." He stepped toward the doorway. and pulled out the edge of a packet of documents to show Sherlock. "And anyway, they're entertaining. Goodbye."
When the sound of feet were clattering was gone from the stairs, John moved forward and spoke furiously. "Jesus! He wasn't fooled for one second by the Lady Smallwood act. He knows we're here for Molly. And he, he killed her cat?"
Sherlock walked across the room. "Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?"
"There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind, yeah," John said, gesturing toward the fireplace.
Sherlock didn't notice the gesture. "Exactly, when he showed us the records."
"...okay," John said, confused. "I still don't know what those records are exactly. Molly never really went into detail about what Magnussen had on her."
Sherlock waved his hand like the details of the case didn't matter. "He brought the records to London. So no matter what he says, he's ready to make a deal."
Sherlock grabbed his coat and headed toward the stairs. "I'll see you later. I've got some Christmas shopping to do."
Hello everyone! I apologize for not updating for so long. I rewrote a large chunk of the chapter. Please tell me what you think of the chapter and leave a review! And polite, constructive criticism is always appreciated.