A Wife for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 27 - Descent into the Abyss
June 21, 2014
Marion stumbled toward a taxi.
She was wearing cocktail dress of blue that hugged her curves in a delicious matter. It was alluring, but not in a whore kind of way though she had cleavage showing. She reeked of scotch and sighed as she looked ahead. She needed to get home…
She sighed. It was still early in the evening. She twirled her evening bag a little as she stumbled a little.
A man caught her and had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. "Here? Are you all right?" He asked. He was dressed in a suit, tie, and smelled of pine and musk.
"Yes. Oh sorry." She said looking up at him.
"It is fine. Can I give you a lift home? You look out of sorts."
Marion took a breath as he righted her. She lifted a hand to her brow. "I think I may have had too many."
"I think you have as well." He said. He was a handsome man with silvering hair in his late forties.
"So stupid, but I am depressed." She said.
"Sad why? Why on earth would someone as beautiful as you be sad?"
"My husband hasn't been working and he turned to drugs." She sniffed. "I was so scared for my children and myself. When he is drugged up he is like a freight train…"
He nodded in understanding and lifted her hair a little revealing a fading bruise. "Oh my." He took a breath. "I am going to take you where you will be safe to recover."
She nodded and then slumped forward with a giggle. "Oh!"
He shook his head and put her into the car he was standing next to. "You are really drunk." He said.
"Only a little." She said holding up her fingers. "I am such a light weight. Only drank…three…four…no six drinks…"
"It is barely nine-thirty. I am glad I was here." He said sitting beside her. "You may have died of alcohol poisoning."
She sighed and laid back as the car started to drive off. Marion slumped forward and the man caught her and pulled her back against him.
"Where to sir?" The driver asked.
"The estate. This one can't be trusted to watch herself let alone her children. I am sure they are being well looked after."
"Children…" She muttered. "Brother…" She hiccupped.
He nodded.
"Very good sir." His chauffer said.
They drove across town and then stopped at a rather posh neighborhood. By this time Marion was limp against the man. He sighed, not wishing to wake her. He lifted her in his arms, cradling her to him as he walked into his house, the butler opening the door.
"Who is that?" The butler asked.
"Her name is Marion Holmes. I went through her purse to get her name."
"Marion Holmes? Wife of Sherlock Holmes?"
"Perhaps. We can find out in the morning."
"Very good sir."
The man sighed and tucked a blanket around her as he set her on the couch. She stirred a little in her sleep and he smiled. "She can stay here tonight. I can't leave such a creature in a ditch somewhere or so drunk someone might rape her."
"She looks like a whore." The butler said.
"No…the clothing and shoes are too expensive." The man said.
"Go brew some coffee. I need to stay here to make sure she doesn't become ill and choke on her own vomit." He said standing and going to the bookshelf.
"Very good." The butler retreated.
Marion, who was laying with her head on the cushion lifted her eyes to where the man was standing. She smiled a little inwardly as she then snuggled down as he shifted again. Truly sober she was able to take in all her surroundings and look at the library of the home.
She had taken her dress and soaked it in scotch and then drank a measure to have it on her breath, but it was hardly enough to dull her mind and senses, though she was acting drunk. A tedious game, but for now she would rest.
She closed her eyes again, this time nearly falling asleep as she listened to the man moving about the room.
ZzZ
June 30, 2014
Marion sat in the car, her red auburn hair pinned to her head in a delicious up do that showed off her lovely neck. He dress had a lovely black overlay over a peach dress. Crystals caught the light as she sat looking at the night lights of London as the car moved through traffic to the gala dinner.
Beside her, Lord Alexander Edgerton, the 12th Earl of Ashby was in a suit. He was one of the major benefactors to the organization that the gala was being held for, to help end the use of child soldiers in countries around the world.
He looked over at her as she looked out. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She said. She turned and smiled at him.
"Are you sure? This is the first time you have been out since you served Sherlock papers." He smiled and touched her cheek. "You are pale."
"I just…"
"I know this hasn't been easy on you."
"It was easier moving in with my brother-in-law. He lets me have half the house." She sighed and shook her head. "You know I have heard he has a girlfriend now as well."
"You aren't even divorced yet."
"He has her stay with him at Baker Street. Apparently he is getting lonely since John is out as well."
"When have you agreed to meet again?"
"Two days."
He smiled and stroked her cheek. "Do want me to come?"
"Alex…well…" She looked down and smiled. "Maybe it would be good if you did."
He nodded as they pulled up to the curb of the large hotel that was hosting the gala. He got out and the chauffeur offer Marion a hand as she stepped out in her dress, holding her small clutch in her hand. Alex offered her an arm and they walked into the ballroom together.
He offered the invitation to the man at the door who smiled and turned to announce them. "Lord Ashby and his guest Doctor Holmes."
The people turned their heads as they slowly descended the stairs. Cameras flashed as Marion leaned closer to Alex. Alexander was not a small man, but he was ten years older, quite young to have a hereditary peerage title.
Her trail was behind her as they crossed into the room and were greeted by several guests.
It had been two hours and Marion was asked to dance by Lord Richards. She smiled and took his hand as he led her to the dance floor. They waltzed together for several minutes before a voice came over her shoulder.
"Mind if I cut in?"
Lord Richards smiled and turned her to the next man, Lord Henley. After a few minutes another man came over her shoulder.
"Do you mind if I cut in?"
She sighed and Lord Henley bowed to her before turning her to the next man. Marion lifted her hand to his shoulder and then froze seeing it was Sherlock. A very well dressed Sherlock.
The scent of his cologne made her body tense a bit as he pulled her closer to move her about the floor. "Come now my dear, let's not seem unseemly now." He said. "We have witnesses." He said loud enough for those around them to hear.
She looked about and flushed as he pulled her closer by her waist and she struggled a little. "What do you want Sherlock?" She hissed at him.
He smiled at her as he waltzed her across the room. "To speak to you since you are ignoring my texts and phone calls."
"So you came here?!"
"Indeed." He smiled.
"You really are a bastard."
"You married me." He countered.
Several people had stopped dancing watching them. She could hear the whispers about them and she cringed. "Can we not go somewhere private to…"
"To talk about you wanting a divorce? Why? The world knows my dear." He said nodding to the cameras photographing them. "You are a celebrity now that you are dating Lord Ashby. A peer wasn't where I thought you would look."
"Perhaps I needed someone with more class." She said looking at him her eyes narrowed.
He glared back. "I need to talk to you about the children."
"What about them?" She asked lifting her chin.
"Why do you not let me see them?"
"At Baker Street. Who knows what would be there?" She hissed.
He narrowed his eyes. "Children should see their father."
"I have told you we will meet you in a park." She said.
"Excuse me, mind if I cut…" A man said coming up.
Sherlock spun Marion about. "Yes I do." He growled at the man.
The man retreated as Sherlock looked back at his estranged wife. "Why did you serve me with divorce papers?"
"Because I am done, Sherlock. You may be able to carry on the farce, but I cannot." She looked at him, tears in her eyes. "I can't do it anymore. Not for the children or for me."
He paused a moment. "Come home and we will talk about it."
She hissed. "No."
"You damn little hoyden." He growled, showing teeth.
"Go to hell."
"Nope I am on the side of the angels remember." He said looking at her.
She lifted a hand to slap him and he caught it surprising her. She grunted and he released her. "Goodbye Sherlock." She said and turned to walk away from him.
He looked after her and blinked. He then seemed to realize there were others there as cameras took pictures and he moved off and out of the building before security could grab him.
Marion dabbed at her eyes as Alexander came to her and touched her arms. "Marion?" He asked.
She shook her head. "The bastard…" she hissed.
He nodded and sighed looking about the empty hallway. "Relax. I won't let him near you now."
ZzZ
Tabloid filled the streets.
Sherlock baffled by divorce.
Mrs. Holmes deduces Sherlock unfit
Gala reveals ugly truth of the Baker Street.
Mrs. Holmes steps out with Lord Ashby, Sherlock Holmes doesn't have a clue
Mycroft set the papers down and cocked his head. He had been supportive of the proceedings of the separation and now he was worried about his niece and nephew. The divorce could get ugly.
It was at his suggestion that Marion sent the children and Addy to his parent's home in the country for the remainder of the summer so they would be safe and not in the middle of the drama.
Marion had agreed.
Mycroft sipped his tea and shook his head. For now his sister-in-law would remain under his roof until this was all sorted. She seemed not to want anything to do with Sherlock, but his family, the only family she had, she remained close to.
ZzZ
July 2 2014
It was midday when John and Mary parked on a piece of concreted waste ground outside the address Kate, their neighbor had them. John opened the boot of the car and took something out, then walked round to the passenger side. Mary laughed and pointed at what he's tucking into the top of his jeans.
"What is that?!" Mary asked.
"It's a tire lever." John said.
"Why?" She asked.
"'Cause there were loads of smackheads in there, and one of them might need help with a tire. If there's any trouble, just go. I'll be fine." He turned and started to walk toward the house but Mary got out of the car.
"Er, John, John, John, John." He stopped and turned back to her. "It is a tiny bit sexy." She giggled.
"Yeah, I know." He said nonchalantly.
He walked across to the front door of the house, which has a large sign stuck to the front of it saying, 'PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT'. He then banged loudly on the door.
"Hello?"
The door was opened by a young man wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up over his head. He looked scruffy and dirty. "What d'you want?"
"'Scuse me." John said as he pushed his way in and walked down the hall.
The younger man looked out a moment and then moved to follow John. "Naah, naah, you can't come in 'ere!"
John was looking in the rooms as he passed. "I'm looking for a friend." He continued looking. "A very specific friend…I'm not just browsing." Reaching the last room, he looked in there and then started walking back again.
"You've gotta go. No-one's allowed 'ere."
John stopped several paces from the younger man. He cleared his throat. "Isaac Whitney. You seen him?"
The younger man took a flick-knife from his pocket and snapped the blade open, holding it toward John.
"I'm asking you if you've seen Isaac Whitney, and now you're showing me a knife. Is it a clue?" John asked.
The younger man gestured with his knife toward the open door behind him.
"Are you doing a mime?"
"Go. Or I'll cut you."
"Ooh, not from there. Let me help." He walked closer, stopping close enough to the younger man that he could stab him if he wanted to.
Bill stared back at him wide-eyed.
"Now, concentrate." He then spoke slowly. "Isaac Whitney."
"Okay, you asked for it." However, before he can even think about moving, John lashed out with his left hand, seizing the younger man's right arm and slamming his right hand down onto the arm. As the younger man cried out in pain John wrapped his right hand round the front of his neck and slammed him against the wall. From there he used his right foot to sweep the young man's feet from under him.
The younger man slumped to the floor and John stepped back. The younger man choked and groaned in pain.
John bent down and picked up the flick-knife which had fallen to the floor. "Right." He squatted down beside the younger man.
"Are you concentrating yet?"
"You broke my arm!"
"No, I sprained it." He looked all around to make sure there's no one else nearby.
"It feels squishy! Is it supposed to feel squishy?" He held his right arm out to John. "Feel that!"
John reached out and squeezed the arm. The younger man winced and groaned.
"Yeah, it's a sprain. I'm a doctor…I know how to sprain people." He released the arm. The younger man groaned again. "Now where is Isaac Whitney?"
"I don't know!" John gave him a look. "Maybe upstairs."
"There you go." He patted the younger man's leg. "Wasn't that easy?" He stood up and walked toward the stairs.
"No. It's really sore. You're mental, you are."
John pocketed the knife after securing the blade. "No. Just used to a better class of criminal." He walked up the stairs and into a large room at the top. Several people were lying or sitting on mattresses around the edge of the room. All of them looked very stoned and unaware of what was going on in the real world. Grimacing, John walked slowly across the room. "Isaac? Isaac Whitney?" He walked over to two people lying side by side on mattresses. "Isaac?" John said softly.
One of them tiredly raised a hand. The young man gazed blearily up at John as he walked to his side and knelt down beside him.
"Hello, mate." He put a supporting hand behind Isaac's back. "Sit up for me? Sit up." He helped him to sit, then lifted one of his eyelids. The boy's eyes rolled uncontrollably and he tried to focus on John.
"Doctor Watson?"
"Yep."
"Where am I?"
"The ass-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me."
"Have you come for me?"
"D'you think I know a lot of people here?!" John asked and chuckled as he continued to look the young man over
Isaac laughed hazily.
"Hey, all right?"
On the mattress to Isaac's right and behind John, another person wearing jogging bottoms and a jacket with the hood up rolled over and propped himself onto one elbow. He blinked and looked round to them.
"Ah, hello, John." The man said. The voice made John freeze as he looked back at his friend. "Didn't expect to see you here." Sherlock pushed his hood back as John turned round to look at him.
Sherlock squinted up his eyes and peered at him. "Did you come for me, too?"
John looked at him for a second and then his eyes began to narrow.
ZzZ
Outside shortly afterwards, Isaac stumbled over to the car where Mary was now sitting in the driver's seat.
"Hallo, Isaac." Mary said.
"Mrs. Watson, can I…can I get in, please?"
She nodded. She used her thumb to point behind her. "Yes, of course, get in. Where's John?"
Isaac opened the back door. "They're 'avin… fight."
"Who is?"
Back at the house, on the first floor landing of the fire escape, Sherlock angrily punched open a temporary door which had been nailed across a doorway, knocking it off all its nails and sending it crashing across the fire escape.
"For God's sakes, John! I'm on a case!"
John followed him out. "Three months… that's all it took. Three."
Halfway down, Sherlock vaulted over the side of the fire escape and onto a wall beside it. "I'm working." He jumped down onto a wheelie bin beside the wall and then to onto another one lying on its side before stepping to the ground.
John followed. "Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How's that gonna look? Is this why your wife is separated from you?"
Sherlock hissed. "She is divorcing me, but that doesn't matter. I'm undercover."
"No you're not!"
Sherlock gestured angrily. "Well, I'm not now!"
Mary had driven the car quickly toward them. She pulled up alongside with a squeal of brakes. "In. Both of you, quickly." She said sternly.
John got into the passenger seat while Sherlock got into the seat behind him. The young door guard hurried over towards the car, cradling his hurt arm. Mary sighed in exasperation at her boys and then turned to look through the front windscreen at the new arrival standing in front of the car.
"Please. Can I come? I think I've got a broken arm." He whimpered.
"No. Go away." She said.
"No, let him." John said.
"Why?" She asked.
"Yeah, just get in. It's a sprain." John said.
Bill ran round the side of the car.
"Anyone else? I mean, we're taking everybody home, are we?"
Sighing, Sherlock shifted to the center of the rear seat to give the other young some room. The young man got in and looked round at him.
"All right, Shezza?"
"'Shezza'?" John blinked.
"I was undercover." Sherlock hissed.
"Seriously…'Shezza', though?!" Mary said looking at him in the rearview.
Sherlock sighed again.
"How can you do this to Marion?" She asked.
"How can she divorce me, better question?" Sherlock asked looking at her with narrow eyes.
"So you are doing this to cope…no wonder why she is angry and won't let you see the kids." Mary said.
"It isn't fair. I am a good father…" Sherlock hissed.
"Who is currently high as a kite." John said.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "For a case."
"We're not going home. We're going to Bart's. I'm calling Molly." John said pulling out his phone.
In the rear seat, Sherlock was wiping some of the dirt off his face with a handkerchief.
"Why?"
John looked over his shoulder at his friend before answering his wife. "Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar."
Sherlock lowered his handkerchief and closed his eyes with exasperation.
Mary drove them all away.
ZzZ
Later that day, in the lab at Bart's, Molly was finishing her tests on Sherlock's urine sample. He was standing nearby, leaning back against the central bench and looking sulky.
On the other side of the lab the young door keeper whose name was Bill was sitting on a side bench while Mary was wrapping a bandage round his arm. Isaac was also sitting nearby.
Molly took off her gloves with two loud snaps.
"Well? Is he clean?" John asked.
Throwing her gloves down, Molly turned to him. "Clean?!"
She turned and walked over to face Sherlock. Standing before him she then slapped him hard around the face with her right hand. Sherlock took the blow and blinked making no move to stop her. Mary, Bill and Isaac looked over to them in surprise. Molly slapped him again just as hard. Then, for good measure, slapped him again with her left hand knocking his head to the side with the blow.
Sherlock blinked and grimaced.
"How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?" Molly hissed at him. She glanced briefly toward John and then looked back at Sherlock. "And how dare you betray the love of your friends? The love of your wife. Say you're sorry."
Sherlock turned to look at her holding his face. "Sorry your engagement's over…though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring." He said moving his jaw.
"Stop it." She growled angrily. "Just stop it."
John stormed towards him, his face stern, but his voice low. "If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me." He looked at him. "Was it because Marion left you? She talked to us. I never thought you would stoop so low again, let alone get back on these…"
"Please do relax. This is all for a case." Sherlock said looking at him.
Mary, still wrapping Bill's arm, shook her head.
"A ca... What kind of case would need you doing this?"
"I might as well ask you why you've started cycling to work."
John shook his head. "No. We're not playing this game." He turned and walked away.
"Quite recently, I'd say. You're very determined about it." Sherlock said watching him.
"Not interested."
"I am." Bill piped up.
Sherlock turned to look at him. Bill looked down at Mary.
"Ow." He whimpered.
"Oh, sorry. You moved. But it is just a sprain." Mary said.
"Yeah. Somebody 'it me."
"Huh?"
Bill turned his head to look at John. "Eh, just some guy."
"Yeah, probably just an addict in need of a fix." John said.
Sherlock looked at his friend. "Yes. I think, in a way, it was." He said pointedly. John held his eyes for a moment and then looked away.
"Is it his shirt?" Bill asked.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked turning to look at him.
"Well, it's the creases, innit?" He looked across to John. Sherlock did likewise and zoomed in on the creases in his shirt. "The two creases down the front. It's been recently folded, but it's not new."
Sherlock smiled slightly.
"Must have dressed in a hurry this morning ..." Bill said. "... so all your shirts must be kept like that." John stared at him in confusion. "But why? Maybe 'cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there an'then dress in the clothes you brought with you."
Sherlock looked at him, clearly impressed.
Bill continued. "You keep your shirts folded ..." He cocked his head. "... ready to pack."
"Not bad." Sherlock said.
Bill wasn't done. "An' I further deduce ..." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and he and John exchanged a brief glance. "... you've only started recently, because you've got a bit of chafing." John looked down his body.
"No…he's always walked like that. Remind me…what's your name again?" Sherlock asked looking back at Bill again.
"They call me The Wig."
"No they don't."
"Well, they-they call me Wiggy."
"Nope."
Bill looked down. "Bill. Bill Wiggins."
"Nice observational skills, Billy." Sherlock said. His phone sounded a text alert. He took out the phone and looked at the message. "Ah! Finally."
"'Finally' what?" Molly asked.
"Good news?" Billy asked.
"Oh, excellent news…the best." He turned and headed for the door, working on his phone. "There's every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on." Raising his phone to his ear as he reached the door, he turned and looked round the room briefly. He smiled. "Excuse me for a second." He left the room.
The others stared after him.
ZzZ
An hour later he and John were alone in the back of a taxi. Sherlock was still in his scruffy clothes. John sighed beside him.
"You've heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course." Sherlock asked breaking the silence.
"Yeah. Owns some newspapers…ones I don't read."
Sherlock frowned and looked round the cab and then out of the back window. "Hang on…weren't there other people?"
"Mary's taking the boys home; I'm taking you. We did discuss it."
Sherlock raised his eyes upwards as if trying to remember. "People were talking, none of them me. I must have filtered."
"I noticed."
"I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. I've got Mrs. Hudson on semi-permanent mute."
"Why?"
"She keeps trying to talk about my marriage and trying to help. Marion is very determined though. Ironically the person I wish to talk to will not even say two words to me."
The journey continued and the taxi eventually pulled up outside 221B Baker Street. As soon as he saw the closed front door, Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh.
"What is my brother doing here?" He got out and headed for the front door.
John called after him. "So I'll just pay, then, shall I?" He said tetchily
Sherlock went up onto the doorstep and glared at the door knocker. "He's straightened the knocker." He turned to John as he got out of the cab. "He always corrects it. He's OCD. Doesn't even know he's doing it." He deliberately pushed the door knocker to one side and then let himself in.
"Why'd you do that?" John asked.
"Do what?"
"Nothing."
They went inside, John shutting the door behind him, and Sherlock opened and went through the inner door. He stopped and rolled his eyes at the sight of Mycroft sitting on the stairs.
"Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?" Mycroft asked.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked. "And where is Marion?"
"I phoned him." John said.
"The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy…though, in many ways, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you." Mycroft said.
Sherlock folded his arms and didn't look at John even though he addressed him. "You phoned him."
"'Course I bloody phoned him." John said. "I texted Marion as well."
"You dear soon-to-be-ex spouse declined to come." Mycroft said.
"But you phone him." Sherlock said pointing at John.
"'Course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?" Mycroft said.
"We'?" Sherlock asked.
"Mr. Holmes?" Anderson's voice came from upstairs. In the kitchen, Anderson closed the door to one of the cupboards in the kitchen.
Sherlock looked up and then rolled his eyes. "For God's sake!" Sherlock cried out. He stormed up the stairs, Mycroft sliding sideways on his step to get out of his way. Mycroft and John exchanged a look and John blew out a breath as Mycroft leaned on his umbrella to push himself to his feet.
Sherlock went into the kitchen and glared at Anderson who is with a female colleague. "Anderson." He growled.
Anderson lifted a hand apologetically. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. It's for your own good." He said.
Looking annoyed, Sherlock dropped his keys onto the kitchen table.
The woman stared at him. "Oh, that's him, isn't it?"
"Shhhh Benji" Anderson said.
Sherlock turned and stormed towards his chair, where another member of the 'search team' was sitting and reading a book. The man scrambled out of the chair, putting the book onto the table beside it, and hurried away. Sherlock flipped his hood up and climbed into the chair.
"You said he'd be taller." Benji continued.
Anderson lifted a hand.
Mycroft came into the kitchen and looked toward Sherlock. "Some members of your little fan-club. Do be polite. They're entirely trustworthy, and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat." He looked about. "Amazing what little has been done since your wife left you. I am starting to see why…" He made a face and sniffed a little. "Things have gone downhill since Marion moved hasn't it."
Sherlock ha curled up sideways in his chair and now laid his head on one of the arms, closing his eyes.
"You're a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can't afford a drug habit." He took a breath. "Isn't a divorce enough for you?"
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at him irritated. "I do not have a drug habit."
"Oh yes like last time." Mycroft said. He made a face. "Both over women in your life. An interesting pattern…"
John's attention is focused on a large space between Sherlock's chair and the kitchen. He pointed to it. "Hey, what happened to my chair?"
"It was blocking my view to the kitchen." Sherlock said.
John turned to Mycroft. "Well, it's good to be missed!" He said
"Well, you were gone. I saw an opportunity."
"No, you saw the kitchen." John said. "Didn't Marion sit in it as well?" He asked.
"She is no longer living here either." Sherlock said looking out.
Mycroft turned to Anderson. "What have you found so far? Clearly nothing."
"There's nothing to find." Sherlock said.
Mycroft toward the hallway behind the kitchen. "Your bedroom door is shut." Sherlock sighed. "You haven't been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?" Mycroft continued. Sherlock had raised his head and flipped his hood back while Mycroft progressed. Mycroft reached the door and put his hand on the door knob.
Sherlock hurled himself up into a sitting position. "Okay, stop! Just stop."
Mycroft turned the knob but didn't open the door.
"Point made." Sherlock said looking down.
"Jesus, Sherlock." John said. "Is this why she left?"
Mycroft turned and walked slowly back along the hall. "Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma." Sherlock looked down and closed his eyes. "Won't be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing."
Sighing, Sherlock stood up and walked closer to his brother. "This is not what you think. This is for a case."
"What case could possibly justify this?" Mycroft snapped though he had a slight smile on his face.
"Magnussen." Sherlock said. Mycroft's slight smile dropped. "Charles Augustus Magnussen."
Mycroft drew in a breath and turned to Anderson and Benji. He stepped toward them. "That name you think you may have just heard …you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you…on behalf of the British security services, that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don't reply… just look frightened and scuttle." He said watching them coldly, his voice low and dangerous.
Anderson swallowed and immediately ushered Benji out of the kitchen and followed her onto the landing, closing the door behind him.
Mycroft turned back to where John was standing beside Sherlock. "I hope I won't have to threaten you as well." He said looking at John.
"Well, I think we'd both find that embarrassing." John said.
Sherlock snorted laughter, turning his head away.
"Magnussen is not your business." Mycroft said sternly to his younger brother.
Sherlock turned back to his brother. "Oh, you mean he's yours."
"You may consider him under my protection."
"I consider you under his thumb."
"If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me." Mycroft said quietly with a hint of malice in it.
Sherlock shrugged. "Okay. I'll let you know if I notice." He said nonchalantly. He strolled toward the kitchen door around his brother. "Er, what was I going to say? Oh, yeah." He opened the door. "Bye-bye." He pointed the way out.
Mycroft walked round him and then turned to face him. "Unwise, brother mine." He looked at his brother. "I may have a word with your estranged spouse. Perhaps she can control you or at least get through to you…"
Immediately Sherlock seized Mycroft's left arm just below the elbow. Twisting his arm up behind his back, he slammed his brother face-first against the wall beside the kitchen door. Mycroft cried out in pain.
Sherlock breathed rapidly, his voice venomous. "Brother mine, don't appall me when I'm high." He lifted the arm higher making a popping sound come from Mycroft's arm.
John hurried over to Mycroft's side. John spoke softly, but very firmly, watching Sherlock's face all the time. "Mycroft, don't say another word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now I am slightly worried that he might."
Mycroft pushed himself free of his brother's grip and held his left arm in pain.
Sherlock looked at him. "Marion taught me that." Sherlock said as he turned and walked away.
Mycroft turned towards him.
"Don't speak. Just leave." John said lifting a hand.
Mycroft lowered his right arm.
John looked down toward the floor. "Oh." He bent down and picked up Mycroft's umbrella, which he had dropped. Straightening up again, he offered it to him, clearing his throat.
Mycroft snatched it from his hand and left with a huff.
In the living room, Sherlock was stretching and rubbing the back of his neck.
John turned and walks toward him. "Er, Magnussen?"
"What time is it?" Sherlock asked.
"About eight."
Sherlock sniffed deeply and sighed out a disgusted breath. "I'm meeting him in three hours. I need a bath." He walked through the kitchen toward the hallway.
"It's for a case, you said?"
"Yep."
"What sort of case?"
"Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in."
"You trying to put me off?"
"God, no." Sherlock smiled. With his hand on the knob of the bathroom door, he looked back at John. "Trying to recruit you." He gave him a small smile and went into the bathroom. He shut the door and then spoke again. "And stay out of my bedroom."
Water started to run and John immediately started to walk across the kitchen toward the bedroom.
He had just reached the hallway when the bedroom door opened and a familiar face peered out. "Oh, John, hi." Opening the door wider, she laughed in an embarrassed way, pulling down the bottom of the shirt she was wearing. It was clearly one of Sherlock's shirts. She wasn't wearing anything on her legs and she pulled down the edge a little. "How are you?"
"Janine?" John gasped in disbelief.
"Sorry. Not dressed." She smiled a little. She headed towards the kitchen and John stood aside to let her pass. "Has everybody gone? I heard shouting." She asked.
"Yes, they're gone." John said.
Janine looked at her watch. "God, look at the time. I'll be late." She went over to the worktop and picked up a coffee percolator. "Sounded like an argument." She turned to John. "Was it Mike?"
"Mike?"
"Mike, yeah. His brother, Mike. They're always fighting." She reached up looking for a filter.
"Mycroft."
"Do people actually call him that?!"
"Yeah."
"Huh! Oh, could you be a love and put some coffee on?" She asked moving toward him.
"... Sure, right, yeah." He said moving.
Janine headed back toward the hallway."Thanks." She stopped and put a hand briefly on John's shoulder. "Ooh, how's Mary? How's married life?"
"She's fine. We're both fine, yeah." He turned and walked towards a cupboard.
Janine pointed in another direction. "Oh, it's over there now." She looked around. "Where's Sherl?"
John breathed out the name with a bemused look on his face. "Sherl!" Grinning and clearing his throat, he turned back to her. He's just having a bath. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute."
"Oh, like he ever is!"
"Yeah!"
He frowned as if still unable to believe what's happening and then wandered vaguely towards the cupboard that Janine had indicated. She went along the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door, immediately opening it and going inside.
"Morning! Room for a little one?!" Janine asked.
Sherlock laughed and she giggled while there was much sound of splashing water.
John turned and looked along the hallway.
"Morning." Sherlock said. He could be heard chuckling.
Janine let out a high-pitched 'Ooh!'
John turned away as if wondering what had happened. At his wedding the Holmes' had been the picture of domestic bliss and now…Sherlock was with Janine and Marion was with a peer. What the hell had happened?
He sighed and made the coffee trying to tune out the sounds of the water splashing and the giggling of Janine from within the bathroom.