"Look, before I explain my past, I just want to ask what you know about the supernatural? I mean the real stuff, not the rubbish on telly or in the movies," Mary began. "I'm assuming not much?
"Not even that it was real," Molly admitted quietly. "Until this happened."
Mary reached out as if to lay a consoling hand on the other woman's knee, but hesitated. She could see the circle of bruises around Molly's throat and recognized the signs of strangulation, but had no idea if the intent had been restraint or if the possessed Sherlock Holmes had actually attempted to kill her. Not that it mattered, she supposed, but the instinct to help and protect had always been a part of her, no matter what career she pursued.
Molly obviously noticed where Mary's attention had gone, but instead of attempting to cover herself up or cringing away, she looked her in the eye and said simply, "He raped me. Choked me enough to knock me out first, then raped me." She explained about the way Sherlock's eyes had changed color and added Jim's words, the ones that had clued her in that all was definitely not what it appeared.
"I hope, when this is all over," Mary said, "that you can find some way to forgive him. Sherlock, I mean, not Jim." Her eyes narrowed. "That evil bastard has to be taken care of. Permanently."
"Agreed." Molly's voice was firm, determined, and her eyes radiated a quiet resolve that Mary both admired and recognized. "And for the record, I don't. Blame Sherlock, I mean. And I'll let him know that as soon as…once this is all over with. Because I assume he's aware of everything that's going on, right? You made it sound like he could, and if he was somehow responsible for the eye-color thing, then that means he's not just unconscious inside his own mind."
Mary nodded and glanced at the others. Mrs. Hudson, who hadn't spoken a word since the phone call, sat looking quite calm and composed, but the tension was clear in the way her hands were clasped so tightly together her knuckles were white. John was even easier to read; he was dying to know what Mary had to tell them, both because he wanted to help his friend and because he wanted to know what secrets his fiancée had been keeping from him.
Secrets she was just as eager to share with him, now that she knew he would believe her. "Yeah, Sherlock is aware of everything Moriarty has made his body do, unfortunately." Her eyes were sympathetic as she explained. "OK, since time is of the essence, I'll give you the short version, details to be filled in once we've taken care of this ghost problem. Ghosts and demons exist. Legends about vampires and werewolves are based on demon sightings, since a lot of demons have those characteristics – shape changing, affinity for the full moon, aversion to garlic and sunlight, fangs, you get the picture."
She glanced at the others in turn, waiting for their confirming nods – Mrs. Hudson's offered with a bit of a shake and her hand held firmly over her mouth – before continuing with her personal history. She turned to look directly at John as she spoke. "There are people who've developed…special skills…to deal with these supernatural entities. Since demons are physical beings, demon hunters are faster and stronger than average humans, and have created special weapons to use against them – firearms are entirely ineffectual so they tend to be swords, knives, that sort of thing. There are a lot less demons manifesting since the early 20th century, thank God, so I've never actually run into either a demon or a demon hunter, just heard stories from other contacts. I come from a long line of ghost hunters, all on the female line for some reason no one can explain." She shrugged. "It just happens that way. Some families it's all the males, some it skips generations, some it's a mixture of sexes and abilities."
"What kind of abilities?" John asked, fascinated and just the tiniest bit turned on. He'd always known Mary was special, but to hear her saying so plainly that she came from a family with a history of dealing with the supernatural he'd only recently come to believe in only added to her allure. She'd always been reticent about her past, but he'd assumed it was because she was an orphan, with no remaining family and only a small circle of friends. Not too different from him, now that he thought about it, although regrettably the only family legacy he had to offer was one of occasional alcohol abuse and much more frequently, military service, as evidenced by himself and his unfortunate sister.
"For ghost hunters, there are basically three types of abilities," Mary replied, with a flicker of a smile on her lips as he reached out and took her hand firmly in his. She squeezed it, and he knew she was silently thanking him for understanding her need to keep this secret, for taking it all in stride. Later, when everything had been sorted, the two of them were going to have a nice long chat about what it might mean for their future together, but that was for later. "My mother was a Sensitive, could sense ghosts and demons, and my Aunt Joan, her sister, was a Medium, who could communicate with the dead when they're on our plane of existence, the way Moriarty is now. Me, I'm an Excommunicator. I can pull a spirit or demon out of someone's body. Some people have a combination of these abilities, rarest of all being the ones who combine all three. I've never met anyone who has more than one or two, personally." She let out her breath in a whoosh, peering anxiously at the other three, trying to gauge their reactions.
"That's…amazing," Molly said, and she sounded and looked like she meant it. "I'm just glad there are actually people out there who know how to deal with this sort of thing…and that there's a way to get Moriarty out of Sherlock's body." She looked at Mary hopefully. "So what do you have to do, track him down somehow?"
Mary's expression darkened. "I wish I could," she replied sadly. "But that's the job of a Sensitive. Unfortunately, after my family was killed – car crash, nothing supernatural, just bloody awful for me at the time – I fell out of touch with anyone else in the know. They were all my parents' generation and I was eighteen and didn't think I needed them." She gave a bitter headshake. "The best I can do is try to reach out to any of them that are still around."
"Everyone has a website these days," Mrs. Hudson declared, rising to her feet. "I'll just fetch my laptop and you can put in some names and we'll see what we find, right? Oh, and I'll put the kettle on, I think tea is definitely called for." She pattered off to the kitchen while Mary stared after her, amazed at the equanimity with which the older woman was reacting to all this.
"She once ran a drug cartel," John said in answer to the question in Mary's eyes when she turned to look at him. He shrugged. "Or so Sherlock says."
"My husband ran it, I just did the typing!" Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen, proving that her hearing was as good as it had ever been.
Mary grinned at the byplay while Molly gnawed at her thumbnail before asking a question of her own. "John, do you think it's still worth it to call Clara?
Mary's ears perked up at the sound of a familiar name. "Clara? Clara Simcoe?" she asked.
John nodded, surprised that Mary knew Clara's name…but then again, maybe it was a good sign, considering the bizarre nature of their current conversation. "Yeah, Harry's ex, they've been broken up for years now which I why I never mentioned her." His voice turned eager. "Why, do you know her?"
Mary shook her head. "No, but I know of her," she replied. "She may be just the person we need to help us get rid of Moriarty once and for all. She's supposedly a very powerful Sensitive and Medium, although since Moriarty is already possessing Sherlock, we won't need that particular ability. You have her number, you were going to ring her?"
"Yeah, Harry gave it to me. Haven't tried it yet, but if you think she could help…" He fell silent as he pulled his mobile out and entered the number his sister had given him. Mary, Molly and Mrs. Hudson waited quietly, and he knew all of them were hoping for the same thing: that the number was current, that Clara would be willing to help them, and that this nightmare could finally be over.
Two minutes later he had her on the phone, to his faint surprise; he'd half-expected Harry to have gotten the number wrong, or for it to have been cancelled. He spoke to her for a moment, the usual awkward pleasantries exchanged before John got to the reason for the call. "Clara, Harry said you were involved in the occult, that you broke up because of it. Is that true?"
"Look, John, I'm not interested in hearing your opinions of my interests," Clara began, but John interrupted her.
"And I'm not interested in giving you my opinion. I'm interested in freeing a friend of mine who's been fucking possessed by a ghost or an evil spirit or whatever you want to call it, and I'm hoping you can help me with that."
John heard Clara give out a gasp of shock. "Oh, John, that's…I'm sorry, I'm just used to people making fun of me or questioning my mental health, that I just assumed…are you sure this friend of yours has been possessed? Tell me everything you know, why you think it's something supernatural rather than drugs or insanity or any of the logical, scientific reasons. I can promise I'll listen with an open mind."
"Actually," John replied with a faint grin, "why don't I let my girlfriend explain, since she's the one in the business, as it were?" He handed the phone to Mary, still grinning, feeling an insane sense of relief. The danger was far from over, for Sherlock or anyone else Moriarty might seek to possess or do harm to, but getting the help of not one but two people with a history of dealing with the supernatural was a huge relief.
He listened with half an ear as Mary explained things to Clara, seeing a blush creep over her cheeks when Clara obviously recognized her family name. Even though there was going to be less-literal hell to pay when Harry sobered up enough to remember that John had sought out her ex didn't dampen his spirits (hah! Good choice of words, there) one bit. They would get Moriarty out of Sherlock and destroy him or send him to hell or whatever happened when Mary Excommunicated him.
After that, he intended to take his ghost-hunter-girlfriend home, shag her silly, and propose, in that order. To hell with quizzing her on her past; he'd known she was the one not long after he'd met her, and this insane history of hers only made her more desirable in his eyes.
If that made him crazy, so be it. After all, his best friend was a self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath with a history of drug use, his landlady's ex-husband ran a drug cartel, and even Molly wasn't exactly what you could call normal...
His high spirits dampened a bit as he peered over at the pathologist, who had curled up in one corner of the sofa, sipping at a cup of a tea and gazing blankly at nothing. In his euphoria at finding a solution to their current problem, he'd almost forgotten the damage that Moriarty had already done. The words he'd flung at Mary, the sneering commentary on her and John's relationship…that sort of damage was transitory at best, especially since the hateful words hadn't been Sherlock's. But what Moriarty had done to Molly…even if she said she didn't hate Sherlock for it, it was the sort of thing that couldn't help but taint their friendship.
John sighed softly and rubbed his forehead. God, he wished this was over, far behind them all, or better yet, that it had never happened. Life had been a lot less complicated yesterday. Then he straightened up and took a healthy gulp of his own tea. Fretting over things wouldn't do any good, he knew that. Deal with what's in front of you until it's done, then deal with whatever came next. That was how he'd always handled life and damned if he was going to stop now just because ghosts (and demons, God, he didn't even want to think about that) were real.
He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that Mary had to nudge him twice to bring him back to reality. He blinked and looked at her as she handed him his mobile. "She's on her way," she said. "Once she has a taste of his aura – which should be all over the flat," she added, tilting her head to indicate 221B, "she'll be able to track him down no matter where he's gone to ground. Then we'll get your friend back…and I'll finally be able to properly meet him," she added with a faint grin.
John grinned back wryly. "Don't think he won't be just as awful," he warned her, keeping his tone light. "Sherlock can be a bit of a berk even when he's not possessed."
"I just want him back." Molly's voice cracked a bit on the last syllable, and Mrs. Hudson hurried to her side to take her in her arms for a motherly embrace as the younger woman finally broke down into the sobs she'd been fighting.
John and Mary held one another's hands while Mrs. Hudson did her best to calm Molly. Moriarty couldn't be Excommunicated fast enough, and that was the truth.