This chapter is dedicated to jack63kids. Thank you for always thinking of others. Happy belated Birthday. December 11th.
Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 114
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
** Thank you, for your latest reviews and PMs since the last post favorites and follows.
*****.*** T rated, but some future chapters may be M. ****. ****
Important. Sorry for the delay. It was a small matter of cars crashing and me being in one of the cars. Thank God, apart from some pain, no permanent injuries. Here is something. I hope it is okay, if not I blame it on the pain medication. :]
Note: Danke is used to say thank you.
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
" Each player begins the game with eight pawns, one on each square of the rank immediately in front of the other pieces. The pawns are the shortest and most numerous pieces in a chess set …"
… The Day of the Pawn I…
"He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal." ~ Gregg Levoy
Hjohn, I am thinking of you:)
Current Day
Nineteen Hour Later
Switzerland
Mycroft stilled his movements as his mind both listened and thought of Moriarty's possible next move. His eyes looked at Irene Adler. She looked different somehow. The relationship that his brother and Adler had with one another, seemed to have changed them in small, but significant ways.
He could only speculate about the details of their relationship. With Sherlock's memory loss, Mycroft had no doubt that John knew more about his brother's personal life than even his brother, at the moment. He also knew that John would not betray that confidence.
The part of Mycroft's brain that was listening to the conversation with Adler informed the rest of his brain that what she was now saying was pivotal.
"… It was two weeks before Moriarty kidnapped Sherlock. He came to me by himself. The majority of the time John was with him. Sherlock seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful. He wanted me to arrange a meeting with one of my sources. I arranged it. Sherlock was gone for two days, when he came back; he sat in front of the fireplace, quiet, and thinking."
Irene shifted in her chair and frowned. "I have the image of Sherlock sitting there, quiet, with his hands pressed together in that funny way he does when he's trying to figure something out."
Irene smiled, but her smile quickly left. "What started me worrying is that the night he returned, beside him, on the table, was an empty crystal tumbler." She looked at Mycroft. "You know that your brother does not usually drink alcohol. The rare times that he does, he takes a few sips then put it down. He does not want anything to interfere with his mind. But, there he was with an empty glass of alcohol that he managed to drink in minutes. He told me that I needed to disappear until he contacted me, but I was to text him daily so that he would know that, I was not in danger."
Adler's frown deepened and she changed positions again. Mycroft had never known Adler to be nervous, yet here she was displaying all the classic signs of it. She was hiding something, and debating with herself about whether or not to disclose it to him. Mycroft glanced over her body as he made a mental note. His mind calculated the probability of her disclosing that information to him. He knew his best chances would be if he remained silent and took on a sympathetic look. He could not be obvious about the manipulation; this was Adler. She had a superior mind.
He remained quiet and listened to her speak.
"Sherlock said that if anything was to happen to him, or if he died, I was to give you the information about the safety deposit box. You were to use the name of Charles Bradford. He also said to get a message to you." Irene looked at him now.
Mycroft looked back at her intently. In the back of his mind, he heard the door open and close from the other room. He was curious, but not concerned. The villa was safe, and several agents including Myers were guarding it.
"And that message would be?" Mycroft asked calmly as he looked into Adler's eyes.
"One word only, Lazarus." She was now the one to watch Mycroft for a reaction.
Mycroft kept himself from stiffening. He had no doubt that his brother's message was to warn him, in the event of his death that Moriarty was still alive. However, he knew Sherlock. A single word could have layers of meaning, and, unfortunately, he thought that he understood the intention of this word. If Mycroft was correct, it meant two things, God help them. Moriarty was even more of a lunatic than even he first believed. And, they had even less time than he once thought.
Mycroft looked away from everyone and went into his mind, thinking. Within a few minutes, an odd sound drew him out. He blinked a few times as he exited his mind and looked around for the source of the noise.
His eyes glanced around the elegant room as it came to rest on three additional persons who were in the room that was not there minutes before.
It was a man, a woman, and a child. They were all dressed as if they have had a long journey. The child that was in the arms of the woman was quietly whimpering as he fought against sleep. The child was small, more than a year, but less than two years old. Despite the typical baby fat that was on the child, he was all arms, legs, and chubby cheeks. Something was strangely familiar about the child.
He watched as the couple walked up to Adler who now stood with a smile on her face. The child wiggled his fingers and reached for Adler. The man who was referred to as the British Government stood. Mycroft was generally calculating. He carefully guarded; his eye movements, expressions, body language, his body movements, even the cadence of his voice. Yet, he now stood without realizing it, and his legs moved toward the child almost without his knowledge. Mycroft found himself next to the skinny, pale-skinned child. He looked into Adler's eyes. She looked back without flinching.
The child seemed to settle down in her arms as he sucked his thumb. The child suddenly seemed to notice Mycroft. His sleepy eyes bore into Mycroft. His blue-gray eyes seemed to almost look into his soul. The child looked at Mycroft, and a wet, popping sound was heard as he took his thumb out of his mouth and offered it to Mycroft. The child seemed to sense that the tall man next to him needed comfort.
"Maybe later," Mycroft said gently as he guided the chubby thumb back into the young child's mouth. He resumed sucking on it at once and resumed fighting sleep. Mycroft's hand came up as it ran through the child's dark curly hair.
He looked at Adler now as she rubbed soothingly on the child's back. "He's usually quiet, shy with most people. He seemed to take well to you; he is normally reserved. But, when he gets to know you, he is different, he laughs a lot. He is already speaking in single sentences, even though he does slur the words a bit, also, simple counting. He loves to be read to. The last time I was with him, he pointed out several words in his favorite book and said the words. He loves pirate stories for some reason. I think it's the excitement of it." She realized that she was babbling and stopped herself.
They were both quiet for a moment. Mycroft glanced at the child's face. The child's mouth was partially open, and his hand had fallen to his side. Mycroft realized for the first time that he was gently stroking the hair of the now sleeping child. The man, who prided himself on being emotionless, did not seem to care who noticed.
Adler steeled herself and looked into Mycroft eyes "His name is William, and he needs your protection, and also my two employees. Moriarty's search for me had brought him dangerously close to the child twice. Sherlock cannot know about this for now. Moriarty wants to punish me. Also, he has an obsession with Sherlock. If he was to find out that the child exist…" She frowned, but did not finish.
The child could have been Sherlock's twin. Genetically, looking at the child's appearance, and observing the young boy's mannerisms, there was no doubt, still; he had to ask.
"The child's full name would be?" Mycroft asked now openly frowning.
"William Boswell Holmes." Irene said.
"My maternal grandfather's name," Mycroft noted to himself out loud.
Irene handed the now sleeping child to the male. "This is James Conrad and his wife Clare." Adler watched him walk away carrying William with his wife close beside him. Anthea wordlessly directed them toward one of the bedrooms, after a brief glance toward Mycroft.
"They have been helping me care for, and hide William."
Mycroft's eyes became dangerous. "Why would you think that I would keep this… matter from Sherlock?"
Irene eyes flashed. She stepped into Mycroft's personal space and glared, looking up, at the much taller man. "We both would do whatever is necessary to protect Sherlock, including keeping information from him. He needs to focus. He is already at a disadvantage now. We both know that he does not handle… feelings… emotions well. Is this the right time to inform him of something so, life changing?"
Mycroft put his mask back on and said calmly. "Your logic is valid Ms. Adler. I will keep this between us." Irene exhaled relieved.
"For now, of course." He added smoothly with a false smile.
He looked at Adler and added. "You are concerned for him, but that is not the reason for my brother's ignorance of the fact that he has a son. You hide fear well, Ms. Adler, better than most. But, I can see it in your eyes." Adler bit her red lips subconsciously.
"There is more of a story here than I am able to get at now." Mycroft finally sighed tiredly. "With Moriarty, nowhere is protected right now. They might have been followed. There is one place that gives us, at least a better chance than the rest until I can sneak you both back to England. By taking you there, I would be endangering the life of someone I care about, but I see no other way on such short notice."
He turned to the smaller woman and smiled a genuine smile now. "You've better rest. We have to leave in a few hours, sooner if I can make arrangements."
Adler nodded and walked away. Mycroft's voice stopped her. "Ms. Adler, I will see no harm come to William as long as there is breath in my body."
"I know, Mr. Holmes." Irene said with a sad smile before walking away to pack again.
Mycroft made his way to the bedroom in which, Anthea indicated that the young child was laying. He quietly walked up and just looked at him sleeping. The thumb had made its way back into William's mouth again.
The years melted away. It was like looking at Sherlock when he was younger. Mycroft whispered to the air, "As you would say Sherlock, a bit not good, dear brother."
Mycroft looked for a few more minutes before walking away determined. His eyes held danger. He dared anyone including Moriarty to try to take, or harm the child.
A/N: I hope that you all enjoyed. Sorry for the delay. Thank you to all those of you who encouraged me through this time. Thanks, it kept me going. :)
I will relax and just read fan fiction for a few days while I continue to heal, then I'll get back to it soon, I promise.
Love to all.
Fun Question: In this story, Moriarty has a legitimate job before turning to crime because of boredom.
1. One idea is a university Professor, as a wink to canon.
2. Businessman.
3. Engineer.
4. Chef.
Other ideas welcome. I will not tell you which one I chose so that it will be a surprise. Have fun.