"A toast to Victoria and her beautiful voice!" Sebastian raised his glass and waited for everyone to raise theirs.
"May it stay beautiful throughout her lifetime." He took a drink and everyone followed suit.
Tension crackled through Sherlock's head like electricity as he tried to read Sebastian to no avail. Instead, he shifted his thinking and found all the vulnerable parts on his body. Sherlock took a deep breath, his vision cleared. Other than the handgun in a holster on Sebastian's left side, Sherlock found all of the pressure points and where to strike to put Sebastian down long enough for the three to make an escape.
Sherlock smirked and took a drink of his wine.
"Something amusing, William?" Sebastian turned to him.
"Just the fact that in five minutes you will be on the floor writhing in pain."
Sebastian answered with his own smirk.
"And how do you figure that?"
"Like this." Sherlock set his glass of wine on the closest surface. He stepped up to Sebastian, brought his left hand up and sent the others champagne flying into his face. Sherlock brought his right hand down onto Sebastian's neck. Sebastian somehow held his grip on the champagne glass. Sherlock grabbed his right hand and jammed it down on the closest surface. The glass shattered as Sebastian grunted and Sherlock clocked him with a left hook. Sebastian stumbled and caught his breath. He stepped forward and came after Sherlock with his left but Sherlock had his hand up to block. It was too late as Sebastian came around with his bloodied right hand and caught Sherlock square on the cheekbone. A piece of glass wedged in Sebastian's hand cut Sherlock, but he didn't notice as he started for Sebastian who wasn't prepared for Sherlock to recover so quickly. Sherlock grabbed his right arm and twisted and stomped on his foot as he tried to bring his left hand around. Sherlock brought his elbow down onto Sebastian's elbow and grabbed his left hand and used the momentum to throw Sebastian to the floor. He swung his arm and gave Sebastian a hard right, breaking his nose. Sherlock quickly grabbed Sebastian's firearm and aimed it at the man.
"STOP!" Everyone froze as Irene held up her own gun and aimed it at Sherlock.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock's voice rumbled throughout the room.
Alice looked back and forth from Irene to Sherlock not knowing what to do.
Irene tried to steady herself as she cocked the gun.
"You were supposed to be dead," Irene said, her voice shaking.
"Yes well," Sherlock brought the butt of the gun across Sebastian's forehead and knocked the man out cold. "You're not the only one that is good at disappearing."
He tucked the gun in his waistband in the backside of his pants. Grabbing Alice by her forearm, he started out of the room.
"You can stay here, but I don't think you will be alive long enough to walk out of the theater."
Irene narrowed her eyes at Sherlock. Then looked down at Sebastian's unconscious form on the floor. The room was quiet except for a sob from Alice.
'Shit,' Irene said under her breath, then aloud: "Let's get out before the bastard wakes up."
"Merry Christmas, Mycroft." Sherlock said into his phone as he walked out of the theater. Him, Alice and Irene only paused long enough to grab their jackets from the front.
"Be careful, Sherlock," Mycroft answered. "Three times becomes a tradition."
"Yes, especially since you let your little brother walk into danger again." Sherlock opened the door to the limo for the ladies as the driver trotted up to them. He ran to the other side and opened a door for Sherlock as he instructed the driver where to go.
"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about."
"Yes, I'm sure you didn't know that Irene Adler and Sebastian Moran were waiting to kill me on Christmas."
The line was silent for a beat, as Irene cringed.
Sherlock heard Mycroft sigh loudly.
"Irene was only supposed to be a contact. A way to get to Moran-"
"It seems you've been played as well. Get rid of this number and any other information you have on William Scott. He doesn't exist anymore."
"Sherlock, I don't think-"
"He doesn't exist either."
"What the hell is going on in that adled brain of yours, Sher-" Irene was running to catch up with Sherlock as he walked into The Nightingale.
"Don't-" He stopped suddenly and Irene almost ran into him. "Don't call me that name..."
He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. Irene watched him take a deep breath as she felt Alice at her elbow.
"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Alice asked between chattering teeth.
"A grand illusion." Sherlock gestured wildly. "We have to move quickly. I suspect Moran will have his goons here shortly."
He turned to walk inside but Irene grabbed his arm and turned him back around.
"What the hell do you have planned?" She said through gritted teeth.
"Follow me and I will tell you." Sherlock nodded at Alice. "You too. I have a plan for you."
"Do you have an alternate identity for Alice?" He asked Irene as they walked across the lobby.
Irene and Alice looked at each other with knowing expressions.
"Alice is my alternate identity." Alice kept her pace with Sherlock as she took off the chestnut wig and revealed short blonde, bobbed hair.
"I am Mary Morstan. It's nice to finally meet you Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock slowed his pace and raised his eyebrows.
"See something you like?" Mary smiled at him.
'I know someone who would.' He thought as he increased his pace up the stairs. He brought his phone out of his pocket.
He glanced at Mary as he brought the phone to his ear. With her blond hair, something about the woman keeping pace with him made his brain pause and his pulse quicken and-
"Are they ready?" Sherlock said when he heard a voice on the other end. He let himself into his room as the ladies followed him.
"Everyone and everything is in place sir."
"Good. Initiate Nightingale Plan B now and make sure you erase me and this number."
Sherlock hung up and turned to the two ladies. Irene was pacing Mary walked into the bathroom and Sherlock watched her as she returned with a washcloth.
"You're bleeding." Was all she said as she handed him the cloth. This woman was just as intriguing as Irene, and Sherlock hated the way his body was reacting to her. He stared at her mesmerizing green eyes as he turned his cheek to her. She hesitated, then taking a deep breath, she gently wiped the blood off his cheek.
"Ever been to London, Miss Mary Morstan?"
"I am originally from Heath, actually." Mary grinned as she finished. Sherlock looked at her again, taking in her features, trying to read her.
Only child.
Took care of parents at early age.
Father's little darling.
Has spent time in India.
Tattoo behind ear is Buddist symbol.
Mary exhaled and Sherlock blinked.
"Good, you will blend right in." Sherlock started to dial a number, when Irene suddenly had an iron grip on his wrist.
"Tell me what we are doing," she brought a gun out from inside her jacket and pointed it at his head. "And I might decide to let you live."
"Miss Irene Adler, I don't think you have a choice at this point. If you kill me, Sebastian will find you here and kill you." He looked directly into her eyes. He could see the fear and trepidation there as he carefully pushed the gun away from his head with one finger. He leaned in until he was at her ear. "Besides jealousy doesn't look good on you."
"You frustrate me, Mr. Holmes." Irene said, then clenched her jaw.
"Good, now you have to trust me."
Mary watched them as Irene was breathless. Her eyes flickered back and forth between his hardened gray eyes.
"Quickly, now Miss Adler. Sebastian is on his way and I'm sure he is out for blood."
She let out a breath and uncocked the gun, then placed it inside her jacket.
"Fine," she answered. "Just this once."
"Good." Sherlock brought the phone up to his ear, not breaking eye contact with Irene. "Mycroft, I need a favor and an airline ticket for one to London, please."
"You are insane!" Mary yelled as they were running in the underground parking lot. Sherlock had left all of William Sherrinford Scott's belongings in his room, along with the phone and his and the gun that Irene had. He instructed the ladies to grab what they could in five minutes and meet him by the elevator that went down the parking lot they were running across now.
"You can't blow this place up!" Mary continued. "Irene's put too much of her heart and soul into the Nightingale."
"Sentiment is a dangerous thing, I thought you learned your lesson, Irene?"
Mary glanced over at Irene who glared at Sherlock.
"Ah, good, just where I told Louis to leave it." Sherlock said as he opened a panel in the wall and brought out another phone.
"My Limo driver?" Irene put her hands on her hips.
"Not anymore," he said and dialed a number. "Are we clear?"
"Building's evacuated, sir." Louis answered on the other line.
"Good show man. Meet us tomorrow, in the designated spot."
"Looking forward to it, sir."
Sherlock hung up and pressed a combination of numbers on the phone. He placed it back in the panel in the wall.
"Let's go. We have two minutes." Sherlock started running again and it took him half way across to realize he wasn't being followed.
"Ladies!" He slowed his pace and started trotting backwards. He could almost see the wheels turn in Irene's head as she was contemplating all the options she did not have.
"One minute, thirty seconds," He called as he turned and started running again.
They were halfway up the hill behind the Nightingale when the ground shook with the explosion of the building. The three ducked as the wind from the blast blew past them. They waited for debris to settle, then took off running further up the hill.
"Damn," Irene said breathlessly when they decided to stop and observe. "Who would have thought three years of good planning and success could be ruined in just seconds."
"Mmm..." Sherlock started. "Don't forget a years worth of a weapons cache and drugs stashed in your basement.
"What the hell?" Mary cried.
Irene clenched her jaw.
"I see everything, Irene. Do not forget that." Sherlock squeezed her wrist as he passed by on his way up the hill.
"What the hell kind of operation were you running down there?" Mary asked as sirens could be heard in the distance.
"An honest to goodness brothel, or so I thought." Irene said as she stared at the orange glow below her. She also saw a car approaching what was left of The Nightingale and instantly recognized it. She knew it wouldn't be long before Sebastian would find her again. Until then, she would be always looking over her shoulder.
~X~X~
"Happy Christmas!" Molly called as she tapped on the door to 221B.
"Oh Molly and Greg!" Mrs. Hudson said as she hugged each of them. "Let me take your coats."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Greg said as he shed his coat.
"We brought sweets." Molly handed the older woman a medium sized brownie pan that was wrapped with green and red ribbons.
"Oh, Molly, you shouldn't have!" Mrs. Hudson smiled as she took the pan. "What is it sweetheart?"
"It's fudge." Molly smiled. "I may not be able to cook a lick, but I sure can bake like a mad woman!"
"I heard fudge," Wendy called. "Bring the fudge!"
A smattering of giggles followed as the three smiled and walked into the sitting room. Everyone hugged and greeted each other as Mrs. Hudson brought the jackets into Sherlock's room. She tried not to spend too much time there, but something drew her in, whether it was the memory of him, or just nostalgia, she found herself wandering around the room. It was just like he left it. She hadn't touched anything, and as far as she knew, John rarely, if ever came into this room. Mrs. Hudson picked up a framed photograph that was placed on the dresser and smiled at the faces of Mycroft and Sherlock. Young and handsome and hopeful and very alive.
"Mrs. Hudson?" Greg was leaning against the door frame. He had never really seen Sherlock's room in the daylight, and the little time he had spent in there with Molly the other night, he hadn't bothered to look around. Now, as he watched Mrs. Hudson, he found himself looking around the room. It was sparse, but Greg wasn't sure what he was expecting from the bedroom of a consulting detective.
"Are you okay in here?" He continued.
She smiled at him. "Yes, thank you. I don't come in here often, and it kind of gives me the willies to be standing here now."
He gestured for her to come to him when he saw her shiver. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
"It's going to take a lot of time for all of us." He said into her hair.
"Thank you, Greg."
"For what?" He leaned away from her to look at her.
"For being here. For staying with John." She inhaled loudly. "For being strong for all of us."
Greg wrapped both arms around the woman and held her close to him. "I hardly think that I am strong, but thank you for thinking that of me."
He could feel her sobbing when John approached them.
"Everything okay back here?"
Mrs. Hudson leaned away from Greg, but let his arm linger on the small of her back. It was a small but comforting gesture. She brought a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.
"I came out from the loo and found her in Sherlock's room."
"Oh," John walked up to her and squeezed her arm.
"Oh, John," she collapsed against him and he wrapped his arms around her.
"I know..." he rubbed her back as Greg placed a comforting hand on John's shoulder. John smiled at him in acknowledgment.
"I have to use-" Molly stopped short when she saw the group in the hall. "Oh, I'm sorry I-"
"It's okay Molly," Mrs. Hudson stepped away from John and swiped at her eyes with the handkerchief. She mouthed a thank you to John and Greg, then straightened herself. "We are being terrible hosts. Let's let the lady do her business."
She gestured for John and Greg to clear the hall and they complied as Molly smiled timidly at them.
"Greg," she whispered loudly and he turned. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I came out of the loo and found Mrs. Hudson in Sherlock's bedroom."
"Oh," Molly answered and nodded as Greg turned to join everyone in the sitting room.
Molly was in the loo and saw the door that connected to Sherlock's room. She had only been in there once and that was with Greg, ironically. But lord only knows how many times she fantasized herself in that room with Sherlock, his pale arms on each side of her warm naked body. His hard body pressed against hers, kissing her neck and-
Molly shook her head and turned on the cold tap and splashed water on her face. She grabbed the hand-towel and patted dry and caught her reflection in the mirror above the sink.
"I owe you..."
She started. The voice was so real and she swore she could feel the breath on her ear. She inhaled deeply and buried her face in the towel.
When her heart stopped thumping in her ears, she lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, but the rest of her was pale. She shook her head to try to clear it and hung the towel. She brought her chapstick and lipstick out and dabbed them on her lips. Molly took out her ponytail and ran her hands through her hair and put it back up in a neater pony. She nodded, satisfied at her appearance.
Molly wasn't sure what made her pass through the kitchen on her way to the sitting room. Maybe it was the lure of cinnamon, or just plain curiosity that John had read the paper. She convinced herself of both and called out to have a roll. Mrs. Hudson told her to help herself, and Harry added that they would be the very last cinnamon rolls she would have. Everyone giggled and Molly cut herself a roll. She found a plate and a towel to wipe the frosting and turned to the table. She found the morning paper and flipped through to the section she was looking for and tucked it under her arm as she walked out to the sitting room.
"Hey, I don't get any?" Greg pouted from the arm of one of the chairs.
"Oh," Molly said around a mouthful of roll.
"It's alright," Greg smiled and stood and walked over to her. He kissed her on her forehead. "I can get my own."
Molly smiled at him and walked over to where John was sitting next to Sarah. They exchanged pleasantries and Molly turned to John.
"I read an article this morning that I think you will be interested in." She handed the paper to John who took it and thanked Molly. She nodded and walked over to the chair at the table below the crazy cow skull to watch John out of the corner of her eye.
"What is the article, hun?" Sarah asked as she read over his shoulder.
"I dunno," John said as he scanned the section. His eye landed on a familiar name.
Sigerson.
Sigerson.
"If you wish to keep track of my whereabouts, follow the concert career of a violinist named Sigerson."
"Sigerson." John whispered.
"Whom?" Sarah asked still scanning the paper. "Oh the violinist who made a 'stunning debut' in Russia. Maybe he will make an appearance here and we can see him."
Sarah kissed John's cheek and rose from her seat.
John bit his lip and looked up at Molly and she winked at him. He looked back down at the article and finished reading, and a sudden realization hit him.
What if, by some dumb miracle, Sherlock is alive and he is sending John messages somehow?
John saw Molly rise and he followed her into the kitchen to rinse her plate.
"Molly, how did you know?"
"Just an instinct," she started, but saw the serious look on his face.
"Molly," John paused to think about what he was going to say, making sure it didn't make him sound completely crazy. "Molly, I read an article in yesterday's morning paper about -"
Molly looked at him expectantly.
"I should involve Greg in this conversation."
Molly furrowed her brow at John and watched him walk off and grab Greg from his perch. He said something to him, then ran upstairs to his room. Greg rinsed his plate as he kissed Molly on the cheek.
John bounded into the kitchen with a manilla folder and they looked at him wide-eyed.
"You guys will probably think I am nuts, but, just bear with me." He said as he unfolded the folder and took out pictures and profiles of five people. "Last year, right before Sherlock's death, Mycoft called me to his Club, and showed me the pictures of these people. They were assassins who had moved in on our block." John paused and held up a newspaper article. "I read this yesterday."
Greg took it and read aloud: "Russian assassin Lyudmilla Diachenkov was found and arrested in Moscow yesterday. Experts aren't saying, but it is speculated that she was part of a ring of assassins assigned by Jim Moriarty to assassinate high public figures."
"Moriarty was the bloke you found on the roof wasn't it?" Molly asked.
"Yeah," Greg looked up at John. "So you think Moriarty had assassins move in on your block to keep an eye on Sherlock?"
"Well, I wasn't sure myself, until the evening before Sherlock died, two of them were killed because they had talked to Sherlock."
"What does this have to do with Sigerson?" Molly knew exactly what the connection was. In the back of her mind she was cursing Sherlock for putting her in this position. Then she cursed herself for allowing herself to be put in this position.
John smirked at both of them. 'So this is how Sherlock felt around everyone who didn't get his deductions.'
Aloud he said: "Well, and just bear with me, I think Sherlock survived that fall somehow and now he's out trying to get these assassins."
"John, I did the autopsy, there-"
"Molly, we both know that bodies can be switched and DNA can be planted." John tried to keep his frustrations in check. "Irene Adler is proof of that!"
"But-"
"It's a trick, Molly, it's all a magic trick." John took a deep breath and looked out toward the sitting room. "And I want to know why."
As days go by, the nights on fire.
Tell me, would you kill to save a life
Tell me, would you kill to prove you're right.
Crash, crash, burn...let it all burn.
This Hurricane's chasing us all underground.
"Hurricane"
~Thirty Seconds to Mars~