She felt exhausted as she reached Baker Street. She slammed the cab door earning a scolding from the driver before he drove off in a hurry. She stumbled to the steps before throwing herself down onto the concrete. She fumbled in her pocket for a cigarette and her lighter before finally finding it. She stared at the nearly empty pack with disdain. Last night with Mark did not go well.
It had started off well, really well. The three walked back to the flat him and Lucy stayed in and had sat down to watch a movie on the couch, Lucy had gone to bed after it ended leaving Jen and Mark to have time to themselves. This was apparently a horrible idea as it ended in shouting match involving Jen's inability to tell him anything about her and her past. She didn't blame him for being angry with her, but how could she tell him anything about herself without feeling some sort of judgement? There was a hundred different reactions he could give knowing about her family and her own past, but the one she feared the most was being barred from seeing Lucy again. So, the argument ended with Jen leaving the flat and spending the night walking around London not wishing to go back to Baker Street quite yet.
Jen sighed finishing her cigarette and tossing it to the ground before standing and turning to the door of Baker Street. She pushed the door open and with a heavy sigh, started up the stairs. She made an attempt to open the flat door and found it blocked by something. With an aggravated oomph, she slammed her body into the door causing something to topple over with a loud thump freeing the door. She stepped inside to stare at the bookshelf that was laying on the floor in disarray before her eyes glanced up at the flat.
"What in the hell did you two do?" Jen asked looking at the flat in utter horror. They were like children; they couldn't be alone for one fucking night. The fireplace looked like it had exploded with soot in an explosion pattern around it and even on the walls as books were scattered around it as if they had been used as fuel, a crime if there ever was one. The windows of the flat look like they had been blown out, and it looked like the sink, microwave, and stove of the kitchen had been used in a rather large scale experiment and needed replacing. This was all in addition to the various bullet holes in the wall as well as papers, glass, and the remaining books scattered all over the flat. All the furniture with the exception of the three chairs the trio always sat in and the piano was piled in front of both the door the lead to the hall with Sherlock's room, and the staircase that led to Jen's room. Toby was laying on top of the bookshelf with a shirt on him. Sherlock looked up at her from his tea.
"I was bored," he told her simply as she struggled to get Toby down, who barked at her for help.
"An interesting night it turned out to be," Peter replied as she turned to him after releasing Toby from the people clothes.
"How does this-" she paused getting closer to him before she immediately threw Sherlock out of his chair. "You've been using!" she shouted accusing him and then looked to her brother seeing the familiar signs of cocaine use in him as well. "You've both been using! What the hell is wrong with you two!? You're a recovering serial killer," she pointed at Peter. "You can't be doing things like this Peter! What would have happened if you had been arrested?! What would have happened had you decided to just going around killing people! You're an idiot, and you should know better. When did you even start using cocaine?!"
"Well, your stash wasn't exactly well hidden, Jenma," he mocked clearly making a point to put the blame on her causing her slap him hard across the face feeling there was no other choice.
"You shut it," she demanded, "and you," she said viciously turning to Sherlock, "you are a former addict. You can't go back to that! You can't! Addiction is just a sleeping monster, and you know that better than anyone, and you do this! You are the biggest idiot I have ever met, Sherlock Holmes, and I am so disappointed in you!" She turned to leave but turned around flustered. "I can reprimand Peter, but I am not your mother, Holmes," and then she paused and smiled as she had a terrible, wonderful thought on how to punish Sherlock as this was likely his idea. "I'm telling Mycroft."
"What?!" he panicked standing. If she told Mycroft, he would tell mummy, and he couldn't stand having the same disapproving stare as she did the first time she found out. "You can't!"
"Oh, yes, I am," she sang as she practically skipped out the door with her wonderful idea.
"Ginny!" he shouted, but she was already gone.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled visit?" Mycroft asked sitting in his chair in the back room of the Diogenes Club. He was uneasy by Jen's visit as it likely meant trouble. She never voluntarily came to him as there was something of a mutual dislike still there even if there was also a mutual begrudging respect.
"I left your brother alone for one night," she told him her jaw clenching in one part annoyance, one part disbelief. "One fucking night, and I come back to the place in complete chaos and find out my brother and yours were high on cocaine." Mycroft paused seeming to take this piece of news in. It wasn't terribly surprising to him that his brother was dabbling in drugs in his time of distress.
"Are you sure?" he asked wanting to be absolutely sure before he took the next step.
"A hundred percent," she told him with a nod before pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I don't know what to do." Mycroft gave her a thin lipped smile; one that told that he had an equally terrible, wonderful thought on how to punish Sherlock.
"I do," Mycroft told her before picking up his cell phone from his desk and dialing a number. "Inspector Lestrade, you may want to lead a drug team to Sherlock's flat. You'll likely find some rather interesting contraband." There was a pause. "Yes, thank you." Mycroft hung up the phone as Jen texted Peter to go down to Damon's flat to avoid the police as it would be a violation of his parole.
"Sometimes you have your uses," she mused getting up and turning to leave wondering if John would be willing to post bail as she was sure she wasn't doing it. He had caused her enough trouble without having to take a huge chunk of money out of her pocket.
"Ginevra," he called out to her making her pause at the door. "I think you also need to consider the possibility that him using after ten years is likely due to everything happening around him including your cold behavior to him. My brother is a sociopath; he has few friends, and losing one would be devastating to him especially you. Do you understand?" Perhaps he had been punished enough; perhaps this was due to her ignoring him, reprimanding him. He did have his entire reputation destroyed and nearly lost everyone he cared for. Perhaps it was time to move passed this.
"Yes," she muttered before she made her way out the Diogenes Club deciding that it was time to let bygones by bygones. She looked at the clock deciding she would go visit Molly, perhaps have a cup of tea with her, and then, when a decent amount of time passed she would go post Sherlock's bail.
She stood there waiting for him to be released tapping her foot impatiently; he just cost her a pretty penny not that she minded all too much. After all, she was the one who ratted him out to his brother; she regretted nothing. Sherlock came out from the jail looking rather annoyed but seemed to brighten in mood when he saw that she was the one to post the bail and get him out.
"Ginny," he paused in front of her trying to gauge her reaction. Was she here to dish out more punishment, or was she here as some sort of apology? He was betting on the first one. A slight smirk slipped onto her face revealing his prediction to be wrong, and he could not be more grateful until she spoke.
"Did you get raped jail? Are you someone's bitch now? Oh no, you can never live in the normal world again," she mocked as he gave her a rather distasteful look. She grinned at him before looking at the ground and kicking it slightly with her foot as she always did when she painfully guilty of something. "Sherlock, I need you to promise me you'll never do that again." She looked up to him with those lovely wide eyes that could turn a monster to putty in her hands. "I worry for you; I don't… wonder if I came home one day, and you're on the ground dead for one supposedly last hit. I couldn't bare it. So I need you to promise me." Slowly, he nodded willing to make a promise if she in turn made some sort of promise.
"I promise I won't use as long as you are around," he told her. She tilted her head at the phrase. A hundred thinks could happen to her, and she didn't want him falling back to the devil's nectar even if she was drawn away from London either by work or something more permanent like death.
"As long as I am around?" she questioned with a frown not approving of the shoddy promise. "Sherlock... that's not a very good promise."
"Oh, it's a perfectly good promise," he answered quickly not willing to accept her excuses. If he made a promise, he wanted something in return. "All you have to do is stay around London, and I'll stay clean."
"Sherlock," she wined, "wonder if I have to go away for work or I want to visit my family or I die or-"
"Well, that's a simple solution, Ginny," he rolled his eyes. "Stay in the country for work, invite your family, and don't die."
"Sherlock, I am not going to promise to stay in London just to suit you. I like traveling," she told him. He scoffed.
"Overrated, but if you must, I suppose we'll just have to remain in contact or risk me caving to the sleeping monster, as you put it," he replied trying to remain aloof, but she smiled gently at him before looping his arm with hers as they made there way out of the building.
"Hungry?" she asked him knowing the answer.
"No," he said simply looking glancing down at her.
"Me either," she grinned up at him rather enthusiastically. "I was thinking we could grab a cake at the bakery, get a cab to the Diogenes Club, and eat it in front of Mycroft." Sherlock laughed; sometimes how well she knew him shocked him. She knew exactly what to say and do to raise his mood.
"I'd like that, Ginny."
"Good," she smiled, "because you owe be for bailing your ass out."
"I always owe you," he told her as they walked out together. This was good, he realized. This was a new start; they could move passed what had happened, and maybe it took a bit, but he would be able to get back in her good books. It just took the right push.
The two of them made there way down the street toward the bakery with every intention to do as Jen suggested, but Jen's phone chiming in her pocket forced her to stop and answer making Sherlock impatient. He was itching to do something to annoy Mycroft having had him thrown in jail.
"Hello, Mary," Jen smiled. "How are you?" A pause ensued allowing Mary to answer her; Jen nodded and mhmmed several times in agreement before replying. "Of course, why don't you bring John? I have Sherlock with me." There was another short pause and a laugh before she gave Mary a farewell and turned to Sherlock.
"Where are we meeting them?" Sherlock asked her knowing this to be the only outcome of the previous conversation she had been engaged in.
"A cafe just a few blocks from here," she told him slipping her phone back in her pocket. "Come on," she told his arm and led him forward despite resisting.
"Exchanging pleasantries," he answered distastefully wishing he had a case or would even accept being home doing an experiment. Anything would be better than the torture of socializing, then again, he mused looking down at his companion, who was latched onto him in a rather affectionate manner.
"With John and Mary," she reminded him hoping it would change his opinion on socializing. After all, John was his best friend, and he- no surprised to Jen who knew Mary and Sherlock rather well- seemed to take a shine to Mary, something he hadn't done with John's previous girlfriends. He 'mm'ed at her saying nothing more on the topic as they continued to walk together.
"Ah, here we are," Jen said stopping at the cafe and holding the door open for Sherlock. They both stepped in to be greeted immediately by Mary and John already at a table. They both sat down facing the couple.
"This is nice," Mary said pleasantly smiling at Jen surprised and happy to see her out and about with Sherlock. She was secretly hoping that the two would get together and soon. After Sherlock had showed up at their doorstep that night of a broken heart, she had begun plotting getting the two together, and it was a great challenge with some many obstacles in her way including Jen's stubbornness and current boyfriend and Sherlock's refusal to acknowledge his own emotions. "You two make up then?"
"No," Jen replied at the same time Sherlock replied with, "Yes." They stared at each other for a moment in confusion believing that the other understood where they were standing in their relationship. The truth was, however, that no one, not even the two in question, could really tell you were they stood. They were in a hazy gray area.
"I thought I was-" Sherlock started, but she cut him off.
"We're not back to where we were," she reminded him taking a sip of her tea, and honestly, maybe it was a good thing they weren't back to where they were. Their relationship had come to a standstill with everyone waiting for it to finally move forward. Their previous relationship was full of denial and self-sabotage; it could be better.
"But you forgive me," he responded quickly accepting the idea that they weren't back to the way they were but needing her forgiveness even if it killed him.
"Eh," she said giving him a shaky gesture not really ready to forgive him.
"Oh for God's sake," he sneered slamming his hands down on the table. "This has gone on long enough, Ginny. What do I have to do? Do you want me to stand in the street, and you can hit me with your car? Will that be enough compensation?"
"You really don't get it, do you?" she asked believing he really didn't understand what she was feeling when he really did, but the ones to have seen the cause of her retaliation were John and Mary, who sat grimacing at the pair. Jen punched Sherlock's arm as hard as she could. To his credit, he barely winced. "Did that hurt?"
"Yes." She punched him again five times in quick secession.
"Bet that hurt, didn't it? That's what it feels like… inside because of you. I'm working on getting over it." Just to add insult to injury she punched even harder in his side cause him to fall off his seat onto the floor of the cafe.
"You're getting your strength back," he noted standing wincing ever so slightly but highly satified that she was slowly getting back to full health. She smirked in satisfaction as he flopped back in his chair after her. He might just have to challenge to a round in the ring soon. There was just something completely intoxicating fighting with her in the ring with adrenaline slamming through their bodies.
"So, Ginny, the wedding-" Mary started but was immediately cut off by Jen's phone. It went off in a succession of howls making her suddenly pause as if frozen. Ice seemed to have seeped in her veins as she remained fixed in her seat. It can't be; why would they be contacting her?
"Jen, your phone," Mary said. What? How long had she been speaking? "Jen, you phone," she repeated before Jen picked up her phone and stared at the blocked number before shaking she answered it.
"Hello?" she asked her voice cracking worried what news the call would bring. It wouldn't be good; she was sure of it.
"Lupa," the woman whispered not bothering with any code; she was too much of a mess to care about that now. "Ulmar is dead." Ulmar. Ulmar was one of the members she was closest to with his words of reason and gentle ways. His came to her as a shock. No one should know about Shadow, and she shook her head. It's possible this had nothing to do with Shadow. It had to be just a coincidence.
"By who?" Jen asked starting off calm but growing panicked. "What happened? Maiyun! Tell me what happened!" She ended shouting pushing back her chair letting it collapse to the ground as she stood ready to run there if she had to. She needed to know this was not random; this couldn't be because of who he was. It just couldn't.
"I… I don't-"
"Where are you? I'm coming," she said cutting her off needing to see this with her own eyes.
"I'm at his flat; I haven't called the police yet. I don't know what to do," she whimpered looking for answers from the woman. Jen took a deep breath trying to remain calm and set a good example.
"I'll be there just wait for me. Don't call the police," she closed the phone looking to Sherlock. "I need your help; a friend has been killed, and I need to know by who." Sherlock stood ready to help her and just dying for a good case. A murder was exactly what he needed.
"Come on, John," Sherlock demanded needing his physician to work a murder case.
"Uh Mary, I-" John started trying to find an excuse, but it was proving hard since she was sitting right there when Sherlock told him to come with.
"Go," she gestured making him smile as Jen was already out the door hailing a cab but failing. Sherlock held up a hand cause a cab to screech to a halt. Jen didn't bother to give him a look of envy as he slid into the cab.
"So who is it? Who's dead?" John asked reaching them.
"Ulmar, he was the information specialist in Shadow," she said sliding in after Sherlock. "I don't know what happened; I just got a message from Maiyun. She's Ulmar's wife and a former accountant for Shadow."
"Accountant?" John asked surprised shutting the door after he follow suit.
"Well, we needed someone to keep the books," she told him with a slight smile but not really putting her all in it. She was worried, and that much was clear. Not that either of the boys could blame her; she had just lost a friend, but it was so much more than that. If someone killed him because he was in Shadow, it meant danger. She feared what Accalia had warned her of three years previously. A rumor was circulating in remaining members of Shadow, and it put her in a state of shock and fear: Ursa was not dead.
A dark, short haired woman leaned against the building taking deep breaths as she tried to remain calm and collect especially for the little boy, who was currently holding her hand ignorant of his mother's odd behavior. A cab stopped in front of her making her stand fully erect as some sort of sigh of respect.
"Lupa," she cried out when she got out the cab. The woman threw her arms around her looking for support leaving all dignity aside as she cried out for her lost husband.
"Sh, sh, it will be okay. Calm, Maiyun" she muttered into the woman's hair patting her back. She wished to stay and comfort her, but she had other, more important matters to deal with. She would have to take a page from Sherlock's book and shut off her emotions temporarily. "Where's the body?" she asked stiffly.
"Through here," she whispered taking a step to the building but paused looking down at the boy. "Stay," she told her son before she lead them in the building, up two flights of stairs, and pushed the door open not baring to look inside to see. Jen walked in first followed by John and Sherlock. Sherlock and John got to work right away on the body of a rather small, slim man, who had a single bullet hole in his forehead. His brown hair fell over the clean hole and covered half of his dead amber eyes. Jen lingered staring at the body of her old friend pushing the emotions out of the way. She needed to think clearly; she needed to understand what happened. Mourning had to be saved for later.
"Do you see this, Sherlock?" John asked pointing at the cabinet that held a handgun pointing out of the cabinet at a slight angle. Sherlock stood from the body and looked at the gun before following the thin wire that led from the trigger to a small pulley that then in turn lead to the doors to the cabinet.
"Someone rigged it to shoot whoever opened the cabinet," Sherlock told them turning his attention to the body again. Jen sighed pinching the bridge of her nose; this wasn't looking good. This was too specific to be random, and that terrified her.
"Did your husband have any enemies?" John called out to Maiyun, who stood out in the hallway unable to will herself in. She let out a bitter laugh.
"He was a member of Shadow. Of course he had enemies," she told him as if she was speaking to a child, "but none that could find us. I'm sure of it."
"Why is he holding the landline?" John asked Sherlock noting the phone gripped in his hand. Sherlock slowly moved to the body before he pulled the phone from his hand. Sherlock looked at the caller ID.
"Blocked number," Sherlock told them figuring as much. "Someone called him to tell him to open the cabinet."
"Why would he listen to some stranger over the phone?" John asked.
"Because it wasn't a stranger," Sherlock told them simply having already deduced this much. "Someone he knew called him and told him to open the cabinet. It had to be someone who knew him well. The gun is aimed perfectly so it would shoot him in the head; they had to know his height; they would have to know he would do as they asked." Sherlock looked to Jen, who was rigid. John put a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she didn't react. He was quick to understand this was worry not mourning. She feared someone was targeting members of the dismantled organization, and she would be one of the next targets. He needed to figure this out; her life may depend on it. "What do you usually keep in the cabinet? You've moved it before we got here," Sherlock accused seeing the dust that had formed around what used to be there, papers.
"Its information about Shadow that David… er Ulmar kept through the years. He built on it; it was hobby. He liked to learn more about the members even after we were disbanded." Sherlock paused and slowly turned toward the doorway Maiyun stood outside of.
"You called Ginny for a reason. Why?" he asked. "Why her specifically?"
"Whoever they were who killed David… they stole your file, Lupa," Maiyun whispered wishing she could have stopped them. Wishing she could have strangled them with her own hands even if she was just an accountant. "It's gone, everything. David has been obsessing over your file over the last few days and…"
"So," Sherlock said turning to Jen cutting off Maiyun, "it's not an enemy of his that did that. It's an enemy of yours."
"Mine?" she questioned in a breath not willing to accept this consensus. "Nearly everyone from that life thinks I'm dead with the exception of Accalia, Maiyun, Ulmar, Susi, and Ulric. None of my enemies know I'm alive, Sherlock. I'm sure of that." She wasn't sure; she always had doubts, and this was confirming them. She was terrified that they would target those she cared for. She was terrified if it was... no, she was dead, then again, so was Sherlock Holmes, yet here he was.
"Then how do you explain that?" Sherlock asked pointing at the gun. "David Brown had a bullet put through his brain, because he had inform- oh," Sherlock whispered pushing his hands together under his chin as he realized the answer was staring right at him. "Oh," he breathed against looking at the gun and then at Jen as he put puzzle pieces together. "I missed one; I had to have."
"Missed what?" Jen asked lost.
"Hm?" Sherlock asked feigning ignorance. "Nothing, it's nothing. We can't do anything about this now," he said rushing out of the flat knowing there was nothing else he could find in the flat. "I suggest you call the police," he told Maiyun as he ran down the steps trying to avoid Jen's inevitable questioning.
"Sherlock!" Jen called after him as he came out onto the street; John followed. "Sherlock Holmes! What are you not telling me!? I demand you tell me!" she shouted at him throwing herself in front of his cab door when he didn't answer. "Tell me." He paused and stared at her not sure if he should tell her his theory, tell her how much danger she was in, but she needed to know if only to protect herself.
"Ginny," he breathed, "Moriarty wanted something with you, and I thought I broke up all of his web, but… I may have been… wrong. It's possible there's one here in London still looking for you. Don't you understand?" he asked gripping her shoulders."He was obsessed with you."
"He had a mild interest, Sherlock. I wouldn't say obsessed, and he was only interested in me because of you," she reminded him. He shook his head understanding how she believed that as he himself had once believed them same, but even so, it was wrong and that shook him even just a little. At the same time, it was completely thrilling that his enemy could be challenging him even from beyond the grave.
"I talked to every person close to him, and they all confirmed what I feared. Ginny, you were more than just pawn in his game with me, but I failed; I don't know what he wanted with you." He scanned her face trying to register what she was feeling, but she was showing nothing. She was thinking what he had told her, and she pieced his wonderful little puzzle together. "Ginny?"
"Did you… did you leave to find them for me?" she asked him. He shift in front of her and opened his mouth before he shut it. "Did you ruin your reputation and fake your own death risking your relationship with me, John, everyone just to find out what Moriarty wanted with me?"
"No, no, don't be ridiculous," he told her trying to seem emotionally aloof, but she could see right through him. She always could.
"Do you really… that much?" she asked her voice cracking.
"I didn't know what he wanted with you," Sherlock snapped; she shouldn't be grateful when him leaving helped nothing, "and I still don't, but I couldn't sit back and let him do what he wanted. Don't you understand, Ginny? He's been interested in you since the beginning."
"Sherlock, why didn't you just… I'm sorry," she whispered not giving a rat's ass about Moriarty anymore. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what?" he asked her trying to trace her line of thought. She was being erratic.
"You were trying to tell me from the beginning that you've been fighting for me, and I haven't been listening," she answered with a breath.
"I failed," he told her upset with her apologies this time. "Someone has an extensive file on you, and Moriarty still has you trapped in his web, and I have no idea why or by who."
"I don't care," she replied shaking her head. He stared at her with an incredulous look; she was still a target, and yet, she threw caution to the wind.
"Ginny-"
"I don't," she informed him cutting him off, "let Moriarty do what he wants. I've got you fighting for me, and I still believe you, Sherlock Holmes, even after everything." He stared at her trying to understand her, but at some sort of subconscious level he refused to recognized, he was touched by her words.
"You think I can protect you…?" he asked her.
"Yes," she answered definitely with a smile before she turned to finally enter to cab but paused and turned back to him and stood on her toes kissing his cheek lingering for longer than necessary. His hands settled on her waist quite involuntarily. "Thank you, and I'm sorry. I am so sorry; I thought you did this for your own… I'm sorry," she told him sliding into the cab quietly. He and John followed, and Ginny looked to him hoping he had answers for the murder of her friend.
"So who killed Ulmar?"
"I don't know; they left nothing for me to see. They knew what they were doing," Sherlock told her seeming rather irritated by his lack of knowledge, "but I'll find out."
"So another question then," she told him ready to head in a different direction, "why has Moriarty been so interested in me?"
"I don't know," he told her again sounding aggravated once again. It seemed more and more with incidences involving Jen that he knew nothing. "There is nothing that connects you and Moriarty outside of me! You said it yourself you never… you never… No," he muttered looking at her starting to grasp at an obvious answer. "Oh, of course not. You wouldn't have met him; why would you need to? Oh, but that makes sense."
"What makes sense? Mind filling us in?" John asked gesturing to himself and Jen. She was thankful the good Doctor spoke her thoughts.
"You've never met him, Ginny, but someone you know has. Of course. They have similar ideals."
"Who?" Jen asked with a frown still not understanding.
"Peter," he told her a smile growing on his face. "Don't you understand?" he asked becoming excited. "Moriarty funded serial killers, and your brother was, of course, one of his most profitable killers. Moriarty knew you before you met him. I bet you anything."
"I would have met him," Jen assured him.
"No," Sherlock shook his head, "if you did, he would make sure you didn't know who he was. You were on the side of angels, and he needed your brother. I'll bet you anything that's what connects you to Moriarty."
"Moriarty," Sherlock said slamming the door open. Peter looked up to Sherlock bored.
"What about Jim?" Peter asked him dully before he continued bouncing a ball off the wall in a bored fashion. He was growing impatient waiting for a chance to… well, it matters little, but a bored serial killer was a very bad thing indeed.
"You knew him," Sherlock replied.
"Every criminal knew James Moriarty," Peter told him before he chucked the ball at John's head, who ducked out of the way as Peter turned to John crossing his legs in Sherlock's chair. "Another boyfriend of yours, Jenma?" he asked observing John in a similar fashion Sherlock did when deducing someone. "Military. Suppose you know how to take down a man?"
"Yeah, I do, so I would watch it if I were you," John warned.
"Military men, nurses, teachers, detectives, bartenders, in the end, they all scream the same," Peter replied tired of this conversation already. He was bored and craved his medication. He craved for screaming to fill his ears and blood to fill his senses. He wanted to watch them squirm and beg, and here he was, being taken care of by a little old lady filling his time with tennis balls and the internet. "I've taken down men like you; it's actually pathetically easy since most men of your occupation tend to be boozers like daddy dearest." His eyes turned to Sherlock forgetting he was in the room for a moment. "Sorry, we were interrupted. You were saying something specific about Jim?"
"He knew Ginny," Sherlock accused. "He knew about her. He's seen her; he was intrigued. How could he not be? A woman whose story he couldn't tell from just looking at her. James Moriarty is me, and to me, Ginny is an exquisite enigma that requires my concentration to solve." Jen felt her mood lift at the Holmesian praise.
"I believe that's the highest degree of compliment you've ever given me; you're making me blush, Mr. Holmes," she teased, and in fact, her face was just a shade darker.
"Shut up, Ginny," but he was suppressing a smile. "Well?" Peter stared at Sherlock before he eyes flashed to Jen. The truth or a lie? Well, it was useless to lie when Holmes already accepted his deduction as truth no matter what he said.
"Jim would… drop by the house to give me the check," Peter admired. "Gina would be running around; barely took a second glance at him, but what he saw, he liked. You think Ursa, James Moriarty's former lover, running into Gina was an accident? You think they were enemies by fate?" Peter smirked. "Oh no. Jim found her, and he wanted to see who could win: my sister or his lover, and the winner gets his attention. He thought it was a stalemate though; he thought they killed each other until as fate should have it, he stumbled across you, Mr. Holmes, and there she was waiting."
"No," Sherlock said viciously getting too close to Peter now. "Moriarty didn't care if he lived; he wanted something specific, something that could be accomplished even after his death. What?" Peter took a breath and stood pushing Sherlock away from him.
"I don't know," he lied. "I haven't seen Jim in years. Locked away, remember? Whatever he had planned for Gina isn't something I have the privilege to know."
"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Jen asked as he made his way to the stairs to the room he had been sleeping in.
"Oh, I didn't think it was so important; can't change the past," he told her walking up the stairs leaving them wishing to remain out of the interrogator's eye.
"Well, he seems a real joy," John remarked bitterly as Jen sighed and let herself fall into her chair. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. Her hands slowly slid down her jacket, and Sherlock watched her hands carefully.
"Why do you were his jacket so often?" Sherlock asked. She was muttering something incomprehensible to herself. He came closer to her trying to hear what she was saying, but she jolted out what seemed to be a trance. Perhaps she was in her version of a mind palace, though he imagined it was cluttered and wasn't often used as his was. Interesting, he was sure, wishing he could take a peek inside.
"What?" she asked not catching his earlier question.
"The jacket, why do you wear it so often?" he repeated by seemed to grow weary of repeating himself.
"Seems like a waste for something so expensive-" she started.
"No," he disagreed with her reasoning. "You don't care for materialism. Why do you wear it?" She seemed to be searching for an answer before she shrugged.
"I just… do," she told him shaking her head. Sherlock sat in his chair and pushed his hands together under his chin.
"I better get off to Mary," John told them causing Jen to stand.
"Tell Mary sorry about lunch," she said before kissing his cheek. He headed off not waiting for so much as a good-bye from Sherlock, who was deep in his mind palace. Jen sat down before she picked up one of her sketch books and a pencil. She might as well do something while Sherlock's stuck riffling through her room in his mind palace…
He pulled the large wooden double doors open to Jen's room in his mind palace. The room was brightly lit with several windows that looked out into various memories that could be switched at will. Currently the five memories that were playing on the windows of the room were the first time they had spoken in school, the first time he had met Jen in London, their time alone in Holmes manor, the 'date' to the opera, and lastly, the last time he spoke to her since his suicide, and the first time he spoke to her after as well. The room, he noted since he had last been in there, had grown rather alarmingly large. It contained several book shelves as well as furniture that were all some sort of antique including Jen's piano that currently had a ghost of Jen from Christmas singing I Hold Your Hand In Mine. Some of Jen's paintings were framed on to wall. Sherlock could hear her speaking the article she wrote aloud as a nagging reminder.
"Can I help you, Sherlock?" Jen asked standing from in front of him in jeans and her green jumper. She smiled at him, a smile she always reserved for him. He had grown fond of that smile, and its gentle acceptance. This was how he enjoyed remembering her.
"Moriarty," he told her.
"James Moriarty. One-to-one psychopath," she replied.
"Yes, I know that much," he told her with a growl. "Tell me about your childhood, Ginny."
"Of course," she said with a nod. "We've discussed it many times. My mother-"
"Start from the age of 15," he told her. The room seemed to have glitched slightly as Jen changed from the woman today to the dyed-blonde girl who had too much makeup on and too many piercings and tattoos. She was wearing her school uniform as he remembered it.
"What do you want to know, Mr. Holmes?" she asked.
"Tell me about yourself, Ginny."
"There's not much to tell," she told him with a shrug. "I rebelled against my brother is some silly attempt to find freedom. I wanted to go back to my family. I like the arts and would like to be a performer. I killed Connor Waite. I-"
"Wait, go back," he told her.
"I killed Connor Waite?" she questioned. "It's not really so important, Mr. Holmes."
"Yes, no, not to me," he told her. "Tell me what you know about Connor Waite."
"He was a psychopath," Ginny replied. "He tried to rape me and kill me; I killed him first."
"You killed him first," he whispered.
"What was that?" Jen asked as the room faded, and he was staring at Jen, who was now sipping tea glancing at him while a sketch book remained in her lap.
"Connor Waite," Sherlock told her. "We need to know about Connor Waite."
"What about him?" she frowned not understanding where he came in to play.
"It is my belief that he knew Moriarty," Sherlock told her standing, "and as fate would have it, if you believe in that sort of idiotic thing," he muttered throwing his papers around before he found what he was looking for. He handed it to Jen, who took the invitation.
"How often do you get these?" she asked rolling her eyes. It was a function inviting all the school's alumni to come and participate in events that would require them throwing their money at a school that didn't need any more funding.
"I don't know; I usual ignore them," he told her, "but this time I'll have to go, and you're coming with me."
"But," she pointed toward the stairs that led to her brother.
"Mrs. Hudson and Damon will watch him. We'll only be gone for a day or so," he replied with a wave of his hand to dismiss the worry. "If Connor has a connection to Moriarty, and you killed him, that put you in his path, Ginny," Sherlock told her. "Everything will start coming together." She sighed not ever wanting to go back to the school, but nodded agreeing it was the best route. "I don't like it either, believe me." He collapsed into his chair. "The last time I was at that wretched school everyone thought I had murdered you and Connor. It had quite the advantage; they all avoided me as if they feared me. Laughable really."
"Well, this should be fun then," she replied with a smile. "I'll be coming back from the dead."
"Hm," he mused with a smile. Perhaps this would be just a little fun with the dead coming back to life and serial killers roaming the grounds.
A/n: Wowza, long chapter. I had a really hard time writing this, and I'm not entirely sure I like it yet. Also, much to my annoyance, as we progress further and further along, I feel like Sherlock is getting out of character. Oi. On the bright side, your author would like to share her personal victory. I just got my acceptance letter to my university of choice, so that is quite exciting.
Thanks to reviewers: hannahhobnob, zare . downey . okumura, and knetterzak. Still considering looking for a beta kids. Anyway, I will see you next Saturday as the twice a week updates are stopping here on as I do have school. Review please! Let me know how I am doing!