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A punishment worthy the crime

" Just leave it! I'll take it with me when I go."

Holly recoiled from the tea cup as if the delicate porcelain had burnt her fingertips, when really it was cold. Only an auburn-coloured ring lingered at the bottom.

She straightened and cleared her throat.

" I wanted to check if you needed anything before I head out. There's a lot of paper work that are due today so I may not be back until supper."

Lockwood said nothing at first. Seated so reclined in his favourite armchair that he was practically laying down; his gaze was lost into nothingness. With an index finger stuck between his teeth and the tea cup since long abandoned on the sideboard next to him, it was no wonder she had thought him lost in thoughts. They were all classical signs of a brooding Lockwood.

Clearly, he wasn't as lost in thoughts as she thought. made all the classical signs of a brooding Lockwood.

He took the finger from his mouth.

" I'm leaving for a client meeting later so I'll be needing one of those shirts you washed for me yesterday ironed."

Holly bit back a groan. She had hoped to leave at once to be sure to be done with the errands and safely back on Portland Row before the curfew.

Ever since DEPRAC introduced the new regulations in the aftermath of the Chelsea outbreak, the agency was drowning in paper work. Literally. Everything was to be put on record; and to a level of detail that seemed ridiculous to every agency assistant in London. What was even more ridiculous, and had no one laughing, were the incredibly high fines coming with failing to hand in the paperwork on time. Just one paper and a small angency like Lockwood and Co. would be out of business.

Holly couldn't allow that to happen, not after the damage she had already made to agency. So, she kept a neat schedule, assigning each day an hour or two to go through the papers and Thursday afternoons to hand them in. The rest of the time she kept her fingers crossed that neither of the boys would do anything to draw Inspector Barnes attention to them. Lockwood, in particular, never seemed to miss an opportunity to piss the man off.

Holly tried not to look at the thin cut on Lockwood's neck as she turned to leave. Another one to add to the collection on his smooth skin. His recklessness was beginning to get out of hand. Last night, he had escaped death only by an inch while fighting a cluster of ghosts single-handedly. And that just because he couldn't wait for her and George to get there. He was either the bravest person Holly knew, or the luckiest. She didn't dare to find out which.

"Oh, and Holly?" Lockwood called just as she was about to leave the library. Holly halted and turned around. All sweet smile and attentive gaze. Lockwood, on the other hand, could have been carved in stone. Cold, hard, icy stone.

" Make sure to iron my shirt collars properly this time, will you? I can't look like a beggar in front of the clients, or they'll think they can pay us less than Rotwell or Fittes."

His words were like daggers. Holly's smile widened but no joy sparkled in her eyes.

" Of course, I'm sorry. I'll see to it right away."

Lockwood dismissed her with an elegant flick of his hand. Holly walked out to the hallway with the serenity of an angel, but boiled on the inside. How dared he wave her off like that! Like he was a young lord and she was nothing but a simple maid. With the kitchen door closed behind her, she inhaled the smell of burnt toast and let it out again in a growl.

Why? Why had she bothered to be nice to him? It was one of those days? His reckless behaviour last night should have made her call-in sick today. Why didn't she ever learn?

Because you are a nice person who likes to please people. Even when they walk all over you. The voice inside her head sounded a lot like Lucy. An annoying habit her conscious had adopted of late.

Lucy . . .

The feisty girl would have known what to do. She always seemed to know what was ailing Lockwood even when he didn't know it himself. Holly never had the slightest clue.

Too bad Lucy isn't here anymore, is it? I wonder whose fault that is?

The growl turned into a whimper. Holly knew she shouldn't beat herself up. Lucy claimed her resignation had nothing to with Holly, so why did Holly feel guilty?

Because everything was fine before you came along and you know it. Sure, it wasn't perfect. The house was a mess and they were overworked but they were happy. Everything changed when you came into the picture. Her own voice this time. It was even worse than to hear Lucy say it. And more so, because it had a point. It was her presence at 35 Portland Row that had served as a catalyst for the series of events that eventually broke the trio apart. She may not have intended it to, but so it was.

Her shoulders sank.

It was four months ago since Lucy had made the decision to pack her things and walk out of the house. Or rather, snuck out. In the middle of the night. While the boys were sleeping to not have to say goodbye. Awfully a lot of thinking could be performed during four months. Holly knew it for she had done it. In the wake of Lucy's departure, she had searched her soul for answers to what had gone wrong and what she found didn't make her proud.

For starters, by refusing to acknowledge the budding feelings between Lockwood and Lucy, she had made herself act like a selfish fool. That Lockwood was smitten by his Listener had been evident from the get go. When he had mentioned at the interview that there was another girl on the team, his voice had softened and become warm. That Lucy returned the feeling had been equally evident by the look on her face when she had caught Holly sitting by her desk, having donuts with her boys.

A sensible person would have admitted the battle lost and politely backed away. Not Holly. No, she had been too busy falling head over heels for the adorably awkward creature that was the third member of Lockwood and Co to even dare to think about was just and right.

Like so many other girls her age, Holly loved a good project and Lucy was a project. She was an ugly duckling that with time would turn into a beautiful swan if cared for by the right person. Holly had believed herself to be that person. In fact, she had been so convinced about it that she had convinced herself that if she kept Lucy away from Lockwood long enough, Lucy would recognise the shadows surrounding him as true darkness and search for happiness at a much brighter place - Holly's arms, for instance.

Any sensible person would have realised that it was not likely to happen. Mainly because Lucy didn't swing that way. When Holly finally admitted that to herself, the damage to Lockwood and Lucy's relationship was already made. A cut in the once so solid bond turned into a rift that grew deeper until the threads unravelled so quickly there was no way to stop it. The Wintergarden case. Lockwood restricting Lucy from using her Talents. The events at the Aickmere's store. All of it leading up to Lucy's resignation . . .

A moan escaped Holly's lips. She actually never thought the girl would be crazy enough to go through with it. None of them did. They had all believed the resignation was a cry for attention. Nothing a winning smile and sweet words from Lockwood couldn't fix. How wrong they had been!

Despite Lockwood's best efforts, Lucy left them.

Never had Holly dreaded delivering bad news as much as she did that morning when she broke the news to the sleepy boys that their friend was gone. That said a lot considering she had made the dreadful call to the families of fallen agents more than once during her time at Rotwell. Only half way through their breakfast, it had taken them awhile to comprehend what she was saying. When they finally did, George came off his chair so quickly it toppled over and dashed up the stairs to see for himself. Lockwood, on the other hand, simply shut down. There was no better way to describe it.

He froze mid-motion and for the longest time nothing else happened but them staring at each other. Listening to George's rummaging the attic. Then Lockwood broke the deadlock by brushing crumbs from his long fingers. With a " That's that" he stood up and went about his day like nothing had happened.

Only something had happened. Everything changed from that point on. It felt like life itself had been sucked out of 35 Portland Row and its residents.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she pushed herself away from the door. She steered towards the basement.

There was no point crying over what couldn't be changed. Lucy was gone and there was nothing Holly could do about it. She didn't even know where the girl lived. All she had was the phone number Lucy had put in the newspaper to advertise her new business as a freelancer. That, if anything, was a sore point at 35 Portland Row.

Not only did Lucy survive on her own, she thrived. From what Holly could tell from the newspapers, Bonchurch and Rotwell were frequent clients of Lucy's. It was only a matter of time before Fittes lined up, too. And justly so. Holly hadn't been at Portland Row for very long before she was convinced that Lucy was one of the most talented agents she had ever met. Maybe even more talented than Lockwood. However, it was one thing going off freelancing and another thing entirely to work for the arch enemy. If Lockwood or George ever caught Lucy working for Fittes, all hopes of a reconciliation would be lost.

So far, Holly had managed to keep the full extent of Lucy's successes away from the boys by snatching the morning papers before they got out of bed. If Lucy's name was mentioned with any of the major agencies, she would make the page unreadable. If the boys suspected anything, they had not breathed a word about it. Just like they didn't breathe a word to her about most things nowadays.

Holly sighed as she set up the ironing board and plugged in the iron. It served her right, she supposed. Their silent treatment. It was her punishment for tearing the Iron-trio, as she liked to call them, apart. She liked to converse, laugh and meet new people. She needed it like a heart needed oxygen. Lucy had been the heart of the group. For chasing the heart away, Holly was deprived her oxygen.

The light on the iron switched from red to green. Holly snatched a pristine white shirt off the rack and put it on the ironing board. Just as she reached for the iron, she saw from the corner of her eyes how the blazer Lockwood had hung over the backrest of his desk chair now laid on the floor beneath it. Deciding she didn't want to be sneered at yet again, Holly went to pick it up.

A small piece of paper fell out from one of the pockets as she did so. Holly wouldn't have given it much thought had it not landed with the writing upwards. An address. Tooting? Holly frowned. What could Lockwood possibly want with an address in Tooting? He had no connections there. She doubted any of Tooting's residents could afford their rate so it couldn't be a client. But if it wasn't a client, then what was it? A childhood friend? An ex-girlfriend?

Holly glanced over her shoulder to make sure Lockwood wasn't lurking in the shadows behind her. He wasn't, of course. He was still upstairs in the library.

She turned on the lamp standing on the desk to study the paper closer. The ink was smeared, the paper slightly discoloured, and the folds were coming undone. The paper must have been in Lockwood's possession for quite some time. It was clearly of some significance for it had been opened and closed many times. Weird since she couldn't draw to memory ever seeing him holding a piece of paper like this one.

A frown appeared on her forehead and deepened as she recalled what little she knew about Tooting. Scruffy buildings. Busy streets. No greenery. No shopping street. Only pizza to eat. No one who couldn't afford better would ever consider settling down there . . .

Holly gaped when it dawned on her. No, it couldn't be, could it? He would have said something. Surely, he would have said something. Would he not?

Holly was suddenly not so sure. Lockwood didn't reveal his thoughts unless he saw a point in having other people knowing about them. He might not think that she needed to know about this.

She bit her lip. Did George know?

Once again, she wasn't sure. George had his quirks but he wasn't the master of secrets like Lockwood was. However, he had kept mostly to himself lately. Perhaps he wasn't testing Rotwell products like she thought. Maybe he kept in his room because he didn't want to reveal to her what Lockwood had told him. Or he was just as much in the dark as she was about this?

Only way to find out.

Holly memorized the address before gently putting it back in Lockwood's pocket. When she returned to ironing board it was with a renewed determination to get the chores and errands done as quickly as possible.