Chapter 13

"She's here" John Watson said. "It was about time!" replied Sherlock, his eyes glued to the newspaper he had brought with him to kill the inevitable downtime that usually occurred during a tailing and a stakeout.

"You didn't tell me the resemblance to her brother was so remarkable!" John complained as he leaned more comfortably against the wall behind which he and Sherlock had hidden to better observe the entrance of Tom Langdon's goldsmith shop. Sherlock merely shrugged, "Not relevant".

"Here's Langdon coming back!" John announced with a whisper after a few minutes of silence. "Of course he's coming back" Sherlock muttered under his breath. He had returned to get the money.

It remained to be established whether said money was actually intended to pay for the repair of Molly's family jewel as Mrs Cowper had told Wiggins in confidence or would instead be used to pay a ransom for Miss Potter.

Although Sherlock had difficulty understanding how Miss Hooper could be in possession of a sum of money sufficient to cover a ransom demand. In fact, he didn't think that her three-weekly job at Bennet's Refuge brought her much profit. She had most likely asked his brother for help in raising the sum required for Miss Potter's release.

This meditation brought up yet a further question in him. If Dr Hooper knew what Molly would use the money for, why hadn't he come and give it to Langdon?

Sherlock understood the pathologist's belief that his sister was worthy of his deepest trust, but this was still a potentially dangerous situation. If he had been in his place, he would not have allowed Molly to go to such a meeting alone.

"Those two know each other…and quite well, I would say".

Sherlock couldn't tell if it was John's amused tone that forced him to look up from the newspaper or rather the meaning of his words. The fact is that he found himself following his friend's gaze to the other side of the road and his heart, as his eyes took in the pesky tableau in front of him, began to beat with a strange, nervous rapidity.

Langdon was practically attached to Molly's slender body. One hand splayed across the small of her back and the other wrapped around her free one. Her bearing didn't give the impression that the man was holding her forcibly in his arms. Quite the contrary. She seemed….content with his closeness.

Sherlock felt a sour taste in his mouth. Bile, his brain processed. And a deep irritation instantly came over him.

Whether it was due to seeing Molly in such an intimate attitude with a man in the middle of a public street, albeit in the shadows of the evening, or whether to the fact that he was now certain that Molly was involved in Miss Potter's disappearance, Sherlock couldn't tell nor did he really want to find out.

"Something tells me they are a couple".

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation and noisily folded the newspaper in quarters, "No, they're not" he blurted out, hoping that the absurd annoyance he felt, did not transpire from his voice. "Accomplices, yes. But definitely not a couple. In the romantic sense, I mean".

"How can you say that?" John asked crossing his arms over his chest, "You have to admit that it wouldn't be the first time you missed a detail" he added even though on his face there was the resigned expression of someone who knows that he could have given the answer himself if only he had thought a second longer before speaking. And in fact the lecture was not long in coming.

"If Miss Hooper had a romantic relationship with Mr Langdon, her landlady would not have required them to meet in the foyer in her presence. She would have allowed him to come up to her flat, considering that Dr Hooper was there, even though he was asleep".

"Hmm" John was clearly dubious and turned his gaze back to the two on the opposite footpath, "They may not be romantically involved, as you say, but trust me when I say those two have seen each other naked numerous times".

Naked. The word slithered so deeply into him that Sherlock could swear he saw Molly and Langdon in his mind's eyes. Clung to each other, panting and sweaty. And he stopped breathing entirely.

"You're wrong" he wanted grind out. But who was he to question the word of someone who had had relations with several women in several nations? John was dubbed three continents Watson for a reason, wasn't he? Sherlock on the other hand…well, it was well known that young women, girlfriends in this case, were not his area.

Unfortunately the undisputed experience of his friend was of no help. In fact, it did nothing to calm that unknown torment that had taken possession of his insides the moment he had laid his eyes on Molly and Mr Langdon. John's assertion the two of them had a very intimate relationship lit a burning fire in his belly.

Dear God, was it…jealousy?

He forcefully pushed that idea out of his head, reminding himself he wasn't a man of emotions. All emotions, and in particular love, stood opposed to the pure, cold reason he held above all things. But…

But it was also true that despite this firm belief of his, in those last two days, his unruly imagination had time and again triggered countless fantasies about Molly. In most of them, she was wearing nothing.

"I guess we can't do anything but wait ", John's voice intruded on his thoughts. Sherlock glanced at the empty footpath. Molly and Langdon had entered the goldsmith's workshop. "Let's hope they didn't come here to…" he trailed off unable to hold back a snigger, "Entertain each other!".

Sherlock rolled his eyes and decided to completely ignore his friend's pun. They were working not gossiping, for God's sake!

His main concern at that moment remained to figure out if the money exchange had taken place and to make sure that Molly was not harmed. Everything else didn't matter.

Honestly though…what the hell were they doing in there…in the dark?

Unbidden, a tantalising image of Molly slipped into his mind. She was removing her Spenser jacket and her pristine blouse. Her intense brown eyes watching him as he watched her undress. Her smile was warm and radiant in the dim candlelight as she beckoned him to come closer.

Sherlock blinked once, twice…This was madness.

It was unacceptable that his mind would play such tricks on him. In the middle of a stakeout no less! He was Sherlock Holmes, for God's sake! He had to regain control of himself. He had to put Molly aside in the room he had devised for her within his Mind Palace and lock her inside.

"Sherlock? A carriage has just stopped", it was the urgency in John's voice that brought him out of his ramblings. "Sherlock?" John urged him again, "We should locate a carriage too".

"Yes" the consulting detective agreed, then promptly turned towards the end of the alley. He slid two fingers between his lips letting out a whistle so resonant that John had to cover his ears.

"What the hell!" the doctor cursed, "On its way!" Sherlock said tersely as if that were the usual way of summoning a carriage. John rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Oh, shut up. It's quick" and with long strides he began to walk, "I warned the cabman who brought us here to remain within earshot".

Well, of course it was the obvious thing to do.

Within a few minutes both carriages, the one carrying Sherlock and John and the one carrying Molly and Tom Langdon, rolled north.

Unlike his friend who kept poking his head outside to make sure their driver didn't lose sight of Molly's carriage, Sherlock was deep in thought. Thank goodness the insane moment in which neither his body nor his mind seemed to have been able to function in their usual way had passed and he had regained total control of both.

This didn't mean his thoughts weren't inevitably focused on Molly. There was no longer doubts about her involvement in Miss Potter's disappearance. It remained to be determined to what extent. Not that knowing whether she was the mastermind or a mere accomplice made much difference.

Once he located and brought Miss Potter back to the affections of her parents and fiancé, not only the cause of her removal, voluntary or otherwise, would come to light but also the identity of those who had helped, guided and protected her in this undertaking.

And Molly would have to face the consequences of her misdeed. And the mere idea of what this would entail made his stomach turn. He couldn't ignore the fact that this time he didn't have a villain as opponent. This time he was dealing with an intelligent, kind-hearted woman who had committed a reckless action, confident she was acting in her friend's best interest.

He had to think of something to get her out of trouble.

"Fitzrovia" John said as the carriage grounded to a halt. Sherlock frowned and craned his head out the window. He looked at the narrow, twisting medieval streets with genuine surprise. It seemed like ages had passed since he last set foot in that quarter.

"Well, that's rich, indeed!" Watson added, lazily stroking his moustache. "What?" Sherlock asked moving his gaze to the opposite window. His friend pointed with his finger to a terraced house located at the beginning of an internal road, "Miss Hooper and Langdon just walked in there".

Sherlock frowned. Hard this time.

He didn't need to read the small plaque next to the door to know what kind of house it was. He knew the place all too well from his youth.

"Les petits plaisirs" John spelled out the name slowly, his French accent poorly done. "A brothel, no less" he continued barely hiding his amusement, "If Miss Hooper were not related to Isabel Stamford, whose morals I know to be absolutely beyond reproach, it might explain why she and Mr Langdon know each other so well".

Sherlock looked daggers at him, "Don't be small-minded, John. It doesn't suit you". Watson raised his hands chuckling "It was a joke! You're quite sensitive when it comes to Miss Hooper!".

"You're rambling, John" Sherlock said indignantly. "If I didn't know you well I would say…" the rest of Watson's words were cut off as Sherlock flung open the door of the carriage, "He's leaving".

"Who? Langdon?" John whispered as if the man in question could hear him, "What do we do now?". Sherlock jumped down from the vehicle, "Keep tailing Langdon" he instructed, "I'll meet you in Baker Street. If you can't stay until I return, leave me a note with all details of his whereabouts".

"What about you?". "I'll take care of Miss Hooper".

There was just a trace of a dark satisfaction in Sherlock's voice as he turned his back on his friend and looked towards the bawdy house.