Chapter 4: A Conversation long overdue

The ride to the brownstone was quiet. Harry could feel Sherlock's scrutinizing gaze on him, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the faint hum of the city outside. Joan sat beside Sherlock, glancing between them, while Morland remained unreadable as ever.

Sherlock had been relatively silent since they left the safe house, but Harry knew that wouldn't last. And sure enough, the moment they stepped into the brownstone, Sherlock wasted no time.

"Your associates—Draco and Seamus—are liabilities," he declared bluntly.

Harry sighed, setting his coat aside. "And what, pray tell, makes you think that?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Father gave me brief background about them while we were coming here. From what he told me, Draco was raised in a supremacist household, indoctrinated into a cult of violent radicals before he was even of age. Finnegan, from what little I've gathered, has a history of—shall we say—explosive tendencies. Hardly the sort I'd entrust with a delicate operation."

Joan shot Sherlock a look, but Harry wasn't particularly bothered by his assessment—just irritated that he had to justify them again.

"You seem to believe that the past is an unshakable burden rather than something a man can rise above," Harry said, voice cool. "Yes, Draco was raised in a toxic environment. And he made the choice to walk away. His family helped dismantle that terrorist group from within, at great personal cost, because he chose to change sides. He's been through hell, Sherlock, and he came out of it stronger, wiser, and completely immune to the usual temptations of power and wealth. He doesn't need money—he sits on a mountain of gold bullion that appreciates in value every day. As proxy of the Black family, he has a seat in the House of Lords."

Morland raised an eyebrow. "And you trust him completely?"

"With my life," Harry said simply.

"And why such strong belief on his loyalty?", Morland asked.

"Because he saved my life.", Harry replied briskly.

"Explain", demanded Morland.

Harry sighed, messaging his forehead, then he took of his glasses and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He tried to think of an explanation without divulging too much specifics about the second blood war.

He started, "When Draco was in bad company, they once captured me, I was in danger so I was laying low. My captors, were not aware of my identity as one of the leaders of the opposition. But Draco, he knew me from school. He could have divulged that information and earned himself a favour. But, he did not do so, he lied to them about not knowing me and even helped me and my friends escape. Towards the end, his mother lied again to the head of terrorist cell. I won't go into the details, but he was a dangerous man and he made examples out of those who defied him. Her lie saved my life and played a vital role in the endgame. For these reasons, I testified in their favour, during the trials, which kept them out of the prison, and it helped his father earn a bit leniant prison sentence."

Sherlock shifted in his seat, unconvinced. "And Finnegan, is he loyal to you?"

"No, Seamus is not loyal to me per se.", replied Harry.

"Then why is he here? This task is of paramount importance, it would have made sense to involve people loyal to you.", asked Joan.

Harry exhaled, rubbing his temple. "There is a difference between loyalty and respect. Me and Seamus respect each other. On the other hand, Seamus is answerable to me. Plus he is the best we have. He has been causing explosions since he was eleven. Possibly before. He's a pyromaniac, yes, but he's also the best demolitions expert I have. Moriarty's organization won't be able to cause any more bombings—not when the best man for the job works for me now. He once blew up hundreds of terrorists when he was 17. Of course, he had help, but I give credit where it's due."

Joan frowned slightly. "Hundreds?"

Harry shrugged. "He blew up a bridge they were standing on. No casualties on our side, though."

Joan gave him a look that suggested she wasn't sure if she was more impressed or horrified.

Morland, ever the pragmatist, smoothly shifted the conversation. "And where are the children?"

Harry's expression softened slightly. "With Andromeda. She raised my godson, Teddy. They're in good hands."

This admission surprised Sherlock and Joan, Sherlock choked on the tea he was drinking.

"Children?", he croaked out.

"Yes children Sherlock, they are quite eager to meet their uncles though, they had quite a pleasant time with Father. Though James, my eldest is planning quite a few pranks for you when I told him about you.", smirked Harry.

Joan, who had been quiet so far, finally asked, "Bacj to the topic why would Draco—and by extension, Lord Black—be willing to sacrifice billions in drug revenue for this plan?"

Harry's gaze flickered to her. "Because I am Lord Black, and I am not losing anything."

Sherlock frowned. "Explain."

Harry smirked. "The drugs he was supposedly smuggling never existed. Vikner needed to believe they were real, but they never had to be medical grade—or real at all."

Joan frowned. "And how exactly do you have access to that quantity of medical-grade drugs in the first place?"

Harry leaned back, his voice casual. "The Black family owns a lot of land. Some of it is used—legally—to grow and cultivate drugs for medical use. Everything is above board, licensed, and properly taxed. Instead of selling them, I donate them to public hospitals in Britain. It's driven the price of medicine down significantly."

Joan's eyes widened slightly. "You just… give them away?"

Harry nodded. "I call it atonement for the Black family's past crimes. The donation is made through the May Holmes Foundation."

Morland and Sherlock exchanged glances at the name. Morland's lips pressed into a thin line. Sherlock, however, cut straight to the point.

"Why?"

For the first time since he entered, Harry hesitated. His gaze flickered down, something unreadable passing through his expression.

"For however short a time we were together, May was my mother," he finally said. "Her kindness reminded me of my own mother, Lily, who died protecting me from a terrorist when I was just a baby. Even after Mary relapsed into opium, she still convinced Father to adopt me. She didn't have to do that. She didn't owe me anything. But she did it anyway."

Sherlock looked away, his jaw tightening.

Harry continued, his voice steady but firm. "Father taught me that power is absolute. That a man with power is free—uncontrolled, uninfluenced. That power determines everything. But Mother taught me the other side of it. That power without restraint becomes an addiction. That knowing when to stop is just as important as knowing when to act." His eyes flickered between the three of them. "Powerful men have allies and enemies. But powerful and compassionate men have only friends and rivals."

Silence.

Joan finally broke it with a quiet, but piercing, question. "Sounds like you were close to her. How did her death affect you?"

Harry inhaled slowly. He met her gaze, and for a moment, something old and weary passed through his expression.

"Like all Holmes men, it affected me deeply," he admitted. "Morland buried himself in his work, in accumulating more power. Mycroft became closed off. Sherlock…" He gestured vaguely. "You know how he turned out."

Sherlock bristled slightly but said nothing.

Harry exhaled, his voice quieter now. "I came to terms with it when I accepted that death is inevitable. A professor of mine, a good man who was close to my mother, once told me something that stuck with me. I asked him why the good ones always seem to die first. He told me…" He paused, then smiled faintly. "'The world is a garden, and we are its flowers. And God takes the most beautiful ones for Himself first.'"

No one spoke.

Finally, Harry stood. "You should all move to my estate. You'll be safer there."

Morland studied him for a long moment before saying, "I will think about it." Joan still seemed to be processing everything. Sherlock, however, watched him carefully, something unreadable in his gaze.

"As for us, is that an invitation," Sherlock asked, "or a command?"

Harry smirked. "Whichever one gets you to listen."

With that, he left, leaving the three of them in silence.

After a while, Morland also stood up to leave but stopped and turned toward Joan. "For your information, yes, he is single. He and his wife have separated," he said smoothly. And with that, he too left, leaving an annoyed Sherlock and a contemplative Joan.