170This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Beta read by the lovely MizJoely, though all mistakes are mine. And thank you to all who are still reading and reviewing, you make writing so much more worthwhile...
- SURPRISES -
For a moment Mary says nothing, apparently marshaling her thoughts.
This does not bode well for Molly- she is rather familiar with what it takes to quieten Mary Watson- but she wisely elects to keep her nervousness to herself.
Rather, she closes her eyes and concentrates on the feel of her husband's warm body beside her in the carriage; after a moment, he takes her hand, fingers threading through hers, and when she opens her eyes to look at him askance he brings their joined hands to his lips for a chaste kiss.
Despite her best intentions, Molly's cheeks colour slightly and he smiles.
Mary clears her throat, her expression wry, and immediately Sherlock turns his attention to her.
He does not, however, surrender Molly's hand, and the realisation warms her.
"What I am about to tell you," Mary begins softly, "I can only state as my own opinion. It is, I assure you, an opinion built on my years of good sense and experience in the field, but it is, I must stress, only an opinion."
Clearly surprised at this start- Mary is not in the habit of prefacing her statements thus- John and Sherlock nevertheless gesture for her to go on.
"In the last two years," she continues, her voice growing firmer, "it has come to my attention that certain elements within the government- our government-" She inclines her head towards the two men- "have become involved with businesses in which much harm is done, and little but profit for the few delivered-"
Sherlock rolls his eyes impatiently. "If that is your idea of a revelation, Mrs. Watson," he says, "then you must truly be losing your flair for dramatics-"
Mary snorts, some of her seriousness leaving her. "That there are bad people doing bad things while in power is not a revelation, Sherlock," she says dryly. "That they are doing so under cover of righteousness, and propriety, and that they are breaking the very laws they swear they are upholding, is." She shakes her head. "Queen and country is one thing: hypocrisy is quite another."
"So you have suspected a conspiracy for quite some time." This from John, and it is not a question. When she hears it, however, Mary nods curtly, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
"I had no wish to keep you in the dark about this, my heart," she says quietly. "But, your closeness to the Holmeses notwithstanding, I feared that bringing you into my confidence would endanger you-" A wry smile. "And you are quite capable enough of endangering yourself, without my helping the process along."
At this Watson huffs, but his expression suggests that he agrees with his wife. "Yes, well," he says diffidently. "I have had my fair share of enemies, I will admit-"
"And it was one of those enemies who first suggested the possibility of this scheme," Mary says. She purses her lips, her eyes going, inexplicably, to Molly. "Tell me," she says carefully, "how much of our boys' experiences with Professor James Moriarty have you heard, Molly?"
At this, Sherlock shifts uncomfortable, and Molly blinks. "He was- He was a master criminal," she says uncertainly, looking at her husband. "He and Sherlock were, well… I understand that there was a great deal of animosity before his suicide…"
Both the Watsons snort at this and Sherlock narrows his eyes. Mary meets his gaze straight, ignoring his scowl. "There is no need to impugne Molly's modesty with discussions of a matter which long preceded her marriage to me," he says. "Desist."
His tone brooks no disagreement.
Mary rolls her eyes, however. That tone might have worked on a governmental official, or an aristocrat, but it would have no effect on her, Molly knew. "There is plenty of reason for her to understand the sheer reach of the man you destroyed, Sherlock," she says bluntly. "And if she does not understand it, then she will not understand much of what else I have to say-"
"Then she will not understand." Sherlock's tone sounds slightly panicked. "She will, however, be safe-"
"From what?" Molly asks, and she has the distinct displeasure of seeing her husband's cheeks pale. When he looks at her, it is as if he is peering at a delicate piece of glass which is just about to shatter, and despite her nervousness since Anderson's attempted kidnapping, it irritates her immensely.
"Sherlock," she says with some asperity, "whatever it is you are trying to keep from me, I assure you that I probably already know of it- Or some of it, at least." At his astonished look she softens. "Surely you must know that my father wouldn't have allowed you to court me without checking into your background first?" When his astonishment increases she shakes her head. "You thought he didn't inquire into your character?"
"Of course I assumed he didn't!" he barks. "Had he truly known of it, he would never have allowed us to wed!" She recoils at his raised voice and suddenly her calm, elegant husband looks rather…frightened. He lowers his head, tries belatedly to control his temper. "For if he did know, and did tell you, then that would mean- Then that would mean that you have always-"
"I have always known that you had brushes with the law before our marriage," Molly says, her voice equally quiet. "I also know you have not always acted wisely with your health, or your own safety- All of London knows that. And I know that you had a period of destitution a few years before we married, I know something of that business with Magnusson-" Unable to help her herself, she presses a small kiss to his cheek. "It was that, husband, which convinced my father to consent to our marriage." She smiles a little at him. "It is one of the things which I have always admired about you,in fact, that you stood up to that man for all those who could not."
Sherlock looks at her, his eyes flickering rapidly across her face as if trying to read her thoughts there. She has seen him do this often enough when he deduces someone, and so Molly allows it: she may not understand why her husband is so surprised at her knowledge of his past, but if he is then she needs must allow him to accept it.
Besides, it is not only his fault that they know so little about one another, she must admit.
They have been married these two years, and in all that time it never occurred to her to ascertain what he thought he knew about her knowledge of him.
After a moment, he blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. "So you know… You know me," he murmurs, and the surprise in his voice breaks her heart. Had he truly imagined her unaware of the manner of man she married? she muses.
And yet, the evidence is there that he did.
They stare at one another, unable to break the moment. Molly suddenly finds her heart is beating faster, and despite herself she impetuously brings her husband's hand to her mouth this time, pressing a kiss to their joined fingers...
"When you left London to take apart Moriarty's network," Mary continues, reminding them rather pointedly that they were not alone, "I did not believe that Moriarty's reach could possibly be as all-encompassing as you claimed."
Immediately the moment is broken; Sherlock turns his attention back to her.
"You doubted me?" And it's odd, but he sounds almost put-out.
This time Mary smiles. "Governments may have that kind of power," she says softly. "Sometimes men of money or status. But a professor of mathematics at a minor university, pulling those sorts of strings?" She shakes her head. "I must admit, in all my years in the field, I never thought such a thing possible. Even you allowed it far-fetched, at first.
And yet, as you and John and Adler waded your way through his organization, it became obvious that you were in fact right." She shakes her head again, her eyes, suddenly, far away, and then suddenly she is back in the present. Rather impetuously, she reaches out and takes John's hand, prompting Molly to wonder what dark memory of her friend's had surfaced just then. "But then I rather think that that's what I get for doubting you, Sherlock," she says, and despite himself Sherlock's expression softens.
Perhaps he saw the same worry in her that Molly did, she thinks.
"So," John prompts, his tone slightly impatient (though he has not relinquished his wife's hand) "you believe that the key to Molly's attempted kidnapping, the bombing of the Cock and Hen, and Anderson's fear of being seen to inform, are all related in some way to Moriarty?"
Mary shakes her head. "I believe they are related to an organization, as wide in reach as Moriarty's and far more clever," she says. "One which has been using men like Anderson and anger at the suffrage movement as a way to drum up support, perhaps reach at people without arousing suspicion." She gestures to herself. "If someone from a criminal organization were to target me, for example," she says, "what would be the repercussions?"
"I would thrash them." John's voice is calm and matter-of-fact. His smile is, however, hard.
Mary acknowledges that with a curt nod of her head. "Indeed." She looks at Sherlock. "And what would you do?"
Sherlock nods, seeing her point. "I would investigate," he says softly. "And then I would bring the long, pudding-loving arm of the law down on those people, in the form of my brother." He looks at her. "My brother, Mycroft, who is the British government, in essence."
Mary nods.
"Exactly. And yet, everyone knows that since he married Anthea, Mycroft Holmes' morals have been rather less… flexible than they once were. His willingness to go along to get along with the rich and powerful has been somewhat overturned.
Whereas, if it were merely an idiot like Anderson who has an axe to grind against the women's rights movement, what happens?"
"Nothing." This from Molly. "We would assume that was all there is to it and, once Anderson is behind bars, cease to wonder about his motivation." A horrid thought occurs. "Which means that- That my kidnapping was merely a distraction-"
A dart of fury pierces her, that she should be frightened and attacked for no better reason than being a means to an end. Sherlock winces but Mary shakes her head. Takes her hand and squeezes it.
"On the contrary," she says. "Your kidnapping was important, because whoever arranged it went through an inordinate amount of trouble to do so- Just as they did to arrange trouble for myself, and for Adler, and for our respective husbands."
Molly purses her lips. "So you think that this is a personal matter, rather than a political one?" she asks. "You think we have gained the attention of this… cabal, and it is merely trying to cover up the fact?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Molly sees Sherlock puff his chest in pride at her deduction and she can't help it- Once again she leans over and kisses his cheek.
The tips of his ears and his cheeks turn the most becoming shade of scarlet.
Molly's match them.
The Watsons both shoot them smiles which would put the Cheshire Cat to shame.
"So if this is personal," Sherlock says, his voice a little… distracted, "then you believe that the unwanted attention will continue?" Mary nods. "And that being the case…" He trails off, his gaze turning to Molly. She doesn't like the amount of worry she sees there. "Then you are not safe, wife," he says softly. "And you will not be safe until this matter is resolved-"
"Exactly." John nods. "But it will be resolved, Holmes, I promise you." Mary nods again, taking her husband's hand and then Sherlock's. "We will not allow anything to happen to one of our unit, surely you know that?"
And she squeezes his free hand, gives Molly a reassuring smile.
"Besides, it's more than past time that you started bringing Molly into our business-" A mischief enters her eyes- "He is, I assure you, always a boor to be around when he has to leave you behind, my dear-" At this, Molly's eyes widen in surprise-
Which is when the sound of a shot rings out, a rough shout rising up to their right as the Hansom cab lists with sudden, nauseating sharpness-
Molly is thrown against her husband, the Watsons wedging themselves into their seats with what looks like the ease born of practice-
The door to the hansom opens and a man reaches inside, grabbing roughly for Molly, since she is nearest. She kicks at him, catching him on the jaw and as he falls back the cab comes to a halt, totters onto its side, the horse outside whinnying in terror as it thrashes and drags the cab to and fro-
"Come out," a voice sounds, and both Sherlock and the Watsons frown as they recognize the owner.
"How about you come in here instead, Carnavron?" Mary shouts and then the air is split with the sound of shots…
Meanwhile…
Inside Phillip Anderson's former prison cell…
The figure nods to itself. Smiles.
There is always more satisfaction to be had in a job done by one's own hand.
With a small flourish, they tie off the rope they have rigged to the top of the cell's bars and set Anderson's lifeless body swinging.
His eyes are open, a warning for the others.
Quietly, quietly, the figure opens the cell. Steps outside into the darkness.
They're almost out the door of the prison when the alarm sounds that Anderson's body has been discovered, but they neither slow down nor stop…
And if anybody notices them, well, they say nothing at all…
