Fanfic - Sherlock: "Vendetta" part 5
And the story marches on...
Start from the beginning here.
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Molly woke to the smell of hot tea and cinnamon. She sat up as John set down the tray and went to open the curtains to sunshine. She pushed her hair away from her face, relieved to note that she wasn’t dizzy. The headache was much improved as well, more of a very sore spot where her skull had connected with the wall.
She looked over the inviting tray of tea and sticky buns, complete with a single rose stuck in a water glass. “John, you didn’t have to do all this!”
“Oh, I didn’t. Sherlock did. He was off to the shops the minute they opened. He is currently hovering over Mrs Hudson, who is much better at eggs and bacon than either of us.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “Sherlock texted Lestrade last night. These are the people who died and the ones in critical condition. Whenever you’re ready-”
“Give it here, please.” She held out a hand and John handed it to her without protest.
She frowned, having a little difficulty focusing on the slashing strokes of Sherlock’s handwriting, but her heart leapt at seeing Lucie on the “critical” list rather than “deceased”. She didn’t recognise any of the names of the dead. “Do you think…could you call and ask after Lucie Winston?”
“Of course. Try and eat something.” He set the paracetamol on the tray and went back into the sitting room.
She drank the tea, relishing its warmth, and had begun on one of the buns when Sherlock appeared with a plate. “John said you were awake. You should try some protein to go with that confection.”
“Yes, Sherlock.”
As he set the eggs and bacon on her tray, he noticed her empty teacup and shouted, “John, start a new pot of tea!” Molly winced at the sudden shift in volume and he saw it immediately. “Excuse me. Also, excuse me for not understanding last night, that you would be concerned about co-workers first. I got the list from Lestrade-”
“Yes, John gave it to me. He’s following up about Lucie, she’s the only person I know from reception. Thank you.”
“I’ll be leaving shortly to help Lestrade. He’s waiting on a warrant to look into financial records of Isabella Hatley’s family, see if we can trace any suspicious payments.”
“You really think it had to do with that trial? It was ages ago.” Molly tried the bacon and realized that she was indeed hungry.
“Nine months, and yes. The only thing that you all had in common was being involved in proving her guilt. And the murderer was very careful at first: Dame Hillandale and the woman who turned Crown’s evidence were assumed to be accidents. The same would have been true for the prosecutor. It’s only because someone got impatient and broke their method-the obvious booby trap for Finnegan, the bomb for you-that I was able to put it together.
“We’ve got Davies, the prosecutor, staying under guard in a hotel. Would I be correct in presuming that you would prefer staying here? John will be with you and if I need him Lestrade will arrange a police guard.”
“Can’t I go home?” Molly looked down, her hair spilling over her face.
Sherlock leaned forward and smoothed her hair back in order to regain eye contact. “It’s too risky. While no names of victims have been released to the public, we don’t know how the killer is getting information. You need to stay hidden until this is over.”
She nodded at that.
“Don’t want to lose my pathologist, after all.”
John entered with a fresh pot of tea to find Sherlock and Molly looking at one another and smiling.
*****
“Here, this could be it!” Sherlock’s finger stabbed the faxed bank statement from one Reginald Bancroft, Isabella Hatley’s grandfather. “Bancroft cashed in a large number of stocks on 12 December, eight days after she committed suicide. The minute the money was in his account he withdrew almost all of it. We need to trace it.”
Lestrade was already on his mobile. “Sally, you go to the bank. I’ll send feelers out through our moles and see if they can find out who came into money around that time.”
Sherlock snatched his coat from the rack. “I’ll check my sources as well.” He strode out of Lestrade’s office and down to the street, heading for one of Missie’s normal corners. She would put the word out to others in his network. Between his informants and Lestrade’s, they ought to have a name or two to chase down within two days.
Which gave him plenty of time to stop at a bookseller’s and pick up a few things for Molly.
*****
Sherlock burst through the entrance to 221, swinging a Waterstone’s bag in his hand. He hoped Molly would find something amusing in the chaotic selection of books and magazines. He paused, hearing two female voices coming from behind Mrs Hudson’s open door.
“Mrs Hudson?”
“We’re in here, Sherlock. Come have a cuppa with us.”
Sherlock entered to find Mrs Hudson and Molly sitting at her table sharing tea. Molly had showered and pinned her damp hair up. She was dressed for lounging around the flat, in yoga pants and an oversize jumper.
“Sherlock, I am quite put out with you. Why did it take something as awful as a bomb for me to meet this lovely girl?” Mrs Hudson patted Molly’s hand and rose to fetch an extra cup.
Sherlock noted that Molly’s colour was not only better than during the night, she was turning pink from embarrassment. He held out the bag to her.
“It simply had not occurred to me, Mrs Hudson, that you would want to meet my pathologist. Since you often dislike hearing the gruesome details of my cases, I wouldn’t have thought that you would want to hear about Dr Hooper’s autopsies.”
Mrs Hudson returned and playfully slapped at Sherlock’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Anyone with proper eyes in his head can see that she’s so much more than your pathologist!”
Sherlock watched as Molly went from pink to red and took refuge in the Waterstone’s bag.
*****
“I am most disappointed in you, Red. I was assured that you were one of the best.”
The sweating man ran a hand through his ginger hair and pleaded with the voice on the disposable mobile. “I am! I just need a few more days!”
“You got impatient for the rest of your money. You got sloppy. Now Davies is under guard and my sources say Hooper survived the bomb. At this rate the job could wind up costing me money instead of earning me a profit.”
“I can do it! I can finish it! Just give me another chance!” Red held his breath, knowing that the voice on the other side would almost certainly arrange to have him killed if the response was negative.
“You have forty-eight hours to find Hooper and eliminate her.”
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Part 6
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
Start from the beginning here.
***********************************
Molly woke to the smell of hot tea and cinnamon. She sat up as John set down the tray and went to open the curtains to sunshine. She pushed her hair away from her face, relieved to note that she wasn’t dizzy. The headache was much improved as well, more of a very sore spot where her skull had connected with the wall.
She looked over the inviting tray of tea and sticky buns, complete with a single rose stuck in a water glass. “John, you didn’t have to do all this!”
“Oh, I didn’t. Sherlock did. He was off to the shops the minute they opened. He is currently hovering over Mrs Hudson, who is much better at eggs and bacon than either of us.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “Sherlock texted Lestrade last night. These are the people who died and the ones in critical condition. Whenever you’re ready-”
“Give it here, please.” She held out a hand and John handed it to her without protest.
She frowned, having a little difficulty focusing on the slashing strokes of Sherlock’s handwriting, but her heart leapt at seeing Lucie on the “critical” list rather than “deceased”. She didn’t recognise any of the names of the dead. “Do you think…could you call and ask after Lucie Winston?”
“Of course. Try and eat something.” He set the paracetamol on the tray and went back into the sitting room.
She drank the tea, relishing its warmth, and had begun on one of the buns when Sherlock appeared with a plate. “John said you were awake. You should try some protein to go with that confection.”
“Yes, Sherlock.”
As he set the eggs and bacon on her tray, he noticed her empty teacup and shouted, “John, start a new pot of tea!” Molly winced at the sudden shift in volume and he saw it immediately. “Excuse me. Also, excuse me for not understanding last night, that you would be concerned about co-workers first. I got the list from Lestrade-”
“Yes, John gave it to me. He’s following up about Lucie, she’s the only person I know from reception. Thank you.”
“I’ll be leaving shortly to help Lestrade. He’s waiting on a warrant to look into financial records of Isabella Hatley’s family, see if we can trace any suspicious payments.”
“You really think it had to do with that trial? It was ages ago.” Molly tried the bacon and realized that she was indeed hungry.
“Nine months, and yes. The only thing that you all had in common was being involved in proving her guilt. And the murderer was very careful at first: Dame Hillandale and the woman who turned Crown’s evidence were assumed to be accidents. The same would have been true for the prosecutor. It’s only because someone got impatient and broke their method-the obvious booby trap for Finnegan, the bomb for you-that I was able to put it together.
“We’ve got Davies, the prosecutor, staying under guard in a hotel. Would I be correct in presuming that you would prefer staying here? John will be with you and if I need him Lestrade will arrange a police guard.”
“Can’t I go home?” Molly looked down, her hair spilling over her face.
Sherlock leaned forward and smoothed her hair back in order to regain eye contact. “It’s too risky. While no names of victims have been released to the public, we don’t know how the killer is getting information. You need to stay hidden until this is over.”
She nodded at that.
“Don’t want to lose my pathologist, after all.”
John entered with a fresh pot of tea to find Sherlock and Molly looking at one another and smiling.
*****
“Here, this could be it!” Sherlock’s finger stabbed the faxed bank statement from one Reginald Bancroft, Isabella Hatley’s grandfather. “Bancroft cashed in a large number of stocks on 12 December, eight days after she committed suicide. The minute the money was in his account he withdrew almost all of it. We need to trace it.”
Lestrade was already on his mobile. “Sally, you go to the bank. I’ll send feelers out through our moles and see if they can find out who came into money around that time.”
Sherlock snatched his coat from the rack. “I’ll check my sources as well.” He strode out of Lestrade’s office and down to the street, heading for one of Missie’s normal corners. She would put the word out to others in his network. Between his informants and Lestrade’s, they ought to have a name or two to chase down within two days.
Which gave him plenty of time to stop at a bookseller’s and pick up a few things for Molly.
*****
Sherlock burst through the entrance to 221, swinging a Waterstone’s bag in his hand. He hoped Molly would find something amusing in the chaotic selection of books and magazines. He paused, hearing two female voices coming from behind Mrs Hudson’s open door.
“Mrs Hudson?”
“We’re in here, Sherlock. Come have a cuppa with us.”
Sherlock entered to find Mrs Hudson and Molly sitting at her table sharing tea. Molly had showered and pinned her damp hair up. She was dressed for lounging around the flat, in yoga pants and an oversize jumper.
“Sherlock, I am quite put out with you. Why did it take something as awful as a bomb for me to meet this lovely girl?” Mrs Hudson patted Molly’s hand and rose to fetch an extra cup.
Sherlock noted that Molly’s colour was not only better than during the night, she was turning pink from embarrassment. He held out the bag to her.
“It simply had not occurred to me, Mrs Hudson, that you would want to meet my pathologist. Since you often dislike hearing the gruesome details of my cases, I wouldn’t have thought that you would want to hear about Dr Hooper’s autopsies.”
Mrs Hudson returned and playfully slapped at Sherlock’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Anyone with proper eyes in his head can see that she’s so much more than your pathologist!”
Sherlock watched as Molly went from pink to red and took refuge in the Waterstone’s bag.
*****
“I am most disappointed in you, Red. I was assured that you were one of the best.”
The sweating man ran a hand through his ginger hair and pleaded with the voice on the disposable mobile. “I am! I just need a few more days!”
“You got impatient for the rest of your money. You got sloppy. Now Davies is under guard and my sources say Hooper survived the bomb. At this rate the job could wind up costing me money instead of earning me a profit.”
“I can do it! I can finish it! Just give me another chance!” Red held his breath, knowing that the voice on the other side would almost certainly arrange to have him killed if the response was negative.
“You have forty-eight hours to find Hooper and eliminate her.”
******************************************
Part 6
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!