Chapter Text
John led them through the kitchen, but was stopped by Clara, Harriet's maid.
"Oh, sir," she cried. "He's taken her to his study and just asked for his belt."
John nodded. He had arrived just in time then. He led them down halls and up staircases, the soft pads of their feet muffled by the still air. He tore open the doors to the study and yelled, "Stop!"
Mr Watson turned to the shout, his arm raised, belt in hand ready to strike. Harriet lay on the floor sobbing. From what John could see, she wasn't bleeding, but heaven only knew what other kind of injuries she had.
Mr Watson frowned at the sight before him. His son had arrived with a large black thug and that Holmes boy.
"What's the matter, Johnny?" he sneered. "Couldn't dare to face me on your own?"
"I learned years ago I was never enough. And I know you've tried to isolate Harriet and me from the world, to keep us to yourself. Well, you failed on both accounts, didn't you?" John said as he strode into the room, Sherlock and Shinwell flanking him.
"I have Mr Holmes to stand as witness and Shinwell to ensure that you don't do something stupid."
Mr Watson scoffed. "And how is he going to do that?"
"Shinwell," John said ignoring his father. "Please take the lady to Mr Holmes's waiting carriage."
Shinwell stepped into the room and Mr Watson began wrapping the belt around his hand. The large man rolled his eyes and pulled out a pistol from the back of his waistband. He aimed it right between the eyes of Mr Watson, who wisely dropped the belt and held up his hands in surrender.
Sherlock came up and took the gun from the gang member, keeping it trained on the master of the house. He jerked his head in the direction of one of the chairs, indicating that Mr Watson should sit down.
"If you would sit down," Sherlock said. "Please," he added when the older man refused to move.
Mr Watson moved to the chair and sat.
Shinwell scooped up Harriet.
"You can take the whore anywhere you want, but I'll find her. She is my daughter. You can't keep her from me," Mr Watson said with a sneer.
"Actually, he can," Mycroft said as he glided into the room, oozing confidence. "Especially since he has no idea where she is being taken to. And for that matter, neither do I." He turned to the gang member. "My carriage is ready, Mr Johnson. If you'd be so kind."
Shinwell nodded and walked out with his precious burden.
"What do you mean you don't know where she is being taken?" Mr Watson asked, confusion furrowing his brow.
"She is now is under the protection of the Baker Street Irregulars and will be taken to one of their safe houses."
Mr Watson scoffed. "Those idiots? I had them all arrested."
Sherlock growled and tightened his grip on the gun.
"Actually, Harrison," Mycroft purred. "You'll find that they are very much not in prison."
John frowned. "What about Shezza? I thought they said he was still in prison."
Mycroft looked at John, his expression carefully blank, "Did they? They would know more than I."
But before John could ask more questions, Mycroft turned to Mr Watson, who was scowling in confusion.
"You have brought swift destruction upon yourself. When I told you of your daughter's habits, I had no idea of you taking them this way. I never thought you would deign to hit a woman."
"My swift destruction? By you?" Mr Watson asked.
"Of course by me. I have had this planned for a long, long time. I saw your pettiness and anger even as a boy. I watched as you fooled around while your own wife withered away to nothing. I watched as you grew more and more violent. You beat your servants; it was only a matter of time before you turned to your son. And when I heard that John had taken "ill", I knew. Oh, did I know."
Mycroft leaned down and hissed, "I do not like bullies, Mr Watson, and you are one of the worst I have ever come across."
Mr Watson jumped up and would have hit Mycroft had Sherlock not coughed. He looked at the younger Holmes and gulped when he saw the barrel of the pistol a mere hair's breadth away from his head.
"You lay a single finger on his head, Mr Watson, and I will not hesitate to pull the trigger, I assure you," Sherlock snarled.
Mr Watson sat down.
"Far too long," Mycroft continued unperturbed, "the people of this town have allowed you to continue on, seeking to curry favor with you. But no longer. You have lost your family. You will lose your position. Everything that you hold dear will be gone and you will waste away in this empire of dirt, surrounded by your possessions."
He turned and walked away. "Come along, Sherlock. John. We're leaving."
The two men nodded and followed Mycroft to the door. Mycroft let them leave and then like a flash of lightning he was leaning over Mr Watson, their faces so close their air mingled together.
"I know your secret, Mr Watson. I know what you did. To your wife and to my family. And I won't let you get away with it any longer."
"You have no proof," Mr Watson growled.
"You keep on thinking that."
Mycroft slipped out the door.
Sebastian fidgeted as he sat across from the person pulling his marionette strings. He had wracked up so many gambling debts that the one he referred to in his head as the Snake was blackmailing him. Sebastian wished the Snake would leave him alone. He knew he had paid off his debts months ago, but still this creature refused to let him go.
"There is one last thing I need you to do, and then I'll release you," the Snake said.
Sebastian sighed in relief. This is was it. And then he would finally be free. A box was slid across the desk between them, and he took the box with shaking hands and lifted the lid.
He shut it quickly and moaned. "You can't be serious?"
"I can and I am, Mr Wilkes. You will do this or your indiscretions will be the front page of the financial news tomorrow."
"I can't–I–" he stammered. He had to. There was no other choice. "Yes, fine."
"Good. Your instructions are in the box as well. Do this right and I will even make sure that your father places you as vice president of his company by the end of the year," the Snake informed him.
"You'd do that?"
"Of course. Provided you do it right."
"Yes, yes."
Sebastian hurried off.
Putting fingers to lips, the Snake smiled. "Yes, do this right and all my opposition will be swept out of the way and London will only be the first step to total control."
Miss Adler sat in her dressing room, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. She had paid many calls to the younger Holmes brother and he didn't have any interest in her whatsoever. Once she had even fainted on him and still nothing. In fact he seemed more annoyed than concerned. She had had several offers to be her lover, from men and women alike. But none were like Sherlock Holmes.
He was intelligent, and gorgeous. Those cheekbones. She wanted to taste them. She wanted to put him on the mantel of her past lovers. In the center, of course. He would be her finest trophy. Her greatest accomplishment. But still he pulled away.
She was beginning to think he was out of her reach.
There was a knock on her door and then her maid, Kate came in. "Miss?"
"Yes, Kate?"
"You know how you told me to tell if anything happens at the Holmes's manor?"
"Of course."
"John Watson was seen tearing up to the house on horseback in the early hours of the morning. Soon after the younger Holmes joined John Watson on the horse heading back to his own manor. Then the elder Mr Holmes pulled away in the carriage."
Miss Adler blinked. "That is interesting indeed."
"What are you going to do about it, Miss?"
"I'm not sure. I think I'll need help."
"Not him, miss," Kate shuddered. "He frightens me."
Miss Adler grinned. "He's supposed to."
"Hello, darling," Jim purred in Molly's ear. She shrieked.
"Jim!" Molly said as she whirled around.
"Miss me?" He leaned into her space and nuzzled her neck. She tried to push him off, but he remained unfazed by her efforts. "I missed you. No one screams like you do. My Sebby comes close, but there is nothing quite like your breathless screams of pleasure."
Molly closed her eyes. "You used me," she whimpered.
"I use everyone, darling. You are no different."
He began kissing up her neck and then nibbled on her ear. "You have been a bad girl."
"I don't know what you mean, Jim," she said, as she continued to struggle uselessly.
"Bringing strangers into our territory, tsk, tsk."
"I avoid your territory."
"Hmmm..." he said and ran his hand up her leg. "We'll see about that."
He pushed her away, and she stumbled back, hitting the ground.
"I've got a letter for you to deliver. Now be a good girl and run along."
She nodded, taking the letter and running off.
"Don't deviate, love. Or I'll skin you," he called after her.
She clutched the letter to her chest, tears running down her face as his laughter followed her.