Vague Shadows

Mycroft stood to greet me the second I stepped into his office. There was a young man seated off to one side, and the rest of the room was empty. I had been expecting more people, a group perhaps, all awaiting the help of Sherlock Holmes, so I was a little surprised. The man still seated gave me a greeting smile as I glanced down at him, wondering what he had done to cause such a commotion.

“Laicee, dear, glad you made it,” Mycroft said, ushering me to a chair across from the man. “This is a new client of mine, James. James, this is a friend of Sherlock’s, Laicee.”

“It’s a pleasure,” James said, taking my hand and giving it a light kiss. He was a couple inches over me, with dark, mussed up brown hair and deep brown eyes. He seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place where I knew him from. I gave him a small smile as Mycroft seated himself.

“You said that there was a time-sensitive object that Sherlock had to take care of,” I began, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “What is it, exactly?”

“A key,” James said, nodding to a small package on Mycroft’s desk. I frowned.

“Sherlock and John’s safety is jeopardized because of a key?”

“The key opens a very important safe, and that safe contains millions of dollars,” Mycroft explained to me. “It was taken from a very prominent group, and they demand it be returned. The men have made it very clear that they’ve given until midnight tonight to return the key.”

“So, what does any of this have to do with Sherlock? Can’t you just send Anthea or someone to drop it off?”

“See, they think that Sherlock Holmes took the key,” James spoke up. “My men recovered it, but they’ve demanded that Sherlock Holmes deliver it. Anyone else, and they won’t stand down.”

“What? Why?! Why Sherlock?”

“In their minds, he took it, so he must deliver it,” James said with a shrug. “I don’t make the rules, I’m just informing you.”

“Why are they so determined to believe Sherlock took it?”

“No idea, not even the slightest,” Mycroft sighed. “But they stated that if the key is not returned by Sherlock, or one of his accomplices, they will hunt down and ‘take care’ of him and Dr. Watson.”

“Well that’s just great. Brilliant,” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “John’s at work, and Sherlock is in no condition to go off and deal with a case.”

We sat in silence for a moment, before Mycroft cleared his throat. I looked up at him.

“I believe, however, that you would fall under the ‘accomplices’ category.”

I raised my brow as James nodded.

“You live in the same apartment, you help him on his cases, you’re considered his friend… I don’t see why you’re any different from Dr. Watson.”

I sat up a bit straighter, my mind whirling. I was relatively smart; I could figure out where this was going.

“So you both think this would all blow over if I brought the key back?”

“Essentially, yes,” Mycroft said. “It’s worth a try, at least. We’ve only got until midnight, and you’re our only option as of now if we want to keep Sherlock and Dr. Watson safe. It would be over and done with fairly quickly, I’d imagine.”

“Okay, so hypothetically, I stand in for Sherlock and bring the key back to these men,” I began, leaning forward. “I hand it over, Sherlock and John are safe, no harm done, and I’m back home before six?”

“Exactly,” James assured. “These men don’t want trouble. They just want their key returned by the people who took it. So long as you get it to them successfully before midnight tonight, no harm will come to anyone. Explain what happened. They’d be understanding, especially once you return the key.”

“Will you do this for my brother and Dr. Watson?” Mycroft asked; I could see the genuine worry in his face. I took a breath and sat up a little straighter. It was only a little key. I could handle this. I couldn’t even think of anything happening to Sherlock and John over something so trivial. I nodded, and both James and Mycroft smiled.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

***

I sat in the back of Mycroft’s car, James beside me, Mycroft across from us. The key was tucked safely in my jacket pocket, and I was trying to hide the nervous tremor in my leg. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

“We can’t be seen with you for this,” James said to me, resting his hand on mine to try and calm me. “The instructions were clear that you had to come alone. We’ll drop you a bit away from the warehouse, and you’ll have to walk the rest of the way. It’ll be about an hour, if you’re alright with that.”

“Not a problem,” I told him; he handed me a folded piece of paper with the walking directions, and I tucked that in my pocket as well.

“After you hand the key over, come back to the drop-off and give me a call. I’ll send a car for you, and you’ll be dropped back at Baker Street, no harm done,” Mycroft told me as the car came to a stop. I nodded and let out a shaky breath.

“You’ll do just fine,” James assured me. I opened the door and nodded.

“Laicee,” Mycroft called as I stepped out. I glanced back at him, and he gave me a grateful smile. “I truly appreciate all you’re doing for my brother.”

“It’s nothing,” I told him. “I’ll call you in a couple hours.”

The door shut, and the car drove off down the street, leaving me alone in an unfamiliar part of town. Taking a breath to calm myself, I pulled out the directions and studied them. The old warehouse was, in fact, quite a ways away, so I started walking. I wove through the streets, studying the map. I double-checked street names, observed the buildings around me… I took more precaution now than I ever had before. I was afraid of what would happen if I messed up.

After nearly an hour and a half of walking, I spotted the top of the old warehouse back behind a newer department store. Had I not been hunting for it, I would have missed it. I ducked off the street, turning my jacket collar up at the wind as I scurried down the alley.

The last couple words on the paper directed me around the corner to the back entrance. Tucking the paper away, I squeezed my eyes shut, calming myself completely before I pulled open the door. The room before me was huge, with rows of huge metal crates and bins lining the wall. I slipped inside, and the door shut behind me with a muted click of the lock.

I fished the key out of my pocket as I walked towards the center of the room. I couldn’t see anyone around me, and I began to grow nervous. Something didn’t feel right.

“Uh, hello?” I called, turning around as I walked, looking for anyone. “I’m here to bring your key back…”

I reached the center of the room and paused, still not having found anyone. Just as I began to call out again, I saw someone emerge from behind one of the rows. He was a tall, very muscular, very agitated looking man with blonde hair and dark eyes. He came towards me, a scowl on his face.

“So, you the one who took our property?” he called, and I swallowed.

“No, actually, there’s been a misunderstanding-“

“I think I understand perfectly,” he said, pausing a couple feet from me. “My key was taken, I make a threat, and now you come crawlin’ back hopin’ to get it over and done with.”

“I just want to return the key,” I told him. “I know the deal, get it back before midnight and-“

“There ain’t no deal,” he argued, narrowing his eyes. “I made it clear to your boss man. Either bring my key back and own up the easy way, or I come teach you your lesson. A shame he sent a pretty little thing like you, but that’s his own choice. Gotta admit, I expected more hassle, but I ain’t complainin’.”

“Sherlock didn’t steal your key,” I told him, frowning and taking a step back. “You said you just wanted to reach an understanding-“

“Sherlock?” the man asked. “Sherlock who? No, lady. I’m talkin’ about your boss.”

“My boss?”

He let out an aggravated sigh.

“Yeah, the man who robbed us. Moriarty. Jim Moriarty, I think he was.”

My breath left me, and I began to back up. Moriarty. Why hadn’t I pieced it together before? I recognized him from Sherlock and John’s descriptions of him. Jim, short for James… I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. He was behind this. Of course; how had I been so painfully ignorant?? This was a setup meant for Sherlock, and I’d walked right into it.

I tossed the key on the ground, starting to make an exit.

“No, I don’t work for Moriarty. I-He set this up, I’m not involved-“

“Well now you are,” the man growled, kicking the key aside. I swallowed hard as he came towards me. I slipped my hand into my pocket, locking my fingers around my phone. My only hope now was Sherlock and John. “We’ve got a message for your boss, and you’re gonna deliver it for us.”

I had just started to spin around, just begun to dial John’s number, when a pair of arms grabbed me from behind, holding me in place. My phone fell from my hand; I let out a scream as I immediately started to thrash, trying to get away.

The first man came up to me as two more men came out from the sides. He stopped inches from me, and without warning, he drew his arm back and slammed his fist into my stomach. I let out a cry and doubled over, tears springing to my eyes.

“No one steals from me, kid,” he growled, grabbing my face roughly and lifting it up so I could look him in the eyes. “We gonna make that very clear to you and your boss man. You ain’t never stealin’ from us again.”

***

It was nearly six at night before Sherlock awoke. He pushed himself up in bed, drowsy and slightly put off, but feeling significantly better than before. Immediately, his eyes landed on the chair beside his bed; Laicee was gone.

Much of earlier he didn’t remember, save that Laicee had played a major part in his day. The milk and honey, a dull mystery movie, a sincere promise to be here when he woke up… it was all he could recall before he passed out. So, why then was there no evidence of Laicee now?

The cloth she’d been using to keep him cool had long since gone dry. She hadn’t been to check on him in quite a while. His phone was on the nightstand; she must have placed it there for him. She’d been taking care of him thoroughly, so why suddenly put an end to all of it?

Swinging his legs out of bed and slipping his bathrobe on, he pushed open the door and listened. The tellie was on, but only as background noise. Soft clicks from the computer overpowered the show that was on, and the smell of toast hung around him. It meant John was home, and so far there was no trace of Laicee.

“Glad to see you up and about,” John said, glancing back from the desk and giving Sherlock a smile as he shuffled into the living room, looking around, analyzing. It was well past suppertime, yet nothing had been prepared. John had made his own toast, and he couldn’t hear Laicee’s soft humming coming from the kitchen. His eyes rested on the coatrack, and he frowned. His brain still wasn’t at a hundred percent, and his analyzation skills were slightly lacking, which frustrated him.

“Where’s she gone?” Sherlock asked, looking around the flat. Her jacket was gone, and the blankets on the couch were disturbed, as if she’d hurried from the room. What else? He was missing something vital. The reason she’d left was in the flat, but he couldn’t see it. Nothing at all.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” John said, a disquieted look coming onto his troubled face. “I’ve been back since three, and I haven’t heard anything from her.”

“Back since three,” Sherlock said, turning to look at John. “She’s been gone since 2:45 then, at the latest. Took her coat, planning to be gone for a bit at least. She grabbed her phone, but left her wallet. She was in a rush.”

He pressed his fingers together beneath his chin as he began to pace. There was more. He knew there was, he just had to piece it together.

“She had stayed to take care of me, and she told me she would be here when I woke up. She had you come to watch me, which confirms she was only intending to be gone for an hour, maybe two. She’s still gone, which indicates she’s been held up somewhere.”

“Why do you say that?” John asked, turning round in his chair.

“You and I both know the way Laicee treats promises. Two years she’s lived here, and not once has she ever gone back on her word. It’s out of her character. She’s honest, with you and I at least. Why promise me she would be here when I woke up if she intended on… Oh-” he cut off, and his brows drew together. “Oh I see. She never intended to leave. She was planning on staying here, but something changed her mind…”

As Sherlock fell silent, John began to think. He furrowed his brow, and then looked up at his friend.

“Brilliant deduction and all, but I half-figured you knew she left,” he mused. “I mean, you texted me to come home-“

“What?” Sherlock demanded, whirling around. “When? What did I say?”

John looked extremely startled; he pulled out his phone and held it up for Sherlock to read.

“I mean, you could’ve been delusional from the fever, so you wouldn’t remember-“

“I never texted you,” Sherlock breathed, alarm in his eyes. He was positive he hadn’t. He’d left his phone in his jacket pocket. “Laicee must have sent that. But why text you that from my phone if…”

He broke off again, taking a step back from John. She’d used his phone; that’s why she’d put it on his nightstand. Sherlock whirled and raced back into his room and snagged the phone. He unlocked it immediately and checked the time of the message she’d sent.

John Watson
2:43 pm
Laicee’s asked that you come to watch me until she returns. –SH

So, he was right. Laicee had left around 2:45. Sherlock headed back to John, more puzzled that ever. Why text him? What had pulled her out of the flat in a rush? He was just about to shut his phone off when he saw the previous sent text, to Mycroft this time, five minutes before she texted John.

Is there anything I can do in his place?

Sherlock’s stomach dropped, and he sucked in a breath. John looked up as Sherlock came to a sudden halt in the hallway. Slowly, almost not wanting to but knowing he couldn’t resist, Sherlock began to read through the rest of the messages between Laicee and Mycroft; his hands began to shake.

As Sherlock read, John studied his face. He began to grow alarmed as he watched the fire ignite in his friend’s eyes. They burned as they read; Sherlock’s face paled, and he pressed his lips together in a thin tight line.

“Sherlock?” John asked, the end of his question cut off by the doorbell. Slowly, Sherlock handed the phone over to John as he turned to face the stairs. He knew exactly who was hurrying up the steps. He knew the message the visitor carried before he even reached the door.

John read the last of the messages just as Mycroft Holmes reached the flat. He stood in the doorway, face paled and eyes burning with worry. Sherlock faced his brother, fists clenched and eyes burning with such an intense anger it almost hurt Mycroft to look at.

John stood slowly, glowering at the man in the doorway as he set down Sherlock’s phone.

“Where is she, Mycroft?” John demanded; Sherlock was too furious to form a sentence. He was using all of his willpower to resist beating his brother into a bloody mess. Mycroft looked between the men, taking a shaky breath.

“She was supposed to call me when she was finished. I had hoped she’d gotten herself back here, or one of you had retrieved her-“

“But she hasn’t, and now you’ve got to admit to us that you just put a sixteen-year-old girl in the middle of what is probably a hideously dangerous affair,” Sherlock hissed. “If you value your life, Mycroft, you will tell us where you sent Laicee.”

“That’s the problem,” Mycroft said quietly, lowering his eyes. “Only one person knows where she’s gone, and he won’t be giving us help anytime soon.”

“Who knows?” Sherlock hissed, his voice demanding. When Mycroft faulted, Sherlock took a step towards him. “Who knows, Mycroft?!”

“James Moriarty.”