Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

Donavan sighed as she stretched her arms out over her head. It had been a long day of the same tail chasing they’d been doing for a week now. The new note had been translated but it was useless as far as she was concerned. The letters would lead them to this guy and this note didn’t have any, how did they even know it was from the same man?

“Donavan,” she looked up to see Lestrade standing at the end of her desk. “Go home.”

“When we got this guy I’ll consider it,” she said standing up as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And while we’re considering things… how long till you tell freak about you snogging his girl?”

Lestrade didn’t even flinch, “Since when do you care?”

“Oh I don’t,” she laughed once, “no; I just want to be the one to tell him.”

“Of course you do,” he shook his head. “You love tearing down his world don’t you?”

“Well he did bring mine raining down on me-“

“That was-” Lestrade stopped himself. “Sherlock sees everything and when he does-”

“He chooses to shout your biggest secret across a room full of people,” she snapped. “My parents had no idea I was dating her, they didn’t even know I was bi until Sherlock figured it out.”

“I'm sor-“

“Did you know I haven’t spoken to my parents since that night?” She asked cocking her head to the side. “Oh right, you did; because you were there, as was everyone, when they disowned me and told me to never contact them again.”

“Sally-”

“No- do not defend him. Not again and not to me.” she growled as she turned and marched down the hall. There were tears in her eyes that she wiped away and cursed. She’d sworn that she was done getting so emotional about this. She wouldn’t cry over the past anymore, that’s what she’d told herself.

Clearly that was a lie.

“I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the lord but you don't really care for music, do you,” Someone sang and she turned to see Ann leaning against the wall of the hallway. “Do you know the song? Beautiful tune, really quite the master piece.”

“What are you doing here?” she growled. “Want to snog Lestrade again? He’s in his office, I’d offer to show you but something tells me you know exactly where it is.”

“I like to visit the people in my sister’s life,” she shrugged as she looked around the office.

“I’ve only ever met your sister once,” Donavan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t much like the morgue.”

She smirked, her gaze returning to Sally’s as she pushed off the wall, “Big bad detective like you, I never would have taken you as squeamish.”

“Why are you here Ann?” she asked folding her arms back over her chest.

“I already told you-”

“No you lied to me,” Sally challenged her. “Your sister has nothing to do with this because you don’t care. You’re as bad as him.” She turned to leave.

“Him being Sherlock Holmes,” Ann smirked, following the other woman casually, “You know I never knew what happened between the two of you. Hell, I don’t think he knows. He is so terribly forgetful of these little things-”

“STOP!” Sally shouted. “Just, stop. I am sick and tired of everyone saying that it was just a little thing because it wasn’t, okay, not to me.”

Ann took a step closer, twisting a lock of silver hair around her finger. “I know it wasn’t. Sherlock Holmes ruined your life with his freak super powers.”

“Powers you have too,” she sneered, “I'm glad he’s found you, I hope the two freaks will be happy together.” She moved to push past her but Ann grabbed her arm and pinned her to the wall. A move Donavan didn’t think was possible in that blouse and skirt. Those cold blue eyes met her own brown ones and she felt fear race through her.

“Now Sally,” she frowned mockingly and she cocked her head to the side, “let’s not be like that. I'm here to help you.”

“Help me?” She laughed, “How can you help me? You’re sleeping with the man-”

“I’m going to tear Sherlock’s world apart,” she said with wide eyes and a sadistic smile. “And when I am done he will have wished I gave him the choice to jump off a building.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Sally growled.

Ann took a step back, letting her off the wall, “You never answered my question. The song, do you recognize it?”

“What does the song have to do with anything?” She demanded, “you said-“

Ann silenced her with a look, “Did. You. Recognize it?”

The look on Ann’s face, that could only be described as cold and mad, sparked life back into that shiver of fear Sally had felt earlier. “Hallelujah… right?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Ann smiled again, “correct, but there is one verse I’d like to direct your attention too. Well your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof…” she trailed off, inclining her head towards Donavan.

“Um…” she swallowed hard, “Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you…?”

Ann nodded as her smile grew and took on that same sadistic tone it had before, “very good, do you know the last bit?”

Sally shook her head, fear taking her voice.

Ann frowned slightly, “I'm going to rip Sherlock Holmes to shreds, Sally, and you asked me how.” Sally nodded, finding her back against the wall once more as Ann leaned into her and finished the verse. “She tied you to her kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the hallelujah…”

~*~

Ben walked into 221B Baker Street, the paparazzi shouting questions at him the whole ten feet it took for him to walk from the cab to the door. He didn’t really care; it was more irritating than anything because it hindered his work. He was confined to his hotel and the team had to come to him. This was the one exception to his otherwise apparent grounding. He could come to Baker Street to report to Ann. that was all Mycroft would allow until their story blew over.

He walked into the living room expecting to see an annoyed Ann pacing the perimeter, looking for a way out. That was not the case. In the window, dressed in a white summer top (despite the fact that it was nearly Christmas) and skinny jeans, was Hanna Hooper.

“Ben?” John’s voice drew him out of his trace and he met the shorter man’s gaze.

“When- when did she go back to being…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

John nodded slowly, giving him a half-smile as he answered, “After she woke up from the coma.”

Ben let out a hard laugh, “Well good, good… I thought that Hanna was dead. You- you proved me wrong.”

“Being wrong should come as second nature to you now,” Sherlock said stepping out of the kitchen.

Ben’s jaw tightened, “I guess it still manages to surprise me.”

Hanna turned towards them and the three men all locked eyes on her. She frowned a moment before her gaze fell on Ben. He didn’t know what he was expecting, a smile, a hug, something. But the flicker of recognition in her eyes before she turned back to the window was not it.

“What was that?” he demanded in a low tone. “What the hell happened to her?”

“We-we don’t know,” John spoke up, before Sherlock could, and gave his flat mate a silencing look until he walked away. “Right anyway as I was saying; we don’t know what happened to her. She woke up and for a while it was like everything was fine, she was Hanna sort of-”

“Sort of, what do you mean?”

“She would just stop, in the middle of whatever she was doing, and just stand there for a moment.” John tried to explain. “What was in her hand would be crushed by her grip until it passed and then she would continue as if nothing happened.”

“You never asked her about it?” Ben growled and John held his hand up to calm the boy.

“I didn’t want her to run back into her shell,” he said and Ben's face softened. “And then, without me even noticing, she stopped talking. She hasn’t spoken in… a week as far as I can remember and she spends all her time standing by that window; staring at nothing. She may have woken up from her coma but she is still wrapped up in her head, Ben.”

He took a step towards her, “Can we do nothing?”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried?” Sherlock’s voice hissed and he spun around to see him standing rigidly in the threshold of the kitchen. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Sherlock-”

“She promised- she promised and she lied to me and now…” he trailed off as his silver eyes slowly dragged across the room to the back of his beloved. Ben turned his head, unable to stomach the look on Sherlock’s face. “I tried everything to get through to her, my Lullaby… it did nothing, she didn’t even turn as I played.”

“Perhaps your Incomplete Lullaby has run its course,” Ben offered lifting his gaze to meet the other man’s. “Maybe… a new song is in order.”

Sherlock returned the boy’s cold gaze as he walked up so they were face to face, nose to nose. “And whose song do you purpose? Yours?”

“Hey now let’s-” John tried to interrupt.

Ben shrugged slightly, “Stranger things have happened and I did spend three years with the woman.”

“Two,” Sherlock corrected. “You’ve spent nearly every day with her for two years, before that you were separated.”

John put his hands on their shoulders, “Let’s just back up and-” they shrugged him off

“How did you-“

“It’s my job to know.” Sherlock sneered.

“That is not your job.”

“Guys-”

“I make it my job,” he growled through narrow eyes. “Everything about her is my job.”

“You know who you sound like?” Ben challenged, jabbing his finger into Sherlock’s chest, “Mathers. If my memory is correct I believe his exact words were ‘Anyone who comes within ten feet of her is his to play with.’”

“You’re point?”

“If you’re not careful, Sherlock, in your mission to be her protector you might become her new Monster.” Ben knew the impact his words would have. He knew the blow he was dealing, but he was just so angry. Angry at Sherlock and Hanna for having the connection they have. Angry at Hanna for using him and then dropping him like yesterday’s trash; angry at himself for letting her. But he was mostly angry as the suddenness of the severed bond. He always knew it would happen, he just didn’t think it would be now.

Sherlock glared at him a moment longer before an almost desperate look crossed his face and he turned back to look at Hanna. She was staring at them; those blue eyes holding a quiet curiosity before the corners of her lips twitched up. It was just the brief flicker of a smile before she turned back to the window and let out a short breath.

“Nothing,” Sherlock choked out, his hand covering his mouth as he turned back away from her. “Nothing…”

“It’s okay Sherlock,” John sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll think of something-”

“Look at her John!” Sherlock shouted spinning around. “She’s an empty shell-” he stopped, his hands running through his hair, as if to pull it out from the roots. There were tears in the eyes of Sherlock Holmes and Ben felt the pain of sympathy wash over him. “You said that Hanna was still in there-”

“Sherlock-”

“You lied!” he shouted over his best friend. “There is nothing- whatever happened to her over these last three years has killed her… My Little Blind Girl is dead.” And then the Consulting Detective turned and walked down the stairs and out of the flat. As he crossed the street Hanna moved. She raised her right hand and pressed it to the glass, watching him as he walked away.

“But-” Ben began as he turned to John who nodded.

“I know,” he said with a sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She does that every time he leaves.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

“He won’t listen,” he shrugged, “and she can’t tell him.”

“So, that whole act,” Ben guested between himself and the spot Sherlock had just stood. “Me and Sherlock going at it-”

“Was to try to shock her out of whatever this is,” John said. “And with its failure we have run fresh out of ideas. Mycroft is the only one who could possibly know what this is but he won’t tell Sherlock because ‘he was sworn to secrecy’...” John trailed off a look washing over him.

“John?” Ben asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to go over a file,” he said frowning. “You can let yourself out right?”

“What is it?” Ben asked.

“I’ll handle it,” he said in a final tone. “Go back to your hotel room Ben, we will deal with this.”

As he started to walk away Ben spoke up one last time, “I love her too,” he said causing John to freeze in the hallway. “I may not have the relationship you two have with her but I do love her. And you can’t keep me out of this forever.” John said nothing as he continued walking into the back.

Ben heard a door close and he shut his eyes. Damn them, damn them all.

A warm hand pressed against his cheek and his eyes snapped open to see Hanna standing in front of him. Her eyes were vacant of emotion as she gave him a small smile and wiped the tear that had fallen. “H-Hanna?” he whispered as he let out a shaky breath.

She smiled again, cupping his face in her small hands and brining him down to rest his forehead on hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before letting him stand back up right and meeting his gaze again.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, caressing his cheek on more time before her hands dropped and she turned around. He watched her walk back to the window before he left the Baker Street flat.

A place, Ben knew, he would never visit again.