Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

Mycroft found his brother near the eye of London. He was leaning against the rail that separated him from the river. His hands clasped and cold eyes cast down at the water as Mycroft slowly crossed the distance. His umbrella tapping the pavement alerted Sherlock to his presence. A second and third click, high-heeled shoes, brought a slight frown to his face. Was his brother incapable of going anywhere without Anthea?

“John called you.”

“He’s getting worried.” Mycroft sighed as he continued his approach. Anthea was farther back- no, not Anthea. This woman’s strides were shorter. A new assistant perhaps?

“He shouldn’t.”

“He told me what you said to Hanna.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Your personal life is hindering a matter of national security,” he said walking around to stand next to his brother. The woman lingered a few feet away. “That makes it my concern.”

Sherlock looked at his hands, rubbing his palms together, “It hinders nothing.”

Mycroft’s lip twitched into a smirk, “Fool yourself into thinking you can lie to me if you wish but I know the truth.” He turned his head to look at the younger man. “I’ve only seen you afraid once before.”

Sherlock stood up, his hands clutching the railing, “Who said I was afraid?”

“Don’t be shy, little brother.” His voice was soft, and Sherlock turned to him. Mycroft was looking out across the river. His eyes were hollow as he hung his umbrella on the rail. “I’ll be honest if you will.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “In mixed company? How brave of you Mycroft.”

“Enough Sherlock.”

An amused smirk crossed his face, “And what, pray tell, am I afraid of?”

“You’re afraid that you’ve lost her for good,” Mycroft answered and his smirk dropped. “You’re afraid she’ll never come back.”

He didn’t say anything as he slowly turned to face his brother. His face had fallen from light amusement and turned to stone. Sherlock looked into his Mycroft’s eyes and swallowed hard, “I was cruel to her. I said things that I didn’t believe and… I hurt her.”

Mycroft nodded once, “I know.”

“No you don’t,” he looked down, “Hanna was pregnant with my child and she didn’t tell me. I was robbed of that experience. The initial shock, the joy, the fear, the whole lot of it was stolen from me. When the child died I was refused that experience as well.”

“You didn’t remember-“

“I know I didn’t remember her,” Sherlock cut him off, “but she was never going to tell me. I only found out because I deduced it. She tried to stop me, she didn’t want me to know and once I did I was just so angry… I lashed out at her, denying our child even though I knew it was mine.”

In the evening light the Holmes brothers stood under the eye of London while the city passed around them. The cold winter air swept across the river, stirring Sherlock’s dark curls as his words hung heavy between them. In those cold grey eyes Mycroft saw only regret, an emotion his brother rarely felt let alone having other bear witness.

And then the music started. The soft melody echoing around them as someone began to play a guitar a few feet from them. The moment was lost and Sherlock turned back to the water and Mycroft bowed his head. He turned to leave and as he did the woman with the guitar started to sing.

“Like a turning head, like a second look, like a burning leaf of an open book.” Both of them froze as the woman’s voice glided across the pavement, clear as bells and beautiful as fresh fallen snow. “Like a pounding sea, like a messy crime; when your eyes first met with mine.”

Sherlock turned slowly, his eyes moving past his brother to the blonde a few meters behind him. A crowd was gathering around her already as she continued to sing with her back to the Holmes boys. “Like a broken word, like a tragic smile, like a thousand steps or a single mile.”

Slowly, Sherlock approached her. His face was masked and showed no emotion as he was drawn closer. “Like a lonely chance, like a savage glow; when you turned and said hello. I was just about to go. There were flowers on the ceiling. You left me feeling…”

“Stay away from her,” another voice spoke up and he turned to see a woman where he and his brother had just stood. She was small in stature but her expertly tailored slacks and mid length coat made her seem a thousand feet tall. “You wouldn’t want to scare the poor girl.”

Behind him Hanna kept singing and the crowd continued to grow. Her voice and song stopped anyone who tried to pass. But the woman before Sherlock now had no interest in the music. She was here for Sherlock. Her smug grin and the way her cold blue eyes were locked on him was proof of that.

“Why would I scare her?” he asked clasped behind his back.

She smirked taking a step forward as he took a step back. Her head cocking to the side as she chuckled, “Hanna made a deal. She traded herself to me for Mary and Benjamin. They are both being returned to Baker Street as we speak.”

Sherlock’s jaw tightened, “That doesn’t explain why I would scar her.”

Her smiled grew, “Do you know the true power of the Queen in chess?”

He said nothing.

“Most people think it’s her freedom to roam about the board,” she said sliding her hands into her pockets. “But really her power lies with in the mind. So long as you have a Queen on the board your opponent is at, least in part, distracted by her presence. If she remains then you are free to march your way to checkmate.”

“She’s your distraction,” he said through narrow eyes.

“And for her to operate properly she must be damaged,” she said glancing behind him at the woman in question. “I had Mathers’ blind her but the fool threw a wrench in the plan by giving her the antidote. No one has sympathy for a girl who refuses to take her medicine.”

An uneasy feeling grew inside Sherlock as he glanced at Mycroft who looked just as confused as he felt. He turned behind him to Hanna who was still singing. “Tired, I could not close my eyes. On fire, but frozen inside. To run or to hide,” she sang to the crowd. Her eyes wide open and full of false joy as she looked over all of them thoroughly. She was scanning the people, Sherlock realized. “Speechless? My words could not melt. Whisper? I wanted to shout. Without you I felt…”

“You deafened her,” he whispered turning back around. “Didn’t you?”

“I can just imagine the headlines now,” she smiled, “England’s precious daughter goes deaf from ear infection. My distraction will perfect.”

“Why are you telling us this, Eva?” Mycroft asked stepping forward.

She shrugged, “I just thought that Sherlock might want a head start learning sign language before Hanna also returned to Baker Street.”

“She’s coming back?”

Eva smiled, “Of course. Baker Street is woven into her persona. She’s not Hanna Hooper unless she’s there.” She gave Sherlock a wink, “Sorry to dash but I have much to do because, boys… this game has only just begun.” And then she turned and walked away while Sherlock turned to look back at the girl with the guitar.

Hanna was still singing and swaying to the music. “Tired, I could not close my eyes. On fire, but frozen inside. To run or to hide?” She turned just enough to see him standing to the side of her. Pausing in her movements her eyes locked with him and he saw the sorrow bubbling in her deep blue eyes. She tilted her head to the side and gave him a weak smile as she sang, “Speechless? My words would not melt. Whispered? I wanted to shout, without you I felt…”

Sherlock closed the distance between them. Gently he took her small hand off the instrument and held them tightly in his. He captured her eyes with his as she finished the song, “Like a setting sun, like a last goodbye; like an incomplete lullaby…”