Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

Sherlock walked into Baker Street with John right behind him. “Can you bloody believe the nerve of that man?” John growled as he took off his coat. “To continue to insist that we stay out of it when the psychopath goes and does that. I had half a mind to sock him.”

“John-”

“I mean it was Hanna’s vigil!” John said, “And this man drops a body in the middle of it, not only that but it’s the body of someone who was there! She was the waitress who Mathers drew into his web. I knew her-”

“John-”

“She was just starting to get her life back together too,” John sighed rubbing his eyes. “Was out meeting guys, had a new job at that club that’s opening soon; Second Light, or whatever. She said it was brilliant and was really excited about it.”

“John!” Sherlock growled and the other man looked at him.

“What?”

“We are not alone,” Sherlock said, his eyes scanning his surroundings as John drew his gun. Slowly, cautiously the two men walked up the stairs until they reached their flat; they turned the corner to their dark living room.

“Hello Boys,” a voice came out of the darkness and Sherlock flipped the light switch.

“But… you died,” John whispered lowering his gun.

“Did I?” there was a chuckle, “how unfortunate no one told me.”

“No, this is- this is impossible!” John shouted getting angry now. “YOU ARE SUPOSSED TO BE-” he took a step back, choking on a sob. “If you are alive… then what about Hanna?”

Ben took a step forward, slipping his hands into his pockets. His hair was darker than the last time John had seen the boy, he was thicker too. Whatever he’d been up to these last few years had packed on the muscle, making him almost seem intimidating.

“She would have been here,” Ben said, his lips pressed into a thin line. “But sometimes as second in command I have to help our leader even when she won’t help herself.”

“But she is alive?” John asked in a weak voice and Ben nodded. John turned around and punched the wall, hard, putting a hole in the drywall. “Am I just cursed to continuously have friend that will fake their deaths?” he growled turning back around. “Why did she do this? What was her reasoning this time?”

“It was Mycroft,” Sherlock said suddenly and they both looked at him.

“Mycroft?”

“She took the job,” Sherlock said studying the boy before him, “as his apprentice or successor or whatever.”

“What and she had to be dead to do that?” John demanded.

“No but that was an option,” Ben said with a straight face. “Fake your death or risk everyone you know. Not many are like Mycroft who is surrounded by people who can take care of themselves. And in Mycroft’s line of work you make very powerful enemies. She would not risk you all again.”

“So she died,” Sherlock said in a low tone. “But why did you “die” with her?”

“Make it more plausible,” he shrugged looking at the detective. “If it was only Hanna who died you all might not have believed it. But if poor, innocent Ben White died as well….” He trailed off giving them a smirk. “Not really one for faking my death, now am I?”

“What was it you were saying before?” Sherlock asked taking off his jacket. “About being the second in command?”

“I am the second in charge of Alpha Team. We track down psychopaths around the world and put them away. We are currently working on The Ripper,” he said folding his arms behind his back in a sort of military stance. “Hanna is our leader. She wanted to come have a word with the two of you. I thought it best if I did that instead.”

“Why?”

“Because Hanna isn’t who you remember,” he said glancing between the Doctor and the Detective. “She has changed, not for the better.”

“What do you mean?” John asked in a low tone. “What has happened to her?”

“Well she doesn’t go by Hanna anymore,” Ben started. “She dropped that name when she got off the plane. It’s Ann, now. Ann Arsvitae.”

“The Art of Life,” Sherlock said walking over to the window.

“Which is ironic because Ann isn’t living,” Ben continued. “She’s closed off, harsh and extremely focused on what is right in front of her. She doesn’t have time for emotion or sentiment, as she puts it. All she knows is the case at hand, anything else is… trivial, nonsense.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” John muttered and Sherlock spun around.

“Right, when do we get to the important things?” he asked with a bored sigh. “Like The Ripper, I would very much like to know more about that.”

Ben let out a hard laugh, “Sorry boys that’s classified-“

“Our friend- well my friend- died tonight,” John hissed. “And I'm very certain this one isn’t faking it- though really who the hell knows anymore. Anyway, I want to do something, I want to track down the man who did this and make sure he pays dearly-“

“And we will,” Ben said in an even tone. “Trust me Ann is completely focused on this one. I’ve never seen her work so hard at something-“

“You’ve let seven bodies’ drop since you’ve been put on the case,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Clearly whatever you’re doing isn’t working. Someone else needs to be brought in- I need to be brought in.”

“Ann will never allow it,” Ben said his lips forming a hard-line. “And unfortunately that’s the second part of my message. You two, need to stay out of it. Mycroft was being nice when he said you’d only get in the way. The truth is if you keep digging Ann will find out. And she WILL stop you-“

“Hanna-“

“Doesn’t exist,” Ben said cutting off John. “I told you she’s changed. If you get in her way, she will stop you; one way or another.”