The Secret of Two

Chapter 9

We refused to talk to any of the police officers or reporters who were on the scene. John brought us back to Mrs Hudson's. We stayed with her the whole evening since she didn't know and was genuinely crying Sherlock's death.

We left her after dinner and went upstairs to Sherlock's flat. Its resident didn't seem bothered by the open windows. I sprinted as fast as I could through the scattered papers on the ground to close the curtains from the sight. "You're supposed to be dead, you can't be seen pacing around in your apartment."

"What is the information you found?"

John let out an exasperated sigh and muttered under his breath. "A 'hello' never hurt anyone." He sat in his usual seat. "Good to see you alive and well."

I fished for the drive in my jumpsuit's pocket. I barely had it in my hand that Sherlock snatched it and plugged it to his computer. I leaned over his shoulder to see the files I already had opened. "You're welcome."

Sherlock opened the first file. "Thank you."

The first three files were not interesting to our research but when he reached the fourth one, the picture caught the eye of the slouching man next to them. He leaned over Sherlock's left shoulder to see the identity of the woman. Recognition sparked in him and he almost pushed the detective out of his chair to take over the computer. With a frown on his face, he looked through that file and the next one. Ashton's file, the one with the least information, without a picture.

John read the love letter before shoving the computer out of his view. "Close it."

Sherlock didn't listen to his best friend and read the letter too. "We don't know who that Ashton man is. Why does your father keep this drive? All that information should be in the CIA's data banks."

As much as Sherlock hated to ask for help, he looked at me, his eyes clearly conveying his message without the use of his words. I took a step back. "No, I can't spy on the CIA. Stealing from an agent is a thing but stealing from the actual secret organization is at another level of breaking the law."

John came back to his senses to shake his head and say, "Sherlock, you can't ask that of Naomi. She has already helped us more than she should have."

"We need this information. If you don't want to do it, ask someone else."

I, unfortunately for my brother, remembered a favor he owed me. As much as I hated what I'd ask him to do, if it could help Christopher, I'd do it. I swallowed, "I'll ask my brother. He's in the agent training program with the MI6 trainees. He has access to the headquarters's computers." Sherlock silently dismissed me, turning back to the A.G.R.A. files.

* * *

I snuck back into the Darlington Mansion by the kitchen's door. It was strangely silent, not bustling with cooks and waiters. I had chosen a black jumpsuit that will fortunately be useful. I ran from shadow to shadow, using them as cover whenever I heard footsteps coming my way.

I was halfway down the hall to my rooms when my mother's recognizable stiff footsteps rang down around the corner behind me. I frantically searched around. The open corridor had no place to hide so I was searching for the first room I could sneak in. Alex's rooms were two steps away. I opened the miraculously unlocked door and silently shut it behind me as the footsteps grew dangerously close to rounding the corner.

Alex grumbled in his bed in the next room. My mother slowed when she drew closer to my brother's rooms. I held my breath until I heard her own door close and slowly counted to 100 before daring to open the door. She hadn't been waiting for me so I snuck to my rooms.