Failing Upward

Chapter 15 (part 2): Insect Bites

When I opened the door and looked into his eyes, I saw concern in Sean's face. Thoughtful of him to bring breakfast. We all sat down, Sherlock and I on the bow-window seat and Sean on the overstuffed chair by the maple dresser. We drank our coffee in silence, assessing each other. I was impressed he remembered just enough cream for me, and Sherlock's had loads of cream and even more sugar. Sean bit his lip, then set his jaw. He reminded me of Mary just before she was ready to give up one of her sisterly secrets— the ones women tell each other, like "Irene's right breast is larger than her left."

Guys don't do that. Much. I didn't expect that from Sean. Maybe Sherlock, but only because he doesn't understand what's not good. On the other hand he'd never do it for the validation which comes after spilling your guts. Like Mary giving away the secret, then saying she only told me because I was safe and cuddly and fucking gay. That used to upset me.

Clink. Sean's spoon battered the inside of his mug as he tapped the handle. He was telegraphing some sort of inner battle. Not sure about what. I was surprised my aunt and uncle let him come up here to talk to us. Probably couldn't stop him, or they didn't think he knew enough to cause harm.

Didn't matter to me. Sherlock was itching to ask more questions. He knew about Sean's parents' death before I did. He always knew what was up before me. I was still a little upset with that, but it was something I'd learned to accept. He did tell me. Eventually. Neither of us were going to make the mistake of secrets again. From now on, two heads together. And from the look on Sean's face, maybe we'd have a third.

"Where to start..." Sean said at last.

"With Moriarty," Sherlock suggested.

"Yes, good place," Sean said. "Since for the time being, we don't have to worry about him. He's gone, but he'll be back."

"Gone?" I said.

"Mycroft's men lost him last night," he explained. "One moment Moriarty was in their sights; the next he'd vanished like Houdini. Abandoned his car. His house. Lestrade said members of the Community tracked him to Detroit Metro. Moriarty boarded a private jet to somewhere in South America."

I didn't know what called Moriarty away, but I was sure it would lead to misery for us both.

"My brother is an idiot— and so am I: just how long have you known Mycroft?"

"Best to understand your relations. Friends. And your enemies," he acknowledged, taking a big bite of blueberry bagel and chewing. "I've known him awhile. He used to stop by and have tea with Aunt Glenda. But I thought you wanted to talk about Moriarty."

"Yes, we do," I said. Nothing about Mycroft surprised me. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

"Moriarty's a psychopath. He is seriously deranged. You know his history with Uncle Greg. He has this obsession with immortals and our family in particular. When he first trashed your house, John, we searched Moriarty's apartment and nosed around. We out found Moriarty has a hobby— cameras and video. He's taken plenty of you, Sherlock and the band: eating, shopping, working and hanging at home. In Sherlock's apartment. No nice way to say this— he's got some, um, raunchy video of you two."

"Fuck!" Moriarty probably beat off watching them. Not much different from his obsession with my uncle years ago. Back then he sent notes and dead sparrows. Now he rapped on windows and took lewd video. Sherlock's face was a mask, which meant he was seriously disturbed.

"Sorry we kept that from you. Evidently, this has been going on for a long time. We found thousands of hours of video. Some of me. Hell, John, he had pictures from inside your parents' house. He had pictures..." Sean stopped; his jaw tightened. My hands began to shake. "He knew we'd break into his place. He left them all neat and tidy all lined up on a table for us to see. What bothered me most was Uncle Greg wasn't surprised. He knew Moriarty had been watching us all along. Moriarty murdered our parents. The fucker had pay stubs in the apartment from the business that jimmied up the gas line. He left the stubs out from Rex's Heating and Cooling on the coffee table with all the rest."

Sean wasn't chewing on his bagel any more. He set his coffee aside, too. "Dear uncle knows exactly what's going on and why," Sean said.

"He knows the connections," Sherlock spoke up.

"And he won't share. What upsets me most is I believe he and Aunt Glenda could have prevented it all. This isn't about dirty little secrets or because they're afraid of the Community. It's some grandiose design or some such high-minded garbage. All for some damned ideals. I just don't know what secret could be so important that they'd let people they love die."

I sat with the half-eaten cinnamon bagel in my lap. I picked at the cream cheese. My head ached. I needed fresh air. I heard the mosquito buzzing near my ear. I glanced up. It was trapped between the curtain and the window. I moved my hand to brush the curtain aside. It swayed before my finger touched it. Old windows. Wind blows right through them.

"Moriarty is crazy, but not The Community," Sean said. "It has an agenda. It's possible they're more of a threat to you than the nut job. The elders are the ones to really look out for."

"I thought you were supposed to respect them," I joked. "This feels like an old sci-fi thriller. Maybe a Peter Cushing movie."

Machinations from a third party. Great . Old, powerful beings. Most likely omnipotent.

"So you're saying there is really no winning this," I said, impulsively reaching for the lace curtain again. This time it clearly moved before my finger brushed it.

"You'd prefer I said yes, there is a way out." Sean cracked a sad smile.

"They want me."

"Yes, they're after what you have," Sean said plainly.

"What do I have?"

"I don't know. And they won't tell me."

Sherlock caught my gaze and held it. "John, there is always a way to win. And we'll find it."

The buzzing and battering against the window continued. Both hands at my sides, I looked at the curtain. There. Just a whisper of movement— but I saw it move. And again.

Sherlock was silent. Sean, too. I closed my eyes and pictured the curtains being drawn aside by my hand— the mosquito free.

I heard Sean's hushed voice ask Sherlock: "Did you see that?"

It buzzed by my head. I opened my eyes. The curtain still swayed and billowed.

"I believe we just learned what other power they want from you," Sherlock said, "and it's one we could use to our advantage. Let no one else know about this."

We all agreed.