Fight for Me

Chapter 81

It had been a week since the murder of Henry Griffiths and there were still no leads on the case. Lydia had just begun rehearsals for her production of Oliver in which she was playing Bet. It was only a small role, but she was happy to play it and get back into theatre.

She got back to the flat and dropped her rehearsal bag on the couch, planning on making a nice cup of tea before going to bed. However, she watched those plans disappear as she noticed Sherlock on the floor staring at the ceiling.

With a sigh, she got on the ground next to him and remarked, "what a lovely view. You can even see the small stain from the last time John let you do an experiment in here."

He groaned as he shifted his attention to Lydia beside him, raising his arm to show her the nicotine patches on his arm. "I'm working."

Lydia propped herself up onto her elbow and gave him an innocent smile, "it's only a two patch problem, can't be that difficult."

"Four murders in the last week, all people who were supposed to be dead and were killed in the same way they were recorded to have died years ago. If you don't think that's a difficult problem, I'd like to hear what you think is."

"You are," Lydia replied, caressing Sherlock's cheek. "But I think I've figured you out for the most part."

His gaze softened for a moment before he turned away from her and his voice hardened, "I need to figure this out, Lydia. You need to stop distracting me."

"You really should be getting sleep, it's quite late."

"I'll sleep once this case is solved."

"And if it takes weeks? You can't solve a case if you're not keeping yourself healthy," Lydia argued, resting her right arm across his chest. He relaxed at her touch and his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed in the comforting scent of her honeysuckle perfume.

Moving her left hand up to stroke his curls, she inquired, "so have you found any connection between the victims besides the fact that they were all supposed to be dead?"

Sherlock shook his head, "no, there wasn't much available on their previous lives. It was as though someone created a past for them but it was their first time fabricating a life story. However, everything besides what Lestrade's been able to find has been wiped if it ever even existed, according to Mycroft."

"And you're sure Mycroft is telling you the truth?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that he obviously works for the government, he probably has much classified information that he's unable to tell you. That and he's probably still upset that you chose to stay with me. Can we really trust that he was being truthful?"

Sherlock paused for a moment to consider what Lydia had said, before deciding that she had to be wrong. "No, I can tell when my brother is lying, trust me. Besides, if they worked for the government or something of that vein, then I'm sure my brother would be reaching out to enlist my help. He wouldn't want to have to figure it out himself, it requires too much leg work."

"That it does," a voice spoke from the doorway, causing Lydia to bolt up, cursing herself for not hearing him come up the stairs. Had the Rose Foundation seen her with such slow reflexes, she would have been tortured on the spot.

"Ah, Mycroft, to what do I owe this displeasure?" Sherlock inquired, looking quite irritated by his unannounced visit.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, barely glancing at the file in his hand. "The victims, you do know how they are connected, don't you?"

"Very good, Ms. Evans, though that does seem quite obvious given the previous events. Sherlock, do get off of the floor, I'm sure it is just as disgusting as the rest of this flat."

Much like a child being told to do something by their parent, Sherlock refused to concede to Mycroft's request. "I am quite comfortable down here. Now tell me what you refused to earlier so you can leave."

"Sherlock, we might as well get up. He might be giving us important information pertaining to the case. As much as I wished you were getting some sleep right now, if he has a lead for us, I doubt you will be able to resist following it up," Lydia spoke, offering Sherlock her hand to help him up.

A bit reluctantly, he accepted it and they helped each other off of the ground. He pulled her onto the couch, making sure that she fell onto his lap and keeping an arm secure around her so that she could not climb off of him. It was mostly just to annoy his brother with their intimacy, but Sherlock had to admit he quite enjoyed having her so close to him.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother's antics but chose to remain silent, taking a seat in Sherlock's armchair, tossing a file onto the coffee table. Lydia reached over to grab it before leaning back into Sherlock's embrace.

"There were six of them, an independent group of mercenaries. They were skilled, the British government even hired them from time to time, as did most major governments. They were incredibly important to the American government during the Iraq war. However four years ago, they slipped up and it caused them to fake their own deaths and begin new lives, pretending they had never heard of one another," Mycroft explained as the two of them looked through the file, Sherlock's arm still resting around Lydia's waist.

"What happened?" The brunette asked, half expecting Mycroft to completely ignore her question.

However, he did elect to respond, "a small town in Eastern Europe was hosting them, hoping that they would take out the base of arms dealers nearby who were terrorising their inhabitants. Something went wrong and the explosives meant for the base went off in the church, killing nearly the entire village who was gathered there for mass."

Lydia flipped to the next page of the file, a picture immediately catching her eye. She picked it up to examine it closer before turning it over to find the date and location imprinted on the back. This was the village in question, before the explosion of course. She flipped the photo back over and skimmed the faces of those that this group of mercenaries had killed.

"You said most of the village died, do you know who survived?" Lydia questioned, her eyes befalling a young teenager with dazzling red hair.

"Unfortunately, we couldn't get an accurate count. But those who were not in the church were most likely the most elderly or those who were sick. Everyone else was in the church and everyone else died."

"And you're positive of that?"

Mycroft's eyes flashed dangerously, "you are going to question the intelligence of the British government?"

Curiously, Sherlock took the photo from Lydia's hand, wondering what it was she had noticed to make her so doubtful of Mycroft's information. He noticed the woman immediately, making the connection to the red hairs found at the third crime scene. Of course, there were plenty of other people out there with red hair, but she had a motive if she was indeed still alive.

Sherlock stood and handed the photo to Mycroft, pointing the red-head out from the crowd. "I need everything that you have on her."

"It might take a while, their records aren't exactly detailed."

"If we are to prevent the last two from dying, we'll need to work quickly. I will need their names as well and where I can find them."

-

(A/N): Another visit from Mycroft and this time he didn't even try to split the two of them up! Look at this ✨growth✨ Also featuring some cuteness between Sherlock and Lydia because I need to get it all in before The Fall (which is still actually a bit away because I didn't want to ruin their happiness lol)