by Janina Woods
“Fine, then maybe I bloody will.”
“Mycroft!” Lou said next to me.
It was a warning. She was still my superior on the mission. I exchanged a look with her. Everything in her eyes told me it was a terrible idea to give up our weapons now. I turned back to the wild look that Deville still had in her eyes and remembered the night she had shot me just to prove a point. With a heavy sigh I sheathed my blade and twisted the top to secure it inside the cane, then threw it on the floor to my left, where I couldn’t reach it without a considerable jump. Lou refused to let go of her pistol. Deville frowned, but before she could say anything I put a hand on my colleague’s arm.
“Please, trust me.”
“Oh, so there’s a plan to this after all?” she whispered forcefully, not without a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Not yet.”
“Are you quite done?” Deville shouted and raised her pistol to the ceiling to shoot a hole into the wood. In these close quarters, the sound of the gunshot was almost deafening. Thompson cringed and started to cry in earnest.
“The pistol, now!”
“No. I can’t...” Lou said. “I know what Thompson means to you, but this I cannot do.”
In that moment I saw a shadow move behind Deville and her hostage. A man walked behind the window, quietly and unseen by her. The hair... it was Hawkins! The way that Lou’s arm tensed under my hand told me that she had seen him too. We couldn’t communicate with him, but from the way he drew his own gun, it was evident he saw our struggle.
“If this kills me, I’ll come back from the grave to haunt you,” Lou said with all the venom she could muster.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care that it does,” Deville said. All the warmth had drained from her voice, leaving only cold calculation.
“Let the man go and I’ll come quietly,” I said as soon as Lou’s pistol had followed my cane.
I had to get Thompson away from her, so Hawkins would have a clear shot. If I could only-
The glass window shattered in a spectacular display that reminded me of the snowfall that had dominated the weather in recent days. Deville gave a surprised shout, eyes wide, as she toppled over almost dramatically. She folded onto herself and was down on the ground in seconds.
She took Thompson with her. I had been too late. Hawkins couldn’t have heard our conversation, and we had been in a tense situation. It had been the right call.
But I felt like I was the one that had been shot.
“Alexander!” I shouted and fell to the ground beside him. “Alexander, please...”
There was so much blood. Always so much blood. I couldn’t tell if he was wounded, or if the red stemmed from Deville, who had been pierced by the bullet through her side. She lay next to us, forgotten as I touched Thompson’s body to assure myself he hadn’t been hit. Then he groaned and clutched his right arm. The bullet had ripped through his wrist, flesh torn, bleeding profusely. I drew out a bandage from one of my many pockets, which I wrapped tightly around Thompson’s upper arm, then I knotted another around his wrist. I couldn’t treat his injury here, but I had to regulate the blood flow.
Next to me, Deville coughed and twisted in pain. So she wasn’t dead yet. I put my hand on her throat and pressed her down to the ground.
“I’ll ask you again: Give me one good reason to let you live.”
Sarah Deville tried to respond, but the pressure on her throat didn’t let her utter a word. It wasn’t fair. But what was fair in this world? I reached for her fallen pistol and pressed it to her head, just like she had done with Thompson earlier.
“Mycroft, stand down,” Lou said from behind me. “We’re here to take her in.”
“I’m not a Yarder. I have the right to kill her.”
“Having the right doesn’t make it right.”
I quivered with rage. Here she was: The woman who had conspired with Clarke and had set out to ruin my life, finally at my mercy. But then I realised that she couldn’t even see me anymore. The wound in her side was still bleeding, and the pressure on her throat had cut off much of her air. I released my hand, but she didn’t stir. I looked up at Lou and then at Thompson. Hawkins had climbed into the bridge through the shattered window and stared at the scene... and at me.
My hand shook as I held out the pistol... and placed it in Lou’s hand. Breathing heavily, I drew another strip of cloth from my pouch. If the bullet had also pierced Thompson, it couldn’t be inside her body anymore, so I wrapped her torso as tightly as I dared, to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t die on the way out, but at least it wouldn’t be by my hand.
“Are you-”
“Sorry, could you just leave it?” I cut Lou off. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Fine.” She straightened, slightly offended. “Agent Hawkins, how is the situation outside?”
“We’ve managed to subdue the attackers. There have been a few... unavoidable casualties on both sides.”
“Alright. Let’s notify the others so we can clean up here. I’ll get Agent Parker and you keep an eye on Deville.”
“Understood.” Hawkins nodded.
Lou left the cabin and I took a deep breath. That was it. Done. Over. I reached down to draw Thompson into my arms. I carefully placed his injured arm onto his stomach and bent to pick him up.
“Leave him,” I heard Hawkins say, and as I looked up, I saw his gun trained on my head, face an unreadable mask.
“Leonard?”
He just shook his head. “Leave him. Get up.”
I was too stunned to do anything but follow his orders. Carefully, I lowered Thompson’s body to the floor and then rose to face my... friend?
“Leonard, what are you doing?”
He narrowed his eyes, and I could see tears glinting in them, unshed for now. I patted down my pockets, but I was unarmed. So was Thompson. Any other weapons were outside my reach.
“This is the one chance I have to do it. The only chance I will ever get to kill you and walk away from it. The others will hear two shots. One will be Deville shooting you, the next me, shooting her in response.”
The reality of Hawkins’ words had not yet reached me consciously. Of course I had heard them, but my brain was unable to process the consequences. Still, I didn’t have to ask him why. I didn’t know the details of his actual involvement in this particular plan, but I knew everything else that had happened to him. I sighed and glanced at Thompson at my feet, then back to Hawkins. It seemed like every personal relationship I had ever pursued was doomed to end in catastrophic failure.
“If anyone has the right to be my judge, it’s you,” I said quietly and looked into my colleague’s eyes with a calm that he hadn’t expected. He took a step back, but his weapon didn’t waver.
“So you accept your fate?”
“No. I will never go quietly.”
Hawkins smiled and released a choked off laugh.
“You just don’t change.”
“That’s what you think... what I thought too. But I am willing to try.”
“Nothing you could ever do will right the wrongs you’ve inflicted on me and all of these people,” Hawkins spat. “And we all know you will never be able to change.”
“When you said you’d be glad to attend my funeral, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“Me neither - not then. But I was already in too deep to go back.”
I looked at Deville, who was lying next to his feet. “So you shot her before she could tell anyone about your involvement.”
“We agreed that she would be the one to end your life, but then I saw her hesitate. I was supposed to be her insurance on the inside. Even if everything else failed, I’d still be close enough to take the shot later,” Hawkins said. “I watched the whole scene from the sidelines, until it was
clear she wanted to take you in, instead of carrying out the original plan. I could see the agency win the fight out there, so there was no way she would be able to get away with you. So I chose to take matters into my own hands. And now excuse me, but I’ve talked long enough. Lou will be checking up on us if we don’t show ourselves soon.”
“She already has,” I replied and looked over Hawkins’ shoulder.
He spun around in shock, and in that moment I ducked low, bridged the few steps between us and reached for his weapon. As I had his arm in my grasp, he realised my deception and growled, but it was too late. We were standing back to front, Hawkins behind me, his arm lodged under mine. I dug my fingernails ever deeper into his hand, until he released the weapon, and after I knocked my head back against his, I bent down to snatch it up.
Our positions were now reversed, but I didn’t know if I would actually be able to hurt my colleague, despite everything he had done. Hawkins sank to the floor, both crying and laughing quietly, his nose bloody.
“First you abandon me during the worst time of my life, then you never even contact me, in all these years. We only ever spoke when I went out of my way to search you out, or if you needed anything from me. I’ve shown you so much respect and adoration, but you treat me like a dog. Worse even,” he whispered desperately. “I hate you. I hate everything you are.”
“You never-”
“Never what? Told you anything? What do you think the Service would’ve done to me if I expressed my feelings towards you clearly? Do you really think I would’ve come out of this unscathed? You can go as far as to compromise the security of our Alexandria office, get agents killed, endanger the whole Service... and yet here you are, still supported by everyone - even Challenger!”
It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
“I risked everything that I had regained, to help you across the Channel with the Interceptor, but you didn’t even care! Tell me you wasted even one second to think of me on your adventure!”
The eyes that had looked on me with such admiration were now so full of hatred. Tears were streaming down Hawkins’ face. Evans had warned me, and I had always expected enemies in my own ranks, but never so close.
Never so close.
“You weren’t been sent by Challenger last night, were you? Had I gone with you, I’d have found myself in Deville’s grasp. But if they knew I wasn’t in there... why blow up my house?”
“Don’t pretend like it didn’t hurt.”
I had heard enough. With stiff fingers I reached for my own whistle and signalled my distressing situation to the outside. Within what felt like seconds, Lou burst through the door, weapon drawn. But as she saw me aiming at Hawkins on the floor, she stopped dead in her tracks.
“What’s happening here?”
“Just take him away,” I said, voice suddenly unsteady, almost on the verge of tears myself. “Please.”
“I don’t understand,” Lou stammered, weapon still in hand, eyes darting between Hawkins and me, unsure and nervous. “Agent Hawkins? Leonard?”
Instead of answering, he suddenly darted forward, hands outstretched, lunging at Lou in the doorway with a strangled shout. I screamed at Lou to stand down, but it was too late. Her finger had still been on the trigger, and in response to the threat she fired automatically. The shot did nothing to slow down Hawkins’ momentum, so he crashed into her and they both fell to the ground together.
The noise attracted a number of other agents, who were upon them in what seemed like no time at all. The gun fell from my hand and landed on the floor with a resounding thump. In a haze I barely registered two men restraining me, even though I hadn’t moved an inch. Lou said something that I didn’t consciously understood, but then the hands left me again and I swayed - what little support I had gone.
Hawkins’ body was rolled over the floor, his eyes wide, the spark of life already departed. He had jumped at her deliberately because somehow he knew, despite everything, I wouldn’t shoot him. One last testament to how well he knew me, one last expression of his misplaced faith.
Lou sat on the floor next to his body, covered in blood, shaking, face in her hands, and suddenly I felt incredibly sick. I staggered backwards until I hit a wall, then turned around and retched. My empty stomach cramped up, my head felt dizzy and my limbs were shaking. I briefly blacked out as my knees buckled and I fell to the floor.
In an almost dream-like state I watched as two agents supported Lou as she rose to her feet. She glanced back at me before they exited the cabin, but her eyes were empty, as if they looked right through me. I had no power left in me to say anything.
Then my eyes fell on Thompson, who was still unconscious, on the floor, and I found the strength to crawl over and check his pulse. It was weak, but still present. With some effort I drew myself up and gathered the man into my arms. Even if everything else was broken, he didn’t deserve to be left like this.
As I exited the bridge, I walked onto another battlefield, but I did my best to ignore the bodies on the floor and the struggles still taking place. I ignored the stares I got for carrying Thompson like a fainted lady, proceeded over the walkway and then down the stairs without looking back.
There was too much to think about.
Epilogue
“Where will you go?” Sherlock asked as I hung my hat behind the door to the sitting room of 221b.
“Why, I’ve only just arrived,” I mused and shrugged out of my coat.
I wasn’t as heavily dressed as a few weeks ago. The great thaw had finally begun and the temperatures warmed considerably. It was like the weather had waited for me to resolve my problems to unlock the Thames once again. I knew the winter would return, but for now I welcomed the temporary respite. There was still a bit of snow to be found in the shadows of the buildings and under the bridges, but it was nothing in comparison to the arctic climate we had endured before.
Hawkins’ funeral had been held on a day with brilliant sunshine. I had not attended the ceremony, unable to face anyone else from the Service, but sat at his grave all night, my head empty, tears falling silently. If he had seen me from heaven, he’d probably berated my inability to show up for him when it mattered, even now.
“Your clothes are all new, ready for travel. You don’t want to impress, but you need to look proper. And you have that faraway look in your eyes that tells me you’re already gone from here. It’s decent of you to inform me of your absence.”
“Well, I’m not called Sherlock,” I remarked, but my comment lacked any vitriol.
“Hmm, yes. That much is true. Come on, sit. Mrs. Hudson will bring the tea momentarily, I should assume.”
“Where is the doctor?” I asked as I took a seat in his armchair.
“He said something about real tobacco and left some time ago. I think he still enjoys the freedom, after having been confined to the house for a while, and he knows I don’t have any desire to join him on his pointless errands, so he spares me the embarrassment of having to refuse him.”
“I know for a fact that you’ve invited him to the opera on no less than three separate occasions in the last two weeks.”
“Do kindly shut up,” Sherlock rebutted.
We sat, for once, in peaceful silence until Mrs. Hudson arrived and served the tea on the two small tables, situated perfectly next to the armchairs. The housekeeper and I exchanged meaningless pleasantries, and for once I couldn’t even feel annoyed by it.
“So, where are you going, then?” Sherlock asked again as soon as Mrs. Hudson was gone. He knew of my more or less voluntary suspension, of course.
“Home,” I replied simply.
“Your new rooms on Pall Mall?”
“Why did I ever think you wouldn’t find out? I had hoped to keep you away for at least a while.”
“I make it my business to know these thi
ngs,” Sherlock stated. “You wouldn’t keep your very own brother out, surely?”
“I get the feeling you’ll be visiting soon, but not when I’m actually in.”
He just smiled in response.
“My destination is the manor,” I said. “I’ll be leaving London for a while. I don’t know for how long yet. Challenger has told me I’m not to show my face around the Diogenes for at least a year.”
“That’s what he said last time... and caved after only a little over six months.”
“Well, I can’t know what the future holds. And the servants haven’t received a visit in well over two years, so I feel it prudent to remind them who the manor actually belongs to... before they get too comfortable.”
“That particular ship has sailed a long time ago, brother.”
Sherlock had already emptied his share of the tea and reached for the small, metal pot to refill his cup. I watched him pour the amber liquid and add an incredibly indulgent amount of sugar to it.
“I take it you haven’t been down to Sussex in my absence, then?”
Sherlock laughed heartily.
“Oh, no. They wouldn’t respect me even if I threatened to expel them from the house,” he huffed. “You’re the authority figure. Always have been.”
“I suppose.”
We both paused as the door below was opened with a key. Heavy footsteps resounded, even on the carpeted floor. Something fell over, we heard a low curse and both relaxed as it was clear that it was only the doctor, who had returned to Baker Street.
“How long will you stay there?”
“Who knows? I don’t have anything keeping me here.”
“Thompson?” Sherlock asked quickly, as long as Watson wasn’t in the room yet.
I sighed. “...is recuperating as well as he can. He will live, but only time will tell if he can ever use his right hand again. His wife cares for him admirably, I am told. I don’t want to draw attention to our... connection, and also I’m still legally dead. So he’ll have to seek me out himself, when he is better and if he still wants to see me. He knows you now, brother. Knows how to find me through you. I won’t go to him.”
