Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

19. The Rat

John didn't give me any clue as to where we were going and who we were visiting.

"Why are we here?" I asked as John continued to lead the way. He'd led us to a place called the Diogenes Club.

"Someone told Moriarty everything about Sherlock."

"Okay..."

"There aren't many people that know a lot about him, are there?"

"You know who's been feeding Moriarty information?"

"I'm positive I know who it is. He's the only other person who would know so much."

"And that would be?"

"Sherlock's brother, Mycroft."

I stopped in my tracks before John was crossing a quiet room occupied by a few older gentlemen. John noticed I wasn't following him; he stopped and turned to me. He beckoned for me to follow. Quickly getting over the shock of a brother's betrayal, I stuck close to John as he opened a door to a secret room in the place. My eyes widened as I followed him into the secret room.

"What does Mycroft do, exactly?"

"He's a government official."

I swallowed, had a look around. "Am I going to be arrested for breaking into a government official's office?"

"You'll be fine, Rachel."

I noticed the simple things in the room: a desk, two armchairs, one on each side of the desk. In a way, this room reminded me of a small library, with the shelves of books. But I noticed there was one key factor missing: Mycroft Holmes.

"Ah, so we're waiting again for the owner to return home," I mused.

"Oh, do you want this back?" John asked me.

"Want what back?" I blinked as I realized John still had my hairpin that Sherlock had asked for. "Oh. That." I crossed the room to take it back. "Thanks." Figuring it needed some use, I pulled some hair away from my face, holding it back by the pin.

John took a seat in the armchair, looking through Kitty's file she'd given him while I absently walked around, examining the books on the shelves. Quickly bored, I pulled out my phone, turning it on. Within a minute I had a text from that annoying number Moriarty had bothered me with. I was tempted to delete the message, but curiosity got the better of me.

You and I aren't done yet, kitten. Don't think I've forgotten. x

I swallowed, willing the message away and putting my phone back in my pocket. I closed my eyes, subduing my anger. Everything about Moriarty: his appearance, his voice, his messages, everything about him made me tick.

At the moment, I was more scared than livid about Moriarty's message.

"She has really done her homework, Miss Riley—things that only someone close to Sherlock could know," John said.

I whirled around to notice an older gentleman enter the room. He definitely looked older than Sherlock but not similar. He carried himself in a high way, which for someone with the last name Holmes I guess I shouldn't have expected anything different.

Mycroft closed the door.

"Have you seen your brother's address book lately? Two names," I cleared my throat, "sorry, three names: yours, mine, and Rachel's, and Moriarty didn't get this stuff from her or me."