"Yes, but we'd be sharing it. With Holmes and Watson!" Jack snarled.
"Jack, we're retiring," Sebastian said, trying to be the voice of reason.
"You've be retired since the moment I stepped on scene," Jack huffed as he unlocked the door.
"I'll have you know-" Seb started.
Both men stared at the sleeping figure on the couch. Both men reached for the their guns and started shouting.
"Who the hell are you!?" Jack screamed.
"Get up, hands where I can see them," Seb demanded.
"What the fuck is going on?" Jack added.
Vance flailed off the couch, landing in a heap in the floor. He stuck his hands in the air.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands up. "Don't shoot!"
"What on Eath-" Finch said, darting from the back room out into the living room. "Oh, Papa! Don't shoot him!"
Mary watched the situation with cool eyes, and her face slipped into a vaguely bored expression. She sighed. "Why is there a vagrant in our home?"
"Mum, that's mean, d-don't call him that," Finch said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"S-sorry," Vance stammered.
"Answer her," Seb growled.
"I-was- she was. I was he-helping her get home safe," Vance said.
"And decided to kip on the sofa? Oh please," Jack said, rolling his eyes.
Neither one had dropped their guns.
"I invited him!" Finch said, blushing. She took a step towards her father. "Papa, please. I was out late and this other man snuck up on me. Vance helped."
"And you brought him home?" Seb snarled. "Have I taught you nothing?"
"Sir, I'll leave," Vance said, shaking.
"Papa! He's my friend?" Finch looked at Vance with an eyebrow raised. "Yeah, I think so." She turned back to her father. "If Sherlock can have a band of homeless people parading out of his flat surely I can have one who is actually my friend."
"You are not Sherlock Holmes," Sebastian said. "Get up. Mary, where do you want him dealt with?"
The woman turned her intelligent green eyes to the sprawling boy on the floor. "Actually, I have a better idea."
"Mum, no," Finch said, trying to sound firm. This earned her a raised eyebrow. "Mum, whatever you're-"
"I wonder," Mary interrupted, ignoring her daughter, her focus entirely on the boy. "How good a thief you are. Surely, missing an eye you can't be that great at it."
"Better'n most," Vance said, raising his chin. "Don't need to see to nick something. All about touch. Sticky fingers, Missus." He waggled his raised hands.
"If I were to send you on a little job, provided you lived through it, would you be interested? I pay handsomely," Mary purred. Finch shook her head.
"Say no, Vance. Don't, don't get involved," Finch warned.
"Yeah sure," Vance said. "I ain't got nothing to lose. What's the job?"
"Moron," Finch hissed, covering her eyes with her hand.
"There is a very important gentleman who likes to sit in the park and feed pigeons in the morning. In his right breast pocket he keeps a little black notebook. A Moleskin, I believe," Mary said, eyeing the boy approvingly. She shrugged. "He has guards. No one is allowed within a twenty foot radius of him and there is no where you can hide. Bring me that notebook without opening it, and I will pay you. Five, I think should do."
"Vance, please, don't," Finch said, her cheeks turning pink.
"Five what?" Vance asked.
"Thousand," Mary said sweetly.
Vance stood up. "Done," he said quickly. "Provided I can have back my clothes."
"Vance, no!" Finch whinged, pressing a hand over her heart. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I think he does, darling. He's just playing the game," Mary hummed. She looked up at Jack. "Tea."
Jack relaxed, heading to the kitchen. He was gritting his teeth, but over the years, he's learned better than to argue with Mary when she was like this.
"Just need my clothes," Vance repeated. "I can't go thieving without 'em. I've have you that notebook, Missus, just you wait."
"Go and fetch them," Mary told him, having some kind of silent war with her daughter. "Don't come back until you do have it or my Tiger here will take you out back and play with you."
"Yes, m'um," he said, bolting.
In a panic, he didn't bother taking off the tee shirt. It was just one more layer. He did leave the sweatpants beside the washer. He pulled on his things with shaking hands. Mary had given him more than he usually had to work off of - black moleskin, breast pocket, man in the park. Easy peasy.
***
It wasn't as easy as Vance had expected. There were guards. But that wasn't the hard bit. The hard part was calming his nerves enough to filch the money to buy a black moleskin. He didn't know how expensive they'd turn out to be anyway. He bought a nicer one. It wouldn't be exact, but it was better than trying to do it empty handed.
He'd called out after the man, telling him he'd dropped something.
By the time he had the notebook, the real notebook in his hands, he was already running away.
A stray bullet clipped his arm. It had ripped through his parka.
Still five thousand pounds could buy a lot. He hid out in one of his best hiding places well into the morning. His arm hurt, but he'd torn one of his less thick shirt's sleeves to tie off the blood. He clutched the book.
Bring it back, without reading it.
Whatever was in it, didn't matter. Eyes on the prize.
At dawn, he slunk the shadows back to Finch's flat. He'd hoped to get one last look at the girl. Her mother would probably shoot him anyway. No honor amongst thieves. He knocked on the door.
Jack opened the door, then slammed it right back in Vance's face.
He slumped back.
Jack padded through the house, shaking Mary softly.
"Kid's back. It's got to be a fake, either that or he wants to be shot," he whispered. She blinked her eyes open, looking worn.
"Let him in. I'll be out in a mo'," she said, pushing up to kiss Jack. "I'll just change. Make sure he's quiet. Wouldn't do to have her having a fit over one harmless little game."
Jack yanked Vance back inside before Vance knew what was happening. He was shoved onto the sofa, where Jack had obviously been sleeping. A gun was trained on him immediately as Jack sat in the chair next to the sofa.
"Don't even breathe too loudly," Jack warned.
After a few short moments, Mary emerged from the bedroom. Her hair had been pulled up and tied into a bun, and she wore a long black satin dressing gown that just oozed class. She was walking upright, but she had a cane in her hand. "Ah, Mr. Reed. You've returned. Please, surprise me."
Vance held out the little book, his hands unsteady in the face of a woman he could very well call 'queen' and not feel amiss.
"Figure it was the right bloke. Guards and all. Got a bit shot," he said softly.
"I'm sure you've had worse, after all, we can see your face," Mary hummed, taking the book from him. "For all I know this is a very good replica." She arched an eyebrow. "Did you read it? You can read, I'm almost certain."
"I can read," Vance said. "Didn't figure I could do nothin' with what's inside there no how. Not real good at writing none."
"Writing can be taught," Mary mused, opening the book. Her lips twitched. "Well, well. Consider me surprised." She held it in her hand, but crossed over to a desk. She bent, writing out a check, tearing it out of her checkbook and holding it out to him. "Take this to the check cashing place two blocks down. They're familiar with me and won't ask questions, such as where you got the money. It's the agreed sum."
Vance bit his lip.
"Can I ask a question first?"
"I'm sure you have several but yes, you may ask one," Mary said, and for a moment she felt amused by the boy. After all, he could've slept in Finch's room that night. He didn't.
"Givin' that book to ya isn't gonna hurt any kids, is it?" he asked. He wanted very badly to snatch the check and run. "I don't hurt mums and kids. Or broke people. Ain't right."
"Ah, thief with a moral code. Funny, that's not the question I thought you'd ask. Rest easy, little pickpocket," even though the boy was taller than her. "It won't hurt any women or children. At least not right now. One can never predict the future. What is your interest in my child, if I might as a question of my own."
Vance blushed. "She's beautiful, Missus. And sweet, and- and shouldn't be hurt by the bad stuff in the world. She's like the stuff of dreams," he said solemnly. "But I ain't stupid. Dreams ain't real. Money is." He stood up taller. "I'll keep my distance like. Don't worry none."
"You haven't managed it yet," Mary remarked dryly, crossing her arms. "You've been trailing behind the most well-observed girl in the world. I've got footage of you on every camera from here to hell and back. I doubt you'll keep your distance. When you run out of money, come back. I've got another job." Mary pursed her lips. "She won't like it. You working for me."
"She won't like me watchin' out for her neither," Vance said, taking the check. "Don't mean I ain't gonna do it."
Mary smirked. "You might just do. Get out before she wakes up."
Vance nodded sadly. He slipped out the door, heading to get the check cashed.
Jack sat his gun on the table.
"What are you thinking, Mary?" he asked.
"You all wanted a new Moriarty," Mary said, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. Sebby liked it when she was domestic sometimes, and she did have a craving for pancakes. "He is determined not to leave Finch alone. We might as well use him until he's either good or until he's dead."
"Kid like that won't die," Jack said, crossing his arms. "You know she'll go head over arse for him. Especially if you tell her no."
"Don't you think it's odd, Jack?" Mary asked, pulling out the flour. "She's never had a friend. Not one. She's such a solitary little thing, always content to be with us or the Sherlocks, but never thought to find someone for herself. I know, I know, she has a few uni friends she goes out with from time to time, but could you ever see her leaving the nest? This way, she doesn't have to. He'll come to her. Especially if I tell her no." She turned to grin at him. "She doesn't like what we do. He'll keep her out of it."
"And you'll train your replacement," Jack answered. "Clever girl." He leaned in to kiss Mary on the cheek. "I imagine you've had him fully checked out already?"
"Of course," Mary smiled, nuzzling her pet. "Haven't you?"
"Obviously," Jack laughed. "Tea?"
"Love some," Mary replied, cracking eggs into a bowl. "Perhaps she'll speak to me again if she has breakfast. Remind her that her mum isn't all evil."
"Her Mum is ninety-five percent evil," Jack laughed. "Her dad is even more."
"I could squash you like a bug," Sebastian said, wrapped in a warm dressing gown.
"Good morning, Tiger. Our favorite little pickpocket returned with Lord Dashwood's Moleskin. I think he'll be back. We must be sure to disapprove of him wholeheartedly," Mary instructed. "I expect your best upset face. Pancakes?"
"Mmm, love some," Sebastian rumbled, leaning in to kiss Mary. "Morning love. Pity, I haven't shot anyone in ages."
"Well, there is that German, and actually one of Dashwood's guards clipped the pickpocket so if you're feeling up to it you could return the favor. Of course, I'd rather you not, I worry so when you're out," Mary said, kissing back.
"I'll decide when I'm more awake," Seb yawned.
"Meaning he's lazy and retired, but he'll do it anyway when you're not looking," Jack snickered. He poured three mugs of tea.
Mary flipped her pancakes, reaching for plates. She turned to yell over her shoulder. "Finch, darling, breakfast!"
Jack opened the door, then slammed it right back in Vance's face.
He slumped back.
Jack padded through the house, shaking Mary softly.
"Kid's back. It's got to be a fake, either that or he wants to be shot," he whispered. She blinked her eyes open, looking worn.
"Let him in. I'll be out in a mo'," she said, pushing up to kiss Jack. "I'll just change. Make sure he's quiet. Wouldn't do to have her having a fit over one harmless little game."
Jack yanked Vance back inside before Vance knew what was happening. He was shoved onto the sofa, where Jack had obviously been sleeping. A gun was trained on him immediately as Jack sat in the chair next to the sofa.
"Don't even breathe too loudly," Jack warned.
After a few short moments, Mary emerged from the bedroom. Her hair had been pulled up and tied into a bun, and she wore a long black satin dressing gown that just oozed class. She was walking upright, but she had a cane in her hand. "Ah, Mr. Reed. You've returned. Please, surprise me."
Vance held out the little book, his hands unsteady in the face of a woman he could very well call 'queen' and not feel amiss.
"Figure it was the right bloke. Guards and all. Got a bit shot," he said softly.
"I'm sure you've had worse, after all, we can see your face," Mary hummed, taking the book from him. "For all I know this is a very good replica." She arched an eyebrow. "Did you read it? You can read, I'm almost certain."
"I can read," Vance said. "Didn't figure I could do nothin' with what's inside there no how. Not real good at writing none."
"Writing can be taught," Mary mused, opening the book. Her lips twitched. "Well, well. Consider me surprised." She held it in her hand, but crossed over to a desk. She bent, writing out a check, tearing it out of her checkbook and holding it out to him. "Take this to the check cashing place two blocks down. They're familiar with me and won't ask questions, such as where you got the money. It's the agreed sum."
Vance bit his lip.
"Can I ask a question first?"
"I'm sure you have several but yes, you may ask one," Mary said, and for a moment she felt amused by the boy. After all, he could've slept in Finch's room that night. He didn't.
"Givin' that book to ya isn't gonna hurt any kids, is it?" he asked. He wanted very badly to snatch the check and run. "I don't hurt mums and kids. Or broke people. Ain't right."
"Ah, thief with a moral code. Funny, that's not the question I thought you'd ask. Rest easy, little pickpocket," even though the boy was taller than her. "It won't hurt any women or children. At least not right now. One can never predict the future. What is your interest in my child, if I might as a question of my own."
Vance blushed. "She's beautiful, Missus. And sweet, and- and shouldn't be hurt by the bad stuff in the world. She's like the stuff of dreams," he said solemnly. "But I ain't stupid. Dreams ain't real. Money is." He stood up taller. "I'll keep my distance like. Don't worry none."
"You haven't managed it yet," Mary remarked dryly, crossing her arms. "You've been trailing behind the most well-observed girl in the world. I've got footage of you on every camera from here to hell and back. I doubt you'll keep your distance. When you run out of money, come back. I've got another job." Mary pursed her lips. "She won't like it. You working for me."
"She won't like me watchin' out for her neither," Vance said, taking the check. "Don't mean I ain't gonna do it."
Mary smirked. "You might just do. Get out before she wakes up."
Vance nodded sadly. He slipped out the door, heading to get the check cashed.
Jack sat his gun on the table.
"What are you thinking, Mary?" he asked.
"You all wanted a new Moriarty," Mary said, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. Sebby liked it when she was domestic sometimes, and she did have a craving for pancakes. "He is determined not to leave Finch alone. We might as well use him until he's either good or until he's dead."
"Kid like that won't die," Jack said, crossing his arms. "You know she'll go head over arse for him. Especially if you tell her no."
"Don't you think it's odd, Jack?" Mary asked, pulling out the flour. "She's never had a friend. Not one. She's such a solitary little thing, always content to be with us or the Sherlocks, but never thought to find someone for herself. I know, I know, she has a few uni friends she goes out with from time to time, but could you ever see her leaving the nest? This way, she doesn't have to. He'll come to her. Especially if I tell her no." She turned to grin at him. "She doesn't like what we do. He'll keep her out of it."
"And you'll train your replacement," Jack answered. "Clever girl." He leaned in to kiss Mary on the cheek. "I imagine you've had him fully checked out already?"
"Of course," Mary smiled, nuzzling her pet. "Haven't you?"
"Obviously," Jack laughed. "Tea?"
"Love some," Mary replied, cracking eggs into a bowl. "Perhaps she'll speak to me again if she has breakfast. Remind her that her mum isn't all evil."
"Her Mum is ninety-five percent evil," Jack laughed. "Her dad is even more."
"I could squash you like a bug," Sebastian said, wrapped in a warm dressing gown.
"Good morning, Tiger. Our favorite little pickpocket returned with Lord Dashwood's Moleskin. I think he'll be back. We must be sure to disapprove of him wholeheartedly," Mary instructed. "I expect your best upset face. Pancakes?"
"Mmm, love some," Sebastian rumbled, leaning in to kiss Mary. "Morning love. Pity, I haven't shot anyone in ages."
"Well, there is that German, and actually one of Dashwood's guards clipped the pickpocket so if you're feeling up to it you could return the favor. Of course, I'd rather you not, I worry so when you're out," Mary said, kissing back.
"I'll decide when I'm more awake," Seb yawned.
"Meaning he's lazy and retired, but he'll do it anyway when you're not looking," Jack snickered. He poured three mugs of tea.
Mary flipped her pancakes, reaching for plates. She turned to yell over her shoulder. "Finch, darling, breakfast!"
***
Vance was terrified of having so much money. He counted it and recounted it.
The first thing he did was go purchase a new heavy parka, a good quality sweater, new boots, and found a hotel he could afford for two weeks. He stashed most of his money on him. Beneath his boot sole, inside his pants - oh god, new underwear - and hidden inside the vent of the hotel room.
He distributed about a hundred quid to most of the littlest Irregulars. He'd felt guilty not to give them more, or even put them up. Still he patted Sammy on the head and left the little girl with a warm cup of hot cocoa and a sandwich as he headed through the park.
"'ello, 'ello, V," a shrill, gruff voice called out. Jenny watched him from her place on a bench, lounging. Observing. "Someone come into a bit o' cash, eh? Care to share a bit wiff your old friend Jenny?"
"Jen," Vance said. "Yeah, got a good haul. Swap a bit for a joint?" He wasn't letting off anything for free.
"Yeah, can prob'ly arrange that," Jenny said, a sly look in her eyes. "Unless there is somethin' else I could give ya. You're lookin' clean, V. Almost handsome."
Almost.
"Washed up a bit. New coat from the charity," he said shrugging. He was horny, frustrated, aching, really. But he'd have to take Jen back to his room. "Din't get no gloves though."
The pigtailed youth licked her lips, leaning forward. "'at's alrigh', we can work it out. Betcha go' a place we could go. I'll make ya feel good."
Vance shivered. "I know, Jenny. I ain't got nowhere, though. You know I don't like the risk o' getting caught. Can't get off like that," he said shaking his head. "Sides, I gotta get back to my street if Imma keep it."
Jenny sat back, appraising him, looking sour. "Y'know, Georgie-porgie says he sawr you runnin' off with that girl. Got somethin' goin' you don' want sullied, now? She's above you. Out of your league, V."
"You think I don't know that? He was after her with a knife for a hit. Ain't right," he said. "You're right, she kicked me to the curb, but that don't mean she deserves a threaten. I don't work that way, you know that. Leave it, Jen."
"Oi, bit defensive, is ya?" Jenny teased, but her eyes were hard. "I can't read, V, but I know somethin' 's up with you. She a richie, you bin followin' her. Could be you keep turnin' me down because ol' Jen ain't good enough for you anymore."
"So what if I'm not interested no more," Vance replied. "I don't need shagging by nobody. Where you think I got the money, huh? Stupid rich folk."
Jenny lit up a cigarette she'd filled with weed, puffing out the smoke thoughtfully. "What's she go', your lil' princess? Gold plated cunt? She payin' you to be 'er lil' whippin' boy?"
"Her da's Kincaid," Vance spat. "Paid me for a job. Picked the right pocket."
"A Kincaid, then. You know, he's go' a rep for bein' Moriarty. Bet he'd pay good for a lil' girl gone missin'," Jenny mused, sucking on the fag. "Could spli' it."
"Fuck nah. He'd shoot my nuts off for touchin' her. Near did night a'fore last," Vance said, dropping onto the bench. "He ain't Moriarty, but he works for 'im, I know. Too dangerous for that shit. I like my bollocks intact."
"We ain't go'ta 'urt her none," Jenny continued to say. "Jus' gotta 'old her long enough for a ransom."
"Swhat I'm sayin'. They won't pay none. Swarm us with guns. They got guns, Jen. Not just a knife. I got shot doin' that little job. Shot! Wanna see?" he asked.
Jenny, as uneducated as she was, was still a woman. Could still recognize the fear in his eyes, even if he wasn't aware. She smiled, and pushed herself off the bench. "Nah, y'ain't got to prove nuthin' to ol' Jen. Jus' take care you don't forget where you come from."
Vance leaned into himself, rubbing at his sore arm.
"Ain't forgettin' nothin'," he said to himself.
"'ello, 'ello, V," a shrill, gruff voice called out. Jenny watched him from her place on a bench, lounging. Observing. "Someone come into a bit o' cash, eh? Care to share a bit wiff your old friend Jenny?"
"Jen," Vance said. "Yeah, got a good haul. Swap a bit for a joint?" He wasn't letting off anything for free.
"Yeah, can prob'ly arrange that," Jenny said, a sly look in her eyes. "Unless there is somethin' else I could give ya. You're lookin' clean, V. Almost handsome."
Almost.
"Washed up a bit. New coat from the charity," he said shrugging. He was horny, frustrated, aching, really. But he'd have to take Jen back to his room. "Din't get no gloves though."
The pigtailed youth licked her lips, leaning forward. "'at's alrigh', we can work it out. Betcha go' a place we could go. I'll make ya feel good."
Vance shivered. "I know, Jenny. I ain't got nowhere, though. You know I don't like the risk o' getting caught. Can't get off like that," he said shaking his head. "Sides, I gotta get back to my street if Imma keep it."
Jenny sat back, appraising him, looking sour. "Y'know, Georgie-porgie says he sawr you runnin' off with that girl. Got somethin' goin' you don' want sullied, now? She's above you. Out of your league, V."
"You think I don't know that? He was after her with a knife for a hit. Ain't right," he said. "You're right, she kicked me to the curb, but that don't mean she deserves a threaten. I don't work that way, you know that. Leave it, Jen."
"Oi, bit defensive, is ya?" Jenny teased, but her eyes were hard. "I can't read, V, but I know somethin' 's up with you. She a richie, you bin followin' her. Could be you keep turnin' me down because ol' Jen ain't good enough for you anymore."
"So what if I'm not interested no more," Vance replied. "I don't need shagging by nobody. Where you think I got the money, huh? Stupid rich folk."
Jenny lit up a cigarette she'd filled with weed, puffing out the smoke thoughtfully. "What's she go', your lil' princess? Gold plated cunt? She payin' you to be 'er lil' whippin' boy?"
"Her da's Kincaid," Vance spat. "Paid me for a job. Picked the right pocket."
"A Kincaid, then. You know, he's go' a rep for bein' Moriarty. Bet he'd pay good for a lil' girl gone missin'," Jenny mused, sucking on the fag. "Could spli' it."
"Fuck nah. He'd shoot my nuts off for touchin' her. Near did night a'fore last," Vance said, dropping onto the bench. "He ain't Moriarty, but he works for 'im, I know. Too dangerous for that shit. I like my bollocks intact."
"We ain't go'ta 'urt her none," Jenny continued to say. "Jus' gotta 'old her long enough for a ransom."
"Swhat I'm sayin'. They won't pay none. Swarm us with guns. They got guns, Jen. Not just a knife. I got shot doin' that little job. Shot! Wanna see?" he asked.
Jenny, as uneducated as she was, was still a woman. Could still recognize the fear in his eyes, even if he wasn't aware. She smiled, and pushed herself off the bench. "Nah, y'ain't got to prove nuthin' to ol' Jen. Jus' take care you don't forget where you come from."
Vance leaned into himself, rubbing at his sore arm.
"Ain't forgettin' nothin'," he said to himself.
***
But it still didn't stop him from haunting the streets behind Finch. On the way to her classes, to her job, and home from Moriarty's. Almost pointless because he got back to his hotel room so late every night. Still, his dreams were full of her brilliant strawberry hair and her sweet lips. He hardly dared to dream about anything further.
He wasn't sure what she meant, but he had a good idea she wasn't just inexperienced, but virginal.
Still remembering her kisses was enough to get him off in record time. Warm showers were always good to wash away the dirty feeling afterwards.
He waited outside Moriarty's, craving just to hear Finch's voice. He was getting closer every night. He thought about just saying hi to her. What could it hurt?
One of the littles caught his sleeve, looking up at him with a serious face. "V! V! You gotta come now, Jenny's hurt. She's in the park. I fink she's bleeding."
"But-" Vance said, looking off to the door of Moriarty's. "Alright. C'mon, little 'un," he said, taking her hand. "Damn it, Jenny. Where is she, love?"
"This way, this way!" the little pulled him, her voice shrill. "Come on!"
Vance let himself be pulled, sighing. He was growing to dislike Jenny, but he was loathe to set a bad example for such a young girl. He let himself be pulled deeper and deeper into the park. Bad place to get hit up by cops - or drug dealers. Probably why Jenny was there in the first place.
Meanwhile, Finch was leaving the bar, with Jenny waiting in the shadows. "'Scuse me, miss," Jenny shyly fingered one of her braids. "You friends wiff V, yeah?"
Finch cocked her head to the side. It had been weeks since she'd seen the pickpocket, but it hadn't stopped her from dreaming. Wishing, really. It had been so nice to feel like she had a friend. "Um, yeah, kind of. Is he alright?"
"Well, 'e's 'urt real bad, ma'am," Jenny said softly. "'e needs to go to A&E, and I ain't able to get 'im myself. Ain't go' money for a cab. Can you help me?" Jenny made her eyes really big. "Please?"
Finch nodded, "Yes. Yes, of course. Lead me to him."
"We were at this party, 'e's in the 'ouse. I fink it was a bad trip," Jenny was telling Finch, leading her away.
One of the littles caught his sleeve, looking up at him with a serious face. "V! V! You gotta come now, Jenny's hurt. She's in the park. I fink she's bleeding."
"But-" Vance said, looking off to the door of Moriarty's. "Alright. C'mon, little 'un," he said, taking her hand. "Damn it, Jenny. Where is she, love?"
"This way, this way!" the little pulled him, her voice shrill. "Come on!"
Vance let himself be pulled, sighing. He was growing to dislike Jenny, but he was loathe to set a bad example for such a young girl. He let himself be pulled deeper and deeper into the park. Bad place to get hit up by cops - or drug dealers. Probably why Jenny was there in the first place.
Meanwhile, Finch was leaving the bar, with Jenny waiting in the shadows. "'Scuse me, miss," Jenny shyly fingered one of her braids. "You friends wiff V, yeah?"
Finch cocked her head to the side. It had been weeks since she'd seen the pickpocket, but it hadn't stopped her from dreaming. Wishing, really. It had been so nice to feel like she had a friend. "Um, yeah, kind of. Is he alright?"
"Well, 'e's 'urt real bad, ma'am," Jenny said softly. "'e needs to go to A&E, and I ain't able to get 'im myself. Ain't go' money for a cab. Can you help me?" Jenny made her eyes really big. "Please?"
Finch nodded, "Yes. Yes, of course. Lead me to him."
"We were at this party, 'e's in the 'ouse. I fink it was a bad trip," Jenny was telling Finch, leading her away.
***
After hours of searching the park, Vance finally grabbed the little girl.
"Where is Jenny?" he growled.
"Jenny said we 'ave to play 'ere," the little girl told him, shaking her head. "Said she give me a half sammich." Already knowing too much about manipulation, she made her eyes large. "I ain't ate for two days."
"I'll give you enough for two sandwiches and a cocoa if you tell me where she went," Vance said.
"Let me see it firs'," the little girl said, eyes on his hands.
Vance pulled out a ten and two ones, holding it up. "And you better be right," he said. "If you are, there could be more where that come from."
"Jenny said we 'ave to play 'ere," the little girl told him, shaking her head. "Said she give me a half sammich." Already knowing too much about manipulation, she made her eyes large. "I ain't ate for two days."
"I'll give you enough for two sandwiches and a cocoa if you tell me where she went," Vance said.
"Let me see it firs'," the little girl said, eyes on his hands.
Vance pulled out a ten and two ones, holding it up. "And you better be right," he said. "If you are, there could be more where that come from."
***
Jenny led Finch into a rickety house. More of a dilapidated shack, but there was music pumping out. Scary guys (and some girls) leered at Finch as she followed Jenny further and further into the house.
"Righ' this way, miss," Jenny promised but her innocent guise was slipping. "'E was 'ere somewhere. In such bad shape!"
"I'm starting to doubt the validity of your statement," Finch murmured, wishing she'd brought a gun. People were lazing about on filthy mattresses and sucking smoke out of pipes. She might not be streetwise but she knew what they were doing. "He said he didn't do drugs."
"Fancy words from the fancy bird," Jenny replied with a giggle. "That V, 'e lies, miss. 'ere, you stay righ' 'ere and I'll get 'im." Jenny turned and quickly made her way through the house, leaving Finch alone. The naive girl started to feel afraid, and that's when Jenny returned. "This way, this way. I go' 'im."
"I really don't think-"
But she'd already pulled Finch into the bathroom, and had plunged a needle into Finch's arm. She pushed, not even really caring if she hit a vein because she drug the metal through the rich girl's skin. Laughing. Jenny was laughing. And then she was running away, leaving Finch on the cold tile floor.
***
Vance was running. The sort of parties Jenny went to were never good. They were in the worst sort of neighborhood. There was always drugs. Always.
"Finch!?" he screamed her name as he shoved people away from him. Most got out of his way.
Finch lay twitching on the floor, watching the bugs crawl closer and closer to her. They were so close to her, no- no- the little black creatures were burrowing under her skin, and she cried out, sobbing. "No!"
"Shit," Vance said, dragged his fingers through his hair. "Shit, shit, shit." He reached down to pick her up, bracing for being hit. "Got ya, I got ya."
"Get them out, get them out!" Finch was screaming, scratching on her arms, hard. Red nail marks smeared with blood from the throbbing wound on her arm. "Stop it, get them out!" Her skin literally crawled, and she was crying.
Vance tried to wrangle her and get annoying onlookers away. It was hard. He tried trapping her arms against his chest. "Shh, shh, Finch, little bird," he puffed into her ear. The cold air hit him like a wall. He carried her as far as he could before shaking legs and her struggling made him have to crouch behind a house with her in his lap. He grabbed her hands.
"No," she shook her head, eyes blurry, tears steaming down her face. "Please, please, get them out of me. They're in there, eating me, please, stop it!"
"Fuckin' coke whore Jen," Vance swore. He kissed Finch's crying face. "I'll get 'em out. Just stay with me."
"No, I believe she'll be staying with us," Mary said, appearing around the house. Her tight black jacket and black pants gave her the illusion of a walking shadow. "Bring her. We're taking her to the hospital."
"Give her to me," Sherlock said.
Tears began falling from Vance's eyes as he passed Finch into Sherlock's arms. Sherlock climbed into the back seat of the car with her tucked under his chin. Jack hauled Vance to his feet.
"In the car," Jack said, pulling him around to the driver's side.
"But-" Vance tried, pulling away.
"In the car," Jack snarled.
Vance sat pressed against the car door, shaking with the occasional tear falling from his bad eye. Rubbing at it was only making it worse. Sherlock stroked Finch's hair.
"What was it?" he asked as Jack drove.
"I don't know," Vance croaked out.
"It doesn't matter. We're going to get her to a hospital where doctors can see to it properly and then we're going to have a nice, short chat with Mr. Reed about the kind of friends he keeps," Mary replied, already on her phone, texting Seb to let him know where to meet them. Finch shivered.
"Cold. Bugs, mum, make them stop eating my heart," Finch whispered. Mary had to stop herself from flinching.
"It's alright, darling. We'll make it better," she soothed over her shoulder without even looking.
"She's going to drop badly," Sherlock sighed kissing her head. "Cocaine, possibly laced with something else." He examined her arm. "Not self-administered, obviously."
"Finch!?" he screamed her name as he shoved people away from him. Most got out of his way.
Finch lay twitching on the floor, watching the bugs crawl closer and closer to her. They were so close to her, no- no- the little black creatures were burrowing under her skin, and she cried out, sobbing. "No!"
"Shit," Vance said, dragged his fingers through his hair. "Shit, shit, shit." He reached down to pick her up, bracing for being hit. "Got ya, I got ya."
"Get them out, get them out!" Finch was screaming, scratching on her arms, hard. Red nail marks smeared with blood from the throbbing wound on her arm. "Stop it, get them out!" Her skin literally crawled, and she was crying.
Vance tried to wrangle her and get annoying onlookers away. It was hard. He tried trapping her arms against his chest. "Shh, shh, Finch, little bird," he puffed into her ear. The cold air hit him like a wall. He carried her as far as he could before shaking legs and her struggling made him have to crouch behind a house with her in his lap. He grabbed her hands.
"No," she shook her head, eyes blurry, tears steaming down her face. "Please, please, get them out of me. They're in there, eating me, please, stop it!"
"Fuckin' coke whore Jen," Vance swore. He kissed Finch's crying face. "I'll get 'em out. Just stay with me."
"No, I believe she'll be staying with us," Mary said, appearing around the house. Her tight black jacket and black pants gave her the illusion of a walking shadow. "Bring her. We're taking her to the hospital."
"Give her to me," Sherlock said.
Tears began falling from Vance's eyes as he passed Finch into Sherlock's arms. Sherlock climbed into the back seat of the car with her tucked under his chin. Jack hauled Vance to his feet.
"In the car," Jack said, pulling him around to the driver's side.
"But-" Vance tried, pulling away.
"In the car," Jack snarled.
Vance sat pressed against the car door, shaking with the occasional tear falling from his bad eye. Rubbing at it was only making it worse. Sherlock stroked Finch's hair.
"What was it?" he asked as Jack drove.
"I don't know," Vance croaked out.
"It doesn't matter. We're going to get her to a hospital where doctors can see to it properly and then we're going to have a nice, short chat with Mr. Reed about the kind of friends he keeps," Mary replied, already on her phone, texting Seb to let him know where to meet them. Finch shivered.
"Cold. Bugs, mum, make them stop eating my heart," Finch whispered. Mary had to stop herself from flinching.
"It's alright, darling. We'll make it better," she soothed over her shoulder without even looking.
"She's going to drop badly," Sherlock sighed kissing her head. "Cocaine, possibly laced with something else." He examined her arm. "Not self-administered, obviously."
***
In the hospital, Vance watched as Mr. Holmes had Finch admitted. Jack kept an arm on Mary's letting her lean on him. He was about to bolt when he ran directly into the mountain of a man that was Sebastian Moran.
Seb grabbed him by the back of the coat and steered him towards the group.
"How is she?" Sebastian asked.
"Stable. Hallucinating. Bleeding," Mary said, looking up at him with worried eyes, frowning. "Jack and I are going to take Mr. Reed on a little ride. Stay with her? Please, Tiger. You'll text me if she changes, or if anything goes wrong?"
"We've got it, Mary," Sherlock said. "Come on, Sebastian."
"Berk," Jack sniffed. "I can't believe you let them get along," he added as the two men disappeared into the back.
"They did it behind my back. Arranged the cottage and everything," Mary huffed, leading Jack and Vance out the hospital door. "Believe me, if I didn't want it so bad I would have put a halt to that friendship right quick. Mr. Reed, I'm very cross with you."
"I'm very sorry, Missus- uh," he whimpered.
"How sorry? Willing to do what it takes to fix the problem? I've read up on your little companion Jenny. How dear is she to you?" Mary asked, turning back to look at him with cool eyes.
Vance swallowed. "Just an uh, ally?" he said. "Buy pot from her, sometimes. Very sorry, Missus. I'll do anythin'."
Mary quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's a good start. Get in the car, I know where she is and exactly what I'm going to need you to do."
Vance was filled with terror, but he did what she asked. Anythin'.
Jack held Mary back before they got into the vehicle themselves. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked.
"Did you see what happened to my daughter, Jack? Because I did. And it's his fault, however indirectly," Mary replied, jaw set and eyes flashing. "He's going to fix it."
"As you wish," Jack said, hoping Mary was doing the right thing and not breaking the young man.
"Stable. Hallucinating. Bleeding," Mary said, looking up at him with worried eyes, frowning. "Jack and I are going to take Mr. Reed on a little ride. Stay with her? Please, Tiger. You'll text me if she changes, or if anything goes wrong?"
"We've got it, Mary," Sherlock said. "Come on, Sebastian."
"Berk," Jack sniffed. "I can't believe you let them get along," he added as the two men disappeared into the back.
"They did it behind my back. Arranged the cottage and everything," Mary huffed, leading Jack and Vance out the hospital door. "Believe me, if I didn't want it so bad I would have put a halt to that friendship right quick. Mr. Reed, I'm very cross with you."
"I'm very sorry, Missus- uh," he whimpered.
"How sorry? Willing to do what it takes to fix the problem? I've read up on your little companion Jenny. How dear is she to you?" Mary asked, turning back to look at him with cool eyes.
Vance swallowed. "Just an uh, ally?" he said. "Buy pot from her, sometimes. Very sorry, Missus. I'll do anythin'."
Mary quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's a good start. Get in the car, I know where she is and exactly what I'm going to need you to do."
Vance was filled with terror, but he did what she asked. Anythin'.
Jack held Mary back before they got into the vehicle themselves. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked.
"Did you see what happened to my daughter, Jack? Because I did. And it's his fault, however indirectly," Mary replied, jaw set and eyes flashing. "He's going to fix it."
"As you wish," Jack said, hoping Mary was doing the right thing and not breaking the young man.
***
Jenny was riding high, holed up in another shack, giggling madly as she stuck the needle in her arms. Maybe V would learn his lesson, maybe the rich bitch would get knocked down a few pegs. Learn a lesson or two. She stumbled onto a ratty sofa, giggles turning into pleased sighs.
"I can see you're enjoying yourself," Mary said, staring at the girl. "Do you always enjoy attacking people so? It seems like a strange way to get your high, but I'm never sure of these things."
"Whose mum are you, then?" Jenny laughed, looking back at the stranger. "If it's Cliff, 'e lef' up hours ago." Although the house was seemingly emptier than when she'd come in.
Vance felt disgusted entirely by her. He'd never gone in for drugs. Too expensive when he needed to eat. Too vulnerable - he needed to stay safe.
"Jen, you done fucked up," Vance said, voice emotionless.
"Aww, did your ickle girlfriend 'ave a bad trip?" Jen giggled. "Should'a aimed for 'er face, made a matching set."
"Oh, oh, oh, no," Mary murmured, recalled something Irene had once said about her and John. "Dear, sweet child. Those were absolutely the wrong words to have used." She slid the gun into Vance's hands. "What are you willing to do, hmm? She hurt Finch. Could've killed her." Mary's soft voice murmuring into his ear.
Jenny pushed herself up, frowning at the red-haired lady. "What are you, her mum?"
"No, I'm much more dangerous than that," Mary replied. She looked at Vance. "You know what I want you to do."
Vance's hands were strangely steady. He nodded.
"Is it on?" he asked, holding the strange weapon.
"V, you can't be serious, listenin' to this ol' thing," Jenny sneered. "She ain't got no 'old over you."
"It's loaded, if that's what you're asking," Mary said, standing too close. She lifted his arm, aiming it at the little coke head on the couch. "Now we stand on the edge of the blade, where I've been for so, so long. This Jenny, she's a wretched thing, but she clearly has known you for a while. She's your friend. But," Mary hit the 't' hard, almost tsking the word. "She harmed Finch. She could have killed her, and when it comes to the safety of my daughter, I need to know what you'll do to keep her safe."
Jenny had started to stand, hands in the air. "She's bloomin' crazy, V. You know I love ya."
Vance looked down at Mary. Then back at the girl.
"I asked you to leave her alone, Jen," he said, squeezing the trigger, twice. The gun recoiled in his hand, two shells popping out as he held his breath.
"We shall have to work on your aim a little," Mary said smoothly, taking the gun from him. She texted her clean-up crew the address. "You're compensating for the lack of sight. Still, impressive show of bravery." Mary holstered the weapon, heading away from the scene as though it were every day that she saw people shot.
Vance tried not to throw up.
"Yes, m'am," he said, following. "Depth perception ain't good. Swhat the last doctor said."
"Really?" Mary asked, turning back to observe him properly. "I just ask you to shoot someone, produce a gun in a country where you aren't technically supposed to have them and have you shoot a friend, and you've no questions? No lingering concerns about the woman standing before you? All you can do is apologize for your depth perception?"
"I tol' Jen not to mess wiff her. I figure you'll tell me what I'm meant to know. People get killed askin' wrong questions. I learnt to keep my mouth shut," Vance said, raising his chin with pride. "I tol' you I'd do anythin' for Finch. I meant anythin'."
"You've only had a handful of interactions with her. Why? Why go to such lengths for someone you hardly know," Mary wondered, and it didn't sound as though she were quite talking to him.
"Why's she got like four da's? Why's she watched so much?" Vance asked. "Why d'you care why I care bout her? There's some questions."
"Because I've made a lot of enemies, and she's a walking, talking target. I need to know if you're someone we can trust," Mary replied smoothly. "Aren't you even a little curious?"
"Wretchedly," Vance responded, putting his hands into his coat. "Who are you?"
"You know who I am, sweetheart," Mary murmured, biting her lip. "If you really think about it. You know what I was doing the night she shot that man, why I just happen to know so awfully much about you." She took a step towards him. "And if you can manage to suppose an answer to that question, you know exactly why I need you to protect her. Because I'm slowing down and I'm not going to be able to keep doing this. Unless, you'd rather I train her to do it-"
"Don't," Vance said. "Don't. I can do it. She can't. I can."
"There. I think I've found what I was looking for," Mary hummed, turning for the door. "Come along, little pickpocket. We've a bird to see to."
"Yes, m'am," he said, heart in his throat. "You know, I always thought you were a bloke," he said, opening the door for her.
"That's what I like people to think. Then they are always surprised when a short woman shows up and kills them," Mary replied, looking up at him thoughtfully. "You know I'll have to disapprove of you. After all, you're trying to deflower my daughter. But, it will also make her like you better. I'm looking forward to your first argument, I'm sure it will be impressive."
"I'll be sure I'm the one who comes out to blame," he said, grinning slightly. "I'd offer to keep me hands to m'self.. but.."
"I am her mother, dear, have some tact," Mary said, smacking his arm. "And I'm very cross with you. I might decide to kill you yet. After all, it's your fault she was drugged. That creature told her you were hurt and off into the night she went. We need to work on her naivety. It will get her killed."
"Apologies, Missus M. I din' mean for her to get involved. You're all just.. a different world o' people. I didn' think she'd care about protectin' me neither," he said.
Jack waited by the car, smoking.
"Jack, this boy didn't think our sweet girl would want to protect her friend. What do you say to that?" Mary asked, tapping out a text to Seb on her phone.
Jack licked his lips, blowing out smoke.
"I think I'm bloody surprised she's finally got a friend other than Spence. Good job, mate," Jack said, smacking Vance right over his wounded arm. "Seb says she's coming down. They're giving her counter-drugs to keep her from the crash of depression. Sherlock says it was coke with an lsd variant."
"Reggie is on his way over to deal with the body. We should get back to the hospital. Are you coming, Mr. Reed?" Mary asked, looking up from her phone to see what his answer would be.
"Yes'm," he said, heading for the car. He was in and belted before Jack or Mary had moved.
"Don't tell me you did it for him," Jack murmured to Mary.
"Of course not, where is the lesson in that?" Mary asked, looking at Jack like he'd quite lost his mind. "He pulled the trigger himself. I told him what I expect of him in the future and he said he'd do it, if anything just to keep her out of it. I don't know what to make of him, but I don't think we chose wrong."
"He still wants her," Jack said, wrapping an arm around Mary's waist. "I don't think I like that."
"You think I do?" Mary whispered, squeezing him back. "Jack, it was bound to happen eventually. She's an adult now. And who knows, she might not even pick him, although I think if we play our cards right she will."
"Choosing our daughter's lover?" Jack hummed. "You think it'll keep her from our situation."
"No. He's not a good enough marksman, but at least if she's behind a sniper rifle she'll be far away from any actual crime," Mary said. "Come along, Jack, I'm desperate to see her. I do worry so."
Jack hadn't meant the criminal bit. He'd meant him, Sebastian, and her. Not to mention Sherlock and John Watson. Pushing the two together before another got involved is what Jack was imaging. He didn't want his little girl to feel so conflicted over her lovers as Mary had. Or the need to run away, as Mary had.
He saw Vance sitting straight ahead, face sternly focused on going to the hospital. Any emotional backlash from shooting someone was buried under a blank face. Jack thought he might do alright after all.
Vance felt disgusted entirely by her. He'd never gone in for drugs. Too expensive when he needed to eat. Too vulnerable - he needed to stay safe.
"Jen, you done fucked up," Vance said, voice emotionless.
"Aww, did your ickle girlfriend 'ave a bad trip?" Jen giggled. "Should'a aimed for 'er face, made a matching set."
"Oh, oh, oh, no," Mary murmured, recalled something Irene had once said about her and John. "Dear, sweet child. Those were absolutely the wrong words to have used." She slid the gun into Vance's hands. "What are you willing to do, hmm? She hurt Finch. Could've killed her." Mary's soft voice murmuring into his ear.
Jenny pushed herself up, frowning at the red-haired lady. "What are you, her mum?"
"No, I'm much more dangerous than that," Mary replied. She looked at Vance. "You know what I want you to do."
Vance's hands were strangely steady. He nodded.
"Is it on?" he asked, holding the strange weapon.
"V, you can't be serious, listenin' to this ol' thing," Jenny sneered. "She ain't got no 'old over you."
"It's loaded, if that's what you're asking," Mary said, standing too close. She lifted his arm, aiming it at the little coke head on the couch. "Now we stand on the edge of the blade, where I've been for so, so long. This Jenny, she's a wretched thing, but she clearly has known you for a while. She's your friend. But," Mary hit the 't' hard, almost tsking the word. "She harmed Finch. She could have killed her, and when it comes to the safety of my daughter, I need to know what you'll do to keep her safe."
Jenny had started to stand, hands in the air. "She's bloomin' crazy, V. You know I love ya."
Vance looked down at Mary. Then back at the girl.
"I asked you to leave her alone, Jen," he said, squeezing the trigger, twice. The gun recoiled in his hand, two shells popping out as he held his breath.
"We shall have to work on your aim a little," Mary said smoothly, taking the gun from him. She texted her clean-up crew the address. "You're compensating for the lack of sight. Still, impressive show of bravery." Mary holstered the weapon, heading away from the scene as though it were every day that she saw people shot.
Vance tried not to throw up.
"Yes, m'am," he said, following. "Depth perception ain't good. Swhat the last doctor said."
"Really?" Mary asked, turning back to observe him properly. "I just ask you to shoot someone, produce a gun in a country where you aren't technically supposed to have them and have you shoot a friend, and you've no questions? No lingering concerns about the woman standing before you? All you can do is apologize for your depth perception?"
"I tol' Jen not to mess wiff her. I figure you'll tell me what I'm meant to know. People get killed askin' wrong questions. I learnt to keep my mouth shut," Vance said, raising his chin with pride. "I tol' you I'd do anythin' for Finch. I meant anythin'."
"You've only had a handful of interactions with her. Why? Why go to such lengths for someone you hardly know," Mary wondered, and it didn't sound as though she were quite talking to him.
"Why's she got like four da's? Why's she watched so much?" Vance asked. "Why d'you care why I care bout her? There's some questions."
"Because I've made a lot of enemies, and she's a walking, talking target. I need to know if you're someone we can trust," Mary replied smoothly. "Aren't you even a little curious?"
"Wretchedly," Vance responded, putting his hands into his coat. "Who are you?"
"You know who I am, sweetheart," Mary murmured, biting her lip. "If you really think about it. You know what I was doing the night she shot that man, why I just happen to know so awfully much about you." She took a step towards him. "And if you can manage to suppose an answer to that question, you know exactly why I need you to protect her. Because I'm slowing down and I'm not going to be able to keep doing this. Unless, you'd rather I train her to do it-"
"Don't," Vance said. "Don't. I can do it. She can't. I can."
"There. I think I've found what I was looking for," Mary hummed, turning for the door. "Come along, little pickpocket. We've a bird to see to."
"Yes, m'am," he said, heart in his throat. "You know, I always thought you were a bloke," he said, opening the door for her.
"That's what I like people to think. Then they are always surprised when a short woman shows up and kills them," Mary replied, looking up at him thoughtfully. "You know I'll have to disapprove of you. After all, you're trying to deflower my daughter. But, it will also make her like you better. I'm looking forward to your first argument, I'm sure it will be impressive."
"I'll be sure I'm the one who comes out to blame," he said, grinning slightly. "I'd offer to keep me hands to m'self.. but.."
"I am her mother, dear, have some tact," Mary said, smacking his arm. "And I'm very cross with you. I might decide to kill you yet. After all, it's your fault she was drugged. That creature told her you were hurt and off into the night she went. We need to work on her naivety. It will get her killed."
"Apologies, Missus M. I din' mean for her to get involved. You're all just.. a different world o' people. I didn' think she'd care about protectin' me neither," he said.
Jack waited by the car, smoking.
"Jack, this boy didn't think our sweet girl would want to protect her friend. What do you say to that?" Mary asked, tapping out a text to Seb on her phone.
Jack licked his lips, blowing out smoke.
"I think I'm bloody surprised she's finally got a friend other than Spence. Good job, mate," Jack said, smacking Vance right over his wounded arm. "Seb says she's coming down. They're giving her counter-drugs to keep her from the crash of depression. Sherlock says it was coke with an lsd variant."
"Reggie is on his way over to deal with the body. We should get back to the hospital. Are you coming, Mr. Reed?" Mary asked, looking up from her phone to see what his answer would be.
"Yes'm," he said, heading for the car. He was in and belted before Jack or Mary had moved.
"Don't tell me you did it for him," Jack murmured to Mary.
"Of course not, where is the lesson in that?" Mary asked, looking at Jack like he'd quite lost his mind. "He pulled the trigger himself. I told him what I expect of him in the future and he said he'd do it, if anything just to keep her out of it. I don't know what to make of him, but I don't think we chose wrong."
"He still wants her," Jack said, wrapping an arm around Mary's waist. "I don't think I like that."
"You think I do?" Mary whispered, squeezing him back. "Jack, it was bound to happen eventually. She's an adult now. And who knows, she might not even pick him, although I think if we play our cards right she will."
"Choosing our daughter's lover?" Jack hummed. "You think it'll keep her from our situation."
"No. He's not a good enough marksman, but at least if she's behind a sniper rifle she'll be far away from any actual crime," Mary said. "Come along, Jack, I'm desperate to see her. I do worry so."
Jack hadn't meant the criminal bit. He'd meant him, Sebastian, and her. Not to mention Sherlock and John Watson. Pushing the two together before another got involved is what Jack was imaging. He didn't want his little girl to feel so conflicted over her lovers as Mary had. Or the need to run away, as Mary had.
He saw Vance sitting straight ahead, face sternly focused on going to the hospital. Any emotional backlash from shooting someone was buried under a blank face. Jack thought he might do alright after all.
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