Modern technology was nice. Skype, face-time, text, phone calls, emails. But nothing, nothing made his heart leap like unlocking the door of the done-up flat of his lady love.
"Hello, little bird! You home?" he called out.
"Kitchen!" she called back, not sounding the least scared that after a month alone there was suddenly a person in her flat.
Vance dropped his bag beside the couch, looking over the living room. A few things had changed, a bit more artwork was laying around.
"What's that smell?" he asked as he ducked in through the dining room.
"Pig," Finch replied over a mechanical sound. She was bent over the worktop, her machine on, making art on what looked like a remnant of pork. Could've been human, too, except she'd said pig. She looked up at him with a grin. "I'm going to start taking on customers. I need to practice."
"Ah," Vance said, stooping down to kiss her. He was pleased to see she was at least wearing gloves. "Should've known what with Mister Holmes's daughter - body parts all in the flat." He chuckled to himself. "Is there tea?"
"Mm, there can be," Finch said, putting her equipment aside. Being compared to Sherlock always made her happy, unlike Spencer.
Vance took the distraction as a chance to pick Finch up off her feet, spinning her around with a kiss.
"Got you," he laughed.
"You do," Finch giggled, kissing him, too. "Did you miss me?"
"Wretchedly," Vance said, setting her down. "I was actually thinking.."
"Were you? What were you thinking of?" she asked, tugging off her rubber gloves. Her lips were quirked up in a smile. "Something good, I hope."
"I hope so," Vance said, leaning on a counter top. "My things are still next door, but I'm off and about, and I practically live here when I'm in London now. What d'you say we make it official, and I move over?"
Finch's answer was a genuine, bright smile, but she couldn't help but ask, "You don't think it's too soon for that, do you?"
Vance hesitated biting his lip. "Do you?" he asked. "I could stay in the other bedroom, if you think sharing is too fast, but your mum is still footing the bill for another flat that I'm barely using. I only have some clothes, a few guns and other things."
"I just meant that even though we've been doing this for a few months now, we've only actually seen each other a dozen or so times. What if you get sick of me? I've never, erm, had one of you before, I mean, a boyfriend before, I don't know how this works," Finch said, looking up at him with big eyes.
"Well, I sort of doubt other people work like we do either," Vance said, melting at the sight of her. "What if you start missing me? I'll be gone a lot. I am gone, all the time. I won't be able to tell you everything, and I know you hate that I work for your mum. But I do know that when I'm gone, all I think about is coming back home to you. And when I think of home, it ain't that little flat next door."
Finch smiled at him, so lovely and perfect, even with the art creeping up her own arms. "Then I say yes."
Vance sighed. "Really?" he asked. "You can say no, little bird. I ain't pushin' for nothing you feel uncomfortable with, you know that. Right, love?" He asked, cupping her cheek. His hand seemed broader than before, so did his shoulders. His chest. Everything a little more filled out with muscle and health.
"I know, but when you aren't here I just, I miss you so much. Spencer yells at me for working too hard, but it's so I- so I-" She just couldn't bring herself to be that mushy. She gulped. "I want you here, too."
Vance grinned, leaning down to kiss her again.
"I'll bring stuff over tonight, then," he said. "I'll just go wash up, hmm? I'll probably be around for a week this time, unless something comes up. Maybe we can visit your brother and cousin for lunch. Your Mum worries about them, worse since your dads have up and moved her to the country. She's not one for all that." He began washing his hands in the sink.
Finch sighed at the mention of her mother. "She sounds miserable. But, somehow, happy, too. She missed Sherlock. It's not fair to Papa, and I know she loves him, but Mum definitely has a favorite."
"Do you think you'll ever," Vance said, drying his hands. He cleared his throat. "Ever find someone else?"
Finch gulped, unsure of herself suddenly. "I don't think so. Did you- Did you want another girl?"
"No!" Vance said, turning red. "I just- your family is- I wasn't sure if you wanted... the same."
"I um, I don't think I'm like my Mum," Finch said, even as she cupped his cheek in a familiar gesture. "I don't know but I'm pretty sure I don't think I need anything else. At least, not right now."
Vance blinked, feeling his face warm again. He covered her hand and nodded. "So, just us. For now," he said, feeling relieved. "And you'd tell me if that - changed."
"Of course. And I'll break up with you if you add another girl," Finch said cheerfully.
Vance laughed through his nose. "Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured. Because the only thing he dreamed of was being back in the loft with Finch. He still woke up sticky on occasion from said dreams, but he didn't think she needed to know that.
***
"So you're blushin' like a new bride on her wedding night. What gives?" Abby asked Finch, watching her clean up a station. The newbie was getting pretty good, and she worked harder than anyone else Abby had ever had in the shop. Finch let out a little giggle.
"Nothin'. I mean, um, I started living with Vance," Finch mumbled. "You know, he came home and asked to move in with me, and I just, I dunno. It felt nice to have someone. He's waiting for me when I go home now. Not so lonely."
Abby raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I figured by the giant lovebite on your throat that he'd returned. Spencer said he travels a lot. What's he do?"
"Oh, this and that. Works for my family's company," Finch said, throwing her used rubber gloves in the bin.
The door's bell jingled. A couple came in, looking much like the average sort of customer that patronized the shop. The guy was tall and muscular with a bit of a paunch. The woman's fried hair was just this side of brassy.
"Can we help you?" Abby asked, and she put herself between the customers and Finch.
"You can't, but she can," the woman smirked, stalking forward with a gun outstretched towards Abby's head. "Hands behind your head. Marco," the woman said, tossing her chin.
The man started after Finch.
"Finch, out the back-" Abby said, turning back to confront the woman. Finch nodded, darting towards the fire exit. At least if she went out that way, a siren would sound.
The woman got Abby across the temple, while the man jumped the counter and wrapped a soaked towel around Finch's mouth and nose. Finch struggled. After all, her mum and fathers had taught her how to escape these things. She tried not to breathe in. The man stamped on her foot though, causing her to gasp.
The McCannady gang had a long foot hold in London. They were strongest in Ireland, but they pushed back against locals in the UK as far as they could extend their reach. Helen McCannady may be reaching her seventies, but she had her wrinkled hands in every honeypot of the gang.
Hannah and Marco were flunkies, but they were smarter than most. Stronger still.
The door's bell jingled. A couple came in, looking much like the average sort of customer that patronized the shop. The guy was tall and muscular with a bit of a paunch. The woman's fried hair was just this side of brassy.
"Can we help you?" Abby asked, and she put herself between the customers and Finch.
"You can't, but she can," the woman smirked, stalking forward with a gun outstretched towards Abby's head. "Hands behind your head. Marco," the woman said, tossing her chin.
The man started after Finch.
"Finch, out the back-" Abby said, turning back to confront the woman. Finch nodded, darting towards the fire exit. At least if she went out that way, a siren would sound.
The woman got Abby across the temple, while the man jumped the counter and wrapped a soaked towel around Finch's mouth and nose. Finch struggled. After all, her mum and fathers had taught her how to escape these things. She tried not to breathe in. The man stamped on her foot though, causing her to gasp.
The McCannady gang had a long foot hold in London. They were strongest in Ireland, but they pushed back against locals in the UK as far as they could extend their reach. Helen McCannady may be reaching her seventies, but she had her wrinkled hands in every honeypot of the gang.
Hannah and Marco were flunkies, but they were smarter than most. Stronger still.
***
Vance had gotten anxious. He'd moved every pitiful bit of his life into Finch's flat. He'd moved his things into the 'big bedroom', but the large window felt too exposed to want to sleep there. He tried watching television, ate, read, flipped through some of Finch's art books, and finally, unable to settle, headed out to the tattoo shop.
Even if she laughed at him and told him to get out, it was one more moment before the next job came up. He was comfortable in a parka - new, but reminiscent of his old one - canvas and soft. He pulled open the shop door, feeling something off instantly.
Abby lay on the floor, her head to the side, eyes closed, legs at unnatural angles. There was a good bruise blooming on the purple-haired girl's face, starting to match the color of her hair.
Vance bent down immediately.
"Miss?" he said, pressing his fingers to her throat. "Scuse me? Miss, wake up."
Abby groaned, wincing as the throbbing pain coursed through her skull. "Where am I?"
"Tattoo parlor," Vance said, helping her sit up. "Do you remember your name?"
"Abby," she said, gripping her head. "Fuck." She looked around. "Where's Finch?"
Vance's shoulders tensed. He looked around like a dog who'd just been asked 'where's the ball?'
"Where's Finch?" he asked, gripping Abby's arm. "Where is she?" he snarled.
"I-I don't know," Abby said helplessly. "She- She was here and then-"
[GET IN THE CAR OUTSIDE - MM]
Vance's face had turned hard and cold. "You're coming," he said, dragging her outside with him.
"No, no, let go, I don't know nothin'," Abby yelped, trying to wrench her arm out of his grasp. "Fuck, fuck, let me go, I don't-"
"I weren't askin'," Vance snarled. He smacked her open handed against her bruised head and pulled her out the door. A black car was waiting. He pulled open the door and shoved the girl inside before him.
[Meeting you at the flat. - MM]
[Understood - V]
Vance's jaw ticked as the driver took off. He never asked who drove the cars. He never spoke to them. Don't ask questions. Mary always told him as much as he needed to know. But Abby? He turned, shoving the girl against the car door.
"What happened to my girlfriend?" he said, voice deadly quiet.
Abby gasped in a breath, shaking her head. "Don't know nothin' about anythin'."
Vance pulled his gun from his shoulder holster.
"Less try this again, who the hell are you, what the hell happened, and don't think I won' fuck you up, because bitch, I kill people," Vance said. "Where. the. hell. is. she?"
"The McCannady's got her," Abby said, plastered against the other side of the car, eyes on the gun. "I don't know anything else. I don't know where."
"Shit," Vance said, smacking the back of the chair in front of him. "Why the hell are they touchin' her? Again, who the hell are you and what the fuck is your connection the McCannady's? That ol' bitch is practically dead. What's the point in moving in on us now?"
"I-I-I might have told them she was Moriarty's daughter," Abby whimpered, biting her lip. "I didn't mean to."
"You stupid, stupid fuckin' piece of-" Vance bit his tongue. "You don't know nothing," he said, pointing the gun at her again. "Do you hear? Know nothing. Say it."
"I keep tellin' you, I don't know nothin'!" Abby said, her heart racing in her chest. "I don't know nothin'. I never meant-"
"Shut up," Vance seethed. "Or I'll show you Moriarty."
They pulled up outside the apartment and Vance yanked Abby out of the car behind him. He had the gun pressed against her spine as they made their way inside.
Sherlock had his laptop and mobile going in full tilt, murmuring into the phone and typing with the other hand.
"Do you have a location on them?" Mary asked, tapping her own computer. "They might be a large group but they don't have the technology that we do."
"I had them three minutes ago, I'm negotiate bodies," Sherlock said. "Heat signatures. No point in entering without knowing the most likely... ah! There."
"Boss?" Vance said.
"Vance, secure the girl and refrain from calling me that," Mary said, glancing up at him. "Vance needs to come with me, Sherlock. Do you think you and Jack should find another way- sneak in, perhaps, in case we need the firepower?"
Vance pushed Abby into a dining room chair, picking up a length of cord and tying her up quickly.
"Yes," Sherlock said as Jack was strapping a bullet proof vest on. "We'll go in here, come around the back. Can you still handle that sort of-"
"I'm not that out of shape, egghead," Jack snapped. "We'll take out the guards along the perimeter and come from the second floor."
"Done," Sherlock said, snapping the laptop closed. "Ready?"
"I need the rest of my things," Vance said, hurrying back into his room. He grabbed - everything. He tossed the canvas jacket aside, slipping into kevlar and leather before returning. "Ready. Mary?"
She closed her laptop with a snap, reaching for her own jacket. She never went in with a vest, despite arguing with Jack over it. "Vance, make sure you've tied her up tight. We'll need to discuss what to do with it later."
Abby let out a muffled cry, mouth tied up with a gag.
"Come along, men. I want my children back," Mary said, stalking out the door.
Abby lay on the floor, her head to the side, eyes closed, legs at unnatural angles. There was a good bruise blooming on the purple-haired girl's face, starting to match the color of her hair.
Vance bent down immediately.
"Miss?" he said, pressing his fingers to her throat. "Scuse me? Miss, wake up."
Abby groaned, wincing as the throbbing pain coursed through her skull. "Where am I?"
"Tattoo parlor," Vance said, helping her sit up. "Do you remember your name?"
"Abby," she said, gripping her head. "Fuck." She looked around. "Where's Finch?"
Vance's shoulders tensed. He looked around like a dog who'd just been asked 'where's the ball?'
"Where's Finch?" he asked, gripping Abby's arm. "Where is she?" he snarled.
"I-I don't know," Abby said helplessly. "She- She was here and then-"
[GET IN THE CAR OUTSIDE - MM]
Vance's face had turned hard and cold. "You're coming," he said, dragging her outside with him.
"No, no, let go, I don't know nothin'," Abby yelped, trying to wrench her arm out of his grasp. "Fuck, fuck, let me go, I don't-"
"I weren't askin'," Vance snarled. He smacked her open handed against her bruised head and pulled her out the door. A black car was waiting. He pulled open the door and shoved the girl inside before him.
[Meeting you at the flat. - MM]
[Understood - V]
Vance's jaw ticked as the driver took off. He never asked who drove the cars. He never spoke to them. Don't ask questions. Mary always told him as much as he needed to know. But Abby? He turned, shoving the girl against the car door.
"What happened to my girlfriend?" he said, voice deadly quiet.
Abby gasped in a breath, shaking her head. "Don't know nothin' about anythin'."
Vance pulled his gun from his shoulder holster.
"Less try this again, who the hell are you, what the hell happened, and don't think I won' fuck you up, because bitch, I kill people," Vance said. "Where. the. hell. is. she?"
"The McCannady's got her," Abby said, plastered against the other side of the car, eyes on the gun. "I don't know anything else. I don't know where."
"Shit," Vance said, smacking the back of the chair in front of him. "Why the hell are they touchin' her? Again, who the hell are you and what the fuck is your connection the McCannady's? That ol' bitch is practically dead. What's the point in moving in on us now?"
"I-I-I might have told them she was Moriarty's daughter," Abby whimpered, biting her lip. "I didn't mean to."
"You stupid, stupid fuckin' piece of-" Vance bit his tongue. "You don't know nothing," he said, pointing the gun at her again. "Do you hear? Know nothing. Say it."
"I keep tellin' you, I don't know nothin'!" Abby said, her heart racing in her chest. "I don't know nothin'. I never meant-"
"Shut up," Vance seethed. "Or I'll show you Moriarty."
They pulled up outside the apartment and Vance yanked Abby out of the car behind him. He had the gun pressed against her spine as they made their way inside.
Sherlock had his laptop and mobile going in full tilt, murmuring into the phone and typing with the other hand.
"Do you have a location on them?" Mary asked, tapping her own computer. "They might be a large group but they don't have the technology that we do."
"I had them three minutes ago, I'm negotiate bodies," Sherlock said. "Heat signatures. No point in entering without knowing the most likely... ah! There."
"Boss?" Vance said.
"Vance, secure the girl and refrain from calling me that," Mary said, glancing up at him. "Vance needs to come with me, Sherlock. Do you think you and Jack should find another way- sneak in, perhaps, in case we need the firepower?"
Vance pushed Abby into a dining room chair, picking up a length of cord and tying her up quickly.
"Yes," Sherlock said as Jack was strapping a bullet proof vest on. "We'll go in here, come around the back. Can you still handle that sort of-"
"I'm not that out of shape, egghead," Jack snapped. "We'll take out the guards along the perimeter and come from the second floor."
"Done," Sherlock said, snapping the laptop closed. "Ready?"
"I need the rest of my things," Vance said, hurrying back into his room. He grabbed - everything. He tossed the canvas jacket aside, slipping into kevlar and leather before returning. "Ready. Mary?"
She closed her laptop with a snap, reaching for her own jacket. She never went in with a vest, despite arguing with Jack over it. "Vance, make sure you've tied her up tight. We'll need to discuss what to do with it later."
Abby let out a muffled cry, mouth tied up with a gag.
"Come along, men. I want my children back," Mary said, stalking out the door.
***
Spencer blew his curls out of his eyes. He was still sitting on the floor across from the two unconscious-possibly-dead flunkies with the old woman tied up in the chair, when Vance burst into the room with guns blazing and eyes-well, eye, on the prize.
"Hello, Mum!" Spencer said, waving.
Finch had immediately trained a gun on the door when it swung open, standing next to her brother. She had a bruise on her jaw where she'd been knocked about, and a scratch over her eye. "Ah, good. Did you bring Doctor John, too? Spence needs him."
Vance's jaw dropped.
"It's just a knife wound," Spencer said, holding his leg. "I'm fine!"
"Mmmph!" Helen McCannady shrieked.
Vance's mouth clicked closed.
"No, but Jack and Sherlock are coming around," he said.
Mary stepped in front the hall, her lips tilted up in a smile. She took a few relieved steps forward, kneeling to inspect Spencer's leg. "What clever children you are." She glanced back at Vance. "What would you like done with the miscreants, boss?"
Vance blinked.
Boss.
"Ungag her," he said, gesturing at the older woman.
"Yes, sir," Mary said, moving past Finch to loosen the gag on the female kidnapper. Finch's gun wavered, but she followed her mother, just in case. Boss?
"You're just children playing in a grown up's world," the raspy voiced Irish woman spat out. "I'll smear you all with the blood of your cold dead corpses! You are-"
"Moriarty," Vance said.
The woman hissed through false teeth.
He turned, stepping up close to the two flunkies, popping a bullet into each head. He made sure he was close enough not to miss. The old woman shrieked again. Mary and Finch moved to help Spencer stand, keeping their eyes on the scene. Finch feeling a flutter of fear in her chest.
"Mary, if you would, get them out of here," Vance said. "I'll just need ten minutes."
"Yes, sir. We'll wait in the car," Mary said, ushering her children towards the exit. Meekness did not suit her, but she knew it was necessary.
Spencer limped, trying not to lean on his mom, but he was looking back as the screams began.
Sherlock and Jack caught up just as they were coming out.
Sherlock almost bypassed them - "What's going on?" he said, eyes blown wide in fear.
"Someone is leaving a message," Mary said, looking to distract him. "Spencer's been hurt, could you help me? My leg is feeling off."
Spencer reached for his father. Sherlock caught him up.
"Oww," Spencer whined. "You and dad did not prepare us for knife wounds!"
Jack patted over Finch. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he said, cupping her face. "Oh that's going to be sore." He touched her bruised face.
Finch sniffed back tears, launching herself at Jack. "Is Abby okay? They hurt her, too."
"Darling, we're going to have to have a talk about your friend Abby," Mary said, rubbing her child's back.
Vance hurried down the hall. Blood was splashed across half of his face. "At the flat," he said, taking up Mary's arm, knowing she wouldn't be moving fast without her cane. "Out, now. There's more coming."
"You know I'm still in charge of you," Mary muttered, but she let him pull her along. She slipped into the nondescript car waiting.
"I'm afraid," Finch whispered to Jack.
"It's okay, sweetie," Jack said. Sherlock sat Spencer in the front seat before taking the wheel. Vance got into the back. Sitting four across made it a tight fit, but Vance pulled Finch into his lap as Sherlock lurched the car into motion.
Having Mary on his right helped Vance glance at her.
"We won't be followed," Mary said, and it wasn't exactly a question. "You saw to that."
"We won't be. They won't be in London either. I'll make sure of it," Vance said. "They're done here." He tightened his grip on Finch's hips. "But we'll need to plug the leak."
"Are you prepared for the consequences that might cause?" Mary asked. "She'll be none to happy about it."
"McCannadys are small time," Vance said. "They just wanted ransom. What if next time it's someone out to kill her?"
"Vance," Sherlock said from the front. "You can't control the world."
Vance turned to stare at Mary, believing if anyone did, she did.
"Oh, I do, but you aren't me. And you shouldn't try to be," Mary said, after a moment of silence. "That's why we picked you. Fresh perspective."
"We'll find the source. The girl didn't know anything, but she told someone who did," Vance said. "We find the leak, and plug it."
Mary nodded. "And the girl?"
Finch watched them, suspecting who they were talking about. "But- But Abby's my friend!"
"Abby?" Spencer said from the front seat, trying to twist.
Vance gritted his teeth. "I'll talk to her, love," he said, pushing Finch's curls back. "Just- talk. Understand? This is what I do now."
"But it's not what I do! It's not what I agreed to do!" Finch protested, squirming in her seat. She tried to shift over to Jack. Jack caught her, and pressed her back into Vance's lap.
"Sweetheart, calm down," he said, stroking Finch's hands. "Remember what your Papa said. Look down the scope, assess the situation before you ever put your finger on the trigger, remember?"
"We'll just talk to her," Mary agreed, rubbing Finch's back. She met Vance's eyes with a look that clearly read 'for now'. "Don't get upset. You've had a long night. I know you detest violence."
"Mum, it's not her fault," Finch said, even though she wasn't sure.
Sherlock stopped at the flats.
"I'm going to take Spencer on home, clean up his leg wound," he said. "I'll come back around in a few hours. That enough time, Mary?"
"Da-Father!" Spencer complained.
"Yes, that should be fine, Sherlock," Mary said, pushing forward to kiss Spencer's cheek from behind. "Be a good dear, my love. I was ever so worried over you."
Spencer pouted. "Yes, Mother," he said.
Vance carried Finch into the apartment, while Jack threw worried looks over at his lover. Mary put her hand on his arm, causing him to pause outside.
"They're going to have a terrible row," Mary said quietly.
"Are you warning me or telling me to stay out of it?" Jack sniffed. "Because I'm siding with the street rat on this one."
Mary huffed. "I'm saying you all tell me to let her grow up, perhaps you'd like to try and do the same."
Jack sighed heavily, but helped Mary into the flat with a hand on her elbow.
Vance had set Finch on the sofa, checking over her injuries. "Missus M, do you think this needs stitches?" he asked, fussing over the cut above Finch's eye.
"I've had worse," Finch ground out.
"When?" Mary asked, eyebrows raised. "Because as I recall you have not." She bent down to look at her daughter. "No. Perhaps it should, but it will be fine without. We should have some bandages in the first aid, we can tape it up."
Vance nodded. "I think it's in the kitchen," he said. "Can you show me the best stuff to use?" He looked pointedly at his boss.
"I know that look-" Finch started to protest but Mary sighed, patting her daughter on the head.
"It's business, dear, don't get involved. Mr. Reed, if you'll lead the way," Mary said, tilting her head towards the kitchen.
Vance nodded, passing into the dining room to check his hostage was still there. He held a finger to his lips to signal that she should continue being quiet and nodded Mary into the kitchen. He filled the electric kettle setting it to heat before heading to the sink to wash the literal blood from his hands.
"What you called me-" Vance said, voice barely beginning to waver.
"I called you something? I can't seem to remember," Mary said, leaning against the counter.
Vance turned off the water, flicking his hands dry. He scowled, giving Mary a glare with his good eye.
"I don' min' workin' on need t'know basis, but I think in this case - I need to know," Vance huffed.
"Well, what did you think I was training you for?" Mary countered, not appreciating the sudden bossiness in his demeanor. She would not hesitate to kill him, if she felt the need to. At least, that's what she told herself.
"But that I'm - I'm.." Vance said, folding his hands across his chest. "Moriarty," he whispered.
"You're a face," Mary told him, eyes hard. She patted her leg. "I won't be able to go out anymore. I need a face, and the sooner our enemies recognize you for what you are, the better off we'll all be. Don't get any ideas about being in charge, mind. But-" She sighed, looking away. "As you said. That's your name now."
Vance nodded sharply. "Yes m'am," he replied. "I ain't smart enough to be in charge yet. So don't you go goin' nowhere, Missus M. Guess with your leg, I can be sure of that."
Mary's smile was both mean and sad. "Yes. You certainly can be sure of that, for the time being. Now, about the hostage..."
"Plug the leak," Vance said, certain of that as he handed the first aid kit to Mary and headed back to the dining room to remove the gag from Abby. She glared up at him silently.
"You've go' a concussion," Vance said, poking her purpled head. She hissed, wincing.
"Go on. Kill me then," Abby spat out, snapping her teeth at his fingers. "I ain't much for chattin'."
"Me neither, but I also know you ain't stupid," Vance replied. "See, if you go about tellin' people things, get your facts straight. Her Mum ain't Moriarty." He leaned near Abby's face. "You're lookin' at 'im."
"That's no' true," Abby said, her words slurring a little. "I had it straight from the source."
"Really? Did your source tell you that Finch's mum is a million times scarier than I am?" Vance said, cocking his gun. "Who tol' you?"
"I ain't gon' tell some hired gun-"
Vance hit her across her opposite cheek. He really didn't care to hit women, but he grabbed her failing braid and pulled her head back to look at him.
"You're gonna tell me, and you're gonna tell me who you told," he seethed. "Because Finch wants you to live - and I like to make her happy."
Abby laughed breathlessly, feeling a little slap-happy even though her face was throbbing. "Y-You can't kill him. He's untouchable."
"Try me," Vance said.
"Spencer told me," Abby ground out, eyes flashing.
Vance stood up, face turning to the side to see her better. He quickly unchambered his round and set the gun to the side. He went to the kitchen and pulled out a frozen packet of peas. He returned to press it against Abby's face.
"An' who'd you tell?" he asked. "Who told the McCannady's?"
"I didn't-," Abby flinched from the cold, but she tried to hold still. "I didn't mean to tell. I didn't even, not really, just, they sort of guessed-" Her dark eyes looked up at him. "I'd never hurt Finch. Or Spencer."
Vance pressed his lips together.
"But this person, they lookin' to hurt you," he answered for her. "And them. For what? Money?"
Abby shook her head. "I can't. Can't snitch on her."
"I'll find out one way or 'nother," Vance said, moving the ice pack to the other side of her face. "Fact, I could already know. You gotta chance. Whose side you on?"
"I'm not on anyone's fuckin' side, mate," Abby said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm on my side. I ain't playin' this game anymore."
Vance lowered the bag and set it on the table.
"Abby, what if you got someone stronger on your side?" he asked.
"Fuck, look, just kill me or let me go, but stop all the talking," Abby replied, head hanging forward. She squinched her eyes closed. "Head hurts too much for all the damn questions."
"I'll let you go - soon as you tell me who you tol'," Vance said. "Because it was either your sister or your Da, and I got enough blood on my hands t'night."
Abby looked up at him, confused. "I don't have a Da."
"Thanks for clearin' it up," Vance said, smirking. He'd been bluffing. Sherlock's observational techniques weren't always perfect. There was always something - He got up and headed to check on Finch.
Who was also glaring at him. Seemed to be a theme for the night.
"Don' glare at me, it was your ruddy brother running his mouth that got you into trouble," Vance said, sitting beside her as Jack put on the last butterfly steri-strip.
"And Abby? What are you going to do about her?" Finch snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Let her simmer down for the night, watch her head, search up her sister, and put the fear 'o God into her before letting her go," Vance said, looking to Mary for the okay. "Abby, not the sister. Might not end so well." He crossed his arms again.
"You better let her go," Finch pouted angrily.
"She's a threat to the family," Mary pointed out, and Finch moved away from her.
"She didn't mean to get us hurt. And we took care of it," Finch argued.
"No, I took care of it. You just escaped," Vance said. "I'll take care of it. Your friend's runnin' from somethin', and I aim to see what it is. Family's the only thing that ever made anybody run like that."
"Have you ever tried to escape from anything with Spencer? Because I feel I deserve a bleeding medal for it," Finch muttered, standing. "I'm going to lay down. Fuck all of your mischief, I'm tired."
Vance sighed. "Missus M, I'll take responsibility if anythin' happens, but I ain't lettin' that girl on my conscious unless you're givin' me a direct order," he said. "I won't do nothing to hurt Finch."
"If I didn't trust you with my daughter, you'd have been killed ages ago," Mary said. "However, I do still own the flat, and Sherlock is my ride home." She nodded towards the bedroom, indicating he should check on Finch. "We'll let ourselves out when he gets here."
"Yes'm," Vance said, ducking his head and following Finch. He turned back slightly. "Thank you," he said before disappearing down the hall.
Jack closed the kit with one brow raised. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"What was what all about?" Mary asked, tapping her chin.
Jack just shook his head. "Come here, let's pretend we're back home for a little while," he said, holding out his arms.
"Do you miss our little flat?" Mary asked, leaning into his arms. She shifted, tucked tight against his side. "Jealous of our new sleeping arrangement?"
"A bit hard to sneak into your bed when somebody else is already on the other side," Jack grumped.
"What can I do? Sebastian is so cuddly," Mary teased, and she tipped up to kiss his chin. "Don't sulk, darling, it's not at all attractive."
Jack sighed into Mary's hair, taking advantage of the moment. Not even the hostage in the dining room was much out of place. In fact, it felt a lot like home.
Finch had immediately trained a gun on the door when it swung open, standing next to her brother. She had a bruise on her jaw where she'd been knocked about, and a scratch over her eye. "Ah, good. Did you bring Doctor John, too? Spence needs him."
Vance's jaw dropped.
"It's just a knife wound," Spencer said, holding his leg. "I'm fine!"
"Mmmph!" Helen McCannady shrieked.
Vance's mouth clicked closed.
"No, but Jack and Sherlock are coming around," he said.
Mary stepped in front the hall, her lips tilted up in a smile. She took a few relieved steps forward, kneeling to inspect Spencer's leg. "What clever children you are." She glanced back at Vance. "What would you like done with the miscreants, boss?"
Vance blinked.
Boss.
"Ungag her," he said, gesturing at the older woman.
"Yes, sir," Mary said, moving past Finch to loosen the gag on the female kidnapper. Finch's gun wavered, but she followed her mother, just in case. Boss?
"You're just children playing in a grown up's world," the raspy voiced Irish woman spat out. "I'll smear you all with the blood of your cold dead corpses! You are-"
"Moriarty," Vance said.
The woman hissed through false teeth.
He turned, stepping up close to the two flunkies, popping a bullet into each head. He made sure he was close enough not to miss. The old woman shrieked again. Mary and Finch moved to help Spencer stand, keeping their eyes on the scene. Finch feeling a flutter of fear in her chest.
"Mary, if you would, get them out of here," Vance said. "I'll just need ten minutes."
"Yes, sir. We'll wait in the car," Mary said, ushering her children towards the exit. Meekness did not suit her, but she knew it was necessary.
Spencer limped, trying not to lean on his mom, but he was looking back as the screams began.
Sherlock and Jack caught up just as they were coming out.
Sherlock almost bypassed them - "What's going on?" he said, eyes blown wide in fear.
"Someone is leaving a message," Mary said, looking to distract him. "Spencer's been hurt, could you help me? My leg is feeling off."
Spencer reached for his father. Sherlock caught him up.
"Oww," Spencer whined. "You and dad did not prepare us for knife wounds!"
Jack patted over Finch. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he said, cupping her face. "Oh that's going to be sore." He touched her bruised face.
Finch sniffed back tears, launching herself at Jack. "Is Abby okay? They hurt her, too."
"Darling, we're going to have to have a talk about your friend Abby," Mary said, rubbing her child's back.
Vance hurried down the hall. Blood was splashed across half of his face. "At the flat," he said, taking up Mary's arm, knowing she wouldn't be moving fast without her cane. "Out, now. There's more coming."
"You know I'm still in charge of you," Mary muttered, but she let him pull her along. She slipped into the nondescript car waiting.
"I'm afraid," Finch whispered to Jack.
"It's okay, sweetie," Jack said. Sherlock sat Spencer in the front seat before taking the wheel. Vance got into the back. Sitting four across made it a tight fit, but Vance pulled Finch into his lap as Sherlock lurched the car into motion.
Having Mary on his right helped Vance glance at her.
"We won't be followed," Mary said, and it wasn't exactly a question. "You saw to that."
"We won't be. They won't be in London either. I'll make sure of it," Vance said. "They're done here." He tightened his grip on Finch's hips. "But we'll need to plug the leak."
"Are you prepared for the consequences that might cause?" Mary asked. "She'll be none to happy about it."
"McCannadys are small time," Vance said. "They just wanted ransom. What if next time it's someone out to kill her?"
"Vance," Sherlock said from the front. "You can't control the world."
Vance turned to stare at Mary, believing if anyone did, she did.
"Oh, I do, but you aren't me. And you shouldn't try to be," Mary said, after a moment of silence. "That's why we picked you. Fresh perspective."
"We'll find the source. The girl didn't know anything, but she told someone who did," Vance said. "We find the leak, and plug it."
Mary nodded. "And the girl?"
Finch watched them, suspecting who they were talking about. "But- But Abby's my friend!"
"Abby?" Spencer said from the front seat, trying to twist.
Vance gritted his teeth. "I'll talk to her, love," he said, pushing Finch's curls back. "Just- talk. Understand? This is what I do now."
"But it's not what I do! It's not what I agreed to do!" Finch protested, squirming in her seat. She tried to shift over to Jack. Jack caught her, and pressed her back into Vance's lap.
"Sweetheart, calm down," he said, stroking Finch's hands. "Remember what your Papa said. Look down the scope, assess the situation before you ever put your finger on the trigger, remember?"
"We'll just talk to her," Mary agreed, rubbing Finch's back. She met Vance's eyes with a look that clearly read 'for now'. "Don't get upset. You've had a long night. I know you detest violence."
"Mum, it's not her fault," Finch said, even though she wasn't sure.
Sherlock stopped at the flats.
"I'm going to take Spencer on home, clean up his leg wound," he said. "I'll come back around in a few hours. That enough time, Mary?"
"Da-Father!" Spencer complained.
"Yes, that should be fine, Sherlock," Mary said, pushing forward to kiss Spencer's cheek from behind. "Be a good dear, my love. I was ever so worried over you."
Spencer pouted. "Yes, Mother," he said.
Vance carried Finch into the apartment, while Jack threw worried looks over at his lover. Mary put her hand on his arm, causing him to pause outside.
"They're going to have a terrible row," Mary said quietly.
"Are you warning me or telling me to stay out of it?" Jack sniffed. "Because I'm siding with the street rat on this one."
Mary huffed. "I'm saying you all tell me to let her grow up, perhaps you'd like to try and do the same."
Jack sighed heavily, but helped Mary into the flat with a hand on her elbow.
Vance had set Finch on the sofa, checking over her injuries. "Missus M, do you think this needs stitches?" he asked, fussing over the cut above Finch's eye.
"I've had worse," Finch ground out.
"When?" Mary asked, eyebrows raised. "Because as I recall you have not." She bent down to look at her daughter. "No. Perhaps it should, but it will be fine without. We should have some bandages in the first aid, we can tape it up."
Vance nodded. "I think it's in the kitchen," he said. "Can you show me the best stuff to use?" He looked pointedly at his boss.
"I know that look-" Finch started to protest but Mary sighed, patting her daughter on the head.
"It's business, dear, don't get involved. Mr. Reed, if you'll lead the way," Mary said, tilting her head towards the kitchen.
Vance nodded, passing into the dining room to check his hostage was still there. He held a finger to his lips to signal that she should continue being quiet and nodded Mary into the kitchen. He filled the electric kettle setting it to heat before heading to the sink to wash the literal blood from his hands.
"What you called me-" Vance said, voice barely beginning to waver.
"I called you something? I can't seem to remember," Mary said, leaning against the counter.
Vance turned off the water, flicking his hands dry. He scowled, giving Mary a glare with his good eye.
"I don' min' workin' on need t'know basis, but I think in this case - I need to know," Vance huffed.
"Well, what did you think I was training you for?" Mary countered, not appreciating the sudden bossiness in his demeanor. She would not hesitate to kill him, if she felt the need to. At least, that's what she told herself.
"But that I'm - I'm.." Vance said, folding his hands across his chest. "Moriarty," he whispered.
"You're a face," Mary told him, eyes hard. She patted her leg. "I won't be able to go out anymore. I need a face, and the sooner our enemies recognize you for what you are, the better off we'll all be. Don't get any ideas about being in charge, mind. But-" She sighed, looking away. "As you said. That's your name now."
Vance nodded sharply. "Yes m'am," he replied. "I ain't smart enough to be in charge yet. So don't you go goin' nowhere, Missus M. Guess with your leg, I can be sure of that."
Mary's smile was both mean and sad. "Yes. You certainly can be sure of that, for the time being. Now, about the hostage..."
"Plug the leak," Vance said, certain of that as he handed the first aid kit to Mary and headed back to the dining room to remove the gag from Abby. She glared up at him silently.
"You've go' a concussion," Vance said, poking her purpled head. She hissed, wincing.
"Go on. Kill me then," Abby spat out, snapping her teeth at his fingers. "I ain't much for chattin'."
"Me neither, but I also know you ain't stupid," Vance replied. "See, if you go about tellin' people things, get your facts straight. Her Mum ain't Moriarty." He leaned near Abby's face. "You're lookin' at 'im."
"That's no' true," Abby said, her words slurring a little. "I had it straight from the source."
"Really? Did your source tell you that Finch's mum is a million times scarier than I am?" Vance said, cocking his gun. "Who tol' you?"
"I ain't gon' tell some hired gun-"
Vance hit her across her opposite cheek. He really didn't care to hit women, but he grabbed her failing braid and pulled her head back to look at him.
"You're gonna tell me, and you're gonna tell me who you told," he seethed. "Because Finch wants you to live - and I like to make her happy."
Abby laughed breathlessly, feeling a little slap-happy even though her face was throbbing. "Y-You can't kill him. He's untouchable."
"Try me," Vance said.
"Spencer told me," Abby ground out, eyes flashing.
Vance stood up, face turning to the side to see her better. He quickly unchambered his round and set the gun to the side. He went to the kitchen and pulled out a frozen packet of peas. He returned to press it against Abby's face.
"An' who'd you tell?" he asked. "Who told the McCannady's?"
"I didn't-," Abby flinched from the cold, but she tried to hold still. "I didn't mean to tell. I didn't even, not really, just, they sort of guessed-" Her dark eyes looked up at him. "I'd never hurt Finch. Or Spencer."
Vance pressed his lips together.
"But this person, they lookin' to hurt you," he answered for her. "And them. For what? Money?"
Abby shook her head. "I can't. Can't snitch on her."
"I'll find out one way or 'nother," Vance said, moving the ice pack to the other side of her face. "Fact, I could already know. You gotta chance. Whose side you on?"
"I'm not on anyone's fuckin' side, mate," Abby said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm on my side. I ain't playin' this game anymore."
Vance lowered the bag and set it on the table.
"Abby, what if you got someone stronger on your side?" he asked.
"Fuck, look, just kill me or let me go, but stop all the talking," Abby replied, head hanging forward. She squinched her eyes closed. "Head hurts too much for all the damn questions."
"I'll let you go - soon as you tell me who you tol'," Vance said. "Because it was either your sister or your Da, and I got enough blood on my hands t'night."
Abby looked up at him, confused. "I don't have a Da."
"Thanks for clearin' it up," Vance said, smirking. He'd been bluffing. Sherlock's observational techniques weren't always perfect. There was always something - He got up and headed to check on Finch.
Who was also glaring at him. Seemed to be a theme for the night.
"Don' glare at me, it was your ruddy brother running his mouth that got you into trouble," Vance said, sitting beside her as Jack put on the last butterfly steri-strip.
"And Abby? What are you going to do about her?" Finch snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Let her simmer down for the night, watch her head, search up her sister, and put the fear 'o God into her before letting her go," Vance said, looking to Mary for the okay. "Abby, not the sister. Might not end so well." He crossed his arms again.
"You better let her go," Finch pouted angrily.
"She's a threat to the family," Mary pointed out, and Finch moved away from her.
"She didn't mean to get us hurt. And we took care of it," Finch argued.
"No, I took care of it. You just escaped," Vance said. "I'll take care of it. Your friend's runnin' from somethin', and I aim to see what it is. Family's the only thing that ever made anybody run like that."
"Have you ever tried to escape from anything with Spencer? Because I feel I deserve a bleeding medal for it," Finch muttered, standing. "I'm going to lay down. Fuck all of your mischief, I'm tired."
Vance sighed. "Missus M, I'll take responsibility if anythin' happens, but I ain't lettin' that girl on my conscious unless you're givin' me a direct order," he said. "I won't do nothing to hurt Finch."
"If I didn't trust you with my daughter, you'd have been killed ages ago," Mary said. "However, I do still own the flat, and Sherlock is my ride home." She nodded towards the bedroom, indicating he should check on Finch. "We'll let ourselves out when he gets here."
"Yes'm," Vance said, ducking his head and following Finch. He turned back slightly. "Thank you," he said before disappearing down the hall.
Jack closed the kit with one brow raised. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"What was what all about?" Mary asked, tapping her chin.
Jack just shook his head. "Come here, let's pretend we're back home for a little while," he said, holding out his arms.
"Do you miss our little flat?" Mary asked, leaning into his arms. She shifted, tucked tight against his side. "Jealous of our new sleeping arrangement?"
"A bit hard to sneak into your bed when somebody else is already on the other side," Jack grumped.
"What can I do? Sebastian is so cuddly," Mary teased, and she tipped up to kiss his chin. "Don't sulk, darling, it's not at all attractive."
Jack sighed into Mary's hair, taking advantage of the moment. Not even the hostage in the dining room was much out of place. In fact, it felt a lot like home.
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