Aylia Holmes

12. Moriarty

A slow, rhythmic clapping broke each of them from their moment of recovery as soft footsteps approached down the long aisle and a voice said, "Congratulations."

It was an older man, perhaps in his late forties to mid-fifties, followed by Lestrade and another police officer.

"Lord McIntyre," Enola said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was summoned," he replied, withdrawing from his coat a wire. Tucking it back away, he said, "Your brother knew that I would want to see the right people shown justice. And I don't know how to thank you for retrieving this government property and, uh, bringing this killer to light."

As he finished, a woman, insignificant in dress and appearance, stepped into the light.

Ignoring her, Lord McIntyre resumed, "A rot amongst our ranks. The world shall know the name Enola Holmes. I'll make sure of it." After a small pause, he ordered, "Lestrade, arrest that girl," gesturing to Sarah.

"She's done nothing wrong," Enola retorted.

"On what charge, sir?" Lestrade asked in confusion.

"Theft," Lord McIntyre stated.

"All she stole from you was the truth," Enola snapped.

"She took personal information," he said, approaching Sarah, to whom Enola had entrusted the papers, and snatching them away from her, "which she used for extortion and blackmail. Which is why she will serve her time."

"You can't be serious," Elwin said, staring at him incredulously.

"Ah," Sherlock remarked. "But you are mistaken. She was not your blackmailer. I summoned you here to draw that very person out. The accounting was masterful, a tangle of roots, but all pointed to one pocket. One person receiving the fruits of their schemes with no one noticing."

"Hearing everything, seeing everything," Enola said in a soft voice as though she had just worked it out herself. "Ignored for years."

"Playing them all," Sherlock added.

"It's all a game," Enola whispered. Louder, she said, "Miss Mira Troy."

"Absurd," Lord McIntyre retorted without a beat. "Oh, I don't believe it."

"It's remarkable what can be done when people underestimate you," the woman in question, the small ignored one, remarked, stepping forward.

"And then came the problem," Enola said. "William stole the contract."

"He threatened to cut off your money train," Sherlock said.

"And you couldn't have that," Enola added.

"You hired Grail to retrieve the document," Sherlock resumed, glancing over at Sarah, "but things for out of hand, so you tried to point us to Lord McIntyre. A rare misstep in your game...Moriarty."

She smiled, a pleased, almost amused smile before she said, "Such a shame our divertissement has to end, Mr Holmes. I was so enjoying it. And you, Enola."

"Miss Troy," Lord McIntyre said in shock. "You been behind this?"

"Of course, you never can find the proper staff," she remarked. "I only wanted the agreements back. Though I couldn't be seen to question William myself, you were so obliging. Just a pity he was smarter and braver in the end than I'd expected. They both were. Their deaths were so unnecessary. But, Superintendent Grail was somewhat of a blunt instrument."

"You," Lord McIntyre exclaimed. "How dare you take advantage of your position!"

Miss Troy turned slowly to face him before she spat, "I...take advantage? What were my advantages? Treated like a common servant when I have twice the mind of yours. Any of yours. Why shouldn't I have a share of your ill-begotten riches and punish you at the same time? Why shouldn't I be rewarded for what I can do? Where is my place in this...society? I am a woman. I cannot join clubs. I cannot own shares. I cannot advance myself as they can. So, I found my own way, and it was fun."

"Lestrade," Lord McIntyre said slowly, eyeing her with disgust. "Take her away."

"Yes, sir," Lestrade said. After a moment, he asked, "On what charge, sir?"

"Extortion," he snapped back.

"Er, yes, yes," Lestrade replied.

"Blackmail! Murder!"

Turning to Sherlock, Miss Troy remarked, "Such a shame our little dance has to end...for now, at least. Perhaps we shall take to the floor again."

Then, before any of them realized what was happening, Lord McIntyre lit the stack of folded papers ablaze.

"Well, there," he said wearily, dropping them to the floor. "That's that then. I accidentally burnt my own property. What of it?"

"You are corrupt, sir," Louis said in an oddly dignified voice, all things considered.

"And complicit in the deaths of hundreds of match girls," Sarah said sorrowfully.

"And where is your proof?" McIntyre retorted gloatingly. When she said nothing, he resumed, "Good. Then, back to business."

"Sir, you cannot-" Louis began, striding forward.

"Tewksbury," Sherlock said softly as Enola held him back. "Patience."

"Glory be," Lestrade remarked.

"Elwin, get Aylie home," Sherlock said softly.

She had been listening the entire time, but she had not dared to look up from where she stood, her head buried in Elwin's chest. Elwin nodded, cupping Aylia's cheek to direct her eyes to look at him.

"You ready to go home?" he asked gently.

"One moment," she said softly.

Letting go of him, she approached Sarah where she sat on the ground, watching the burning papers sadly. Sitting down beside her, she embraced her. Sarah returned the embrace as Enola joined them.