Back To The Start (Sherlock fanfiction #Wattys2016)

Chapter Four: The Second Holmes

"Ah. Abigail Watson, I presume."

"Who are you?" Abigail asked.

The man standing before her looked years older than her. Early 40s, she guessed. He was standing in her living room, looking as if he owned the place. What made it all worst was the fact that Abigail didn't know this man. She'd never seen him before in her life.

The man chuckled, but didn't respond. It made Abigail even more frightened. Her heart was beating hard against her ribs, but she wouldn't let on. She kept a brave face and took a deep breath.

"Who are you?" she asked in a more demanding tone.

"I think the real question is, what's going on between you and Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked. He sat down on Abigail's couch and crossed his legs. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at her, waiting for an answer.

Abigail felt a bit more scared. She literally met Sherlock a few hours ago. How could this man know that already? Unless he was following her. Abigail sucked in a shaky and scared breath.

"Are you following me?" she asked.

"Not you, my dear," the man replied.

"Then how did you know about Sherlock?"

"You ask too many questions."

"You're the one who broke into my apartment and knows about a man I met only hours ago. I deserve some answers."

The man sighed and pulled himself off the couch. "Tea?"

"No!" Abigail exclaimed, her fear being replaced with anger. This man was infuriating her. "First off, this is my apartment. Second, I want some answers. I want to know who you are, why you're watching me and what your concern about me knowing Sherlock is!"

The man looked at her for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating answering her questions. Finally, he motioned for her to sit. She didn't want to be anywhere near this man, so Abigail sat on the love seat across from him.

"I'm not watching you. I'm not exactly watching anyone, but I have people. Insiders. And one saw you entering Sherlock Holmes' flat only an hour after meeting him then you left minutes later together in a cab. Should we be expecting a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

Abigail glared at the man to mask her fear. Someone was watching her. They watched her meeting with Sherlock, they watched her go to 221b and then leave to go to Scotland Yard. They then went back to report to this man for whatever reason. And now this man was here for some reason.

"I'll take that as a no," he continued. "My concern with Sherlock is the fact that you seem to be moving fast in your relationship. Do you really know him?"

"I know enough," Abigail decided. She decided this the moment Sherlock invited her to 221b. She knew enough that she trusted him. Who she didn't trust, however, was this man. "There's still one question you haven't answered. Who the hell are you?"

"An interested party," he replied.

"Interested in who? Me?"

"No, no. Well, not you specifically. Just your connection to Sherlock Holmes."

"Why the hell do you want to know about my connection to Sherlock Holmes? Who are you? His gay lover?"

The man let out a laugh that made Abigail's skin crawl. She realized she shouldn't be shouting at this man or calling him names like "gay lover" as he could kill her for doing so.

"To Sherlock, I'm not anything to him. Maybe just his enemy. I see myself as a friend. Someone who cares for him."

Sherlock's enemy? Yeah, he seemed like a guy to make people mad, but never an enemy. So who was this guy that Sherlock had to consider him an enemy?

The man stood up and made his way to Abigail's kitchen. She decided to follow him. After all, the kitchen was where the knives were and if this man threatened her in anyway, she could stab him and run. Easier said than done, she thought.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked as he found her kettle and put some water in it to boil. Abigail kept close to the exit so she could make an escape if she needed to.

"Yes," she said. "I'm working with him. As you can see, I need money to pay for this flat and I don't exactly have a job at the moment."

The man looked up at Abigail. She slowly took a step backwards to put more distance between them. She didn't know what that look meant. The kettle screeched as the water boiled. The man looked around for a mug and the tea. Abigail's nails dug into her counter. He was making himself comfortable with her apartment, as if he was planning on returning.

"I could pay you," the man told her as he stirred his tea. "A large sum. Enough to pay for this apartment. Money I'm not using for anything of importance."

"What's the catch?" Abigail asked. "There's always a catch, and when a man has to break into an apartment, I'd say there's a huge catch."

The man took a sip of his coffee and replied, "Information."

"On?" Abigail pried.

"Sherlock."

Abigail was speechless. She didn't know what to say. Yeah, she wanted to make some money to pay for her apartment, but not if it meant giving information to a man she didn't know about someone who seemed to trust her after only a few hours of knowing her.

Abigail bit her lip and decided, "No."

The man's face fell. It scared Abigail even more, but she had to keep strong. She had to keep a brave front and make this man believe she wasn't afraid of him, even though she was terrified about what might happen if her answer didn't please this man.

"What?" the man asked.

"I said no," she repeated. "I realize I just met Sherlock, but he trusts me and I trust him and I don't want to lose that trust by spying on him for a man who broke into my apartment to interrogate me and then offer me money to spy on him." Abigail sighed and side stepped. "Now I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."

The man stared at Abigail in disbelief. He laid down his still full mug on the counter and walked towards the door. Abigail stood, waiting for the door to close. The footsteps made their way to the door, then stopped. Abigail refused to look back. She just looked forward.

"The names Mycroft," the man told her before closing the door.

Abigail waited. Waited until he was a safe distance away before letting her fear kick in. She ended up sitting on the floor as her knees were too weak to keep her up. She was shaking violently and couldn't stop. She took deep breaths trying to calm herself down, but it didn't work.

She couldn't believe what just happened. A man broke into her house. He waited for her to return home to ask her to spy on Sherlock. He offered her money.

Abigail swallowed hard. He knew where she lived. He could come back. God knows what he'd do if he did.

Finally finding some strength, Abigail pulled herself up off the floor and headed for her bedroom. She grabbed a bag and threw clothes into it. She didn't feel safe in her apartment anymore and she needed to go somewhere to spend the night.

She threw the essentials in the bag that she'd need for however long she was staying away. As she walked through the living room, Abigail grabbed her keys and her jacket. She locked the door and headed into the dark streets of London. It couldn't be too late. It had been at least 8:00 when Abigail returned home. Unless she had been talking to the man longer than she thought. Unless she had been sitting on the floor longer than she thought. Inside her apartment, she wasn't sure how the time passed.

Abigail hailed a taxi and waited. A black cab pulled up. She wrenched the door opened and threw her bag into the back seat. She slid into the seat and leaned forward to tell the driver, "221b Baker Street. Make it quick."