Darkness Changes... (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 16- Truth Hurts, Doesn't It?

I followed behind Mycroft down this long corridor for what felt like forever until he turned into an iron looking door. Inside was an office, wooden desk with organised trinkets and stationary supplies on it. A picture of the Queen on the back wall behind the desk and I had to hold back my sniggering.

"Have a seat Miss Byrne." Mycroft said and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. I watched as he hung his umbrella up on a stand and unfastened a button if his suit jacket before sitting at his chair. "Sit down." He said again more firmly.

I did as told and sat in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and pulling my trouser legs down. I smiled politely at Mycroft and tilted my head questioningly.

"Don't play dumb with me, Miss Byrne, we both know why you're here." Mycroft steepled his fingers and leant forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk.

I smirked confidently. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Holmes." This, at the time, seemed the best course of action. Playing hard to get and not telling him anything may delay whatever he had planned and may even get me out of here. But the latter was debatable.

Mycroft pushed away from his desk and went over to his filing cabinet. "Here's the thing, I'd hate to have to add 'mole' to your file." He threw a very thin manila file on the desk in front of me and then sat back down. His face stern the entire time.

"Mr Holmes." I started and leant on his desk in the same way he was. "As far as I'm aware I haven't given any information to any criminal person or organisation regarding any ongoing or former police cases and/or government work."

Mycroft huffed and leant back slightly. I smirked and shrugged. "So, Mr Holmes, I can't be a mole. Not yet anyway."

"We want you on our side Miss Byrne." He told me and flipped open the manila file. "We know very little about you-"

"That wasn't the impression I got when we first met." I interrupted him, thinking of the time in that dingy old warehouse after I'd clambered out of a skip. Ah, memories.

He glared at me and then continued, "-before you officially joined the orphanage's records-"

"What do you mean? Before-I-officially-joined-their-records? I was told I was brought to them when I was one year old." I asked urgently. My eyes were wide with worry, I'd thought Moriarty had lied about the orphanage being the place he kept future criminal investments but what if I was wrong?

It'd make sense. I was found in Dublin, brought over here and then into the orphanage. He could have kept me for a year or two. They'd be none the wiser.

"Their records show that you joined them officially when you were..." He trailed off and flicked to the right page in my file. "...three years of age." I sat back, shocked, and Mycroft smirked at me.

"They said I was one when I was brought there... that's what they said." I repeated quietly.

Then, Mycroft frowned. "And why would they lie?"

"Because someone told them to." I said under my breath. So, either the orphanage was a front for his criminal work or Moriarty paid off Mrs Johnson to lie to me. Who knew what Moriarty had done in those two years?

Neither of us spoke in that moment. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, trying to hold back my emotions. "It's all fucked." I grumbled. "All of it." Everything I thought I knew about my childhood, well all that I'd established as being true, was a lie.

My head was scrambled and I struggled to grasp onto what was actually the truth. The only thing that I knew was that my parents were dead. That I was sure of.