The Ambitious Orphan Page 11

  When they were still only part way to the next boat a light flicked out across the water, evidently searching for them. It moved along the path they had swum, showing the wielder to be intelligent enough to predict their path.

  Having no intention of being caught, Mycroft veered out to the left, out to sea again, and instead aimed for a different yacht, farther away but still able to cover them for some distance if they reached it soon. He knew he could duck below the water quickly if the light did come dangerously close to them, but he didn't put enough faith in Amelia's state and ability to expect her to manage the same. It would take longer to get to their destination, but he needed to weave them away from prying eyes.

  Despite needing to swim around the anticipated path of the large spotlight, Mycroft managed to get both him and Amelia to the nearest boat and out of sight.

  “Thank you,” Amelia whispered as soon as they were both holding onto the back of the yacht.

  “We're not safe yet,” Sherlock's voice came from behind them both and they turned to see him come gliding up to them. His hair was dripping and, given how well he'd snuck up on them, it was evident he must have crossed most of the distance underwater.

  “They know we're in the water, don't they?” she asked but neither of them replied. It should be obvious.

  “We need to keep going,” Mycroft finally spoke, encouraging Amelia back towards him.

  “I'll swim for a bit. She struck out past him and the three swam side by side along the boat. When they reached the end he slowed and both companions did the same.

  “Follow me,” he whispered once he'd picked a path to another boat.

  For the next ten minutes they wove between the moored yachts, using them as cover and making their way bit by bit towards the shore and the farthest part of the harbour from Krylov's yacht. He took another moment to look around and realised they'd gone half way. Amelia had slowed even further, and he could barely see her as she tried to cross the last gap.

  “Go ahead and check the coast is clear where we want to get out,” Mycroft said, not really wanting his younger brother to see him helping Amelia. Sherlock nodded and swam off, leaving him to wait for her to catch up.

  As soon as his protégée was with him he grabbed her arms again and pulled her through the water behind him. She'd made no mention of her leg since being in the water but it had to be throbbing. The salt water alone would have added to the pain, but the cut was deep and she'd hardly been able to walk. It was a marvel she'd managed as much as she had.

  When they were only a hundred metres away from the shore, Mycroft stopped and let go of Amelia again. Without question or comment, she struck out for the shore. It was slower going than he'd have liked but he felt confident that they would have been caught by now if they were going to be.

  Not long after, he spotted Sherlock, crouching on the edge of the harbour wall, slowly turning and scanning the area around them. As soon as they drew near he reached down to help haul Amelia up and out of the water.

  She lay panting on the edge as Mycroft pulled himself up beside her. A few shivers pulsated through her body but there was still some colour in her cheeks, and her eyes looked as determined as ever.

  “We need to hurry. We're being looked for along the front as well,” Sherlock said as he tore a strip of fabric off the top he was wearing. While he was speaking Amelia sat up and let out a small gasp of pain.

  Another escaped her as Sherlock used the ripped material as a makeshift bandage, tying it off as tightly as he could. No one spoke. This next part of the plan had been gone over twice. Amelia's injury only changed how quickly it could be achieved.

  Both Holmes brothers looped their arms around her back and lifted her to her feet together. Somehow she kept her mouth clamped down on her whimpers as they jogged with her towards the nearest grassy area. Knowing they were leaving a wet trail, it was important they got off the tarmac and onto something harder for the average person to trace.

  A couple of minutes later the sounds of voices rang out from where they'd exited the water. Their trail had been found. Over the next ten minutes, the trio hurried down different paths and along several streets, eventually coming out across the road from their hotel, sounds of any pursuit getting fainter so quickly it was evident their pursuers didn't know the first thing about tracking someone.

  Instead of heading directly back, they moved away from the building, down a side street, and then doubled back on themselves a few times as they made their way towards the balcony where they'd left the rope. By the time they stood at the bottom again, Amelia was shaking with exertion and was unable to support herself.

  Not waiting for instruction, Sherlock hurried up the rope and Mycroft held Amelia on her feet. While he made his way up to the balcony the first wet drops of liquid heralding rain splattered on Mycroft's arms. He felt a deep seated satisfaction at the stroke of good fortune. Within a couple of minutes the route they took would be untraceable.

  Once Sherlock was safely at the top, Mycroft tied the bottom of the rope around Amelia so his brother could lift her up. It took a little longer to get her up and she had to help herself over the railing, but four minutes later he was also making the ascent.

  By the time he reached the top, Amelia was sitting on the balcony floor, trying to remove her wetsuit, with Sherlock nowhere in sight. The younger Holmes appeared before Mycroft could get the rope off the balcony and coiled up. He carried three large towels and had already placed another on the floor just inside the door.

  Getting out of the rain, Sherlock helped Amelia move inside. As soon as they were all indoors, Mycroft pulled the curtain over and dimmed the lights. There was a moment of silence as the three of them looked at each other. Somehow their mission had been a success and they would get away with it.

  Chapter 14

  An hour after getting back to the hotel Mycroft finally sat down opposite Amelia. He wore fresh clothes, as did Sherlock, and even Amelia had managed to remove her wetsuit and get herself half changed into dry clothing. Her legs were still clad in the damp black leggings she'd worn underneath, and the makeshift bandage still covered her wound.

  A few seconds before sitting, Mycroft had fetched the first aid kit and now he opened it, knowing the cut would need cleaning, if not stitching. It had oozed plenty of blood although the bleeding appeared to be under control now.

  “I think it will be fine as it is,” Amelia said, her eyes on the bandage he was preparing.

  “You need a better bandage than that.” Mycroft pointed at the red and white rag already there. “You need to walk out of here in the morning.”

  She gulped and nodded, a reaction that made him concerned, but she didn't protest as he reached forward and undid the knot. A few seconds later he was looking at a four inch long cut that looked to be no deeper than a few millimetres and was entirely scabbed over.

  “That doesn't look that bad at all. It looked worse when I bandaged it.” Sherlock leaned forward, trying to get a better look, but Mycroft didn't need to. It had been worse, quite a lot worse.

  A quick glance at Amelia's face confirmed his suspicion. This wasn't a surprise for her. She hadn't healed as swiftly as the Holmes brothers could, but it was definitely far faster than a normal human.

  It didn't take long for Sherlock to pick up on the awkward moment, and he was soon flicking his attention between the pair of them. Eventually Amelia looked up and straight at him.

  “I've known you were both a little special since our first observation lesson,” she said, taking her time over the sentence. “It didn't take me long to work out you were Mycroft and Sherlock, not Myron and Sebastian.”

  “You didn't say anything.” Sherlock sat back, a slight grin playing across his face.

  “I didn't know how you'd react to me knowing. I figured I'd just keep it a secret and it wouldn't matter. Being able to heal quickly as well never even occurred to me.”

  “You shouldn't be able to.” Mycroft stood up, giving her a deep
frown. “It's a genetic difference.”

  “We never knew that for sure,” Sherlock interrupted. “That was just our best guess. But this might help us figure out where we got it in the first place. If it's transferred to Amelia, then it's likely our previous assumption of it being part of our family is wrong. Maybe now we can solve this mystery.”

  Mycroft nodded, his thoughts thrown into turmoil for the first time in many years. If Amelia was also as immortal as they were it changed a great deal, and he would have to figure out how much.

  When he turned back to get another good look at Amelia he noticed Sherlock had repacked the bandage and put away the first aid kit. It wasn't needed anymore.

  “Get some sleep,” he said when he had her attention. “We'll leave as soon as we've had breakfast.”

  She nodded, not even hesitating in obeying him. A few seconds later she was on her feet and making her way unsteadily through to the bedroom.

  As Mycroft sank into a chair, his brother nodded and also headed away to sleep. It was his duty to watch over them for one more night, and this time he very much appreciated the time alone.

  Although it appeared that Amelia had kept their secret for several months, even while being interrogated for what she knew about him, there were few ways to be sure a secret like theirs didn't get out. Her developing their immortality and healing only complicated that further.

  If she'd been more wayward and shown any signs of wavering in her loyalty he'd have felt very worried. As it was, he realised he trusted her. Given the right opportunity, it might even prove useful having an immortal female. The amount of trouble they'd had to go to in faking mothers for each new generation of Holmes children they'd pretended to be would be drastically reduced. It left only one logical way to proceed. It wasn't an ideal situation but he would make the best of it, something he'd grown used to over the years.

  By the time Amelia and Sherlock emerged again, Mycroft had straightened his mind, decided how he would respond, and ordered them an early breakfast. Everyone ate in relative silence. Although Amelia glanced his way a couple of times, she seemed content not to ask questions, and he didn't want to talk further with her until they were alone.

  It was evident she had finished healing well enough that the cut bothered her no longer. She didn't limp, or even wince. The entire time, he studied her.

  A few emails came in as they were gathering the last of their belongings and packing them up. One contained a little information on the police response to their mission, but was nothing important. It was the usual police posturing when they had no strong leads and needed to act like they did. The man killed was a known criminal, and there would be few people interested in finding out who'd killed him.

  The second email gave him a little more information on Delra and some of the links between him and the deceased Russian. It seemed the orphan had taken a loan from Delra when young.

  As soon as Mycroft had settled the bill and left the hotel he felt himself relax a little. By the time they were sitting on the plane and in the air, the rest of him calmed back to his usual state. London was only a few hours away.

  Settling into the seat opposite him again, Amelia was soon asleep, and he felt his own eyelids threatening to overwhelm him. Before they could, Sherlock opened his mouth.

  “Well, that was an interesting outing, brother of mine. Not something we all get to do very often. I don't think we've had such a troublesome adversary for many years. Of course, he wasn't anything like Moriarty, but no one's come close to him.”

  “This Delra fellow might.”

  “Really?” The younger Holmes sat forward, not hiding his interest.

  “He's got quite a branch of criminals at his disposal. Krylov was in his pocket. Took a loan to get started as a young adult. Not long after, he freed himself from slavery. Used it to start his drug smuggling, and then slaves as well.”

  “Well, well, he was quite the ambitious orphan, then.”

  Mycroft nodded.

  “And it might be quite interesting having another Moriarty.” Sherlock settled back, a small smile on his face as he closed his eyes. Mycroft didn't know if he agreed or not. Someone who actually stretched their minds might be good for them, but taking on someone like the criminal mastermind would be dangerous. At least now all three of them healed quickly.

  While the jet took them closer and closer to home, Mycroft thought over his plans. It would need to be explained to Amelia just right, and he would choose his words carefully. He only hoped she reacted sensibly.

  ***

  The sound of brandy splashing into a glass soothed the last of Mycroft's frayed nerves. It was always good to be back in his home. Looking up, he even had to admit having Amelia there as well did nothing to upset his calm.

  Sensing his gaze on her, she looked up from the book she was reading. He wandered over to the window closest to her and looked out at the star-lit sky for a few seconds.

  When he turned back to Amelia, her eyes were still on him. For a few seconds they merely looked at each other, both seeing if the other might speak first.

  “I know I don't have to tell you how important it is that our condition remain a secret. You've already shown you understand that.” He paused and she nodded. “But developing it as well, however that has come about, changes several things.”

  “I'm more than willing to help with any tests you want to do,” she replied. “I am as eager as you to know what might have given me this.”

  “Yes. That's definitely one part of what I'd like, but there's something more. I hope it won't be offensive to you.”

  She raised her eyebrows but didn't interrupt him again.

  “I'd like you to marry me. And assuming we continue to live many lifetimes as my brother and I have already done, to keep marrying me through all of them.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed and her mouth fell open. Knowing she would need time to process the request, he remained silent and waited. She got up and walked over to stand near the warm fire. A few seconds later she looked back towards him.

  “I definitely don't think that would be unpleasant. I assume you're asking because this is the most logical way to handle the transfer of whatever has caused your immortality to me?”

  After a moment he gave her a small nod, and he knew he had to be explicit. Lying to her now would only hurt her and give fuel to a possible betrayal on her part sometime in the future.

  “I don't love you, Amelia.”

  She looked away, evidently wishing he hadn't said it. He waited, giving her time to compose herself.

  “You started a war to save my life. I was told vehemently that you'd never do that for me or anyone else,” she replied, a suggestive smirk on her face all of a sudden.

  “Well, they did deserve it.”

  “The actions of one man do not a country make... Usually,” she added when she remembered who she was talking to. He knew she was referring to the Ukrainian who had allowed her kidnappers into Russia and stopped Mycroft right at the last minute.

  “But you'll marry me anyway?” he asked when an awkward silence developed. If he was going to walk her down the aisle he wanted to make sure she was as committed to the idea as he was. Although he'd never thought he'd marry, now he planned to, it was something he'd consider permanent. Divorce wouldn't be an option.

  “Yes, I'll marry you, if that's truly what you want,” she replied.

  “What do you want?”

  Her eyes widened briefly and he knew the question had surprised her. Instead of answering right away she tilted her head to the side and stared at the flames crackling on the hearth.

  “I want to be your Haydee,” she said eventually. He raised his eyebrows.

  “The Count of Monte Cristo's slave?”

  “Yes, the princess he rescued. He bought her out of slavery, provided her with a roof over her head, food, clothing, entertainment and a musical instrument for her to follow her passions. Then he confided in her, going to her to talk when he w
anted company. He even entrusted her with his plans.”

  “So, you do want me to keep you safe?” Mycroft asked, knowing she didn't want to be the little wife kept at home, but unsure how this was different.

  “Yes, I'd still like to be a part of the adventures you get up to and help you in your work. But I'd do as you asked.”

  “You wouldn't find that overbearing of me?”

  “No, not really.” Amelia shook her head before continuing. “Within the boundaries you'd set I'd be safe and I'd be free, just as Haydee was within the rules the Count gave her.”

  “But he set her free at the end of the story.”

  “Yes, and she chose to stay with him because she knew that, even as his slave, she was already free. He bought her, and in her slavery, with all the restrictions, she was more safe, cared for and alive than she'd ever been before she was betrayed.”

  Mycroft nodded, finally understanding what she was asking of him.

  “Would you be my Count?”

  “Yes,” he said as he stepped closer to join her in front of the fire and stroked a hand down her cheek. “If you'll be my Haydee.”

  Epilogue

  With her heart thumping heavily in her chest, Amelia half sat and half leant against the edge of the bath. The seconds dragged by as she waited for lines to appear or not appear on the stick in her hand.

  Over the last week she'd become increasingly more sure what it would say. Sickness plagued her every evening and she'd still not bled a single drop, despite it being well overdue. If she hadn't been living in Mycroft's house with him she'd have tested before now, but it had taken her several days to come up with the perfect excuse to leave the house and buy a pregnancy test.

  Even after that, finding a moment alone when she was sure she could take it unnoticed had proved difficult. It seemed Mycroft had decided that taking care of her meant involving her in his life and the decisions about their upcoming wedding.