Chapter Six: Paramour's Den

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"Are you sure you have no idea what this symbol means?" Sherlock pestered Lestrade once again as he shook his head.

"Damn it," Sherlock growled, following you as you left the scene, headed to Scotland Yard to analyze any evidence you could from the crime scene.

Hailing a cab, you waited patiently for the detective to get into the car, he was already seething at not being able to find out who it was.

Sherlock entered the cab, closing the door behind him as the driver sped off towards Scotland Yard, you reached for your phone, deciding to text the one person that might have an idea of what this symbol was or at least might be able to get a lead.

"Answer your phone, damn it," you muttered annoyed after a few minutes of no response.

Sherlock tried to peer over, frustrated when he couldn't make out the contact name. "Who are you texting?"

"Your brother," you responded, not sparing him a glance, silently willing for the oldest Holmes to pick up his phone, sure he was purposely ignoring you. "If anyone knows anything it's him, and you have too much ego to ask him for help."

"Finally!" You shouted out after a minute, muttering an apology when the cab driver shot you a glare through the mirror.

Sherlock inched closer, finally able to make out your screen and the words that said, 'Meet me at the club.'

"Change of address sir," Sherlock told the driver, offering a few more quid, "We're going to the Diogenes Club."

——

Sherlock and you pushed open the doors to the all men club, not caring about the workers that waited at the front.

Immediately pulling aside the first man you could assume worked regularly, you began to sign in BSL, telling your reason for being here and asking where exactly one Mycroft Holmes was.

Thankfully the man seemed to understand, signing for you and Sherlock to follow him and leading you to the large office. Staying at the door as you walked in, not caring to knock.

"Mikey," you ignored the harsh but shocked look on the older Holmes' face, "I need you to tell me everything you know."

"Ah, Y/N," Mycroft motioned for you to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk, calm about the situation still doing the paperwork he had been caught up in before, "how have you been?"

"They've been fine," Sherlock told Mycroft wanting to get to the symbol and use the vital clue for the rest of the case, "now cut to the chase, brother."

Sending Sherlock a look that told him to shut up you only hoped he didnt piss off Mycroft too much and that he would answer your question, "Do you know what it means?"

"Maybe," Mycroft answered slyly his eyes twinkling in delight as he watched his brother's pissed-off expression, great Sherlock had really done it, now it would take forever to get it out of him.

Clearing your throat you got Mycroft's attention, your only option for getting this fast was to play the card, "Tell me or I will tell Sherlock and your parents what I heard in the office a few days ago."

Mycroft paled. You got him. For once you grinned at him, and you finally won.

"Greg, you're not answering so I'm coming in!" You shouted after knocking at the door multiple times and getting no response, already grumpy because it was late and Lestrade would not answer his door so you could give him the report you had done.

Pushing the door open with your back, and gripping the large stack of papers with both hands you heard a surprised yelp from behind you, thinking it was just Greg surprised since he didn't hear you, you made the mistake of turning around.

That surprised you. What you saw was something no person should ever see. Greg Lestrade at his desk fumbling with his pants, thankfully everything was covered or you might have gagged. And it wasn't just Lestrade, no, no, no, if it was you would never mention it again since he was your boss, it was also Mycroft Holmes, with his back turned to you, also fumbling around, his neck red as a tomato with marks all over it.

You turned around and left as soon as you had come in. Full of shock. Honestly out of all the people in the world you would have bet that Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade had enough class to keep it at their homes, but evidently, you were very, very wrong.

"Fine," Mycroft grumpily agreed, "I was going to say it anyway, but here."

He handed you a beige folder that seemed full of flyers. Placing it on the edge of his desk Sherlock got closer, peering over your shoulder, both your hearts racing in excitement to solve this case.

Reading over the first page a look of confusion spread over your face, "A club?"

Mycroft nodded, silently urging you to read the rest of the file.

Paramour's Den. High class club, typically holds clients at the very top of the upper. By membership only, guests are not permitted unless direct relationship to members.

Who did she know to get in? The question rang through your mind, puzzling Sherlock as well.

"Her brother," Mycroft told you both, seeming to know what you were thinking, handing another file with reports of the man. "High class merchant, known for trading art."

"Connections to Moriarty?" Sherlock asked, looking over the files of the brother before handing them over to you, they looked like typical files with no criminal activity.

Mycroft nodded, "Supplied protection to his ports."

"Must've been behind on a payment, he killed her as a warning," you reasoned, knowing it was a likely possibility from your brother, he cared more about setting an example to people than actually not killing someone innocent.

"Likely." Sherlock and Mycroft both agreed.

All of you knew getting on this case was dangerous. James either wanted you to play with him or he would get angry at Sherlock for interfering with another case. Either way was a dangerous game with endless possibilities. Even if Moriarty wasn't at fault for the murder the investigation would definitely involve him.

"I think this club is the main problem," you told Sherlock, who nodded before studying the symbol more, the golden rose that made up part of the symbol stood out now that you knew the name, a play on the words, Lover's Den.

"Let's solve this case," Sherlock told you, offering a hand to help you up from your chair, you followed him out the door waving a goodbye to Mycroft.

AN: just to clear things up, you were adopted and just raised by the Moriartys from a young age, James isn't your biological sibling

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