Trust in Sherlock: Book 2

Chapter 23-Maggie's POV

The sun streamed through the window behind me, my shadow making a warped black shape on the coffee table and flooring in front of me. A heavy, cold weight pressed against my legs. The case was filled with secrets and hidden pasts that were dangerous even in my hands. However, it seemed to be the safest place for it at the moment.

The sound of the door downstairs opening made me subconsciously straighten my posture. I folded my hands together on top of the case and looked over at the closed door ahead of me. I listened to the quick, heavy footsteps as they approached my position.

The door knob turned, the sun reflecting off of the golden coloured handle. The door opened and he entered the room.

"Where is it?"

"Well, good evening to you as well. I sure have missed you." I smiled up at my father, Kyle.

He pressed his lips together tightly, looking at the case in my lap. He nodded towards it. "Are all of my files-?"

"Everything is as it was when you gave it to me." I interrupted.

He nodded slightly and stepped closer to me, reaching out for the case. I allowed him to take it and watched him as he quickly opened the case. He lifted the lid and peered inside. He made a sound of irritation, looking back up at me with a furious glare. "Where are they?" He demanded.

"Somewhere safe." I replied. "Tell me why you need them and I'll happily hand them over." I smiled.

My father held a similar position as Mycroft did, only he resided in America. If he wanted the files, it had to be of paramount importance for him to fly from the States to London, England personally to retrieve them. I wanted to know what was so important for him to do this.

He frowned, struggling to hold onto his calm and level-headed exterior. "I believe I have my reasons for retrieving my own property."

I grinned slightly, just a twitch of the corner of my lips. "Do share! I've got all day." I remained seated on my couch, looking up innocently at my father.

He was silent, watching me with squinted eyes. "You looked." He said simply after a few seconds of silence. The only intrusion to the silence was the sound of rubber tires spinning on the pavement in the street below the window behind me.

"Of course I looked. You handed me a case full of information. That would be like handing Mycroft a piece of cake and telling him not to eat it for the next five years."

"Margaret!" My father shouted, interrupting me harshly.

I immediately shut my mouth and stiffened. He looked at me a moment before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. He closed his eyes and said, "Give me the files. Tell me where they are."

I leaned forward slightly. "Why?" I whispered it, dragging out the words slowly.

He clenched his jaw, sticking his chin out stubbornly. Finally, he said, "I have reason to suspect that if it says here any longer then it will end up in the wrong hands."

"Moriarty?" I raised an eyebrow, briefly picturing the Consulting Criminal's file.

"Astonishingly, no. He's not my....our biggest concern at the moment." He said, quickly correcting himself at 'my'.

He sat up straighter, my full attention on my father. "James Moriarty isn't your greatest concern?" I was surprised due to the criminal's status and work.

"No. Which is why I need the files out of your hands and into mine." He replied, glancing around the room.

I kept my eyes focused on him as I said, "Tell me who you're worried about and I will give you the files' locations."

He raised his eyebrows. "Locations? Plural?"

"Of course. You never place everything that's important into one place. You spread it out and make it hard to find."

He looked ready to shout once again, but he quieted his voice and said, "My men and I believe that Kathy Larose knows where the files are. Now that the location of the files are compromised, we need to move them."

I smiled. "And for a moment I was starting to suspect that you cared more for my well-being than a few pages of information."

He didn't reply, instead looking at me for what felt like an extended amount of time.

I stood from where I sat and lifted the cushion I had been sitting on. I pulled out the case and held it out to my father. "It's your lucky day." I said. "I'm feeling rather gracious this evening."

He grasped the case and opened it, looking inside. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "And the rest?" He asked.

I walked past him and into my bedroom. I returned with a single file in my hand. He raised an eyebrow. "James Moriarty." He stated, looking at the file in my hand.

I nodded. "I have no concern for the others. This file, however, would be of great use to me."

My father quickly took the file and put it in the large heavy case. He didn't move from his spot. I glanced from him to my door. "Is there something else you needed?" I asked.

He sighed, seeming to relax his stance. "How are you, Margaret?" He asked.

I opened my mouth to reply but nothing came out. I pressed my lips together for a moment, thinking of a reply. "Fine." I eventually said.

He nodded, making his way over to my couch and sitting down. I remained frozen to the spot. "I'm still your father, you know."

"And I'm your daughter, however, the last time I saw you you were watching me climb into an aeroplane headed for London."

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing his crisp, white button down underneath. His tie was a mixture of blue and black stripes, the knot uneven and seemed to have been tied in a rush. "I know it's been years since we've seen each other. I know you've been busy with that Sherlock fellow and his partner, what was it, John Waters?"

"John Watson." I corrected him. "And yes, I have been rather busy lately."

My father leaned back against the couch. "I've been in touch with Mr. Holmes recently. The eldest."

"Mycroft?" I questioned.

My father simply grinned, not replying to my question. Instead, he continued. "He's been keeping an eye on the three of you. Well, four, including Mrs. Watson. I find it rather...disappointing that he knows more about your life than I. It really has been a long time."

I didn't reply. I didn't need to, for my father continued to speak.

"You've changed since I saw you last. You're thinner; more mature." He said, a small smile on his face.

I cleared my throat, not knowing how to reply to him. The air between us was, for lack of a better word, awkward. and uncomfortable.

"Let's have dinner. Tomorrow night sound good? Maybe Sherlock would like to join us. I haven't seen him since he was a boy, about 17? 18, perhaps?"

I hesitated before saying, "Could John and Mary come?"

Kyle paused before saying, "Sure. I'd be honoured to meet them. Tomorrow night. 7:00 at the Landmark Hotel. I've already made the reservations." He stood from my couch, walking around the coffee table and exiting my flat. "Goodnight, Dear!" He called over his shoulder as he descended down the stairs and out of my building.