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Chapter 7- Cora.

We walked under the grand, black and gold gates. Sherlock looked unhappy that I was here.

'You don't have to come.' He said, clearly stating the fact he didn't want me there.

'I'm sure Mycroft won't mind. Or should I call him Mr Holmes?'

I could see this comment annoyed him. 'No, Mycroft is fine. Actually don't talk to him at all.'

'You know, just because he is on top of that list doesn't mean he is particularly generous to the homeless.' He said.

I was outraged. He thought I was tagging along in the hopes that I would get some money! I wasn't looking for charity. 'I don't want or need money from anyone.' I snapped, shooting him a cold glare.

He returned my glare, and strode off towards a tall figure leaning on an umbrella, lurking under the shade of a tree. John and I followed.

'Mycroft.' Sherlock said in greeting. 'What do you know about this Maeve Belyse?'

I saw Mycroft's eyes dart up and down Sherlock's tall frame. Mycroft was only just taller, with short hair, not as dark or curly as Sherlock's mop of hair. He had pale blue

eyes that scrutinised everything; John and I, but mostly Sherlock. I could immediately see how much he cared about him.

'Absolutely nothing.' He said, in a light, almost airy voice. 'I would almost think she didn't exist. Except she must. I assume she's in hiding because she doesn't want to... have the same fate waiting her that awaited number 7. Now why don't you introduce me to your new...?' He was hesitating over the word "friend", knowing that no one but John could possibly fit that category. 'Accomplice.'

'I am not his accomplice.' I said.

Sherlock cut smoothly over me. 'I don't need to introduce her; surely you already know everything about her.'

'Quite the contrary.' Mycroft said, looking down at me with light blue eyes, like Sherlock's but lacking the yellow-green, cat-eye colour. He extended his hand, and I felt a familiar feeling deep in my stomach.

'Don't bother with that.' Sherlock said, waving his hand away. I felt something almost like gratitude. 'This is Cora.'

'Hello, Mycroft.' I said, putting on my polite voice, but not smiling.

'Cora who?' Mycroft asked, giving me a rather unpleasant smile.

'Just Cora.' I said ironically. There was a small, satisfied smile on his lips, and I felt like I'd passed an unspoken test.

'Have it your way, Just Cora.' He turned away, and slowly began to walk, saying, 'So, brother-my, are you sure you aren't getting involved in the case because I am involved? Which isn't my fault, this time, I might add.'

'You are involved in a lot of cases, but that doesn't mean I feel the need to have anything to do with them.' Sherlock said, following his brother. I fell into step behind Sherlock with John by my side. 'Do you know who it is?'

'The serial-killer?' Mycroft asked with a humourless laugh. 'Of course not.'

I bet he is really happy about not knowing something for once, I thought wryly.

'Why haven't you left London?' Sherlock demanded, looking, in that moment, like the older sibling scolding the younger.

'Why do you think?' Mycroft asked patronizingly, restoring his role as the older one.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother's tone. 'I don't know.' He said. 'I thought you would take a little bit more care with your life. Why do you want to throw that away?'

'To be fair, Sherlock,' I said, looking at him pointedly. He scowled at me for interrupting. 'You wouldn't let someone drive you out of London either.'

Sherlock looked indignant and Mycroft laughed, his eyes on me. 'I like this one.' He said. 'You can keep her.' He chuckled at my dark expression.

'I'm not a cat.' I said to Mycroft.

'No, Just Cora.' He agreed. 'You seem more like a lion.' His eyes were calculating and all signs of humour had stopped.

'Or a panther, I would say.' John said, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. 'Sticking to the shadows.'

'How great!' Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'Let's all work out our spirit animals! John can be a hedgehog, My-'

'Wait, what?' John demanded. 'Excuse me, but a hedgehog? I look absolutely nothing-'

'- Mycroft can be a pig, and I... well, I can be-'

I could feel scepticism written all over my face. 'Seriously, Sherlock?' Mycroft and I said at the same time. I grimaced, hoping I didn't sound as motherly as Mycroft had.

'Fine!' He frowned. 'You need to leave London, Mycroft.' Sherlock said, his eyes on two joggers in the distance, feigning detachment. 'So we can see what happens when the number 1 leaves. Or give away some money. Just enough so that you are fifth on the list, so you'll be safe.' There was a silence after those words.

He gave a genuine smile this time, his eyes softening just slightly so they were no longer as sharp and calculating. 'Brother-my, I really do appreciate-'

'-Shut up, Mycroft-' Sherlock tried to interrupt, looking vaguely embarrassed.

'- the thought but you needn't worry. I have got the best security in the world.' He said, straightening his stance proudly. 'The person or people responsible will be found before they reach my name.'

'Before they reach the others?' I asked, curious.

'I have people out looking.' Mycroft said hesitantly. 'I should hope that they find the responsible before there are any more deaths but... you never know.'

'Do you have any enemies that would do this?' Sherlock demanded.

'I have quite a number of enemies.'

'But enemies made because of your wealth.' I clarified.

He gave a wry smile and said, in a quiet voice, 'Far too many. Good day, John, Just Cora, brother-my.' He strode off. I read his stride and saw his determination to reach the black car awaiting him on the street. He wouldn't be turning around to give us any more information.

Sherlock seemed to see this as well. He sighed in frustration. 'I'll try Lestrade again.' He said, watching his brother get into the car. He gave a small wave and Sherlock spun around so his back was to the car.

'Otherwise, let's get breakfast.' John suggested. 'Come on, there's a bakery around the corner.'

John and I walked off, side by side, with Sherlock trailing along behind us, absently trying to get hold of Lestrade. 'Damn it, his message-bank again!'

'He knows it's you.' John said.

'So? Wouldn't that make him more inclined to answer?' Sherlock demanded.

John laughed and even I nearly smiled. 'Yeah, right. And, Sherlock, why am I a hedgehog, of all animals?' John's phone rung in his pocket and he pulled it out, looking annoyed. 'It's Lestrade! Hello, yep, he's here. No way! Okay where? See you in fifteen. Yeah, maybe don't let anyone touch anything... Okay, bye.' He hung up. 'Steven Jared is dead.'

'Where?' Sherlock asked.

'His girlfriend's apartment apparently. He left the Police station earlier this morning.' John bit his lip, looking worried.

'Let's get a taxi.' Sherlock said, and we nodded in agreement.

Number 4 was dead. 'We'll I guess Mycroft's men aren't quite good enough.' There was only Mycroft and two others left.