For one to uncover secrets this deep, they must shatter the evil from within.
A façade was all Sherlock was living now. When he gets wind of a masquerade ball being held in Moriarty's memory, he thinks it'll be no different than what he has been doi...
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Sherlock and Molly stepped into the mansion. At once, Molly felt overwhelmed by all the noise and activity going on around her. The entrance hall was gorgeous, but also creepy somehow. The marble floor was a light shade of brown and right in the middle of it there was a single staircase with dark red stairs. At the top of the stairs, there was a grandfather clock. At the bottom of the stairs, there were two statues of what seemed to be angels. Next to those, there were dark green marble pillars.
Sherlock was feeling a little overwhelmed as well. He pushed it as far away as he could and looked down at Molly, who seemed to have shrunk somehow.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"No," Molly shook her head. "I'm a little overwhelmed, to be honest."
"Don't worry," Sherlock said. "By this time tomorrow, all of this will be over."
Molly swallowed and nodded. Sherlock linked their arms and walked Molly over to a deserted corner. He stopped a waiter walking around and took a glass of water. Sherlock handed the water to Molly, who gladly accepted it.
"Better?" Sherlock asked. Molly nodded as she gulped the water down.
"Thank you," she said once she had drained the glass.
"Now, we will have to greet Moran as we go up the stairs into the ballroom when the times comes," Sherlock said. "Just stay calm and we should be fine. Remember to talk in a posh voice."
Molly nodded. She and Sherlock stood at the wall, not talking to anyone. No one approached them, either. Sherlock's eyes darted around the room as he deduced every single one of Moriarty's agents. Within a few hours, they would all be dead. He and Molly would be the only ones to ever remember the ball... if things went according to plan, that was.
After about an hour or so of waiting, Sherlock elbowed Molly. She looked up at him and followed his gaze. A tall, skinny man with dark brown hair was standing perfectly straight at the top of the stairs with a glass of red wine in one of his hands. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and his mask was pitch black with little silver swirls that glinted in the light. After observing for a moment, he called for silence. Everyone instantly went quiet and looked at him.
"Thank you. It's been a few days since our beloved employer, James Moriarty, died. He died in a battle of wits with Sherlock Holmes who, I am pleased to inform you, is also dead," Sherlock smirked at that comment, "After tonight's ball, I will take command of his extensive network. We will be stronger and more powerful than ever! I will finish what he started!" Sebastian's voice rang around the room. Sherlock observed how all the agents watched him, hanging on his every word. Madness glinted in their eyes, or what he could see of the from behind the masks. They were excited about Sebastian's promises. "We will never forget Moriarty. Long live his memory!" Sebastian raised the glass of wine. "To Moriarty!"
"Moriarty!" everyone echoed save for Sherlock and Molly.
"Now, into the ballroom," Sebastian said. "Come on up."
