Just to remind you, this is a sequel to "When a heart grows strong" ;)
O
This time the girl cried herself into sleep and Sherlock was grateful about it. He was able to lay her down on the sofa to think. To move around the way he needed or to sit still without any distraction. He began with the previous though; he inspected every surface, each cupboard, he turned everything, which was to turn, he sniffed at every piece of grocery, searched the dollhouse, checked the inner life of every doll, the TV was off-line, the bathroom cleaned as if the queen herself was to visit, but there was nothing, he found no secret place, no hidden door, no further notes.
So Sherlock Holmes took place in the armchair again. He folded his hands in front of his face as if in prayer and began to analyse the total consequence of what happened. He thought about it an hour and a second and he stared at one of the windows, rather at the wooden panel, which he had not yet figured out how to remove.
Finally he decided that he could not find an answer just now. There were no signs, no blackmailing, he was, to the point of this kidnapping-thing, safe; he thought his secret to be safe at least.
It was a small hand on his leg which took him out of his thoughts and back into real life. His first reaction was to shove it away until he realized whose hand it was, he looked at the sleep drunken girl; he knew he was supposed to smile, Molly has asked him to smile: "When you are not able to show emotions, at least smile at her, you are frightening her!", her words were echoing in his head but he could not force him to fulfill her wish.
After all she didn't really seem to mind right now.
"I am still thirsty but I can't find something on myself. I won't reach the boards!" It took her words for him to realize that one of the chairs was pushed in front of the cupboards and one door was even opened but the glasses were in the highest board so she was not able to reach them herself.
"Of course." Was all the politeness he could manage in this moment, for she has disturbed him in his thoughts, and he was not to be disturbed in his thoughts. End of that, he had to teach her so.
He went over to the part where the kitchen was located; Anne made her way behind him and never was more than three feet away from him. He took out a glass and opened the fridge, he filled some juice in it and mixed it with water as he has seen Molly do it and just to be sure all was acceptable and save, he took a sip and waited a small amount of time before he gave it down to Anne, who was standing with outstretched arms beside him. She took one slow sip and another one, probably checking if it was to her taste, than she poured down half the glass, she took a deep breath and the other half of the glass was gone. She held the glass back up and Sherlock took it, not knowing what to make of it.
"You want some more?" he asked her, she shook her head and he nodded. He was at a bit of a dead end. Seeing Molly doing all those things made it look so easy. Why was she looking at him so full of expectation?
"Is there something else you wish to have Anne?" he asked her after another silent moment.
"I would like to eat something, I am hungry." Of course... Children needed food at a regular basis. He hadn't thought of this yet. And they needed all those other things... they needed to use the bathroom; they needed to be bathed... He dismissed the thoughts and would deal with it later, when the time came.
So Sherlock opened the fridge and began to think hard. What was it he got as a child? He liked sandwiches with jam... there was jam but bread? He had found none when he searched the kitchen some hours ago. Okay. There was milk and cereals, but these were actually for the morning... they had to suffice for now however.
He took a bowl and poured everything together; he gave Anne a spoon into her hand and placed the cereals onto the table. The child climbed up the chair and set herself down on her folded knees. She began to eat as if she hadn't had something to eat for days. But on the other hand, she probably hadn't had something since the morning and his feeling told him that it was close to midnight by now.
"Can I have some more?" she asked when she had sipped the last of the milk from her bowl. Sherlock nodded shortly. He needed to be careful with the food he decided, he had still no idea what all this would mean because he still had not found any connection with Moriarty's web or any other criminal organisation he came across in the last years.
Five minutes later he sat at the table again, across from Anne, watching her taking spoon after spoon. When she was nearly to the end of the second, smaller bowl, she stopped for a short moment, than she took another spoon and turned it in his direction, she stretched her arm to him.
"You take some!" Sherlock shook his head sharply, making Anne look sad nearly instantly.
"But it tastes good." She argued, looking back down, taking the spoon to herself again, thinking, stirring in her bowl, than after another minute she ate the last of her food and placed the spoon into the empty bowl.
"Thank you." She mumbled and she shoved the bowl into his direction, and made her way down the chair.
"Now, Bravo Sherlock! You made her sad!" spoke Molly's voice in his head, but he shoved the thought away, instead he was standing up, making his way over to the sink, placing the dish into it. When he turned again, Anne was sitting beside the dollhouse; she inspected everything closely, than she took a doll and began to build a story in her head only she will ever know.
Sherlock folded his arms in front of his body, leaning against the sink. He could not let the thought rest, all the time the question of why ghosted though his mind. He wanted an answer desperately. Was someone else in this house, monitoring them? Surely! But he hadn't found a camera yet. Either it was hidden extremely well or this all was some sick game of hide and seek... but sick the game was in any case.
Suddenly Sherlock was interrupted by a series of little yawns. And in the same instance Sherlock became frustrated with himself. He has indeed lost account of time, how long was he standing here?
"A child needs sleep!" again Molly's voice crept its way into his mind. He had to find a way to turn this off.
"You should lie down and sleep!" he explained, not moving from his position, Anne however stood and walked over to where she could see him probably.
"But where do I sleep?" she ask and the question seemed really dull to the man, he did not try to show it though.
"The sofa of course. There is no other possibility." The girl looked rather irritated, but she walked over to where she had woken, she climbed up, sat down and again watched him with expectation.
"Mummy would want me to brush my teeth!" she said and added: "And I need a blanket!".
Here it goes. He pushed himself into a standing position and made his way over. He took the blanked which was laying on one of the armchairs, gave it to Anne and waited till she had unfolded it and had laid down. He thought this was all there was but as soon as he turned his back on her, she spoke up again.
"Why am I here without Mummy? Do you live here? Why were we never here before?" Sherlock froze in his step; he did not consider that the little girl was not entirely aware of their situation. He thought hard about an answer. He knew he should think about what Molly would do but he had no idea and that unnerved him.
Finally he turned around and sat down on the table in front of the sofa.
"I don't live here Anne. I live with you and your Mummy but I am not home often." He waited a moment for her to let it sink in.
"You do important work, don't you?" Sherlock nodded.
"Exactly. It takes a lot of time." He hoped she might have forgotten the rest of her question. He wanted to get up again but Anne stretched her hand out for him.
"So why are we here when this is not where you live?" She watched him with big brown eyes and her hand on his knee, grabbing the cloth of his trousers.
"We are here to play a game and when we win the game, we can go back home to your Mummy." He explained and hoped that she would believe what he said. He surely would not believe himself. Anne however seemed to be pleased, for the moment at least, she looked somewhat puzzled before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
From this moment on, Sherlock had enough time to get on about a second inspectation. But he got not a step further. At the end he was frustrated and made a mess of the room they were looked in, what is not exactly an easy task, considering that it was a quite empty room beside the furniture.
It was during the breakfast of the next day, or what Sherlock considered to be the next day, that the door between the room they were in and the hall clicked open. Within an instance, Sherlock sprung to his feet.
The chair was away by now, so someone had to have been here, or was here! On its place was a little package, he consider it and decided to give it a moment. First of all he checked the hall out. All the doors were closed, everything was just as unpredictable as it was in the other room. So he took the package and opened it, there was a DVD and nothing more.
Immediately he went back into the other room. Anne was by now at the doll house, occupied and seemingly uninterested to his haste behaviour.
He started the DVD and stood directly in front of the monitor in case there were pictures a three year old was unable to delete. And he was right to have taken precaution.
It were sentences at first.
"You did great so far. People would be surprised."
And
"Molly would be unbelievingly relieved to know that her daughter is in good hands."
"There is more at the end, so don't turn off, otherwise you will have to watch through it a second time."
A hundred answers and two hundred new questions and he wanted to press stop to think about what was just said but there was no remote and before he could take any other action, a video began.
London. A busy street. Lots of people. Traffic.
The video had no sound, it was filmed by hand, unprofessional. Sherlock turn for a small second to check if the girl was still at her play. When he looked back, Molly was in the picture, it was zoomed to her. She was in between all those people, it seemed to be morning. She was shaken and big sunglasses covered her eyes. She held upon her purse as if her live depended on it. She went fast, didn't bother whom she pushed or pulled out of her way.
"Mummy!" Sherlock immediately turned to Anne who was standing beside him by now. He took her into his arms and he was glad that he made this decision, the moment he concentrated back on to the TV-screen, Molly was flying through the air, hit by a running car.
Unconsciously he pressed Anne's small face into his shoulder, preventing her from seeing what made his knees weak for a small amount of time.
Molly's body, lying unconscious on the street, people running, circling her. The TV-screen became black.
"The game is on!"
