Author's Note: Yes! Another chapter under the belt! XD I'm quite excited for this chapter at any rate, I feel like it's going to be good! :) But of course you will ALL write a review and let me know what you think right? *persuades everyone to nod like robots* Yay good! ;D
So down to business, I still haven't come up with a theme song yet but I have some suggestions from fans and ideas that I'm working on. So please be patient and if you have any ideas whatsoever, I'd be glad to hear them!
Now it's time for our favorite segment that everyone has seem to enjoy… SHERLOCK SIGHTINGS! XD Just remember, if you have your own Sherlock Sighting, please PM me or write it in a review and I'll post it next chapter! :)))))
So I was in this club at my school and we were doing this project about future professions that we could possibly have. We each got to pick out of a hat or something and my group got "Detective!" While they were discussing what to do, I went all Sherlock on them and started quoting the movie non-stop. It was great! - Aranelle Caladwen
My friend introduced me to one of her friends a few months ago. Her name is Samantha Sherlock and, really funny, her boyfriend's name is John lol. -WriterMonkey0626
I was watching TV with my parents last night and all of a sudden, Sherlock Holmes 2 preview came on the TV. At that same instant, the phone rang and while I didn't pick it up, the caller ID said Holmes Insurance XD - Zenna XD (that's me)
I was playing Words with Friends with Vanya actually and I realized that I could make the words HOLMES but it said it wasn't a word ;( I had to stick with MOSTLY instead… *growls* - Zenna XD (that's me again!)
And finally to my faithful reviewers, you just keep on coming and I LOVE IT! This is why I'm updating so quickly ;D
WriterMonkey0626: I know I'm sorry, I hate reading cliffies too but I love writing them! There might just be one at the end of this chapter too ;) Just a hint…
Izzy: Thanks again for the other night! I had a great time as well! :) Yes my obsession is surely showing ;D Happy New Year to you too!
Sherlock Lover: Well I wouldn't call myself amazing but thank you anyway! I love having faithful readers like yourself. I'm glad it's less confusing for you! I try my hardest :D
Goldfish-eyes: Haha why thank you! Sorry about the cliffhanger but it had to be done… I love keeping you guys in suspense and it honestly makes me write faster! Thank you for your kind words.
Korkman2: As you can see, I am indeed continuing it! :D Thank you for your kind words.
TheSockThatNeverStaysOrange: It's okay, we all have those days! ;) I'm glad you also enjoyed this chappie! I know you can't and I love you! Thanks for everything!
Aranelle Caladwen: Yeah it probably does make more sense now, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed them! Aren't they just awesome? Anyway, I'm really happy that you kept on reading and reviewing my stories, much better than your sister of course ;)
Daughter of the Dead Man: Sorry, I can't go out revealing everything in an author's note now can I? But rest assured, all will be revealed in this chapter. Your questions will finally be answered! Yes, I would love to hear your story as well, keep me updated! XD
Update Soon: Thank you for your review! I'm so glad that you like this story.
tanti no hime: Hmmm… you never know! Keep on reading and all will be answered in this very chapter! Would that be such a problem if it was?
Your Awesome Reviewer: Yes you are indeed! XD Love the name! Your prediction is a good one, I too wish Irene was still alive but I don't know where this story will take me. Actually that's a lie lol, I know exactly where this story is taking me but I'm not sharing. You'll have to wait and see!
Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn
Expectations
When everything you've ever known is crumbling at your feet, make something of it.
Not many things can leave Dr. John Watson speechless. It was a very difficult feat to accomplish and whoever had done the deed should be very proud of themselves. The man was a strong doctor who wasn't fazed by blood or guts or spillage of any sorts. He performed many surgeries and medical treatment without even flinching. His adventures with Holmes had made him stronger too; he was no longer weak and rushed into places without thinking or batting an eye. He could make people weak themselves by just glaring at them and not putting any physical harm towards them. Holmes had taught him never to have any weakness but he had two as a matter of fact: Mary and Sherlock Holmes himself. And almost everyone knew it except for Holmes of course, it was a complicated matter. None the less, he was never speechless around them. Even his time with Mary hadn't left him any more than pure pleasure, he wasn't afraid to be himself around his wife. He would show emotions yes, but never pure mouth-dropping surprise. Well almost never… When Holmes had tumbled over the edge of the mansion into the foaming waterfall below, Watson had been speechless and completely surprised, half-hoping that there was some mistake. And yet, there wasn't. No matter what he thought of, Holmes was still gone. Yes Watson was a man of many characters, but he was almost never vulnerable, let alone speechless.
Until now at any rate.
Watson knew that something was wrong as soon as he heard that single gun-shot, no matter how far in the distance or how normal it seemed. He learned a lot from Holmes, even if he didn't want to admit it, and he put his skills to the test even when he didn't even know it. His senses were tingling before he stepped foot on the porch to watch the group of trouble makers down the street, but now that he's seen them, things just got a lot worse.
Watson stood in the shadow of the doorway, his mouth agape and hanging open as he watched the group of people parade down the street. His wife was still standing in front of him, much to his orders not to, with a confused expression on her face like she still didn't understand something. Watson took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself down. The first shock was overwhelming but now everything started to fall into place. Had he really not realized what the date was? Had he not realized it was exactly a year since the horrid events of last year? How could be so naïve to not remember minute details such as this one? He scolded himself and sighed, staring at the person quickly approaching him. Damn, they looked so much alike. He hissed and Mary turned towards him surprised. Apparently she had not noticed his expressions before...
"What is it John dear?" she asked with wide eyes.
But Watson barely heard her. He kept on staring and gaping, trying to make more sense of the situation. It just didn't make any sense! Why would she be here now after a year? After things had finally just settled down? He frowned and rubbed his temples for what seemed like the millionth time just today.
"It's just-" he attempted to answer his wife but he trailed off, shaking his head in apparent disgust.
"I know I've read about her in the papers before," commented Mary, her eyes wide as ever. "But who is she?"
Watson still stood in the shadow of the doorway, hidden to everyone on the streets but his wife. He refused to step out any further until he made some sense of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak but before words could flow out of his mouth, another gun shot rang through the air.
Mary leapt backwards in self-defense and shock, but the bullet wasn't directed at her. Smoke poured into the air from the gun that fired the shot and everyone looked around in shock to see what damage was made. As the smoke cleared, a raven-haired woman stepped into the middle of the street. She had just rounded a corner and her followers behind her looked as pissed as ever. She smirked at all of the people watching and kept her gun pointed towards the civilians.
"Out of my way," she hissed with a menacing voice towards a poor beggar stumbling into the center of the street in obvious oblivion.
Watson and Mary looked on with shock and utter disgust written on their faces. There was nothing they could do without getting shot themselves, and that's how the rest of London felt as well…
"I said move!" the black-haired woman growled and fired at the old man.
Mary gasped and turned away into Watson's chest as she didn't want to see the beggar fall to the ground, dead. Watson pushed her away and stepped out of the shadows, not caring anymore who saw him. He wanted to be known, he wanted to let this woman know that this was unacceptable. He curled his lip and slowly took one step forward so that the setting sun glinted off his pocket watch and buttons on his waistcoat.
"That my dear," Watson said with a glaring tone, answering his wife's earlier question, "is Victoria Moriarty."
Mary's mouth fell open with shock as she turned back to stare at the woman with obvious curious amazement. Watson stared at her too but right as Mary looked away in disgust, the woman looked up and met Watson's eyes. Recognition flared in her eyes but she didn't say a word, just glared at the good doctor with piercing blue eyes.
"She's the last living relative of the late professor," Watson added, bending down to speak to Mary but not breaking eye contact with the woman.
He assessed her by his averted glances and she continued to stare back, waiting for the doctor to crack. He flinched once or twice but didn't move, he was afraid of what had just happened.
On the shorter side, approximately 23 years old, has a tattoo of an owl on the back of her left wrist, has a back wound from her father's antics which is why she can't bend over and touch the ground. Had a semi-close relationship with her father, is full of regret and revenge, has a murderous streak but didn't used to be this bad, hatred scorned deep within the depths of her heart turning it black and cold.
But yet on top of everything that just happened, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She never asked for this life, her father probably forced her into this… With Professor James Moriarty, you never know. Now he wasn't sure though, he had just seen her cold-heartedly murder a poor old man in her way. He shook his head; this was no excuse for such behavior. Despite Mary's protests, he took another step towards the woman, Victoria. Victoria's head snapped to the side and walked stiffly to the side of the road, the side of the road where Watson's house was located. The doctor had seen this coming however and practically all but shoved his wife back in the house.
"Go Mary," he hissed quickly. "Get back in the house, now!"
Victoria reached the steps to Watson's house and he stepped further out from the doorway. He adjusted his stance, shifted his cane to his better side so that he could quickly extract the knife if he needed to, and stared back at the dark-haired woman.
"Victoria is it?" he questioned with an overpowering authority.
"Doctor Watson is it?" retorted Victoria, mimicking the doctor's voice. "Don't give me your bullshit, I know what you're up to."
Watson held his hands up in the air in a form of surrender, "I can honestly say I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were Sherlock Holmes's partner, were you not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was," replied Watson.
"Then you better watch your back," she hissed, getting even closer to the doctor's face and pulling out her gun but keeping it to her side. "Holmes murdered my father and I'll make sure that he'll be avenged."
Watson opened his mouth to respond with a cunning answer but Moriarty's daughter cut him off once again, "That's a nice wife you've got there, shame to lose something so fine isn't it?"
She smirked once and stalked off back into the crowd of what were obviously her followers. Watson took a deep breath, taking note of her threats and turned to walk back inside the house. But a glint of silver stopped him and as Victoria was assembling her troops, a familiar face caught his eye.
"Damn," he swore and the man looked up, tipped his hat to the doctor and went back to standing at Victoria's side.
"You really assembled all of the troops didn't you," he whispered to himself before shaking his head and heading back inside.
But as Watson so bluntly left the scene of the crime with no more than a simple threat and a wave, the familiar face stared at the house, memorizing its features.
Because Sebastian Moran didn't forget anything.
Victoria Moriarty was not a patient person. She tried to be, she really did but things simply got in the way. Take the old beggar crossing the street for example. She warned him to move, she didn't want to barrel into him, that would just be plain rude. So she had hoped that by threatening him with her gun he would, but sadly he didn't seem to notice and he met his end. It wasn't the worst that could happen however, no riots started of course and nothing became of this minor event. It had made her known as the merciless creature roaming the streets of London, striking fear into the hearts of everyone around with her stares and a flick of her wrist. She really hadn't wanted to kill him but she knew that she couldn't back down on her threat once she had made it. She had honestly thought he would move but what kind of leader would she be if she didn't follow through on her threats? She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn't concerned for anyone, of course not! She was the daughter of Professor James Moriarty for God's sake!
She was surprised to see how big of a crowd turned out to watch her activities of strolling through London, making her presence known. She was even more surprised to see the good doctor of the town there, simply watching her without any move of any sort. Yes, Dr. John Watson wasn't a man to double cross, let alone cross paths with once. She smiled at the memory of his scarred face and the anger flaring behind his eyes. She had left him speechless and full of anger but he couldn't do anything because he knew what she would do to him and his family and friends if he did. And so she won, for now at any rate. She felt accomplished with herself actually as a matter of fact, she had wanted - no she had needed that. She had needed that extra boost of support from her followers and allies as she cussed at the doctor and made him feel like no more than the way his partner ended up. She could also laugh at the face he had made when she brought up the great Sherlock Holmes. He was obviously still grieving, after an entire year still. Didn't that man have any sort of feelings other than grief, remorse and regret? She could tell it was a touchy subject, along with his wife naturally, and it made her even more joyful to know that she could get under his skin and make him twitch with uncomfort. It was such a pleasurable feeling to know that simple fact.
When they had returned to their headquarters, the place where Victoria had told her followers to meet, she had nodded once to her allies that signaled their leave and headed upstairs to the second floor of the abandoned warehouse. This place was perfect for meetings and planning sessions with Moran; it was quiet and no one bothered to come in anymore because they all believed it was haunted. She rolled her eyes in disgust, how could people be so foolish? No matter, it was to their advantage that they were here. She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down with her head in her hands, just thinking. Thinking and waiting…
A chair scratched the floor behind her as someone pulled out a chair from under the table. She winced at the sound but she turned away as it signaled the person's arrival.
"Ah just the person I wanted to see," Victoria sat up and smiled at the man still shadowed by the doorframe. "I need to speak with you."
Sebastian Moran nodded back to his friend's daughter and sat in the chair next to her. "And what is it that you want?" he asked with a solemn tone.
"I need you to do me a favor," she added with a twisted smirk appearing on her face. "And I think you might enjoy it."
Moran raised an eyebrow questioningly but bobbed his head once more all the same. He didn't ask any more questions, just gave her a look that simply willed her to continue with her obviously thought out master plan.
When she didn't continue right away, he placed a hand on her shoulder lightly to comfort her but she instantly shrugged it off and got to her feet. Victoria was not a person that you could comfort and take care of, she cared about no one but herself. She stared at the broken wooden floors and closed her eyes, envisioning the future events to come and how they would unfold. She twitched her nose and another smirk unfolded onto her delicate pale face.
"You know, your father did the same thing when he was thinking," Moran chuckled, taking another step closer to her.
"What?" she questioned, resisting the urge to swivel around and look at her friend in the eyes.
"The nose twitching and the smirking."
"Were you very close?" Victoria asked, still not turning around to meet her second-in-command in the eyes.
"Moriarty wasn't close to anyone," he shrugged. "But I suppose you could say that."
She turned around and gave Moran a brief smile before she molded back into her hard normal self. She wasn't vulnerable and she showed no feelings. Moran was an exception at some times when she needed help but no one else for certain. She made sure of that.
"So what were you saying before?" he pressed on, seeing this change in his friend's daughter.
"Right well, here's the plan," she said in a rush and took a step closer to Moran so that she could whisper the plan in his ear.
When she had finished explaining what they were going to do, a smile appeared on Moran's face. This was perfect. Victoria hadn't been lying when she said that he was going to enjoy it, it was the perfect revenge on one of the people he hated most. It was going to be a unforgettable evening for the town of London for sure.
Night had fallen as quickly as morning had come earlier today. The stars, one by one, appeared in the sky, each showing variety and uniqueness. The moon was plump and full this evening, shining its bright white light upon the cobblestone streets of the town. London was quiet at this time of night, just a few stragglers returning home to their families. A bag of food lay out in the streets, forgotten and lost, with tomatoes and bread scattered throughout the sides and curbs of the cobblestone road. A cart, without the horses of course, was settled in front of the residence plaza down the street. For the most part, the town was quiet and shutdown for the night.
However, Mrs. Mary Watson was still up inside of the house, wringing her hands together and sighing in frustration. After her husband missed out on dinner and he still wasn't home, she started to worry. What was holding up? Surely he would have stopped home before hand and warned her that he might be working late tonight, wouldn't he? She ran her fingers through her blond locks and pulled them out of the neat bun she had been wearing all day. She forced herself to take a deep breath and attempt to relax. Everything was going to be just fine; John was just working late that's all. He must have been overwhelmed, between his overload of patients and grief still filling his heart. She smiled and nodded to herself once, that was it. She took a seat on the couch, breathing evenly now that she successfully convinced herself that he would be home in no time. But a second later, she jumped back up and resumed her pacing around the small house. She couldn't not worry though! He was her husband for crying out loud! She sighed once more and held onto the wall for support while she breathed in and out deeply.
A noise that sounded like a faraway wind whistle came into her ears and she frowned. What was that? She grabbed the nearest thing to her and chuckled when she realized that it was just a lampshade. What good was that going to do if a burglar entered her house? She quickly tried to remember everything Holmes and John had told her over these past couple of years in case of an emergency but her mind drew a blank. She held her breath and prayed that she wouldn't need them. Another wind whistle came from outside the nearest window to her and it was louder this time. She frowned once more before suddenly flattening herself to the ground and closed her eyes. She remembered John talking about this sound once and that was why it was so familiar. She remembered that John had told her that if you ever hear anything that remotely sounds really high-pitched, duck. It was most likely a gun with a silencer, blocking out the noise for anyone else around the person that the murderer was trying to kill. But why would someone want to kill her? She had done nothing wrong!
Sure enough, her window crashed and broke down to the floor in a million pieces as the small bullet passed through the glass and buried itself into the wall right where she was standing not thirty seconds ago. Her heart started thrumming in her chest and tears welled up in her eyes, she was going to die. She could just feel it! Why would John pick tonight of all nights to work late? This wasn't fate, this was obviously planned. Anyone could have figured that out! She stayed onto the ground until she heard the high-pitched gunshots stop. She frowned and slowly got to her feet, pleased that she outsmarted the killer. Even as she peered through the open window, there was nothing out there and no bullet came to hit her in the head. She was safe.
That is, until a hand clapped over her mouth and dragged her into the dark abyss of no return.
Meanwhile, Dr. John Watson was running late and he didn't like it one bit. He had already missed dinner and it was going on eleven o'clock and the steady flow of patients kept coming. He wanted to close the doors to his office and run home to his wife where he would spend the rest of the night in her arms. But sadly, that couldn't happen until the flow of patients slowed down enough for the rest of the nurses and staff to take care of them. He rolled his eyes as a particularly burly man entered his room. Watson nodded once politely and looked the older man up and down.
"Now what seems to be the problem sir?" Watson asked politely, flipping through some medical records.
"I think I have a misaligned spine," the man grunted and turned around to show the doctor his back.
Watson grimaced once at the hair along the man's spine but ran his hand along it anyway. It didn't feel out of place but he still needed to be sure.
A half hour later, Watson helped the burly man to his feet and out the door. He hadn't had any back problems at all actually but he seemed to be in pain so the doctor prescribed him with some drugs to take until the pain went away. As he waddled out of the door, Watson noticed that the man had a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the back of his left wrist. He frowned; he always hated the concept and look of tattoos. It wasn't natural or right, plus who pricked themselves with needles just for fun? A suspicious feeling crept throughout his body and he shivered uncontrollably although he wasn't sure why. He looked down at his hands and realized that he had his past three medical patients with him in his hands. He shook his head and chuckled at his foolishness, all the while stepping outside of his office and heading towards the main entrance. The burly man was on top and his description seemed to fit him perfectly.
"Thomas Liebmann is a stout short man with short brown hair and hazelnut colored eyes," it read with a haunting glare. "While he doesn't visit the doctors a lot, he always seems to be healthy. He also has a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the lower portion of his left wrist."
Watson shrugged and flipped the next folder open to the previous patient. As he read through the next two patients' descriptions, something clicked inside of him and a warm feeling of dread pulsed through his veins. It shouldn't have spooked him so much but yet it did anyway.
For the past four patients that came to visit Dr. John Watson all had a tattoo of a snowy white owl on the back of their left wrist.
"Shit," he swore and ripped off his coat.
Watson tore out of the office quicker than he would have liked, not bothering to close or lock the doors. He threw the medical folders and supplies on the front desk, grabbed his waistcoat and ran out the door. It was so late to find a horse and buggy or carriage so he ran home, his heart pounding uncontrollably. He finally reached his house and there was an eerie silence about it. He daintily opened the front door, which he noted was ajar, and proceeded into the kitchen and main section of the small house.
"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone home?"
There was no response.
"Mary?" he tried again, his voice getting more frantic as he passed from room to room. Finally, he stopped in the middle of the living room and sunk down to his knees.
There sprawled in the center of the grand room was Mrs. Mary Watson, covered in blood. She looked very much scared and very much dead.
Author's Note: Ah Jesus, I found another Sherlock character I cannot seem to write in. Between Lestrade and now Moran, I'm pretty screwed lol. How did I do though? Honestly, I want to hear your thoughts (though I'd prefer if you didn't flame me XD).
And how about that awful cliffie? Yes, I'm just dealing those out like a deck of cards aren't I? I'm terribly sorry to all of the Mary/Watson supports out there. I love the couple as well, it was just necessary for this story. You'll see why later, I promise.
So just click the pretty little review button underneath this little note I wrote because you know you want to and because it makes me write faster! I truly believe that! :D
