Chapter Four – The Thrill of the Chase, the Blood Pumping Through Your Veins
The prints on the note belonged to an Alex Moran-Moriarty. Hamish had heard stories from his parents about someone called Moriarty before and he knew what happened the last time that the two families met. The idea of going to get his parents about this case did cross his mind for a second but that was soon gone. There was so much adrenaline coursing through his body and he felt on top of the world. He briskly made his way through the streets of London, pulling his jacket close around him to protect himself against the cold wind. Winter was coming. So were the more interesting cases.
He rounded a corner and stopped before ducking down behind a bin. He'd spotted Mini-Moriarty coming towards him. Hamish stepped out of him and said in a low voice "Alex Moran-Moriarty?" Alex nodded. "Come with me," Hamish said as he led Alex down an alleyway. "Am I allowed to ask where you're taking me?" asked Alex in a flirty tone. Hamish ignored the question and pulled out a picture of Culotti, "Do you know this guy?" he asked. Hamish thought he saw a flash of panic in Alex's beautiful brown eyes-"HAMISH MURDERER!" He interrupted his thoughts. "Why do you ask?" asked Alex calmly. "Because you murdered him and if you confess it will be slightly easier on you in the long run. I know who you are, who your parents are and I know that you don't enjoy doing what you do but you can't stop yourself. I also know that you have recently taken a drug of some sort, possibly Heroin, and that you are completely out of control in most aspects of your life," he paused waiting for a cocky reply but was met with a stunned silence so he continued, "I also know that it's not your fault and that you want help. I can help you but you have to work with me on this. If you accept my help then you can have a normal life and I can help you stay out of prison." After a moment of silence Alex said, "I-I can't," and ran off.
Alex was so confused now. He wanted to say yes and be helped and hug this Hamish kid but he also wanted to tear him limb from limb and destroy him. Tears blurred his eyes and he couldn't see where he was going and he ended up running into someone. That someone was Jim. Crap. Jim took one look at the boy before grabbing his arm and dragging him to his car without saying a word.
"Do you have ANY idea what you've done?" Jim growled angrily. "Sebastian is freaking out. You're missing and someone's dead. He thinks it's you and he's been driving all over London looking for you," said Jim, the anger rising in his voice. "I'm sorry," mumbled Alex. "You're sorry?! Look at the state of you. If Seb sees you like this he'll ask questions and you won't be able to lie properly. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW STUPID YOU ARE? WHAT IF SEB FOUND YOU? WHAT IF HE FINDS OUT YOU KILLED A MAN?" roared Jim. "I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me Jim? It's your damn fault we're in this mess! If it wasn't for you teaching me all that stuff I wouldn't have done any of this!" yelled Alex. Jim paused as he tried to navigate his emotions. He was angry about the accusation but it was true. "I also taught you to be careful," he answered in a monotone. Alex looked down ashamed of his outburst. Although Jim was a psychopath he tried his best to look out for him in his own, slightly insane, way. "When we get home go for a shower and get cleaned up and meet me in my office so we can sort this out," said Jim placing his hand on Alex's shoulder before starting the car and driving home.
Hamish was disappointed about Alex's departure. Not because he lost his suspect but because he wanted to spend more time with him and get to know him and help him with his problems. He made his way back to 221b slowly, not looking forward to the lecture he was going to receive about running off on his own at night and the help he needs with his 'problems'. He didn't want to talk to his papa right now, he'd just lecture him. His Dad would listen and actually give valid advice. Hamish loved both his parents to death and he knew that they loved him just as much but John just didn't understand how addictions work quite the same way as Sherlock did. That's why he needed Sherlock now and not John. He opened the door quietly and made his way slowly up the creaky stairs. He heard his Dad playing the violin when he got to the top and noticed that his Papa's jacket wasn't on the coat stand. He relaxed a bit and sat down on the sofa waiting for Sherlock to finish the piece. "Interesting case?" he asked his son. "Mildly," Hamish replied absent-mindedly. Sherlock put his violin down and sat opposite Hamish. "What's going on?" he asked casually. "The usual. Papa overreacted and I left and got a case. Molly says hello by the way," Hamish replied curtly. "I mean in your head. You don't normally go missing for seven hours, at least not at night anyways." Hamish paused and thought out his answer carefully. He didn't want to freak his Dad out. "I just feel so crap all the time. Even cases aren't making anything better anymore. I don't know how much longer I can take this Dad," he answered, his voice cracking at the end as he tried to blink back the tears that had formed in his eyes now. He mentally hit himself for saying that. "THE PLAN WAS DON'T FREAK HIM OUT HAMISH WELL DONE!" Sherlock looked at his son speechless. He didn't realise how hard it must be for Hamish. "Mish…I wish there was something I could do to make it all go away," Sherlock said quietly. Hamish missed being called Mish. It reminded him of being a child and he longed for it. He let the tears fall down his face and Sherlock moved next to him and held him. "Dad?" Hamish asked. "Yes?" "Can you call me Mish more often? Not around Papa though, he'd go overboard with it and say it in every sentence." "If that makes you feel better of course I will," said Sherlock, his voice barely a whisper.