Chapter Seven
"You know, this is never what I really mean when I say 'dinner?'" Irene said as she slid into the booth.
"Then, what do you mean?" Sherlock asked. Sherlock had already been waiting in the restaurant for exactly twenty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds before Ms. Adler arrived.
"You're the genius. I'll let you figure it out." Irene insisted.
"So are you going to tell me what you know?" Sherlock changed the subject, even though he didn't understand what Irene meant. Irene sighed. "Moriarty is back. And don't think for one second that I don't know you have something to do with him."
"You're right. I do have something to do with him." Irene ensured. Sherlock looked away from her, disappointed that he wasn't wrong. "If I didn't help him he said he'd kill you." Irene tried to defend herself.
"Idiot." Sherlock bluntly said.
"What?" Irene was a bit surprised.
"You think he won't kill me anyway?" Sherlock asked. Irene didn't know what to say. She knew that Moriarty would still kill, or at least try to kill, Sherlock, but she couldn't help it. This way she had more time with Sherlock and spared her own life. It was all for selfish reasons. "No- you know he will still kill me." Sherlock figured out.
"You still have a chance." Irene kept defending her decision.
"No, you still have a chance." Sherlock judged.
"We still have a chance." Irene corrected. Sherlock shot a glare at her.
"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you've put us in? Me, Molly, Ms. Hudson, Lestrade...John." Sherlock's angered voice turned into a whispered.
"If it weren't for me you'd be dead!" Tears began forming in Irene's eyes.
"Yes, and because of you I have to watch my friends die." Sherlock coldly said.
"I did this for you." Irene said. She was not about to give up. She placed her hand gently on Sherlock's, which sat clutched on the table.
"If you really want to help me, then tell me what you know." Sherlock demanded as he removed his hand from beneath Irene's. Irene knew that by telling Sherlock any information she would be putting her life on the line. "Please." Sherlock said in a whispered.
"Moriarty wants revenge. This is no longer a game, Sherlock." Irene explained. "He will not hesitate to kill you, your friends, or anyone who stands in his way."
"Where is he now?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know." Irene answered.
"Irene." Sherlock disagreed.
"He moves frequently from location to location. He doesn't want anyone to know where he is... not even me." Irene went on to a further explanation.
"What are his plans?" Sherlock continued questioning.
"I'm not sure."
"You are being no help at all!"
"I am only being used to watch you."
"To spy on me, you mean." Sherlock corrected.
"Yes. But at the same time I am trying to keep you safe." Irene said.
"My safety is not my top priority."
"It's mine." Irene said looking straight into Sherlock's eyes. Irene was the first person that Sherlock ever had feelings for, that would never change, but at the moment it was almost impossible to show any kind of affection towards her.
"Why won't you just tell me what you know!?" Sherlock slammed his hand on the table, making Irene jump. Tears slowly fell from Irene's eyes. Irene took a pen out of her pocket and began writing on a napkin. Sherlock was looking away from her, well aware of her actions, but refusing to acknowledge them. Irene set the pen down and slowly got up and then walked away. Sherlock turned his head and watched her walk away. When Irene was out of slight Sherlock scooted the napkin closer to him. An address was written on it. That was all. Sherlock folded the napkin, stuffed it in his coat, and then quickly left. There was no need to pay, neither of them had ordered anything.
Sherlock stood across the street from the building in which Irene had given him the address for. It was an unused studio. There had been a sign in one of the downstairs window that said 'For Lease' for months. Hesitantly, Sherlock made his way to the entrance of the building. The door was unlocked, as if Moriarty was letting Sherlock know he was welcome. Sherlock examined the first floor of the building. It was dark and dirty, with papers and chairs scattered about.
Sherlock walked to the very back, where the stairs were located, and began up them slowly. He froze when he got to the top of the stairs. There was a television showing live footage.
"Irene." Sherlock whispered. The screen showed Irene tied to a chair while two men in black masks held her at gun point. "Irene." Sherlock said louder as he ran over to the television.
"See what happens when you make me mad?" Sherlock turned around to see Jim walking out of the shadows. Sherlock, full of angry, began walking quickly towards Moriarty. "Uh uh." Moriarty held both hands up and then pointed to the screen. Sherlock stopped.
"Why?" Sherlock had so many questions. He was confused and speechless.
"She told you where I was." Moriarty said sinisterly. "That was a no-no." Moriarty said as he shook his head up and down with his lip sticking out, as if he were giving Sherlock the puppy-dog face. "You know I really liked this place. It had a sense of home." Jim looked around the room.
"Where is she?" Sherlock said with anger.
"It doesn't matter where she is. All you find is a dead body when you get there." Moriarty laughed.
"Where is she?! I'm not playing your games!" Sherlock yelled, getting closer to Moriarty.
"This isn't a game. It's reality." Jim snapped his fingers. "One down. Three to go." There was the sound of a single gun shot. Sherlock turned around but the TV screen had gone blurry. Sherlock looked back in Moriarty's direction, but he was no longer there. Sherlock ran out of the building and onto the side-walk. He turned in every direction looking for Moriarty or someone suspicious, but there was hardly anyone walking about. Sherlock's breathing was heavy and the world seemed to spin. Regardless of what Moriarty and Irene said, this was a game. Moriarty would kill everyone Sherlock ever cared for, and Sherlock needed to find a way to stop him.
Sherlock was so deep in thought that he didn't even realize he had already made it back to 221B Baker Street. He looked up at the window to see John looking back. Sherlock looked back down and then walked inside.
"Ms. Hudson." Sherlock acknowledged when he saw her standing there. John soon came down the stairs.
"Sherlock," John said, "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry." Sherlock apologized. He didn't know what to do. He felt there was no way to stop Moriarty.
"For what?" John asked, walking closer and placing his hand against Sherlock's arm. Sherlock looked into John's eyes, not knowing how to tell him he was going to die. The strange feeling was there again, and Sherlock still didn't have the strength to fight it.
"Sherlock?!" John and Ms. Hudson said in astonishment when Sherlock hugged John.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John demanded to know as he slowly pulled away from the hug. Sherlock began to tell John and Ms. Hudson what had just happened.
"Wait, Irene is dead?" John asked. Sherlock, not wanting to admit it, just stared. "I mean are you sure she is dead? You didn't actually see it happen. From what you just explained, you only heard the gun shots and when you turned around you saw nothing but a blank screen." Sherlock looked up.
"But he said, 'One down. Three to go.'" Sherlock explained.
"He's toying with your mind, Sherlock." John said. Sherlock was still speechless. But for another reason. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of any of this. He couldn't believe that Moriarty was actually getting to him.