Chapter 7
Author's Note: Hey guys, tell me what you think! I love to hear what you have to say. I'm thinking of doing a few storylines from the actual episodes, with Rose. Review or PM me your opinions.
Rose
"Wrong. You want to stay, but for some reason, you can't. There's tension in your shoulders and hips. You've had a bad experience today. Something angered and frustrated you. Something bad. Bad enough to change your mind about staying. Who wants to bet it had something to do with Moriarty?" Sherlock says.
Rose runs over to Sherlock and punches him. He falls backwards, hitting his head on the fireplace. Sherlock loses consciousness. Rose turns to John, eyes dead.
"Rose! What? You just hit…Why? I know he's insensitive, but…Why?" John asks. He doesn't know. Oh, God. Let's keep it that way.
Rose walks toward John. She raises her fist. John makes no move to defend himself. He just looks confused. He trusts me. He trusts me not to hit him. Rose lowers her arm. He is so good. I wish I was like him. Rose pulls out her gun. Now, John looks concerned.
"Rose, Rose, stop. Whatever you're doing, stop. We can fix this," John tries to calm her. Rose turns the gun in her hand and holds it by the barrel. She brings it down on John's head with a crack.
John slumps forward. Rose catches him and pushes him onto the sofa. She arranges John's limbs so he is comfortable. Then, she kisses his forehead.
"I'm sorry, John. I'm so, so sorry," Rose apologizes, tears in her eyes. Rose faces Sherlock's unconscious form. She heaves him into his chair. Then she kisses Sherlock's temple.
"I'm sorry to you too, Sherlock," Rose whispers softly. She blinks away her tears and leaves the flat. She walks down Baker Street, wistful. Why can't I just be normal? Ordinary? As she's thinking this, a black car pulls up to the sidewalk. Two men get out. Rose keeps walking on the busy street. They follow her.
Rose stands outside a department store, pretending to admire the outfits. In reality, she's examining the two men that are following her. Thug types. Not exactly the smartest. I didn't think my death would be so soon. There's Moriarty for you. She heads down a dark alley. If I'm going to die tonight, I'm going down fighting. She hides behind a rubbish bin. The men follow her and look for her.
Rose surprises one of them and kicks him in the groin. She delivers hard punches to his jaw and head, successfully beating him unconscious. She drives her elbow into the other man's stomach. He had attempted to sneak up behind her. Good luck with that. Rose deals a swift uppercut to the second man's jaw, sending him sprawling backwards. He's not going anywhere soon.
The second Rose stepped away from the second thug, another man stepped out of the shadows.
"My dear, I think you'd better come with me," the man drawls.
"Um, no." Rose starts walking toward the street. Street. People. Witnesses.
"I'm not going to harm you, and neither were these men," the man articulated. He leans on his umbrella.
"Liar."
"Look at me. Do I look like I'm lying? It takes a good liar to know one." Rose freezes at those words. She slowly inspects the man with the umbrella.
"No, you're not."
"Good. Now, come with me, please."
"Why?"
"We need to discuss my younger brother."
"Oh. Sherlock. Of course you're his brother."
Mycroft Holmes nods. "Follow me, please." He struts toward the black car Rose spotted earlier.
"Shouldn't we call an ambulance for them?" Rose points to the thugs.
"They'll be fine."
"Your concern is jaw dropping," Rose notes, dripping sarcasm.
"I know. I hate myself sometimes."
They ride in silence. Their destination is the Diogenes Club, a large white building. Rose gets out and follows Mycroft into his office.
"Take a seat, please, Miss Smith," Mycroft invites her.
"Rose, please," Rose corrects him.
"Very well, Rose," Mycroft laces his fingers together. "Rose, do you know why you are here?"
"I think you're going to tell me, whether I like it or not."
"You broke into the flat of 221b."
"Wrong. The window was open."
Ignoring her, Mycroft says, "You then proceed to sleep in the flat, with Sherlock watching you. In the morning, after breakfast, you and Sherlock deduce each other. He won and you tell him your life story. Afterwards, you go to a crime scene with Sherlock." Mycroft pauses. "You come back to the flat much later than Sherlock does. You proceed to physically abuse both men. Why?"
Rose looks sullen and doesn't answer. Mycroft waits.
"Rose, I know your story, too. I have audio recorders all over their flat. And I heard every word you said. I found the police files on your family's death." Mycroft slides a folder toward her.
Rose picks up the file and throws it in the air. He thinks that he can bribe me? Why he want to know? Idiot. And that is the last thing I want to see. Papers scatter all over the floor and desk. Mycroft merely looks at Rose and repeats his question.
"Why did you knock both John and Sherlock out? What does Moriarty have to do with this?"
"I think, Mr. Holmes, that you can figure that out for yourself. You're a high-ranking member of the British government. Your brother isn't the only one with superior intelligence. Why don't you tell me?"
Mycroft only says, "Moriarty used John and Sherlock against you. He threatened them, and you decided to sever ties."
"Correct, Mr. Holmes."
"Then you were trying to protect them. But I can protect them, too. You needn't worry about anything. I can make sure that you, Sherlock, and Doctor Watson are safe from Moriarty," Mycroft offers.
"Why? What's in it for you?" Rose is wary.
"Would you like to live with them?"
"I would, but I prioritize their safety over myself," Rose emphasizes. "You don't know what Moriarty can do. And what's in in for you?"
"I do, in fact. I've heard of what he can do. And Sherlock is my brother."
"So? You two don't seem like the type who would get along. What do you want from me?" Rose queries.
Mycroft grinds the heel of his hands into his eyes, thinking that Rose is more difficult than his brother. "I can provide...incentive, if you would give me information about his whereabouts."
"You want me to spy on him?"
"If that's how you think of it, yes."
"No."
Mycroft is surprised. "No? You want to run away from Moriarty, correct? Doing that takes money. Money that you don't have."
"So? I can hide just fine from him."
"But-"
"No, Mr. Holmes. You won't get me to change my mind on this. And anyways, I'm not going back to them."
"And why ever not?"
"Sherlock and John are still in danger because of me," Rose protests. "And I won't let myself ruin their lives."
"Moriarty will be after Sherlock anyways. Sherlock is his only competition, after all," Mycroft says gently. "John knows the risks. And he loves it. When Doctor Watson is with Sherlock, he doesn't see London. He sees the battlefield."
"But I don't want to be Moriarty's pawn!" Rose screams at him. She calms down. "I will not be a pawn in his game. And besides, I'll just end up hurt again. Moriarty will find some way to use John and Sherlock against me. I don't want harm to come to them, or to me."
"You consider them friends?"
Rose hesitates. This could be a trick question. "I consider them good people who have had the bad luck of meeting me."
"But you do like them? You care for their well-being? You were happy with them?" Mycroft asks.
"Yes, but I fail to see why this is relevant."
Mycroft massages his temple. "A wise man once asked why we should be happy now when we will only be sad later." Rose glowers at him. "Do you know what the answer is?" Rose shakes her head.
"Because we will be sad later."
Rose rolls her eyes. "And why should you care about my happiness? How do I know you won't deliberately send Moriarty my way?"
Mycroft raises an eyebrow. "You don't trust me?"
"I don't trust you as far as I can spit."
"But you trust Sherlock and John. Why is that?"
Rose shrugs.
"Well, it is your choice. But I think they need someone like you."
"Oh, yes. 'Cause who doesn't need a troubled teenager who knows fifty different ways to kill you?" Rose asks sarcastically.
Mycroft tilts his head to the side. "You seem to be under the impression that you are only capable of doing evil."
Rose shrugs. "Based upon past experiences, I think that's a pretty fair conclusion." She stands and turns to leave. Rose is almost to the door when Mycroft asks,
"Did you ever think that maybe you could prevent Moriarty from hurting you? Hurting Sherlock and John? Because maybe that's why you met them. To stop it from happening."
Rose places her hand upon the doorknob. "You don't seem like a man who believe in coincidences."
Mycroft smiles. "People who don't believe in coincidences must lead very dull lives indeed."
Rose hesitates, and Mycroft can see it. Maybe I can. Maybe I can save them. Change things up a bit.
"Okay." Rose opens the door and gestures for Mycroft to follow her. "Get me a ride back."
oOo
Mycroft personally drives Rose back to 221b. She gets out of the car and pauses. She's unsure of how to continue.
Might as well get it over with. She rings the doorbell. No answer. She walks around the side of the building and climbs up the fire escape. She climbs through the open window and lands back in John's room. She walks out into the living room and finds John asleep on the couch and Sherlock in his chair, multiple nicotine patches on his arm.
"You're back." Sherlock is surprised.
"Yeah." Rose looks at John with a smile on her face. "I think I'll just sleep on the floor."
"Rose?"
"Yeah, Sherlock?"
"I'm. um, well…" Rose drifts off to sleep, but she swears she heard Sherlock say 'I'm glad you're okay.'
