Chapter 10 – Let the Games Begin
Percy,
Maybe we never should have kept what really happened from you, but keeping you safe was all that seemed to matter at the time. Now its too late for you to ever know.
Forever yours,
James
9th October 2013
Moran POV
He wondered why he'd never thought of it before. Play his enemy at their own game? It had been so easy to find someone with a grudge against the Holmes family and he'd been quietly spreading the word about the existence of another, younger and female, sibling which caused all the crazies to come crawling out of the woodwork. He found himself as the puppet master, and he loved it, sifting through plots and plans to do all manner of terrible things to little Persephone. His favourite was a bit of poetic justice.
Bob Franklin appeared to be a normal and well-adjusted human being. However, under the surface bubbled and boiled a vat of hatred. This hatred was directed at Sherlock, but seeing as he was 'dead' Franklin wanted another member of the family to know the loss he'd suffered. His father had been forced into killing himself because of Holmes and his interference. So strike them at their heart, take the most vulnerable and break them. This plan appealed to Moran on so many levels, especially as Moriarty would find out who had done this and Franklin would disappear. Moran was above it all, just providing funds and a means to an end, he'd watched how to commit a crime and never be caught for years. Not even Moriarty would suspect his involvement.
All Franklin had to do was get know Percy, not a difficult task, especially as he now worked in the same office as her. In fact Percy had hired him herself. He couldn't wait to see how this would unfold.
Percy POV
Work was filling a void. A hole that was filled with the absence of the all the people I cared about. Sherlock had vanished without another word, I was still conflicted about the whole Angie situation, my loneliness was almost enough to make my mind up, but I still wasn't ready. John was my only saving grace.
He was keeping me strong and I knew my feelings for him were more than complicated, but perhaps we would survive the mess? There was the deafening silence from my lawyers. For the life of me I couldn't find the divorce papers, where had they gone, I definitely hadn't signed or sent them yet. Life was a bit of disaster. The only other familiar face I had contact with was Mycroft. Which I shouldn't complain about, he's been so kind to me throughout this fiasco, but I needed someone normal to talk to. I also needed someone younger to talk to. I needed human contact in a non-work context that I could laugh and drink and be silly with. Adelaide was thriving at Scotland Yard; she didn't need to be burdened with my problems.
The drinking sounded fantastic, especially if it helped me forget about tomorrow. I just wanted to skip over Thursday and head straight to Friday. I'd told John I would be working over the weekend, I knew I shouldn't lie to him, but I needed and alibi if things went wrong…in case I slipped back into old habits…
I couldn't concentrate, no matter how hard I tried. I stood up and knocked on Mycroft's office door.
"Come in." Called Mycroft.
"Hi." I said quietly as I closed the door behind me.
"Yes, of course." Mycroft said. He already knew what I wanted.
"How do you do that?" I asked.
"I've known you for a very long time, and as much as overt sentiment irks me, you are a highly empathic creature. Take a couple of days and we'll meet up on Sunday for lunch. I might even cook if you behave." He said kindly, the cold front he usually wore completely melting away.
"Thank you so much." I smiled and quickly hugged Mycroft. He stiffened momentarily, but returned the gesture. "I think I'm going to go home and visit Mum and Dad." I said. He'd know where I was. I would be safe there and out of temptation's way. I should probably tell John, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell him. I still couldn't really talk about Jim to him, he would get so angry and I ended up crying and usually drunk.
"Stay safe and call if you need anything." He offered. The walls were freezing back up again. I gave my brother another quick smile and left his office. I got back to my desk, saved what I'd been pitifully attempting and logged off. I grabbed my jacket and bag and made my way downstairs.
As I left the lobby and made it onto the street I bumped into someone, just as I was about to apologise I felt my arm in a tight grip.
"Hello Princess." A voice hissed behind me. I tensed and turned sharply.
"Moran." I spat. I swallowed away the pain and fear.
"You look a bit pale, everything alright?" He cooed. Bringing his mouth close to my ear. I tried to pull away from him, but he had my still healing arm; how I'd ever found him attractive I'd never know.
"Get your hands off me." I snapped defensively.
"Oh, you're feisty today. It looks so good on you." He purred. Everything in me recoiled.
"Back off Sebastian." I said sharply and managed to pull myself free. My right arm was now throbbing. My wrist had healed but still constantly ached.
"Hey, is everything okay here?" A new voice said.
"Of course, sorry I didn't see you there." Moran said, his demeanour and personality flipping like a switch.
"Not a problem." I smiled falsely.
"Are you okay?" The newcomer asked me. I glanced at him. He looked somewhat familiar, I was sure he worked in the office.
"Yeah, fine. Thanks." I said quietly
"Did you know that guy?" He asked.
"Sort of. A long time ago." I answered vaguely. Today of all days he comes and torments me. God, he's a bastard.
"An ex?" The man asked.
"Something like that." I added.
"It's Bob by the way." He said.
"Huh?" I asked lamely, I'd stopped listening.
"My name, Bob Franklin. I started a couple of weeks ago. You're Persephone?" He said again. I tried not grimace at my full name.
"Right, um hi. Call me Percy, please. I can't stand my full name." I smiled. Bob was tall, quite handsome with sandy blond hair and intelligent blue eyes. He looked at me slightly expectantly, which was a little odd.
"Nice to meet you Percy." He smiled back.
"You too. Thanks for being all…um…chivalrous." I fumbled. What was wrong with me?
"No problem. Would it be weird to ask you to come for a drink with me?" He said smoothly.
"Not weird no." I replied. It wouldn't hurt, would it?
"So will you?" He urged again, looking hopeful.
"Uh, yeah. Why not? Lead the way Bob." I smiled. He smiled back and headed towards Embankment.
"Have you ever been to Opal before?" Bob asked casually.
"Um, maybe. Is that the one next to Embankment station?" I answered with a question.
"Yeah. It's a cocktail bar, quite classy, not too expensive. In fact we'll make happy hour!" He smiled. I smiled back and looked at him. He had an open manner and relaxed features. He couldn't be more than a couple of years older than me, if that. I couldn't help but compare him to both John and Jim; he seemed to be a mix of them both. Clever and witty, but self assured and well dressed, his short sandy blonde hair and blue eyes twinkling with mischief, as well as a hidden sadness. Who had he lost? He wasn't classically handsome, but he intrigued me. For a few seconds he helped distract me from thinking about tomorrow.
"Sounds fun. I do like cocktails." I replied happily.
We entered the bar, which already had city types and students drinking and talking. It was kitsch and quirky, but clean and respectable. Bob was playing it safe, how sweet. We weaved our way towards the bar.
"What's your poison?" Asked the barkeep.
"Ladies first." Bob indicated.
"A cosmopolitan please." I smiled through my eyelashes.
"It's two for one, do you want both now?" The bar tender inquired.
"Can I come back when I'm done?" I asked coyly. Flirting with bar staff was a bad habit but it helped to get what I wanted.
"Of course." He winked. "For you sir?"
"Scotch on the rocks" Bob replied a little gruffly. Was he jealous already? Wow, this was going to be too easy. What was I thinking? He wasn't a target or some random conquest. Behave Persephone, I chided mentally, you have a boyfriend.
"Twelve pounds."
"These are on me, as a thank you for being chivalrous." I felt kind bad and it was the least I could do.
"You're welcome, that's nice. I've never been bought a drink by a lady before."
"Oh sweetie, I'm not a lady." I chuckled.
We walked to a private booth and sat opposite each other. The conversation flowed easily enough. We chatted about various topics keeping it light, not too personal. I was trying not to flirt and lead him on. Bob told me he'd been working in Mycroft's office for six weeks. I almost blushed; I really hadn't noticed him, as I'd been so wrapped up in my own dramas. He worked with the tech support team. I vaguely remembered him from the disastrous day of interviews.
The first round of drinks finished, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. As I washed my hands, I looked in the mirror. I looked a bit tired, but my eyes were bright and my make-up still intact. I touched up my lipstick and refreshed my eyeliner. I would do, and perhaps I needed to let my hair down and play a little, something was making my spidey sense tingle.
Bob POV
This was all going to plan, and so easily. Bob Franklin smiled as he poured the drug into the pink cocktail. She was so trusting and open. Soon she'd be singing and then dying and the Holmes family would be broken. Retribution would be paid. Their mother would grieve like his was.
Percy POV
"Hi, I got you your other drink." Bob smiled.
"Thanks, that's great." I replied and slid in slightly closer to my companion taking a flirty sip.
"I've been trying not to ask, but you know how office gossip flies…"
"Just ask I won't be offended. I'm used to it."
"Well the rumour is you're estranged from your billionaire playboy husband who has links to the mob and that you keep you job because you're sleeping with Mr. Holmes." Bob said hesitantly. I couldn't halt the laugh that bubbled up inside me.
"That's hilarious and gross. Well, I am separated from my husband, which is true. He isn't a billionaire playboy with links to the mob, he's city boy who likes to play away from home. Regarding Mr. Holmes, I wouldn't sleep with him if he were the last man on earth." I giggled. It was all half true. Jim would love that description of him. Funny how close, but how wrong the office gossip was.
"Why, he's not that bad." Bob defended on behalf of his gender.
"No, not like that, because he's my older brother. I keep my job because I am good at it. Sometimes my personal life and work life don't work alongside each other so Mycroft lets me have time away if need it." I explained quietly. I took a larger gulp of my drink. I quickly felt that relaxed buzz alcohol gives you. Odd, I was only half way through drink number two.
"So you're seeing other people already?" Bob inquired slightly surprised.
"No, not really. Why?" I asked confused. Every sip I took I felt dizzier. How was I so drunk so quickly?
"Well it's been so easy. You took no persuasion at all to come on a date and you are quite lovely. I've been watching you, the way you move and the seductive clothes you wear. I would have you on my desk any time." He rasped into my ear. The sounds starting to echo and bend. My vision was already blurring. I felt so thirsty. I drank some more of drink, gripping the glass tightly.
"I-I-I never me-meant to lead you on." I slurred.
"I wonder if you even realise how the men watch in that office, its sick. They letch and yearn for you in your tight skirts and high heels. They all want you; they would betray their wives and lovers for you. What did you do for your husband to betray you?" He uttered darkly, his words melting together inside my head. My hands began to shake and I felt dizzier and dizzier, every sound and sight was blurred and echoing oddly in my ears. I felt disorientated like the room had started to spin.
"S'not m-fault." I slurred.
"It never is, is it?" He sneered. I could feel the blurriness in my vision turning dark. "We're going to have a little adventure, I do hope you're not scared of the dark…" Those distorted words were the last thing I heard before the blackness over took me.
Jim's POV
The date was taunting him. He wanted to tear up the calendar and burn it. Tomorrow, it would be so painful. He had to try, after all these months, he had to try and make amends. He was functioning without her but he'd become so cruel so quickly. His last client had made one tiny mistake, which made no difference in the grand scheme of things, but it made his temper flared and now that poor soul was buried in twelve different boxes all across the country.
He could admit that he was lonely. He was lost and heartbroken.
His life felt oddly similar to a year ago. Separated, alone and hurt. It was the night before their one-year anniversary. At the same time last year he was still unsure if he could forgive Percy, or if he could marry her. The same butterflies took root growing to bigger and bigger with each passing minute. By lunchtime the butterflies felt like bats. Now, after everything they'd overcome, he'd pushed her away, hurt her on a deep emotional and physically, which still made him sick to his stomach, she'd left him and she wanted a divorce. This time it had been his fault, he'd let his doubts and heart rule and not listened to his rational mind screaming for him to stop and see what he was doing. He stared at the documents, it took a signature and it would be done. The pen felt like a ten tonne weight.
The months had passed in a drunken blur. He'd barely left the house or his bed just stewed in a drunken haze trying to drown out the voices in his mind; they spoke of hurtful truths and absolute sense. On the days he bothered to face the outside world it always felt like a trial of Hercules. He was ignoring clients and bids and even jobs he'd usually bounce for joy with, but it all seemed pointless and futile. Last night he'd drank enough to poison most men, but he just fell into a stupor. He had a blurred memory of Percy in their bedroom, he hoped it was a memory and not a dream, but she ran away. Why would she do that? One thing he and Percy had in common when stressed was substance abuse. Jim weirdly found that destructive thought comforting.
His phone dinged at him loudly, he was hungover, but now sober enough to function. The message read "Hillbourne Cottage, Brecon. 7pm." He knew that address well. It was Percy's parent's house. Well, he supposed, it was now Percy's house. The message as anonymous, when he tried to call the number it hit a vine wall.
Glancing at the clock on his bedside table he saw it was already lunchtime. Jim sighed; he staggered out of bed and into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, he was in dire need of a shave and his hair was a greasy mess. He looked pale and tired. It had been so quick, his descent into self-medicating with scotch, he was getting through three bottles a week...perhaps it was time to stop? Jim decided to start with a long hot shower to aid waking him up, then a shave.
Forty minutes later, clean-shaven and clean, Jim stepped out of the bathroom to the large and half empty walk in wardrobe. The whole house was taunting him, every room held memories of Percy. He could see her echo dancing across the room or laughing. He could practically feel her next to him as he passed out. He felt haunted by her memory. If this was how he felt when she chose to leave, what would it feel like if she died...? He shook away that unbearable thought. Jim got dressed in a smart casual pair of dark chinos, a cotton t-shirt and grey jacket. He grabbed a green and grey striped scarf, one of Percy's favourites, and decided he was ready. Jim grabbed his phone and charger he began searching for his wallet and car keys, they appeared in the fridge of all places. He was now ready to leave; he locked the front door and made the four-hour drive to South Wales.
He made good time getting to Brecon an hour earlier than he needed. He had a key to the house, he'd had one form the first time he met Percy's parents all those years ago, but decided to wait for Percy, if she invited him in then he'd take it from there.
He was getting anxious. Percy should be here by now; it was nearly 8:30. He'd sent a variety of texts already, even tired calling her, but no reply. He didn't expect much, but not even a "Sod Off." Something wasn't sitting right with him, and he rarely ignored his gut instinct. Before he could consciously decode, he'd put the key back in the ignition and started the engine.
Jim quickly dialed Mycroft's number. He didn't want to speak to the eldest Holmes, but he was his best chance of finding his missing wife.
"Holmes." Mycroft barked irritably.
"Have you seen or heard from Percy today?" Jim asked frantically.
"Why is this information important to you Mr. Moriarty?" Mycroft sneered.
"We don't have time for games, but she hasn't turned up in Brecon." Jim snapped.
"I last saw her about half past two when I sent her home, she should've been in contact by now." Mycroft replied, his tone becoming slightly worried.
"I'm on my way back to London. I, we, have to find her. You know what might happen." Jim added, fearing he'd find his Percy lifeless from an overdose.
"I am well aware of the risks. I will meet you at your house." Mycroft hung up abruptly. Jim put his foot down; he probably broke more than a few road laws.
He arrived back in London at 10:30, Mycroft's innocuous black jaguar waiting for him.
"You made good time." Mycroft commented wryly. He wouldn't let on that any speed cameras that had caught him or laws that had been bent may have been conveniently erased, this was for Percy's sake after all.
"Have you heard from her?" Jim asked with quiet panic. Percy didn't do disappearing; she was always too worried about others worrying. The only two occasions she'd gone quiet were when she'd been kidnapped and when she'd overdosed the previous year. This realisation was setting alarm bells off in both men's minds.
"No, it's quite unusual." Mycroft surmised.
"You may as well come in." Jim murmured quietly. His mind was in overdrive trying to work out where Percy might be. She wasn't at home in Brecon and she hadn't appeared here. Where was she living? Could she have just stayed there, surely Mycroft would've checked there. She obviously wasn't at Baker Street; there would have been word from one its inhabitants, especially if Percy was high. There was a chance she'd gone to a dealer, she could be strung out somewhere in the city. Perhaps it was time to call in some favours.
Jim put on some coffee; it was going to be a long night. His eye caught the half empty bottle of scotch, but the thought of drinking the amber liquid had lost all its appeal. Perhaps if he'd been keeping an eye out for Percy instead of wallowing in self-pity he'd know where she was. Mycroft was already making some phone calls, adding alerts and traces.
Jim's phone was clever, depending on the password you put in depended on what kind of data was sorted and available, one password was his personal number, that held very few numbers and only this closest to him. The other password held work numbers, his contacts and associates. Also if a password was entered wrong three times it erased any data on the phone personal or work related. He'd also removed the GPS tracker, well more like replaced, so he could trace others, but he couldn't be traced.
Entering the password for his business contacts Jim sent out a message. It held a code, but one that was important, it required a flood of information to come to him, he would be able to see and read any trace of Percy if she's had even the most remote contact with any of his associates. He'd be able to spot patterns and work out foul play. The message was an encrypted algorithm he'd written, it essentially hacked into the system of the person who'd received and copied the last 36 hours of data and sent it back to him. Within minutes he'd received everything and started reading. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It was all above board and normal, well as above board as the criminal classes can be. He was getting frustrated, until he read the penultimate message, an image from Moran's files, Percy walking off with a familiar face. Jim ran the image through his head, putting names to faces, why did this face seem so familiar. It clicked as Mycroft walked back into the kitchen. Baskerville. Of course, he realised, Bob Franklin Jr.
"I know where she is." He declared.
"Where?" Mycroft asked looking up sharply.
"She's been taken to Baskerville." Jim said quietly.
"That would have come straight to me if she turned up there." Mycroft countered, not believing what he'd been told.
"Not if an employee was delivering supplies to the base no one checked the back of his vehicle." Jim countered sarcastically.
"What interest have you got with anyone at Baskerville?" Mycroft questioned carefully. He'd be watching carefully for this answer.
"I don't, but the son of the recently deceased Bob Franklin came to me wanting revenge, against your family, I thought it trivial and pathetic, it was Franklin's own fault he got killed. Apparently his son, Bob Jr. didn't like being told no." He explained casually. Baskerville was old news; he'd lost interest in that poisoned chalice long ago.
"Right. God only knows what might happen to her. Keep trying to contact her; she may still have her phone on her, she's resilient and quite resourceful. I'll take a team to retrieve her. I need you to stay in London." Mycroft requested.
"Keep me informed of everything. As soon as you get her back tell me." Jim replied, accepting the terms. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep a level head around anyone who may come into contact with Percy, especially of Franklin was caught.
"Franklin is mine Mycroft, I will deal with him personally. That isn't up for negotiation." He added darkly. Mycroft saw something within the man knowing it wasn't wise to argue with him on this matter.
"Do what you feel is necessary." Mycroft acquiesced.
Mycroft then left, phone already at his ear issuing orders and deploying help where needed. The base was in lockdown within three minutes of his phone call. All Jim could do was wait. Franklin was going to suffer the very worst of fates for thinking he could lay a finger on Percy.
That night was so long, at 9am the next morning he received the call that Percy had been found. Mycroft mentioned the body, the doppelgänger of him. He felt his fists clench enraged that Percy had had to suffer alone. Apparently Bob Jr. had continued his father's work and used fear and stimulus to disorientate and torture Percy. A maze of maintenance corridors with ropes and false snakes, all moving in the low light, the hallucinogenic drug would have caused Percy to think it was real. Whatever Franklin's deepest fears were, he'd find them and recreate them until it killed the bastard.
The only information Jim received was that Percy was catatonic and was being airlifted back to London.
10th October 2013
Percy POV
I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I could detect no windows, which made it intensely gloomy. After that sparking realisation my mind drifted. I felt lethargic, like all my muscles were bendy. Nothing hurt or mattered there was a familiar oblivion. The slight hazy blurring around the edges of my vision alluded to morphine. I didn't remember taking any morphine, but I never remember much when opiates were involved. Everything was moving like it was in slow motion and it all felt softer and more malleable than normal.
I think I drifted to sleep. Time stopped working.
The next time I awoke to a sharp pain in my arm and the world coming into extreme sharp focus. I was hyper aware of my surrounding and the feel of the itchy material I was lying on. I was warm and so thirsty. A door opened up opposite me, the light harsh and bright. I glanced around the squalid cell briefly and ran. The door slammed loudly behind me, I tried pushing against it, it didn't budge in fact I couldn't even see where it had been. The light was so poor and even flickered making the corridor bend and move. Everything was making me nervous. I heard a noise, thick and dull. It sounded like something smooth being dragged. The noise was low to the ground, then near my head, then on the ground again then above me, new sounds being added to the mix as the cacophony rose. I bolted, panic rising in me, I had to get out. Then I heard it, a loud hiss. I froze. The light became hazier than before a mist making the light reflect in odd ways. I felt so disorientated. The sharp hiss sounded again closer to me, the light cost neatly changing when I saw it, the long glinting shape undulating slowly above my head. It was huge, a huge snake. I didn't know whether to throw up or run or scream or just drop dead in fear.
Another quieter hiss sounded and a tight coil on the ground shifted slightly. The lights became just bright enough for me to see the walls and floor, every few feet the were hanging shambles and tight could all moving and swaying the way only snakes can. I was in my worst nightmare a dark maze filled with snakes, alone. As I moved the haze reappeared. The more I ran in the dark the more hisses and sounds I heard. I had no idea where I was, lost and alone and terrified. I just help running, I saw and heard strange noises and felt things brush against me and jump out at me. Shadows bent and swirled around me.
I just kept running and running, I didn't know whether it was in circles or if I was underground, the hazy mist still floating around me. Every time I passed through it I grew more and more terrified. I hit a dead end and something heavy and clammy fell onto my neck and shoulders. I screamed in true fear and struggled, the more I moved the more the serpent wriggled and tightened its hold on me. I was going to die alone and be devoured by snakes. No one would know. I had no idea how long I had been here, days, hours or minutes? I couldn't give in I had to be brave. I swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and fought off the vile reptile, I heaved the hulking thing off me and ran, ran as a fast as my tired legs would carry me.
Moran POV
He couldn't have planned this better himself. They delight he felt as the stupid girl ran around off her face and out of her mind screaming and fighting with ropes. The darkness making her fall over and trip. She was a joke. He watched her turn a corner and felt his smirk grow to a grin, the final touch that would break her beyond repair.
Percy POV
I turned a corner that was darker than before, more shadowy with only the sound of strangled breathing, the lights seem to turn on as I tiptoed down this new horror. The raspy breathing was infused with moans, it sounded like a person, like someone in pain. God knew what I might find. The lights kept illuminating, showing me the way and it's trepidation I kept walking. The sight that met me brought me to my knees. I felt my stomach heave. I wretched and threw up violently. I fell back onto the frigid concrete floor and dared to look up again. In front of me a body hung from a rope noose, nearly dead but not quite, the rope gently swinging and rotating. The bodies' sickly rasping noises going quiet and falling silent, as it swung round to face me. As silence fell the rope snapped and the body fell on top of me, I lay immobile under the dead weight of the corpse. This was all unnerving and vile but I became totally immobile. As I lay there I felt the hot tears being to fall, it was Jim, his dead body lay atop of mine. With shaking fingers I gently brushed them against his already cold skin and through his soft hair. How could he be gone?
There was a note hanging around his neck.
Happy Anniversary Princess,
Surprise!
Forever yours,
X
I have no memory of how long I spent trapped under the cold corpse of my husband.
It was running boots that altered my attention to a change. The light had become stark and bright again, like that of a laboratory.
"Ma'am can you hear me?" A male voice asked. I recoiled from the sound, my eyes staring blindly at the white ceiling. I felt a weight removed from my chest, but breathing became no easier.
"Get medics. Now!" The same voice called. Flurries of activity went on around me. They all moved on fast-forward, my world had stopped spinning.
"We've found her sir." A pause. "She's conscious and breathing, but unresponsive, the medics are calling her catatonic." Another pause. "Yes sir."
I felt myself lifted onto a stretcher, a soft warm blanket placed over my body. My peripheral vision caught Jim's body being carefully lifted and covered out of respect and stretchered away. I wanted to cry out and scream, but I couldn't make a sound.
Mycroft POV
Hearing Moriarty utter the word Baskerville made his blood run cold. Regardless of the messy estrangement between his youngest sibling and her husband, they would never truly be separated. It was painfully obvious how much they missed each other and how much they still cared, even if they were ridiculously stubborn. His worry outweighed his observations.
Mycroft felt his brain kick into overdrive. It was time to organise and plan. He would find Percy and bring her home as safe and whole as physically possible.
It took one phone call and everything was mobilised and in place.
6am the next morning his team were breaching the defenses. At 6:30am his team had found the underground tunnels. By 6:45am Percy had been found. She was so cold and still, staring blankly into nothing. The body atop of her was an uncanny double for Moriarty. She would take months to recover from this. He prayed she had no memory of the ordeal. 7am and the air ambulance was taking her back to London.
Mycroft arrived in London at 8:30am. He went straight to the hospital. Percy had been quickly stabilized but had fallen into a coma, her catatonic state breaking for seconds before she fell unconscious. In those brief seconds of lucidity all Percy did was scream.
The doctor informed him that Percy had been given a strange cocktail of chemicals to cause hallucinations and invoke psychosis. She'd also suffered a blunt trauma injury to the head, the doctor warned that she may suffer from Post Trauma Retrograde Amnesia. This would make her unable to remember the event. If she did remember, she would need emotional and psychological support. Mycroft was relieved to know she hadn't been molested or raped, a fear that had rung instant alarm bells when the doctor explained that rohypnols had been detected in her bloodstream.
Momentarily Mycroft hoped Sherlock would appear. Sherlock and Percy understood each other better than others ever could, even better than him. Sherlock, regardless of his cynicism, cared deeply for their sister. He even tolerated his worst enemy to keep her happy. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, Moriarty's appearance broke his train of thought.
"Is she okay?" Moriarty asked quietly.
"She'll live. We just have to wait and hope that she'll wake up." He replied calmly. Although a lump of emotion and relief was a breaking point.
"What happened to her?" Moriarty questioned.
"She was kidnapped and drugged. She was forced through a maze whilst suffering vivid hallucinations and mild psychosis, mostly in the dark, fear and stimulus, a most powerful tool. She was found in a catatonic state, trapped under what appeared to be your body. It was in fact a waxwork, but the resemblance even made me take a second look." Mycroft explained tentatively. He could feel the rage pouring of his companion.
"Fucking bastard! I'll have his head." Moriarty spat, livid.
"My sentiment's exactly." He agreed. He wanted to share in Moriarty's retribution, but he understood this was personal. This was Moriarty's step towards atoning. Perhaps he would become a better man?
"I'll wait until she wakes, if she wants me here I'll stay longer, if not I'm going to hunt Franklin down." James added, his voice clipped and cold.
"I will pass the message on. Franklin is in captivity. You will have unlimited access to him. This once, anything you do will be immune from repercussions."
"Thank you." Moriarty replied and turned towards the visitor's lounge. Mycroft let his gaze linger on the consulting criminal, he was a man with a heart and feelings they were entirely tied to Percy, if she were lost then God help the world.
Mycroft stood vigil over his sleeping sister; she wouldn't be alone until she asked for it.
Percy POV
I woke up in a private hospital room. Everything was fuzzy and loud. I flinched at the beeping and creaking of the mattress. It took a long time for my senses to alight and gain equilibrium.
A gentle knock on the door made me look up, a worried looking Mycroft watched me from the doorway. This situation felt too familiar.
"Hello." I greeted quietly.
"Hello Percy." Replied Mycroft.
"This feels oddly familiar." I quipped humourlessly.
"Yes, sadly it does. Although it good to see you awake." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"How long was I out?" I asked.
"Nearly two days." He replied quietly.
"Oh." I nodded. Mycroft came and sat next to my bed. He unbuttoned his coat and suit jacket and leant his faithful umbrella against the chair. He looked anxious.
"What happened Mycroft?" I asked. Since waking up I realised that I had no memory of what had happened to me. I remembered leaving work on the Wednesday and then waking up. There was just a black hole where my memories should be.
"You overdosed. We found you passed out in an alleyway in Soho."
"I don't remember anything." I admitted. I always had blank spots when I took anything too heavy, but I never forgot whole days. Even last time, that overdose had put me in coma for two weeks and remembered nearly all of it. I felt different, I didn't feel any of the after effects or withdrawal symptoms.
"Nothing a all?" He asked surprised.
"No. Its like there is a black hole where the last however long should be." I said shaking my head as though I was trying to dislodge the lost memories.
"Its Sunday afternoon. So approximately five days." Mycroft informed me. That just didn't make sense. If I were going to overdose, I would have made it permanent. I knew that, it was the plan. I felt as though I'd just overdone it a little at work, I ached and felt exhausted, but not strung out. I was still alive, there was no evidence my stomach had been pumped or my system forced to expel the drugs
"You know I don't even remember buying anything or what I took. I don't even feel the pangs of withdrawal." I thought out loud. What the hell had happened to me?
"What's the last thing you remember?" Mycroft asked after a few minutes of contemplative silence.
"Coming to talk to you, leaving work and walking with someone…and then it all goes fuzzy and blank." I groaned feeling defeated. I was getting a headache.
"You were very incoherent, practically catatonic when we found you." Mycroft added quietly.
"You keep saying we, who do you mean by 'we'?" I pushed. I had my suspicions, but if I was right, that confused the issue more.
"Um, I don't think you want to know."
"Please Mycroft, just tell me."
"Your estranged husband helped locate you. He, for reasons known to himself, was worried something might happen to you." Mycroft replied distastefully.
"You worked together?" I asked surprised. They barely tolerated each other. So I was right. That was another thing, my mind was clear and sharp, and there was none of the usual fuzziness and lack of attention span that accompanied one of my binges.
"Yes, rather successfully." He half smiled.
"You went to Brecon first didn't you?" I guessed.
"I didn't, Moriarty did."
"How did he know that's where I might be?" I wondered, this was all so confusing. Nothing fit together properly.
"I have no idea. He actually called me." Mycroft admitted. I looked at him for a few seconds, not sure what to say or think. It was just odd.
"Weird. God knows why he came looking for me." I sighed.
"Probably, regardless of your current estrangement, because he loves you."
"Yes of course, how silly of me." I snorted derisively.
"Whatever your differences, you both invested a significant period of time in each other, its only natural to still worry about one another." Mycroft stated.
"What, like you and Selina?" I snapped.
"That's a separate issue and we are talking about you, not me." Mycroft dismissed before adding: "He's here. Do you want to see him?"
"No." I blurted. "I just can't, not yet."
"Very well. I will inform him that you're well." He nodded.
"Okay. Are you disappointed in me?" I asked as Mycroft picked up his umbrella and did up his suit jacket.
"No. You're safe and well and that's all that matters." He said softly, using a tone he reserved for the most special of occasions.
"Does John know where I am?" I asked tentatively.
"No, he thinks we're at a summit in Frankfurt." Mycroft replied gently.
"Thank you again." I smiled weakly.
"There is nothing to thank me for. Get some rest." He returned, gently kissing my forehead and left.
I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. Something big happened, but why the hell couldn't I remember it? Other than being a bit stiff and a few bruises I was fine, I felt fine. I was even a little hungry. Nothing added up and the more I tried to make it work the more it fell apart and created more questions. I let my head flop back against the pillows. I wished Sherlock were here, he'd tell me the truth and he'd have worked it out by now. I wanted John's quiet strength. I wanted Angie's love and care and her indomitable sprit that had always been in my life. I couldn't stay angry with her. She would never betray Sherlock, herself or me like that. I was still hurt and that might take time to heal. I needed my best friend back.
Three days later…
Mycroft sent a car to pick me up and take me home with a message to call him the second I needed anything. Anthea gave me such an odd look as I slid into the car. We didn't even say hello. The only words spoken were as I got out of the car.
"Here." Anthea intoned, handing me my handbag from the other day.
"Thanks." I replied and the car door was pulled closed and she sped off into the London traffic.
I rummaged for my keys and opened the front door. I wanted a hot shower and my pyjamas. For the briefest of moments I hoped Jim would be waiting for me. He'd be there with open arms and a warm, strong embrace and chase away any demon that plagued me. He'd tell me he loved me and we'd lay curled up together. That bubble burst as soon as I opened the door at the top of the stairs. The flat felt cold and empty. I chucked my keys onto my desk and put my handbag on the kitchen counter and searched for my phone. It had obviously died over nearly a week of not being used. I sighed.
I left my bag and keys where they were and went into my bedroom and flumped onto my bed. I lay there looking at the canopy for a few minutes. It felt sort of weird to be home. I eventually sat up and plugged my phone into charge and turned it on. I decided I needed to relax before seeing or dealing with any human contact. I stripped off and padded into my little bathroom. I turned the taps on and let the water heat up. I glanced in the mirror thinking I'd see someone changed or different or perhaps the junkie I was, but I looked the same, maybe a little pale and tired, nut nothing spectacular had changed just a look of resignation.
The hot water eased some tension and the familiar scents of my honey conditioner and strawberry body wash helped me relax further. Twenty minutes later and thoroughly clean I stepped into my bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and sat on the edge of my bed. I looked at my phone and it stared back at me. I decided to get dry and change into some pyjamas and clean my teeth before looking at the contents of my phone.
After another hour of procrastination, which included drying and straightening my hair, before I huddled under my duvet and finally let deemed it necessary to unlock my phone.
My phone pinged and buzzed repetitively. After a few seconds it settled. I had numerous missed calls, texts and even voicemails. I even had an e-mail from Sherlock and a stack from work. I decided to start with the texts.
"Happy Anniversary. Jim x" Thursday 00:05am
"I'm sorry, can you even contemplate forgiving me? Jim." Thursday 11:24am
Missed Call Jim Thursday 13:00pm
"Called round, you were out. See you soon. JW" Thursday 15:22pm
"Fancy dinner on Sunday? JW" Thursday 15:32pm
"Please don't ignore me. JM" Thursday 15:33pm
"Did you get to Brecon alright? MH" Thursday 18:41pm
Missed Call Mycroft Thursday 19:00pm
"Stop being stubborn! JM" Thursday 18:45pm
"The Brecon house is empty, where are you? JM" Thursday 19:17pm
"Where are you? MH" Thursday 23:10pm
3 Missed calls Jim Thursday 23:20pm
"What's happened? MH" Friday 00:03am
2 Missed calls Jim Friday 00:35am
"Are you alright, you're not picking up your phone. JM" Friday 01:53am
"Percy, please call Mycroft. JM" Friday 02:01am
2 Missed calls Mycroft 02:02am
"You're husband is looking for you. Call me. MH" Friday 02:06am
"Or call me. Just let us know you're okay. JM" Friday 03:00am
"Percy, call me ASAP. MH" Friday 03:15am
"Percy, please call or text. Where are you? We're getting worried. JM" Friday 03:30am
"We'll find you my love. Jim" Friday 05:03am
"I've jot heard from you, just checking you're ok?! Hope you're not mad or upset? JW" Saturday 10:05am
As I read the messages I was filled with conflicting emotions. I was happy, sad, confused, worried and relieved. Jim was the most interesting, after months of silence he suddenly acted like he still cared like he loved me. After everything he'd said and done, why did he change his attitude? Maybe I'd been wrong? What if like everyone had said, he was lying? I just didn't know how I felt about that possibility.
I decided I should listen to a voicemail message.
Percy, I, um…suppose I just wanted to say I'm sorry and Happy Anniversary. I've been an idiot, a total fucking idiot and if you could ever forgive me, even bear to look at me…I hope you're okay and happy. If you need anything or want to talk or just anything, everything and its yours. He gave a long sigh. I'm so sorry.
I replayed the message three times before I could think, just hearing his voice again was so good. I'd missed it so much. To hear him so broken and ineloquent was odd. It broke my heart. A few tears betrayed me by falling. I wiped them away quickly. I wasn't going to cry over him again, I couldn't, wouldn't give in.
I sat curled up on my bed for hours, reliving the last few months. It was a blur of forced emotions, suppression and a rather spectacularly passionate night with Dr. Watson. That was like a shining light in my darkened world. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered that night. For a moment I could feel John's touch against me skin. My new home also made me smile, but anything relating to the last decade of my life left me feeling empty and hurt.
I picked up my phone again and wondered what Sherlock had to say to me.
Percy,
Mycroft informed me of what happened. Let me know you're home and safe. If your snake of an ex-husband has anything to do with it, I may kill him.
Try and forgive Angie.
Stay safe sister.
Sherlock.
I smiled at my brother's concern. I typed a quick reply.
Sherlock,
I'm home and safe. Don't remember anything, which I think might be a good thing. Mycroft's being as evasive as usual.
Don't kill anyone, please.
I have. Will try to sort things soon.
Love you,
Percy
I put my phone on the bedside table and snuggled under my duvet, it felt good to be back in my own bed. It felt safe. Even though I'd been asleep for three days and been mostly asleep for the days following I was still exhausted. I turned the radio on for company and let myself slowly drift to sleep.
Jim POV
Bob Franklin Junior lay in a bloody mess at his feet, his body now beaten and broken beyond recognition. All his frustration, anger and hurt had been unleashed upon Franklin. Every psychological and physical threat he could unleash had been measured out. In contrast to popular belief Jim wasn't a psychopath. He felt guilt, pain and remorse for the things he did, but this time he felt vindication. So perhaps he was slightly psychopathic.
Jim could and did forgive quite a lot; ordinary people made mistakes they were imperfect and what sort of person would he be without offering forgiveness? Franklin on the other hand would never be forgiven. Hurting Percy in any way had always been a death sentence for the parties involved. She may be alive and well, but that didn't erase recent events.
Mycroft had the whole place investigated and inspected; he'd even sent him a file telling him every grisly detail of the affair and of course Franklin's psychological profile. It all started with the need for revenge and that's how it ended. He'd willingly admit that he enjoyed the glint of fear that entered Franklin's eyes when he revealed himself.
Franklin had a pathological fear of needles; apparently Bob senior liked experimenting at home. Franklin was naked, apart from a pair of underwear, strapped to an operating table. Above him was harness covered in hypodermic needles, all clean and only filled with coloured saline, but the glowed ominously. If Franklin moved an inch his entire body would come into to contact with the needles. Franklin was also told if he fell asleep the doctor would use him for their tests, there were so many tests to run. That was just the beginning.
The screams and incoherent babbling became irritating. Jim found he had the itch to get his hands dirty. He wanted to personally dish out his revenge, his wife had been hurt, and he was leaning towards a gas mask and baseball bat, a little hint to his father and to his American heritage.
He looked at the body and smirked darkly. Percy was safe and that was all that mattered.
