Chapter 8- Revelations

Mallory

The metal door opened and closed again, and I tried to quell my nerves with a deep breath. "Back for more?" I taunted, trying to put on a brave face.

"How're you holding up, my little Mallie?" Moriarty replied teasingly.

"Alright, but I'd be a lot better if you'd let me go," I retorted. "And don't call me Mallie: it's Mals."

"Oh, Mallie, you know me better than that," he said, coming into view under the scorching spotlight.

"Can't you at least do something about that damn light?" I complained, gesturing upward with my chin. "I've been sweating like a pig."

"Apparently, you don't know me enough," was his snarky reply. His left hand slid out of his pocket and held something casually in front of him, and I could recognize after a few moments that it was a mobile phone. "Would you like to phone a friend?" he offered mockingly.

Mrs. Hudson

I made my way into the boys' sitting room after John called my name. "Any news?" I asked as I came through their door. Sherlock and John were standing close together, heads bent over the former's mobile phone. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out of the phone's speaker.

"Mum!" Mallory's garbled voice called out desperately.

"Mallory!" I called back, hurrying over next to the boys. "Mallory, dear, are you okay?"

"I'm alright, Mum," she replied. "I'm still in one piece. How're the boys?"

"We're here, Mallory," Sherlock answered. "You're on speaker."

My daughter laughed humorlessly. "So am I."

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," a new voice cut in. It was rather soft, but poisonously soft; he sounded like he would order your execution and then insincerely apologize.

"Moriarty," Sherlock growled out.

"Oh, you won't even say 'hello'?" the man called Moriarty asked. Aside to my daughter, he said, "Can't even be polite. What do you see in him?"

"Leave her alone," Sherlock said threateningly.

"You've left her alone, though, haven't you?" Moriarty taunted. "She was alone for just two seconds, and I could have had her halfway around the globe."

"Where is she?" John angrily demanded.

"Well, she hasn't left the country, but the rest you'll have to find out," Moriarty said. "Lord knows I've given you enough hints. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet. You're getting slow, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm an hour away!" Mallory exclaimed, trying to give us help. "An hour by car, probably. I'm somewhere that's been abandoned—"

"I really don't think you ought to do that, Mallie dear," Moriarty's voice said, and I heard the distinct sound of a gun being loaded. "Shoot that mouth off again, and I'll shoot it off, too."

"Give me my daughter back!" I exclaimed desperately.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson," Moriarty said, his use of my name (and reasonless knowledge of which) sending chills down my spine, "but he'll have to find her before she simply dies of loneliness. Although, it might not be loneliness that kills her."

"Mallory, are you still there?" I asked, crying.

"Yeah, Mum. Don't worry, I won't let him kill me, and neither will Sherlock and John. Boys, you there?"

"Yes," Sherlock and John answered immediately.

"John, in case I can't, tell Molly and Lestrade that they've been fantastic. You've been, too: you're one of the best mates ever." Mallory faltered for a moment before shakily continuing, "Sherlock? You listening?"

"Always," Sherlock replied with a determined expression.

"Okay, Sherlock, this is probably going to sound really weird and out-of-the-blue," she said, "but…I love you. I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I do. If you don't like me back, then it's okay. Just had to say it."

There was silence for a moment while Mallory's proclamation sunk in. I was nearly overcome with the bittersweet-ness of it all, and I needed John's help to stand. John seemed to be nonverbally apologizing to Sherlock, while also nonverbally saying, I told you so. Sherlock himself had only a surprised expression that seemed rock-solid, like he was going to be shocked forever.

"Aww, how adorable," Moriarty said after a few moments. "Apparently, your dear little Mr. Holmes doesn't know what to say. Won't you say something, Sherlock? Anything at all?"

"Sherlock?" Mallory called out, a hint of desperation in her voice. "You there?"

"I need you to hang on just a little more, Mallory, because I'm coming to get you, and nothing will stop me," Sherlock said vehemently. "Moriarty, touch her and—"

"And what, Sherlock?" Moriarty taunted. "You'll kill me with your bare hands? Rather inelegant, I think: it's not your style."

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock replied. "I'm just glad that I got my point across." He ended the call and tossed the phone onto an armchair, going still as a statue. John and I surveyed him uneasily, but I'm not quite sure he noticed our examination; he was off staring into space again, his brow furrowed determinedly. I don't know how, but I suddenly knew that Mallory would soon be safely returned to Baker Street: Sherlock Holmes would find her.

Mallory

Moriarty slid the phone back into his pocket, holstered his gun, and said condescendingly, "You've certainly picked a charmer, haven't you?"

I didn't respond. I was processing everything that had just happened: I confessed that I loved Sherlock, and…I think he said he loved me back. He did, didn't he? Not much can push Sherlock to even say he wanted to kill someone with his bare hands. I honestly didn't think he was capable of loving someone, much less me. I guess Sherlock Holmes will always surprise me.

I was lost in my musing when I finally heard the metal door open and close again, signaling Moriarty's departure. I looked up into that bright, sizzling spotlight with a newfound happiness: I'd be safe again, thanks to the man I'm in love with that loves me back.

I can count on Sherlock Holmes.

John

The doorbell rang, and I left Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson in the sitting room to answer it. Just in case, I brought my gun along, just waiting for an excuse to shoot the son of a bitch that took one of my best mates from me. However, a look through the peephole revealed that it was only Lestrade, so I reluctantly holstered my gun and opened the door to admit him.

"Hello, John," he greeted with urgency in his voice.

"Hello," I replied, gesturing for him to come inside. He did so, and I nearly shut the door when I heard a feminine voice say, "Hey, what about me?"

I opened the door again to find Molly standing there; Lestrade's bulkier form must have hidden her. "Hello, Molly," I said confusedly, inviting her in. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"It's alright," she said. "I just came over for moral support, you know? Mals' poor mother must need it most."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," I said as we trooped up the stairs after Lestrade.

"Hello, Gregory, Molly," Mrs. Hudson said when we came back. "Any news?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said, back to his old self.

"What have you found?" I asked.

"Well, we've discovered that her phone hasn't been destroyed," Lestrade explained. "It's just been left on until the battery ran out. We've been able to track down the last place Mallory's phone was before it died. I've got techs working out the specific location now. I thought you might want to come along."

Sherlock didn't even say anything, but strode toward the door and grabbed his scarf and coat. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Let's go!"

"Would you like me to stay with you, Mrs. Hudson?" Molly asked.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied. "Thank you."

Lestrade and I trooped off after Sherlock, who was already down the stairs and halfway across the hall. He walked past the open door of 221A but then stopped, turned around, and strode through the doorway of Mals' flat. He reappeared a moment later with Mals' raincoat slung over his arm, grimly determined.

"Ah!" Lestrade exclaimed from behind me. "They've texted me the address. Let's go!"

I saw Sherlock discreetly slide open a drawer in the front hall and pocket a gun. I, not as discreetly, readied my own. Lestrade led us to the Yard vehicle and got in the front seat.

We're coming, Mals!