CKTG: Yeah, I've been trying to stop doing that for probably the past year. I think I corrected most of my mistakes in this chapter, but if I didn't, ignore it. I'm working on getting that fixed. As for the blocking of curse words, I'm still trying to work up the courage to type them out. I haven't said a cuss word besides 'hell' since first grade before I knew what they all meant, so it could take awhile to fix that little error. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Nope.
Soni was nearly asleep when she heard the three slow knocks on the door. "Come in," she muttered, still fingering the knife.
"Good evening, Sonia," said Gabe softly. "It`s time."
Hamish and Leroy got a detention that night. In their rush to get back to their dormitory, they had run right into their Science Proffesor, Mr. Diesel. "We were just stopping by to apologize to a friend. We kind of ditched her half-way through the dance," Hamish had covered quickly. It wasn't the best excuse, but it had saved them from a suspension. Mr. Diesel had nodded skeptically and given each of them a detention slip for Saturday afternoon.
When Hamish woke up the next morning, Leroy and Alex had already left for breakfast. His alarm hadn`t gone off, which, in hindsight, he probably should`ve seen coming - leave it to Anderson to plot revenge before eight in the morning - and his stomach growled even as he yanked on his T-shirt. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he wasn`t surprised that Soni missing from their table. She was probably locked up in her dorm, drawing erratic, shapeless sketches in her note pad like she usually did when she was angry. Meanwhile Hamish was sitting at an empty lunch table, staring at a wall while the other students sneered behind his back. He pushed his food around his tray, wishing he`d never left his dormitory.
"What the hell did you do to Soni you creep?" Hamish felt a hard shove to his shoulder and turned emotionlessly to see Lena Adler and her friends crowding around him, teeth clenched, looking as though they would strangle him if they got the chance.
Hamish had never really thought of Soni as one to gossip, but then again he`d never thought of her as one to kiss Leroy, either. It seemed he was learning a whole lot about his 'friend' this weekend. Glaring at the clique of girls, he replied, "I didn't do anything. We got in an argument, she got mad at me, and now she`s in her room pouting while I sit here alone. End of story."
Lena narrowed her eyes. "You`re a liar," she hissed. "I've heard the rumors, creep. You've probably got her tied up and rotting in the school`s basement."
Oh, so now he was being accused of murder? Well, Hamish thought cynically, I guess I deserved that for sitting here and not disturbing anyone. "I'm telling you I didn`t do anything!" he said out loud. The dark-haired girl`s eyes widened in confusion.
"But she... you were with her last night, you had to be the one that did it," Lena said with less conviction than before.
Hamish felt dread rising in his chest. He turned to face them fully and stood up from the bench. "Did what?" he asked slowly.
Beside her, a ginger muttered, "Lena, I think he's telling the truth."
Lena nodded in response and leaned closer to him. "Come with me."
The girls circled around him, hiding Hamish from the view of the Monitors as they walked at an achingly slow pace to the NW Corridor. Hamish felt his breath leave him unsteadily, and he felt numb all over. As they approached Soni`s room, the door swung on its hinges as though the handle had been broken. The hallway was clear, with the only noise being the low murmur of voices from the Great Hall, and the entered the room.
"Oh... my God..." Hamish wasn`t sure whether he'd said the words or if he'd only thought them, as only wordless air seemed to come from his mouth. This couldn`t be the same room he`d entered the night before. Soni`s nightstand drawer was on the floor, empty, with the contents strewn over the entire room. Her dress lay glittering on the floor of the closet, torn with the hanger still partially in the sleeves. All her school notes, along with her sketchpad, covered the floor by the door. Not even the mattress remained in its former position, as it was now propped diagonally against the far wall.
"Have you told a teacher? Anyone?" Hamish asked urgently.
"Just you," answered the red head calmly.
"Well - why are you just - go!" he spluttered, shooing them away with his hands. They raced off, not caring that their obvious fear would bring crowds of students to the scene. Hamish looked around desperately for a sign of where she had gone, though it was no challenge to find the crumpled paper on her bed frame where her mattress used to lie. When did she get this?!
"Hat Man and Psycho, Double Suicide on St. Bart's!"
The memory was painfully clear: a warm Christmas night, before their argument, Soni had come and invited him to the dance, handed him the newspaper-wrapped present. The disappointment in her eyes when he`d set aside the wrappings for use in Min's cage... She must`ve taken it back then, he decided as he picked it up. The pictures on the front were old, unidentifiable with their age. Instead, new writing covered the area that they had once been in, the smell of permanent marker still fresh on the page. A hasty circle was drawn around 'St. Bart's' with the word Hurry scrawled sloppily under it. It was unmistakeably Soni`s handwriting.
"Students, a matter of some importance has been brought to the attention of the staff. It would now be conveniant for all students to return to their dormitories where they may continue eating if necessary. Do not leave your rooms or Monitors will assign a double detention for the next two weeks. Thank you, that is all." The voice of Wilhiem`s Headmaster sounded from the Great Hall and, without thinking, Hamish snatched the newspaper and darted from the room.
Soni's in trouble
Sherlock smirked at his phone. "John, come here," he called, typing out a reply with lightning speed.
Moriarty's child? -SH
"Wait, let me guess," John said, appearing in the living room in his pajamas. "You were right?" he suggested tiredly.
Sherlock nodded proudly, not noticing the sarcasm, and looked down at his phone again as it beeped.
yes, that one
Kidnapped? -SH
seems to be
Don't go after her. -SH
oh sure, because telling me 'no' has worked so well in the past
And while you're at it, stop being an idiot. -SH
John was leaning over his shoulder, now, and nudged him sharply at this comment. "Well, I`m not going to take it back!" Sherlock protested. "In case you haven't noticed, I`m trying to instill some authority, here."
"Quit calling him an idiot," John chastised him. He heaved a sigh and began typing out a new text.
You don't know where this girl is, and even if you did, you certainly have no way of getting there. -SH
taxi.
D***. -SH
:)
Where, then? -SH
not telling
"John, quickly, go track his phone on your laptop," Sherlock commanded.
John didn`t argue. His anxiety was clear as he raced to his computer and began to type furiously. Oh, thank God I bought a tracker for that phone, he thought as he entered his password and the little glowing red dot that was Hamish appeared on the map. He was moving quickly nearer to their flat, but John doubted he would actually go there.
"He`s coming closer," John called over his shoulder. Sherlock rushed to him, still texting angrily.
"Here, you try." Sherlock shoved the phone into John's hands and stared hard at the computer screen. Though the possibilities were narrowing rapidly, there were still a million places that Hamish could be going, and Sherlock`s determined mind struggled to deduce each one of them.
"I can`t. He won`t listen," John finally said, returning the phone to him.
Hamish, please, just listen to us. -JW
dad, im sorry, but i have to do this
Sherlock frowned at the sentiment in the previous messages and began to type out his own.
Hamish, I've predicted this, remember? It's just a trap! -SH
"He stopped!" John announced. "He`s at Saint Bart's!"
"Come on, then, hurry!" Sherlock leaped up from the desk, pulling his coat and scarf from the rack bythe door. John yanked on his shoes, not bothering to change from his pajamas, and they both raced from the flat. The air was frigid and snow was begining to fall as John signalled for a cab, still hugging his laptop to his chest. "He must`ve turned his phone off or something, he hasn't answered," Sherlock muttered.
John rolled his eyes and sighed.
Meanwhile, twenty miles away from the flat, Hamish stood nervously outside St. Bart`s, staring at the door. His phone beeped with another message from Sherlock.
Hamish, I`ve predicted this, remember? It`s just a trap! -SH
He took a deep breath.
I know.
Hamish switched off his phone and pushed through the front doors.