Aloha!
I am going to TRY to get Reichenbach fall FINISHED in this chapter, because I am super duper excited to go onto season 3! I already have a little bit that I wrote for it, and I can't wait!
So that's why this chapter is so long.
You're welcome :)
Sorry about any feels…(Honestly, I cried writing it.)
I walked inside, expecting silence, but instead, I heard Sherlock talking, and then a voice answering him. I was just about to take the first step, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked in before going up, in case it was Sherlock asking me to pick something up from the
store. Seemed pointless to walk all the way up the stairs, and then go back down again.
From: Sherlock
When you get home, go straight to Mrs. Hudson's, please. I'll come fetch you and explain everything when he leaves.
'He?' I thought. I read the message over and over again, backing away from the stairs, cautiously making my way to Mrs. Hudson's, when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
I pushed my back up against the wall by the stairs, hoping they wouldn't see me if it was the man Sherlock was talking about.
Luckily, he didn't see me, and walked outside. I waited a few seconds, before moving towards the stairs again, just as Sherlock was coming down.
"Did you get my text?" He asked, worriedly. I nodded.
"Yeah. I just came in. Who was that?" I asked, climbing the stairs, towards him.
"Moriarty."
"Jim Moriarty?" I asked. "But he...was he not guilty?"
"Oh, he's guilty, of all charges, including worming his way into the jury's hotel rooms, and bribing them."
I closed my eyes and sighed. This was not good...not good at all.
Why couldn't everything just be easy for once…
"How was lunch?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Great." I answered, short and sweet, walking up the stairs, Sherlock close behind.
I jumped from the cab, grocery bags in hand, and hurried to the flat, trying not to drop anything.
When I walked up the stairs, I heard several voices, a few I could make out, like Sherlock's and John's, and just barely Lestrade's.
"What's going on?" I asked, as I noticed the three of them were inside, as well as Sally, who glared at me. I put the bags on the kitchen table, leaving them for now, walking back into the living room.
"A kidnapping." Sherlock answered, typing on his laptop.
"Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S" Lestrade said.
"Isn't he in Washington."
"Not him. His children." Lestrade clarified. I nodded. "Max and Claudette, age seven and nine."
Sally handed me a couple of photos of the kids.
"Aww. They're cute." I said, making this kidnapping break my heart.
"They're at St Aldate's."
"Posh boarding school down in Surrey." Sally explained.
"The school broke up; all of the boarders went home- just a few kids remained, including these two." Greg continued.
"The kids have vanished."
"The ambassadors asked for you personally." Lestrade said to Sherlock, who rose to his feet, grabbing his coat and scarf, walking out.
"The Reichenbach Hero." Sally said, sarcastically.
"Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity!" Lestrade said with a smile as they followed Sherlock out. Lestrade stopped, looking at me.
"You coming?" He asked. I couldn't…
"Um, no, I think I'll sit out on this one. I've got to put groceries away, and I haven't felt too great." I replied. I felt fine...for the most part.
"Oh. Okay, well, if you change your mind a little later today, let me know." He smiled, and I grinned back. "Get to feeling better!" he called from the stairs. I thanked him, and moved towards the kitchen, putting the cold things away first.
As much as I wanted to go with them, I couldn't. I didn't want to get involved, especially if anything happened to them. I had always had a soft spot for children, more so than others, I never knew why. Knowing that they were kidnapped broke my heart, and, I feared, if I got too involved, and something happened…
It seemed better to remain unattached; easier.
After I finished putting everything away, I turned on the telly, and looked for shows and movies that were on, trying to decide on what to watch.
An hour later, my phone rang, and I reached to grab it from the dining table.
FROM: Sherlock
Heading to the lab. Want to go?
I thought about it for a minute. It wouldn't hurt, would it?
FROM: Sherlock
Molly will be there. She'll be on her lunch.
Haven't seen Molly in a while...sure.
TO: Sherlock
Be there in a few.
FROM: Sherlock
We've got a cab. We'll pick you up.
Even better!
We walked through the doors, meeting Molly in the corridor.
"Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Oh, hello. I'm just going out." She explained.
"No, you're not." Sherlock turned her around. I tried to get him to let her leave, but he wouldn't listen.
"I've got a lunch date." She argued.
"Cancel it. You're having lunch with me." He said, pulling some crisps from his pocket, waving the bags.
"What?" She asked.
"Sherlock, you can't make her cancel it. She's a grown woman, she does what she wants." I defended her.
"Thank you." She smiled."Good to see you. Are you feeling alright?" She asked. I nodded.
"Yeah, fine."
I could feel John and Sherlock's eyes on me, but I ignored them. No doubt Lestrade told them the opposite of what I told Molly.
"Need your help." he went on. "It's one of your old boyfriends-we're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty."
He reached the door, then turned around and smiled at her, noticing that she hadn't walked closer, and was still standing beside me in the middle of the hallway.
"Is it Moriarty?" She asked.
"Of course it's Moriarty." Sherlock answered.
"Er- Jim wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it." She informed us.
"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England, and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly." he held up the bag of crisps again, and walked through the doors, John followed.
"Just go. I won't be as helpful as you, but I can try, and you have a date…" She shook her head.
"No, I can help. It wasn't that important anyway."
"Molly…"
"I'm serious. I'll just give him a call, tell him I got caught up at work, and I can't make it."
"At least try to reschedule." I told her. She nodded, pulling out her phone, punching in letters, and sending the text.
"There." She said, putting her phone in her pocket, a smile plastered on her face. "Now I'm free."
I sighed and shook my head at her, as she walked through the doors, holding one open for me.
"You coming?"
Sherlock looked up as the door swung shut, looking around.
"Where'd Elizabeth go?" He asked John.
"You notice when Elizabeth is gone, she didn't even make a sound, yet I've been talking to you for the past five minutes...she went with Molly to fetch some books." He explained, sighing.
"Mmm." Sherlock hummed. "Of course I realise when Elizabeth is gone. Everything becomes hectic."
John looked around the lab. "It's pretty calm to me." he said, confused. Sherlock realised John didn't know what he was talking about, of course, and he sighed.
"Not out here. Up here." he pointed to his temple. "In my mind palace. Elizabeth being here helps me think."
"Oh." John said, then smiled. "Aww, because you love her." he mocked. Sherlock remained silent. He didn't like to discuss emotions, and just because he was married, that wasn't going to change.
He went back to the petri dish beside of him as Molly and Elizabeth walked in, books piled in their arms.
"Oil, John." Sherlock said, suddenly.
"What?" He asked.
"The oil in the kidnapper's footprint- it'll lead us to Moriarty." he went on. "All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is like a passport. If we're lucky we can see everything that he's been up to." He slid a slide underneath the microscope and studied it.
Calk,
Asphalt,
Brick Dust,
Vegetation.
That's all he had so far, and he slid the fifth slide under the microscope.
"What are you?" he murmured to himself.
"What did you mean 'I owe you'." Molly asked. "You said 'I owe you'. You were muttering it while you were working." She explained.
Was he? He hadn't noticed.
"Nothing. Mental note." He said. He could feel Molly's eyes on him, even after he had turned away from her, and stared into his microscope again, ignoring her.
"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead." She said. "No. Sorry." She apologized, obviously embarrassed.
"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."
Instead, she continued.
"When he was ... dying, he was always cheerful; he was lovely – except when he thought no-one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."
"Molly…" Sherlock said, sternly, but she ignored him.
" You look sad …" She looked towards Elizabeth, who was sitting next to John, having a quiet conversation, and typing away on her phone, while John giggled. " ... when you think he can't see you. Elizabeth's noticed it, too." She admitted.
Sherlock turned his attention away from the slide, to Elizabeth and John, seeing what Molly had, and then back to Molly, who was looking up at him.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him.
"And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no-one can see you."
"But you can see me." She argued.
"I don't count. What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me." She flinched, looking away. "No, I just mean ... I mean if there's anything you need …" She attempted to correct herself. "It's fine." She finished, shaking her head.
"What-what-what could I need from you?" Sherlock asked.
"Nothing." She turned back towards him, shrugging. "I don't know. You could probably say thank you, actually." She nodded.
Sherlock thought for a moment. "Thank you." He finally said, hesitantly.
" I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?" She asked, walking towards the door. He opened his mouth to answer, but she stopped him again. "No, it's okay, I know you don't." She said.
"Well, actually, maybe I'll…"
"No, I know you don't." She turned to Elizabeth and John. "Do you guys want anything?" She asked. John shook his head, but Elizabeth reached into her pocket, pulling out some money, and handing it to Molly.
"Yes please."
Molly took the money, and left to get the crisps.
"Sherlock." John said, walking across the lab to join him. He was carrying photographs, no doubt from the police, of the boy's and girl's rooms. "This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." He looked at the photograph of the trunk in the girl's room, a book of fairytales inside.
John took the envelope he had found when he got home, from his pocket, still full of breadcrumbs.
"Oh, Johnny, those are probably all in your pocket now." Elizabeth said, walking over, and picking a breadcrumb off of the counter.
"I'll wash it." John told her, but she still didn't look to happy. Sherlock tried not to chuckle at his wife. " On our doorstep. Found it today. Yes, and look at that." he said, pointing out the seal, walking around the bench to Sherlock. "Look at that. Exactly the same seal."
Sherlock reached into the envelope.
"Breadcrumbs." he said.
" Uh-huh. It was there when I got back."
"A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales." Sherlock mumbled. "Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."
" That's "Hansel and Gretel." What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" Elizabeth asked.
"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me ... All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain."
" The fifth substance: it's part of the tale. The fifth substance: it's part of the tale."
"What?" John asked.
" The glycerol molecule. PGPR!"
"What's that?"
"It's used in making chocolate." He jumped off of the stool, and walked out of the lab, John running to catch up, both of them almost knocking poor Molly to the ground.
"Where are they going?" Molly asked, holding the crips in the air. I shook my head, sitting on the stool Sherlock had been sitting on.
"Scotland Yard, more than likely." I said, as Molly tossed the crisps my way, and I caught them, tearing the bag open.
"Sorry again about your lunch date." I apologized. She only smiled.
"It's alright." She held up her phone. "He understood, and we rescheduled for tomorrow. "Are you not going with them?" She asked. I shrugged, then shook my head.
"To late to catch up with them now, and something about it being kids, just…" I trailed off, and Molly nodded, understanding.
"Have you thought about kids?" She asked, a smile on her face.
"Well...no. Not really." I answered, honestly. "But can you imagine little Sherlock's running around?" I asked. She chuckled.
"That would be cute."
"That would be terrifying!" I corrected. She laughed harder.
"But Sherlock as a dad?" She wondered. I nodded.
"I don't think Sherlock would be a bad dad." I admitted.
"Really?" She wondered. I nodded again.
"Yeah. He can be nice, at times." She nodded.
"And I think you would be a great mother."
"I don't know." I said, looking down at the counter, fiddling with a few of the leftover breadcrumbs that escaped the envelope.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Molly asked.
"I don't think I would be."
"Why not?"
I shrugged, making her laugh.
"You don't even know?" She giggled. I laughed a little as well, as my phone vibrated on the table, no doubt Sherlock or John wondering where I was, and if I was going to meet them.
I stayed with Molly until her lunch break was over, then headed to Scotland Yard. Sherlock met me outside, catching me up on our way to look for the kids.
"An abandoned candy factory?" I asked.
"Yes. PGPR is used in making chocolate. Where else would you find it combined with asphalt, and clay."
I nodded. "Smart. But how did you know the exact factory? How did you know where it was?"
"Homeless Network." was all he said, as we pulled up to the factory. Police officers jumped out of their cars, running towards the building, switching their flashlights on as they entered.
" You, look over there. Look everywhere. Okay, spread out, please. Spread out. She can come with me." Sally said, nodding towards me. I shrugged, and followed her, not wanting her to go on her own like she was originally going to.
We walked further into the building, shining our lights towards the ground, and around us, looking for any signs of the kids.
"They're still here." I heard Sherlock call from somewhere in the building.
No doubt the two ran to hide if they heard the cars and the officers.
I stayed close behind Sally as we turned a curve, and she stopped, before moving closer, slowly, to two small figures huddled together. We shined our lights towards them, finding the little girl, her brother's head in her lap, his eyes closed, as she looked around towards us.
"Over here!" She yelled, moving towards them, reaching down to them, and I did the same, taking the girl's hand in mine, while Sally reached for the boy. Claudette gripped my hand like a lifeline, as other officers rushed behind us.
"It's alright. We've got you, don't worry."
"They were eating candy, the wrappers lined with mercury." Sherlock told me, as we waited for Lestrade and Sally to finish talking to Claudette.
My stomach began to feel sick.
"Poor things." Sherlock rested a hand on my shoulder.
"They're alright. The girl is awake, but the boy is still in intensive care."
"And he'll be fine too, yeah?" I asked. He smiled a little.
"As far as we know." he said, as we met Lestrade.
"Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn …" Sally said, coming out of the office. I sighed, ignoring her.
John rose from his seat to follow us into the room, but Greg stopped Sherlock before he could open the door.
"Now, remember, she's still in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to …"
"...not be myself." Sherlock finished for him. Greg nodded.
"Yeah, might be helpful." He said, and Sherlock sighed, putting the collar down on his coat.
The girl sat at a desk, looking at her lap, while a female officer sat beside of her, rubbing her arm reassuringly, both of them turning when they heard the door open.
" Claudette, I …" He began, but then she began to scream, pointing towards Sherlock. Greg pushed John and I out of the way.
"No-no, I know it's been hard for you …" Sherlock tried, and Greg grabbed his shoulder. "Claudette, listen to me …"
"Out." Lestrade demanded. "Get out!"
"Makes no sense." John said. As soon as we entered Lestrade's office, Sherlock moved to the window, staring out, not saying anything.
"The kid's traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper." Lestrade explained.
"So what's she said?" I asked.
"Hasn't uttered another syllable." Sally informed us.
"And the boy?" John asked.
"No. He's unconscious. Still in intensive care."
" Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people." Lestrade jokes, and I laughed quietly, as he looked around to Sally, John, and I.
"Come on." He said, and John and I left the room, Lestrade following us out.
John caught a cab, just as Sherlock walked out.
"Ah." he said.
"You okay?" I asked. He didn't seem...like his normal self.
"Thinking." he responded as the taxi pulled up. "This is my cab. You get the next one." he said.
"Why?" John asked, as Sherlock got in.
"You might talk." he said, shutting the door, and the taxi pulled away. John sighed.
"Really?" he asked, hailing another, our taxi following Sherlock's.
We rode in silence, both of us looking out of our windows.
"So, how was your day?" he asked me. I nodded.
"It was alright."
"Feeling better?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. I sighed.
"Much."
He looked like he wanted to ask, but instead, kept his mouth closed.
We went silent again, until the cab came to a screeching halt.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, jumping from the cab, and I ran after him, finding out what stopped the cab. Sherlock was on the street, his cab gone, and a figure, a man, at his feet, a small pool of red liquid flowing onto the sidewalk. I stopped dead in my tracks, and Sherlock held a hand up, in a silent warning, telling me it was in my best interest not to come any closer.
"What happend?" I asked, loud enough Sherlock could hear me, but instead he just stared down at him, then looked at the building behind him, studying it. I followed his gaze, and watched as a figure moved quickly, running away. Sherlock obviously didn't see him, and I was frozen.
" That ... it's him. It's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us." John said. Police and an ambulance had been called, by who, I wasn't sure. Sherlock only stood and watched as the ambulance team wheeled the man into the ambulance.
"Well, that's reassuring. How many other gangsters are living near us?" I asked.
"You'd be surprised."
"He died because I shook his hand." Sherlock explained.
"What?" I asked.
"He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"
"He saved your life? Sherlock, what happened?" I asked, but he stormed away.
Sherlock walked into the living room, rapidly, yanking off his scarf and coat, and moved to his laptop.
"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me …"
"... the others kill them before they can get it." John finished. Sherlock grunted in response, typing away on his laptop.
"All of the attention is focussed on me. There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now."
"So what have you got that's so important?" I asked, moving behind Sherlock to look at the computer screen. There were several different WiFi networks, all in different languages.
He ran his finger along the table beside his laptop.
"We need to ask about the dusting."
He drug Mrs. Hudson upstairs, our landlady still him her nightdress and dressing gown. Meanwhile, Sherlock moved around the flat, checking the dust.
"Precise details: in the last week, what's been cleaned?" He asked.
"Well, Tuesday I did your lino …" She began, but Sherlock interrupted her.
"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust." he lifted his hand, holding a finger in the air. "Dust is eloquent."
"What's he on about?" She asked us. We only shook our heads.
"Cameras. We're being watched."
I stared at Sherlock, wide eyed, and Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms over her chest.
" What? Cameras? Here? I'm in my nightie!"
"How long have they been here?" I asked, thinking back to the past few months….the things they might have seen...not entirely all my fault, blame him, but…
The doorbell rung, and Mrs. Hudson hurried to answer it, and John followed. I pulled my sweater cardigan on tighter, moving closer into the room, as Sherlock moved to the bookshelf, standing on the furniture. He moved one of the books, and pulled out a tiny camera, as John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade walked into the living room.
"No, Inspector." Sherlock said, not turning around.
"What?" Lestrade asked.
"The answer is no." he clarified, stepping down, and going to his laptop.
"But you haven't heard the question!"
"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."
"Sherlock…" Lestrade began.
"The scream?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Yeah."
"What about it?" I asked, confused.
"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home …" he reaches forward touched Greg's forehead, right between his eyes "... there."
"Will you come?" Lestrade asked.
"Lestrade, you know he didn't do it." I tried to reason, but Lestrade smiled at me, sadly.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I've got to."
"One photograph – that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." Sherlock said, from his seat, picking up the camera again, then looking to Greg.
"It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play. Give me regards to Donovan."
Greg sighed, and left, John walking with him to see him out, as Sherlock continued to fiddle with the camera.
"They'll be deciding." Sherlock said. I watched them drive off from the window. John still hasn't come back upstairs, no doubt with Mrs. Hudson.
"Deciding?" I asked.
"Whether or not to come back with a warrant and arrest me."
My stomach churned, and it felt as if someone was sitting on my chest at the thought of Sherlock getting arrested. He didn't do it… I know he didn't do it, Greg knows he didn't do it….he had to…
"Would they?" I asked, quietly.
"Standard procedure."
"You should have gone with him. People will think…"
"I don't care what people think." He cut me off.
"You would care if they thought you were stupid...or wrong."
"No because that would make them stupid or wrong."
I sighed.
"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing that you're a…" I trailed off, sitting in the chair beside him.
"A what?"
"A fraud." I whispered.
"You're afraid they're right."
"Excuse me?"
"You're afraid they're right about me. that's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well. Moriarty is playing with your mind too." He slammed his hand onto the table."Can't you see what's going on?!"
"No." I said, grabbing his free hand. "No it's because you're my husband, and I love you, and I can't stand the thought of people thinking the worst of you. But never for a second did I think, or will I think that they are right about you." He gave my hand a squeeze, and his lips turned up in a smile.
"I love you, too." He said, something he rarely said, almost never said, making the word, especially considering the circumstances, felt like a kick to the guy. He reached a hand out, gently placing it on my cheek, his thumb brushing against my cheek bone.
"Why don't you get some sleep." He suggested. I shook my head. "I'll go back there and stay with you until they get here, if you'd like.
I stood up and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the couch. He sat down, and I curled up beside him, leaning against his shoulder, his hand tangling itself in my hair, brushing it out, away from my face.
I didn't sleep- I couldn't sleep. My mind raced, going don't one thought to another, never resting. I felt the pressure in my chest build, and I got harder and harder to breath. Sherlock, of course, could tell, and leaned his head against mine, whispering, which helped a little, but, sadly, not completely.
"So, still got some friends on the Force." John said, coming back upstairs, putting his phone in his pocket. "That was Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people.
Mrs. Hudson knocked, and came in, still in here nightwear.
"Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?" she asked. "Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'Perishable'- I had to sign for it."
John took a bog from her, and showed up the seal.
"Funny name, " Mrs. Hudson went on. "German, like the fairytales."
John opened the bag, and pulled out it's contents, tilting it so we could see.
"Burnt to a crisp." Sherlock mumbled, and I could hear the cars outside of our window, see the lights flashing on the building across the street.
"What does it mean?" he asked, referring to the gingerbread man.
The doorbell rang, and at the same time, someone knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson rushed to answer it.
"Evening, Mrs. Hudson." I heard Lestrade say downstairs. The pressure on my chest was back again.
"we need to talk to you!" Donovan called. John put the gingerbread down, before heading out.
"Don't barge in like that!" Mrs. Hudson yelled, sounding angry. Sherlock placed a quick kiss on the top of my head, before getting up, putting on his coat and scarf.
"Have you got a warrant?" I heard John ask. "Have you?"
"Leave it, John." Lestrade said, while Mrs. Hudson complained about their manners.
Lestrade stood in front of him, while officers began to put him in cuffs.
"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."
"He's not resisting." John argued.
"It's all right, John." Sherlock said.
"He's not resisting." I agreed. "No, it's not alright, this is ridiculous."
"Get him downstairs, now." Lestrade said to the two officers.
"You know you don't have to…" I began, but Lestrade turned around, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Elizabeth, please, don't interfere, or I shall have to arrest you, too, and I don't want to do that. You're too sweet of a girl." he sent me a sad, apologetic smile, before leaving. I felt another hand on my shoulder, and turned to find Mrs. Hudson, almost in tears.
"You done?" I asked Sally.
"Oh, I said it." She said, a smug look on her face. "First time we met." She looked to John.
"Don't bother." He said.
""Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line." Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?" She asked. I heard Mrs. Hudson gasp.
"Is that what this is about? They think he did that?" She asked, quietly. I turned around and nodded.
"Yeah. For once I agree with him about Scotland Yard….they're stupid." her hand found it's way back to my shoulder.
"Got our man?" A stranger asked.
"Yes, sir." Donovan answered.
"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." he said. "Often are, these vigilante types."
I could practically see John's blood boiling.
"What are you looking at?" The man asked John. I lowered my head, and turned back to Mrs. Hudson, attempting to divert her attention, as John chinned the Chief Superintendent…
I watched from the window as Sherlock and John escaped, while Mrs. Hudson made some coffee downstairs, asking me to come and join her if I wanted to, cheer us up a bit. I doubted it would work, but I definitely wasn't going to sleep tonight, staying up waiting on a phone call, or a text…
We waited for hours, just chatting, I kept an eye on my phone, sitting on her table, and Mrs. Hudson never raised her voice too loudly, in case the phone rang and she missed it.
In the early hours of the next morning, I got a phone call from an unknown number. I picked it up immediately, Mrs. H watching ,expectantly, from the other side of the kitchen.
"Hello?"
"Elizabeth?" I heard them ask. It sounded like Sherlock, though I couldn't be sure.
"Yeah, Sherlock?"
"Yes. Are you in the flat?" He asked.
"No, I'm at Mrs. Hudson's right now, why? Is everything okay?"
"Get some things from the flat, stay with Mrs. Hudson for a couple of nights. The assassins, whatever they want, it's apparently in the flat. We got the chance to talk to one of them. Moriarty planted it on me. No doubt, since I'm gone, they'll at least try to snoop around. I think it would be best if you weren't there." He suggested.
"Is that Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, quietly. I nodded, and she smiled.
"Okay, will do. Where are you? Are you guys okay?" I asked, worried out of my mind. I heard him chuckle.
"We're fine, Elizabeth. We're heading to Bart's to stay there for a while, lay low."
"Oh. Alright."
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. We're both fine."
"Good." I could hear his smile. "Listen, I can't talk very long, we have to go, but please try to be in the flat as little as possible, if you even have to go in at all, please."
"Alright."
"I'll talk to you soon." he said, and then hung up.
"What did he say?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"I'm going to have to stay hree for a while, if that's alright. Something about assassins watching the flat.
"Oh, of course, I'll make you a bed on the couch, you go and get your things. We could rent movies, it would be like a slumber party!" She smiled, her mood improving majorly. I can't say mine did the same.
I was relieved to know he was alright, that he and John got away, but it still didn't completely calm my fears.
I got a few pairs of jeans and shirts, and some pajamas, along with my toothbrush and paste, before rushing back to to Mrs. Hudson's. The bed on the couch was already made, and the lights were off except for a lamp in the corner, so I assumed she had already gone to bed, thank goodness. We both needed our sleep.
I kept my phone on, putting it on the end table, before changing, and lying on the couch, falling asleep instantly.
John called, and told me where they were at Bart's, so I went to meet them.
John ran out as I left, and I continued in. Sherlock was sitting on the ground, bouncing a ball onto the cabinet and the floor, repeatedly.
"What's going on."
"Apparently Mrs. Hudson's been shot since you left this morning. John got a call from the paramedics."
"Oh my God."
"She's dying, according to John."
"Are you not going to go?" I asked, putting my purse back on my shoulder, texting John to hold the cab for me.
"I'm busy." he said.
"Doing what? Bouncing a ball? Too busy to check on you dying landlady?" I wondered. "Doesn't she mean anything to you? You threw a man out of a window repeatedly, because he laid a finger on her, and now she's dying, but you have to sit and bounce a ball. That's keeping you too preoccupied right now, it's so much more important?" I asked.
"Thinking. I need to think." He said. "And you said it. She's just my landlady." He shrugged.
"Really? You know what, forget this. Stay here if you want. You….you machine."
"Oh, God! John, you made me jump." She giggled as John and I walked into 221. Mrs. Hudson was watching a man fix something on the wall. She was fine. "Is everything alright with the police? Has Sherlock sorted it all out?" John and Ionly stared at her, before leaving again.
Once we reached Barts, John jumped out of the cab, quickly, as his phone rang.
"Hello?" He said. I fell in step beside him. "Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" John stopped. "No, I'm coming in." He turned around, and walked back again. "Where?" He asked.
"John, what are you doing?" I asked, laughing at him. He stopped. "Sherlock?" I walked to join him.
"What's going on?" I asked, John positioned the phone so that we could both hear.
"I'm on the rooftop." He told us.
"Oh, God." John said.
"I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this."
"What?" I asked.
"An apology. It's all true."
"Wh-what?"
"Everything they said about em. I invented Moriarty."
"Sherlock, why are you saying this?" I asked.
"I'm fake." He said, his voice breaking.
"Sherlock…"
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly...in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." His voice was becoming tearful.
"okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up." John said. "The first time we met...the first time we met, you knew all about Harry."
"nobody could be that clever."
"You could."
Sherlock laughed.
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I would to impress you." he paused. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." John began to shake his head, but I couldn't move.
"No, alright, stop it now." He began to walk towards the entrance, taking the phone away from my ear, but something stopped him. He moved the phone again, so that I could hear, and I leaned forward.
"All right." he said.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"
"Do what?" I asked.
"This phone call-it's er...it's my note. It's what people do, don't they-leave a note.
I felt as if I had been punched in the gut a good twenty times in a row.
"Leave a note, when?" John asked.
"Goodbye John. Will you hand the phone to Elizabeth. Please." John shoved the phone towards me, then began pacing.
"Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…." I tried, but I couldn't say anything else. I wanted to cry. Tears were building in my eyes, I couldn't breath, there was a giant lump in my throat, and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.
"Shh. It's alright." He stayed silent for a moment. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."
Then the dam broke. My tears became uncontrollable, and, I'm sure, my sentences almost incoherent.
"Sherlock, please, come down." My voice had raised an octave or two, my nose running, as I wiped tears off onto my sleeve the best that I could, trying to keep my eyes clear enough to see.
"I can't, love. Not the way you want me too."
"Please." I begged, quietly. It was silent.
"Goodbye, Elizabeth." he said, finally. "I love you."
I tried. but I couldn't. I couldn't get out the 'Goodbye', or say that I loved him, too. I tried so, so hard, yet nothing came out.
He threw the phone to the ground, and I heard John scream, then the rest was a giant blur.
I remember running towards the crowd that had formed around Sherlock's body, pushing through them, trying to get to him, then, almost instantly regretting it.
John was close behind me, reaching around to get his pulse, while people grabbed our arms, pulling us back, away from him, as they picked him up, putting him on the stretcher.
The crowd began to dissipate, some people staying, yet they remained silent, watching, staring at the concrete where Sherlock fell.
I just fell back on my knees, and cried.
I didn't go to the funeral….I couldn't. I stayed cooped up in the flat, the curtains closed, in my pajamas, while John and Mrs. Hudson went on.
After the funeral had ended, and John and Mrs. Hudson got home, John going to Mrs. Hudson's, giving me time alone, I went to the bedroom, putting on a simple black dress, and grabbing the flowers I bought for his grave.
They weren't anything special, really. I didn't even know what kind they were.
I didn't really care. Not anymore…
I don't' remember the taxi ride there, or even how I found my way to Sherlock's grave, or how long I sat in the grass, on my knees, staring at the tombstone.
There was so much to say, yet nothing at all. So many things I wanted to tell him, yet so little.
"I'm sorry." Was all I could get out, my voice hoarse, quite, a lump building in my throat.
The last, proper conversation we had, I called him a machine, I was angry with him. Furious.
I got up, walked over to the gravestone, putting my flowers down beside it, placing my hand on the cold stone.
"Goodbye, Sherlock. I love you, too." I whispered. I closed my eyes, trying to get rid of any tears that might have spilled over, compose myself a little, before walking back towards the main road. And once I was in the cab, I let the tears flow freely.
Oh, my, wow, I honestly didn't think I was going to cry… yet, here I am, bawling…(Good job, Christa…. :/)
Anyway, I'll leave you guys with that. No review responses for this chapter, 'll all be in the next one, though. I just feel that this chapter needs to be left at where we're leaving it…
~Eruaphadriel