We're really getting into the nitty gritty of the story! I literally got this done within one night. Currently got Bronchitis, so that's fun. But, gives me time when I'm awake all night coughing to write this piece. It's been so long since I wrote Trevor, I had to go back because I forgot what he looked like. Enjoy!
It was evening by the time questioning the little girl came to the trio. John sat at chair waiting silently, Sherlock pacing left and right. Being inpatient or anxious over the whole case alone, the doctor didn't know. He glanced across the room where Helena was talking on her phone with Dally. She wanted to let her know they'd be home soon and that the case was solved- Sort of. They still had to find who had kidnapped the kids and why.
"We'll be home soon, let Mrs. Hudson know." Helena told, turning to face the men. She paused hearing Dally respond, then walked over to Sherlock. "Sure thing." Helena held it out to him, "She wants to talk."
Sherlock stopped to take the phone, pressing it to his ear and continued pacing. "It's as Helena said, we'll be home when we're done here."
"I know, I just wanted to talk to you, dad." She told, her voice sounded unsure.
"Is something wrong?" Eyes shot to him when he asked that.
"No, I just… er…" Sherlock frowned, nodding to the two that she was alright. "I just wanted to say, I love you, Dad."
The detective paused in his pacing, almost taking an extra step to turn. It wasn't common for Dally to express her love to him, something in her tone just caught that something was wrong.
"I've been thinking, about those kids who were kidnapped. Then thought about when- That time at the hospital." Dally sniffled.
Sherlock's head rose and lips parted as his eyes stared at the wall. She was upset, this case must have brought back memories. While he was worried that this would affect Helena, it was actually affecting Dally more.
"Dally, I assure you, nothing bad will ever happen to you again." He told softly into the phone, ignoring the glances from John and Helena. "When I adopted you, I promised you that I would keep you safe. You know that, right?"
When she didn't answer, Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're smart, you know I'm right." He heard a chuckle on the other end. "We'll be home late, don't stay up late. Get some sleep."
"Okay, good night, Dad." The other line clicked just as Lestrade and Donovan entered the room from checking on the little girl.
"Right, then. The professionals have finished, if the amateurs want to go in and have their turn." Donovan spoke, that damn snarky look that Helena hated seeing.
Sherlock and John moved, Helena taking her phone back from him before Lestrade stopped the two. "Now, remember that she's in shock and she's just seven years old."
"I have a daughter of the same age, it's not foreign to me." Sherlock retorted.
Greg sighed. "Well, anything you can do to-"
"Not be myself."
"Yeah."
Sherlock glanced to John, "Might be helpful." his friend agreed.
The tall detective lowered his coat collar and slowly entered the room with John and Lestrade following. The little brunette girl, Claudette, sat with a dark skinned woman. The girl didn't look up from her sneaks hanging off the chair, Sherlock took a breath. She looked close to Dally. Sherlock bent down to get the girls attention, being as gentle as he could be.
"Claudette, I-" The second the girl looked up, she gasped and screamed at the sight of him. "No, no. I know it's been hard for you, Claudette."
He raised a hand to ease the child, but she coiled away and screamed louder at his form. "Listen to me-" She raised a finger, pointing at him as if accusing him of something.
"Get out!" Greg dragged Sherlock out of the room, who was shocked by the child's reaction. John, stunned, followed to leave the girl to calm down.
In the other room, Donovan and Helena heard the screaming as the men returned. "What happened?" Helena asked, seeing Sherlock's expression.
"What did you say to her?" Donovan demanded, glaring as he walked past the two ignoring them.
Helena glared the dark woman. "Oh, it's always got to be his fault, doesn't it?"
"Enough!" Greg barked, giving the ladies a look. "He barely got to say much before she started screaming."
Helena frowned at the men. "But, she didn't react when you two saw her."
"Makes no sense." John muttered, looking to Greg in question.
"Kid's traumatized." Greg answered, arms folded. "Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper."
Helena glanced to Sherlock, seeing him stare out the window in silence.
"What's she said?" John asked.
"Hasn't uttered another syllable." Donovan answered.
Helena let them talk as she approached Sherlock. She touched his sleeve, making him give a short glance seeing it was just her, than back out the window. Helena turned her back to the window, standing by him in attempt to comfort him. She didn't want to pressure him by holding his hand, she knew Sherlock needed space and his own time, but never saw him react this way.
"Any word from her brother?" Helena asked from her spot.
Greg shook his head at her. "No, he's unconscious. Still in intensive care."
Sherlock's eyes caught something across the street, the lights of the building flickered in the large offices. Soon he saw the center floor light up, red letters on the windows large enough for him to read.
I O U
His head rose, reading the message out over and over. The red spray painted letters from an obvious sender. The lights then flickered out, before anyone else would be able to see them. Eyes narrowed, Moriarty was involved in the kids, but why?
"Sherlock?" Helena asked, seeing his alarmed features. She looked out the window, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
"Is he that bothered?" Donovan muttered, though it was well heard.
Helena whipped her head to remark back at her, but Greg beat her to it. "Don't let it get to you, I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room. In fact, so do most people."
"Oh, I could say the same to you, Greg." Helena joked, with a snide smirk. Greg and John left the room, as Helena tugged Sherlock's sleeve. "Let's get home."
She walked ahead as Sherlock took his time, his mind still melding about of the message and case.
"Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint." Donovan praised, almost out of character of her to do. "It's really amazing."
"Thank you." Sherlock mumbled, not entirely paying attention.
"Unbelievable." She added, making the detective falter before making his leave.
John and Helena waited outside, the doctor noticing how she squinted despite the bright lights illuminated from the building. Soon, Sherlock joined them, walking to the curb to catch a cab. John waved his hand at an approaching one, glancing to Sherlock.
"You okay?" He asked, noticing how silent he had been since the girl's reaction.
"Thinking." Was what he answered, as the cab pulled in front of them. "This is my cab, you both get the next one."
John frowned, "Why?" he asked as Helena looked over.
"You might talk." He told, and ushered into the cab with a slam.
John sighed as the cab drove off, looking to Helena. "What was that about?"
She shook her head, folding her arms. "I don't know. I've never seen him act like this since Baskerville."
"Do you think Claudette's reaction to him bothered him?" He asked, waving for another cab.
Helena shrugged, watching the second cab drove up to him. "I'll try to talk to him tonight, I doubt he'll sleep after today."
John agreed, the two piling into the cab. Concerned, Helena suddenly got out alarming John. "What-"
"I'm going to follow Sherlock's cab. In case he's going somewhere else." She quickly told, slamming the door before John could protest.
The ride Sherlock took alone was silent, just how he wanted it. Though, his brain was scrambling as he stared down at the floor of the car. What exactly was Moriarty planning? Why had he kidnapped those kids and what was his purpose of it all? Keep Sherlock on his toes, perhaps?
"-nation," Came a woman's voice on the telly screen in the back of the cab. It was a shopping channel, showing fine jewelry. "This is stunning evening wear sent from us here at London-"
"Could you turn that off, please?" He asked the driver, seeing no power button on the screen for him to control.
"As you can see, the set comprises a beautiful-"
Sherlock sighed when the screen wasn't dead. "Can you turn this off?" He raised his voice at the driver.
The screen suddenly changed for a split second, Sherlock swore he saw someone's face. It corrupted again, soon stationed to showing the one and only, Moriarty on the screen grinning back at him.
"Hello. Are you ready for the story?" He asked, dressed in a polo shirt with some cartoon background. It was as if he was on a children's show.
Sherlock stiffened, what the hell was this?
"This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot." He started, a wide childish grin but it only brought hair to stand at the sight of it. "Sir Boast-A-Lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the round table. But soon, the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slain."
Moriarty frowned, as the sunny white clouds behind his head started to grow dark with rain drizzling. "And soon they began to wonder, are Sir Boast-A-Lot's stories even true?"
He shook his head, looking disappointed at the character of the story. "Oh no." With a sigh, Moriarty looked back up. "So, one of the knights went to King Arthur and said, "I don't believe Sir Boast-A-Lot's stories"." A wide grin returned to his disturbing features, Sherlock leaned forward at his words.
"He's just a big liar who makes things up to make himself look good. And then, even the king began to wonder…" Thunder and lighting rocked behind him, as he gave an intimidating thoughtful look. "But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-A-Lot's problem. No."
Moriarty shook his head, then he smiled with a book in his arms. "The end!"
The screen glitched and returned back to the shopping channel, leaving a stunned and disturbed Sherlock. "Stop the cab! Stop the cab!" He demanded, once it had made a slow left turn.
It finally stopped, Sherlock shot out of the cab. "What was that?!" He demanded the driver, only for the man to turn and reveal to be Jim Moriarty himself.
Sherlock stumbled back, letting Jim grin at him just as creepy as the video had shown. "No charge."
He hit the gas, speeding off before Sherlock could open the door or stop it. He ran after but stopped, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up. Not realizing he was in the center of the road, a car was speeding behind him.
"Look out!"
Suddenly he was ripped from his spot and shoved out of the road before the silver car hit him. Sherlock shoved him against the pole, still jumpy in case it was Moriarty to somehow appear before him.
"Sherlock!" He turned, seeing Helena shimmy down a drain pipe and sprinted over to him. "You almost got killed!"
He nodded, realizing this, dropping his hand off the man's chest. "Thank you." He offered handshake, which the man took.
The second he came into contact, gunfire ran out, Sherlock instinctively grabbed Helena and jumped back as the man was pelted with bullets.
"Oh, God!" Helena gasped, clinging to Sherlock in fear of them being shot.
Sherlock twisted around, trying to find where the shots were fired. His arm tightly around her as he felt his heart pounding harder than before. "W-What the hell!?" Helena looked up at him, trying to find the source as well.
"Sherlock! Helena!" The turned as John exited his cab, running toward them. "Bloody hell- Are you okay?"
Helena nodded, trying to actually pry herself off Sherlock but his grip was tight around her. Be it protection or shock, Helena didn't know. She allowed it, as John called the police.
Once they arrived with an ambulance, they loaded the man up as the cops kept curious bystanders from the scene. Sherlock stood by, Helena with her arm looped around his at his side as he shifted his footing left and right, showing clear uneasiness. John seemed to be pacing in front of them, he kept looking at the shot up man.
"That is him. It's him." He confirmed to them.
Helena frowned as Sherlock laced his fingers with hers to allow her cold hand to warm up, hiding them in his pocket. "Wait, you know that man?" She questioned.
"Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his files." John told, forgetting to talk to Sherlock and Helena about that. "A big Albanian gangster who lives two doors down from us."
Sherlock's brows knotted in deep thought. "He died because I shook his hand."
"What do you mean?" John asked, hands on his hips.
"Sherlock was about to get hit by a car when he got him out of the way. Saved his life." Helena explained.
Sherlock nodded in confirmation. "But he couldn't touch me, why?"
The trio got home extremely late that night, marching up to their flat in a hurry. Sherlock lead the way as he ripping the scarf from his neck. He made a sharp turn to check on Dally in his room, seeing her fast asleep curled up in his bed. Seeing she was alright, he returned to the living room where John and Helena waited him.
"Four assassins living right on our doorstep." He told, slipping his coat off as he marched to his laptop at the table where he left it.
"If their assassins, wouldn't they want you dead?" Helena asked, growing concern over this latest news John failed to inform them.
"They didn't come here to kill me." He corrected her, "They have to keep me alive." John walked behind him keeping an eye out the window. "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 assumed, to which was correct as Sherlock didn't disagree.
Helena paced in the room, biting her knuckle. "What could you possibly have that they want? A certain item, or about a case?" She paled, almost wanting to go into the other room. "Dally?"
Sherlock shook his head, accessing the network program to check what was connected to them. "All of the attention is focused on me." He managed to find a network with a weak connection, Russian words catching his attention quickly.
"There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now." His eyes scanned around the room, Helena paused and looked to him.
John turned to him, "Helena is right though. What have you got that's so important?" he asked.
Something felt off. Sherlock's eyes shot down to the table, he skimmed his finger over the desk finding a thin layer of dust. An idea has come to his brilliant mind. "We need to ask about the dusting." He turned to Helena, getting to his feet. "Helena, get Mrs. Hudson."
Soon the poor old landlady was up in the flat, finding Sherlock rapidly searching the room. He started in the kitchen but found no sign of anything moved, soon checking the couch and now behind the television. Mrs. Hudson watched with John and Helena.
"Precise details. In the last week, what's been cleaned?" He asked, checking the boxes and television.
"Well, Tuesday I did your lino-" She started.
"No, in here. This room." He told, wiping his finger on any sign that the dust was spotted. "This is where we'll find it. Any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust-" He showed the dirty layer of it on his finger to the three. "Dust is eloquent."
Mrs. Hudson looked to John over her shoulder. "What's he on about?"
John shrugged, clueless himself. "I don't know." He muttered, turning to spot someone had entered the room.
"What's Dad doing?" Dally asked, wandering in in her blue and purple striped pajamas. She watched her father climb the bookcase as if he was rock climbing.
Mrs. Hudson wrapped an arm around the tired child. "Looking for something." Helena told, leaning over to comb down her messy hair.
"What's he looking for?" She asked, stifling a yawn and rubbing her eye.
"Cameras, Dally." Sherlock answered, checking each shelf thoroughly. "We're being watched."
"What?" Mrs. Hudson gasped, folding her rob rightly around her. "Cameras? Here?"
Dally walked over to Helena seeing the landlady grow panicked. "I'm in my nightie!"
They watched her rush downstairs, just as the doorbell rang below. Helena lead Dally to the couch who was now wide awake as she watched her father maneuver past the mantel toward the second book shelf. John left to answer the door, knowing Mrs. Hudson wouldn't in her sleepwear.
"Let me help, it's probably somewhere tight nit." Helena told, walking over to check the mantel.
"You can't find it Helena, much too dark for you to see. Just sit with Dally." He ordered, not even giving her a single glance.
Insulted by the notion, she huffed and walked back. Despite his words, she did find the room dimly light even with all the lights brightly on. Sherlock looked over the top shelf, finding his one book to be hitting something making extra space between it and the wall. He pushed it back, finding the tiny camera that had been spying on them for who knows how long.
"Did you find it?" Dally asked, seeing him mess with it.
"How long as that bloody thing been there?" Helena asked, crossing her arms feeling violated that someone's been watching them.
Footsteps echoed up the hall, Lestrade marched right in with John following behind. "No, Inspector." Sherlock spoke, removing the camera from its wire, killing the feed.
"What?"
Dally and Helena looked over, what was Greg doing back here?
"The answers no." Sherlock added.
"You haven't heard the question." Greg argued.
Sherlock walked over to him, eyeing the little device. "You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."
Helena stood, as did Dally. "What? Why?"
"The scream." Sherlock answered, nodding towards her. Greg nodded, sighing as he knew he didn't want to be doing this.
"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan." He half grinned, knowing she had been wanting him accused for a case. "Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart."
Dally tensed beside Helena, she held her close. This wasn't something she had to see or hear. Helena rubbed her shoulder, watching Sherlock and Greg interact, though it was more of Sherlock doing the talking.
"He planted that doubt in her head. That little nagging sensation you got to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home," He reached up, and tapped Greg's forehead. "There."
He turned and took his seat in front of his laptop, ignoring the looks he gained. Greg sighed, his eyes hitting the tense little Holmes. "I don't want this to be hard, Sherlock. Will you come?"
"One photograph, that's his next move." Sherlock replied.
"Next move?" Helena questioned.
"Moriarty's game. First the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." His eyes searched Lestrade, brows up at the man. "It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play."
Greg shook his head, giving a glance to John. His eyes shot to Dally once more. Helena and John knew he was trying to indeed do the best. He didn't want Dally to watch the police to force handcuffs on her father and watch him be dragged away for a crime he may have committed. Soon, the Inspector left, John moving to the window to watch him leave. Dally watched Sherlock as she moved to sit in the kitchen, Helena muttered something about making tea for Dally to get back to sleep.
"He'll be deciding." Sherlock told, seeing John watch at the window.
"Deciding?" He questioned.
"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me." He explained.
John looked to him. "You think?"
"Standard procedure."
"Should have gone with him." John advised. "People will think-"
"I don't care what people think." He hissed, Dally looked over hearing those words. It sort of hurt her.
"You'd care if they thought you were stupid or wrong." John argued.
"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong." Sherlock denied.
John turned, his temper flaring. "Sherlock I don't want the world, most importantly, you're daughter that you're…"
Sherlock's head snapped, the mention of his daughter who was clearly listening in the other room didn't have to be mentioned. "That I am what?" He challenged him to finish.
"A fraud." John sighed.
Sherlock leaned back, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're worried they're right."
"What?"
"You're worried they're right about it." Sherlock rephrased.
John shook his head. "No."
Helena tried to ignore the conversation, watching the teapot for the water to boil. Dally got up, and wandered closer into the room, watching the two men argue.
"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." He accused.
John kept denying it. "No, I'm not."
Sherlock leaned forward, glaring up at John. "Moriarty is playing with your mind, too. Can't you see what's going on!?" He slammed his hand harshly on the table, Dally winced at the sudden sound.
"I-I think you're innocent." They both looked over, seeing a teary eyed Dally standing in the middle of the room. Had they not see her between their argument.
"Dally," Helena walked over, but Dally moved to Sherlock's side, pressing her hands onto his arm.
"You can't be guilty for something you didn't do, Dad. I know who you are, and you're a hero." Sherlock's gaze broke from her, but she tugged his his sleeve to get his attention again. "Not a fake, not a fraud, or a killer." Tears broke from her eyes and trailed down her face, Sherlock turned to her fully.
"Dally-"
"I don't want to lose you, Dad. I finally get a family, a home, and- and-" Her voice broke as she pressed her forehead down to his arm, tightly gripping his sleeve. "Don't let them take you away, Dad. Please."
The sight broke both John and Helena, this is what Moriarty wanted. This was just an addition to the torture. Sherlock combed his fingers through her dark hair, in a means to comfort her.
"Dally, look at me." She raised her head, sniffling as her eyes were wet and puffy. Sherlock moved the messy hair from her face. "Do you think I took those kids?"
Her head whipped back and forth, hair swinging. "No, you'd never do that."
"So, would you think I'm a fraud?" He asked her, in a soft gentle tone.
She shook her head, wiping her tears. "No. You're not a fraud." Her glassy eyes went to Helena and John. "You think so too, right? John? Helena?"
Sherlock looked up to Helena, nodded, holding her own emotions back on the scene in front of her. "Always have, always will."
"I know you're for real." John agreed, nodding to him.
"A hundred percent?" Sherlock asked lowly.
"Nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time." He countered, keeping an even honest stare to his best friend.
Sherlock swallowed, looking down to Dally wiping her puffy cheeks. "Go have some tea, clean your face."
The child complained, going into the bathroom to wash her face and blow her nose. Helena sighed, folding her arms. "I know they won't find anything of you being at fault, Sherlock. Lestrade will back you up, so will John and I, and Mrs. Hudson."
John looked out the window, hearing sirens in the distance making him tense up. Sherlock looked to Helena before focusing back at the laptop. "Helena, when they arrive, stay in the bedroom with Dally."
She frowned, "What?"
He looked back up, "She shouldn't see me be handcuffed and taken away. Not to mention, knowing Dally, she'll try to fight against the police. She doesn't need that on her record." he explained.
Helena sighed, moving to sit down at John's chair, leaning forward and rubbing her hands down her home phone rang, John frowned going into the kitchen where it was last put down. Sherlock glanced over to her, soon moved to his chair to sit in front of her.
"Helena, I need you to take care of Dally." Sherlock said to her.
She looked up, pressing her hands together as her elbows rested on her knees. "They're just going to question you, right?" When Sherlock didn't answer, Helena's anger flared as she reached over, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "You. Are. Coming. Back."
"This is what Moriarty wants." He calmly told her, allowing her to be rough with him. "I can't let anything happen to you or Dally in the process."
"And this is letting him win. M-Maybe I can take the fault, make a scene. I was a criminal! I will take that title back if I have to." She was desperate, clearly. "Why can't he just piss off!?" Soon she let go of his shirt, sagging in her seat.
John soon returned, Sherlock leaned back in his chair. "So, I've still got some friends on the force." He tossed the phone onto the table, standing before Sherlock and Helena. "It's 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."
Helena stood, walking over to the mantle, understanding John's frustration.
"Yoo-hoo!" Came a call and a knock, Mrs. Hudson entering the room. Now that the camera was gone, she felt more comfortable returning upstairs. She saw the tense look on everyone, pausing in her rush. "Oh, Sorry, am I interrupting?"
"No, is there something you need?" Helena asked, turning to her. Sirens in the distance made Sherlock tilt his head, awaiting for their arrival.
Mrs. Hudson nodded, "Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot." she showed the envelope to John. "Marked perishable. I had to sign it."
John noticed the same wax seal as the last package they got from anonymous. Helena's heart skipped, rushing over to take a look. "Mrs. H, did you get a name or glimpse of who delivered it?"
Sherlock glanced, eyes widened at the sight. "Funny name." The landlady tilted her head. "German. Like the fairy tales."
John removed the item, revealing to be a heavily burnt gingerbread man. Helena felt her throat tighten, her eyes reaching Sherlock as he walked over. "Burnt to a crisp."
"What does it mean?" John asked.
She knew instantly, burn his heart out. She was about to answer when rough knocking and rabid bell ringing echoed from below. Yelling of police was heard, making Dally rush into the room, standing between Sherlock and Helena. Mrs. Hudson left, offering to get the door, possibly assuming it was another case they needed. Yelling was heard, making John put the items down and rush to aid Mrs. Hudson who was arguing back with the officers.
"Dad-" Sherlock gently shushed her, as he calmly walked to the table to throw his coat on and loop his scarf around his neck.
Helena held Dally close, moving aside as officers came up the stairs, nearly every one of them was eager to arrest Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson and John followed after, the closest officer roughly grabbed his wrist and prepared the handcuffs. Dally gripped Helena's jacket tightly, her tears forming again watching the cuffs click onto her father's wrist.
"Sherlock Holmes," Greg stood before him, reading his rights. "I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."
"He's not resisting." John insisted, knowing the handcuffs were not needed as Sherlock just stood there taking the manhandling without a care. "He's not resisting."
"It's alright, John." Sherlock assured.
"No, it's not alright." John argued. "This is ridiculous."
"He didn't do anything!" Dally cried, glaring at all the officers who ignored the upset child.
"Helena." Sherlock spoke, not even glancing as he knew she should've taken Dally out of the room a while ago.
Greg swallowed, wishing this would've been done better. "Get him downstairs, now."
The cop roughly turned Sherlock, Helena bark out, "Hey!" at the man.
John continued his argument, Mrs. Hudson watching on just as upset as Dally was. "You know you don't-"
"Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you, too." Greg warned him.
Dally stepped out, glaring up at Greg. "You're supposed to be his friend! Our friend!"
"Dally, please." Helena held her shoulders.
"Daddy!" She called out, crying as she watched her father being shoved down the steps near tripping. Greg bit his lip, sighing as he left down the stairs. Dally turned, crying into Helena's side, held tightly by the woman.
John turned, seeing the smug Donovan still standing there. "You done?" He asked, just as angry at her as Helena was. "Enjoyed that whole show, upsetting this poor girl making her watch her father be locked away?"
Donovan scoffed, having the audacity to walk further into the room. "Oh, I said it. First time we met."
"Don't bother." He told, shaking his head.
"Solving crimes won't be enough." She repeated, saying the same words she had indeed said meeting John Watson. "One day, he'll cross the line." Donovan nodded toward the furiously glaring woman holding the crying child. "Explains why he'd hit on the criminal side."
"You-" She growled her words, finding not even the right ones that would describe the kind of scum that woman was standing in front of them all.
"Now ask yourself, what sort of man would kidnap those kids, Just so he can impress us all by finding them?" Donovan nodded down toward Dally. "Wouldn't doubt he planted the same idea into her head, too."
Helena was losing it at this point, "You dirty, slimy, sorry excuse, of a twat!" She barked into the woman's shocked face. "If I ever see you out on those streets, don't be surprised if I-"
"Donovan?" Everyone turned when a man entered the room. Clean suit, large glasses, short but had an air of authority. Must be the top boss. His biddy eyes went straight to the red faced Tramp. "Are you threatening my officer?"
Helena eyed the man herself, instantly she didn't like him. When she didn't answer, he turned his attention back to Donovan. "That our man?"
"Uh, yes, sir." She answered, clearly not expecting him to enter the flat.
He looked around the room, already planning to judge the place. "Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." John grew tense more and more, glaring down the shorter man. "Often are, these vigilante types."
"My dad is a hero!" Dally defended, gaining their attention. The man raised a brow to the little brunette. "He's more of a man than you wish to be!"
Helena ducked her behind her, not wanting Dally to get into trouble. She had no doubt this man wouldn't pay no mind to her quick mouth. "If he was a real man, he would back off from the police. Now, mind your business, young lady."
Helena stepped up to the short man. "Do not say that to her." She threatened, letting the man get a closer look at her. She frowned in her glare why the man kept looking over her features.
"I thought I knew your face." John frowned, his lips parting in realization as the man looked to Sally. "Donovan, arrest her."
Helena's heart sunk, what?
"She's that damn pickpocket and homeless stunt that I heard Lestrade go on about." He ranted, nodding to Donovan. "Arrest her."
Almost as if she wanted this, Sally removed her handcuffs and took Helena's wrist. Instantly, she started resisting. "Get off me!"
"No!" Dally begged, crying out at the scene before her. Mrs. Hudson rushed over, taking Dally from the room. "Leave her alone!" She cried out, watching Helena wrestle with Donovan over the handcuffs as she was taken away.
"Go on, resist." The short man encouraged, enraging John Watson more and more. "As if you don't have enough warrants to your arrest." His eyes turned to John, who noticed the fiery glare. "What are you looking at?"
Outside, Sherlock was pressed up against the police car, just being checked for any weapons. He heard officers get a call and three of them rushed up to the flat, alerting Sherlock. He saw the man before who was judging him as he was taken outside, now holding tissues to his bloody broken nose. An officer asked if he was alright, unaware of the scuffle happening above.
Soon, a slam joined beside him, John was being handcuffed by officers as Sherlock looked toward him. "Joining me?" He asked.
"Yeah." He replied. "Apparently its against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent."
Sherlock bit back a grin, of course John would do that.
"Hold her down! Hold her down!"
Their heads whipped over, watching a few officers struggle to tackle Helena down. She had almost gotten out free of the flat, but three officers grabbed her, one tackled her onto the pavement, her face scrapping roughly. She screeched out, it was like watching an animal being caught and removed from its habitat. Sherlock hated this sight before him, it took three officers to press her onto the pavement as the tried to handcuff her without breaking her arms. She screamed and screeched, yelling every insult under the sun. Greg caught his eye as he went over, trying get the situation calm.
"God, she didn't need this." John mumbled, "They knew her and have warrants for her arrest." he explained.
"Well, it helps in our imminent and daring escape." He muttered, looking down at the opened windowed car door. On the dashboard he saw a dispatcher radio, just within his reach.
Morons.
Despite his wrist and John's freshly handcuffed together, he lunged in and pressed a button causing it to screech out. The officers cuffing them and Helena groaned, reaching up to remove their earpieces. He grabbed a gun off an officer, spotting Helena just having kicked an officer in the face and getting to her feet. Despite seeing her hands behind behind her, Helena made a run for freedom down the street. Alright, she was free, now for him and John.
"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" Sherlock asked, pointing the gun at them. To show he meant his word, he pointed the weapon in the air and fired off a few rounds. They gasped and ducked, in actual fear he might shoot them. "Now! Would be good!"
"Do as he says!" Lestrade barked at them, raising his hands. They all obeyed, not wanting to risk a shoot out.
The two stepped back, giving growing space between them and the police. "Just so you're aware, the gun is his idea." John stammered, absolutely clueless to what Sherlock was doing at this moment. "I'm just, uh, you know-"
Sherlock turned the gun right at John's head. "My hostage!"
"Hostage!" John rasped, "Yes, that works. That works." He agreed. "So what now?"
"Doing what Moriarty wants." Sherlock told, backing up to a corner around the bend. "Becoming a fugitive. Run." The two sharply went around the corner, disappearing before the police.
It wasn't long before Helena got far enough from the sirens that she had heard gunshots nearby. Fearing for John and Sherlock's lives of police gunning them down, she ran toward the sound. She had managed to run fine despite her hands handcuffed behind her back, adrenaline running through her veins for her mind to even acknowledge it to her phobia. Her face stung like hell and she felt the stickiness of blood on her cheeks and chin from her face smashing into the sidewalk.
The Tramp soon exited an alleyway, finding a man in a dark hoodie, laying dead in the road. The sirens down the street spooked her, making her leap over a short fence and sneak through some small yards to get back into the shadows.
At this point, she was near limping through the alley ways, trying to find where John and Sherlock could be. She ducked out from a bright lamppost just as a police car drove by. Looking for any more, she jogged up the empty road, hearing voices. She almost stopped short, in fear of being the cops when she saw a man reach out from behind open doors and took a news paper. Frowning, she knew that blonde hair and jacket anywhere.
"John?" She hissed, making the man's head shoot up. "John!" She hissed again, making him finally turn and spot her.
"Over here!" He waved, she jogged over, sighing at the sight of not him but Sherlock with him as well.
The two eyed her features, seeing the large scrap across the side of her face from her chin to her cheek phone. It had stopped bleeding, seeing it start to dry on her skin. Sherlock reached out, taking her chin to tilt her head to look for any other damage. His eyes scanned her body, finding her leaning more on her right leg, she must have injured her ankle during her escape.
"Thank God, I thought you two were shot." She sighed, moving her face from Sherlock's grasp.
"We didn't even know where you had gone." John replied, looking behind to see her still handcuffed. "You shouldn't have gotten involved."
Helena gave him a look. "I'm not the one who punched their boss." she recalled. "How was I to know that dick would still want warrants for my arrest. I thought Lestrade had it all taken care of."
"Seems it didn't matter." John muttered, looking over to see the bruising her cuffs were causing her. "We better get those off."
She nodded to their own wrist, "You as well. Where do we go from here?" she asked the detective.
Sherlock reached into his blazer breast pocket, it'd be a miracle if it was still there. His fingers felt the edges of a card, fishing out exactly what he hoped would be there. "Here." He told, showing the card that held an address on it to Helena.
She squinted, reading it the best she could, her brows shooting up. "It's not far from here. But, what's there?"
John next showed her the news article he found. Helena read it, skimming some words but snarled at the words she could see. Richard Brooks, actor, faking it all.
"That bitch-" She hissed and huffed at the men. "Follow me."
It didn't take long to find the home of Kitty Riley. She was the one Sherlock was talking to in the men's bathroom at the court of Jim Moriarty. Sherlock got them into her home, and awaited for her to return, finding the place empty. Once they heard a car door shut, the door opened and the lights turned on. There entered Kitty Riley, finding Sherlock Holmes and John Watson awaiting for her on the couch.
"Too late to go on the record?" Sherlock asked, as the men eyed her up.
Helena came down from the upper landing. "I suggest you help remove out restraints before I kick your teeth in, Gingie."
Complying, Kitty found a hair pin for Sherlock to uncuff them. He got to work, getting his own free, then removed it off of John. Kitty sat in the chair, watching them.
"The scoop that everybody wanted and you've got it." Sherlock hissed at her, moving toward Helena who awaited eagerly to be free. "Bravo."
He got her wrists free and tossed the handcuffs to the floor. She sighed, rubbing her wrists as she checked the bruising left on them. John got to work checking her face, after demanding a kit to tend to her injuries.
"I gave you your opportunity." She calmly replied, providing only water and napkins from her bag."I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so-"
"And then, lo and behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans." Sherlock paced the room, wanting to unleash all his anger toward this woman. "How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?"
She simply shook her head, refusing to answer him. John glanced over, cleaning the dry blood off Helena's face and getting the dirt out of her scrape.
"Oh, come on, Kitty. No on trusts the voice at the end of a telephone." Sherlock told her. "There were all those furtive little meetings in cafes, those sessions in the hotel room when he gabbled into your Dictaphone." Her eyes cast down to the carpet, he knew exactly how she got the scoop.
Helena tilted her head at the Ginger. "You can't trust every word people splatter out to you. How can you trust him?"
"A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. What were his credentials?" Sherlock questioned.
The door opened, allowing a sudden visitor to enter the home. "Darling, they didn't have ground coffee, so I got normal-"
The man froze, as did the trio. His hair his wild and clothing was wrinkled, he looked like he just got off the streets. But no, this was him. That was Jim Moriarty, standing before them. His eyes were as wide in shock as the three were.
Had they just caught him? Had this been where he was hiding out.
Jim's back was pressed against the wall, hand held up, as if asking not to attack him. His eyes shot toward Kitty. "You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here."
"You are safe, Richard." Kitty assured, Helena's head spun at the name. This was Richard? Richard Brook!? "I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of a witness."
"I would." Helena growled, causing Jim's eyes to snap toward her in fear of her claim.
"So, that's your source?" John questioned, pointing toward the man. "Moriarty is Richard Brook?"
Kitty stood there, smug as ever. "Of course he's Richard Brook, there is no Moriarty, there never has been."
"What are you talking about?" John questioned, his sight never leaving the man.
"Look him up." Kitty offered. "Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty."
Helena shook her head, raising a hand to her forehead. "Sorry, what?"
John tensed, taking a stance ready to tackle this monster down. "Doctor Watson," Jim spoke, both hands up in case he actually planned to. "I know you're a good man. Don't-Don't-Don't hurt me."
His eyes shifted to Helena, standing right by Sherlock but she soon grow close to John's side. "Helena, I-I never wanted- Please. You-" He gulped, taking a deep breath. "I never meant any harm. You're a sweet woman."
"How dare-"
"No, your Moriarty!" John barked, pointing at the man, refusing to accept Kitty's word. "He's Moriarty!We've met, remember!? You were going to blow us up!"
"You nearly got my brother killed and caused innocent orphans to die!" Helena screeched, making him jumped back wishing the wall was further away to coil against.
Jim covered his face for a moment, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was hor-horrible, I know. But-But he paid me." He motioned toward the stunned Sherlock. "I needed the work. I'm an actor, I was out of work."
"You liar." Helena hissed.
"Sherlock, you'd better explain," John said to his flat mate. "'Cause I am not getting this."
"I'll be doing the explaining." Kitty told, pulling out a papers to show John. "In print, it's all here. Conclusive proof."
Helena kept her eyes on the man as John skimmed through them. The man she had feared for her life for over a year, stood before her. His eyes reached hers, the smile almost desperate for forgiveness but she saw through it. Now, that was a grin of joy and amusement. Out of work actor, the name Richard Brooks didn't ring a bell. How had she not heard of this man through her connections?
"Where is he?" She asked him, letting John be busy with Kitty's bullshit tales. "Where is Trevor?"
Sherlock's eyes shot to Helena than toward Jim. He huffed out a breath, shaking his head. "He was paid too, you know he was homeless and desperate."
"He may have been desperate, but not enough to betray me and my family." She regarded.
Jim shook his head, pressing his hands together. "Please, Helena, Trevor needed the money. He had to get his daughter back somehow. I told him how much he paid and he agreed to help." Helena's lips parted, her jaw lowered in shock. "I wanted to help a friend out."
Helena felt everything blur around her, her eyes locked on with this man. She heard muffled yelling behind her, between Kitty and John mostly, not a peep out of Sherlock. Trevor was really that desperate?
"Where-Where is he?" She questioned, her nails tightly digging into her palms with her curled fists. "Is he dead."
Jim's mouth opened and closed, like a fish. He struggled for the answer, before shaking his head. "I'm so sorry. When he heard his daughter was adopted..." Kitty walked over, bring Helena near back to reality as Jim's eyes soared to the three. "I am sorry. I am, I am sorry."
"So, this is the story that you're going to publish?" John questioned. The big conclusion of it all, Moriarty is an actor?" He shook it head, denying any of this bull.
"He knows I am." Jim insisted. "I have proof. I have proof, show him. Can you show them something?" He asked Kitty.
"Yeah, show us something." John agreed.
Kitty went back into her bag, pulling out a red binder and showing papers and clippings. Helena glanced over, but her eyes couldn't leave the man before her. The words of her old friend were sinking in still, blinking away any tears threatening to show.
"I'm on TV, I'm on kids TV. I'm a storyteller." Jim told, as Kitty showed John the proof in her hands. "I'm the Storyteller. It's on DVD."
John was shocked by the papers, all claiming he was real shows, did real interviews, real resumes. Jim kept insisted to Sherlock to tell him the truth, to which Sherlock was losing his patience by each word uttered by him.
"It's all over, it's all out now. Just tell them." He begged Sherlock, pointing towards Helena. "Tell her the truth!" Sherlock approached him, causing him to back into the stairs, screaming. "No! No! Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!"
"Stop it! Stop it, now!" Sherlock howled at him.
Helena made the first move, causing Jim to turn and scrambled up the stairs. She hurried after him, with the men not too far behind.
"Don't let him get away!" Sherlock barked.
"Leave him alone!" Kitty yelled.
He ran straight to the bathroom slamming the door. Helena ran into it, and started ramming her shoulder to bust it down. She got it opened, finding the window open. She seethed, did he really think she wouldn't chase after him?
"Helena, wait! Stop!"
They watched her climb out and jump out the window. "Helena!" John reached out, but Sherlock stopped him.
"John, don't he'll have back up." Sherlock turned heading down the stairs as Kitty stepped back.
"What about Helena?" John asked, concerned she could get hurt or killed chasing him.
"Do you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you." He stopped at the stairs, glaring down at her. "And you repel me."
He swiftly turned, leaving the home. John shoved her away and followed after. The two needing to find Helena and a safe place to stay.
She ran after the man she saw under the street lights. His thin form wasn't hard to lose as she was growing closer to grabbing the end of his shirt. "Get back here you-"
Out of nowhere, Helena was side tackled to the ground. Air knocked out of her, she grabbed her attacked blindly, throwing a first finding contact with a jaw. She kicked them in the stomach and shoved them off, getting to her feet, ignoring the pain in her shoulder.
The attacker groaned on the ground. Helena needed her anger out, her eyes scanned the area finding Jim nowhere in sight. With a frustrated scream, she grabbed the man's collar and threw a punch across the strong jaw.
"You have no idea what you've just done!" She barked at him, sending another punch.
"I-I just.. Saved your life…" The man spat.
Helena reeled back for another hit, but something about his voice made her stop. His head hung, unable to see his face in the light. His hair was dark and scraggy, she could see his pale skin though paler than it should be. She gripped his shirt with both hands, shaking to get him to show his face. Her eyes went wide, feeling the air leave her lungs at the sight of the man.
"T-Trevor…"
Thanks for the follows and favorites!
Bored411- Yup, and yet she STILL has no idea about her eyes sight! Yea, it's gonna get stupid sad for the next few chapters for sure.
