A/N: Oh my goodness... I'm feeling rather ashamed of myself right now. It's been almost a year since I updated this story. I apologize for this guys, it's not cool of me to leave you all hanging in suspense. This year has been hectic, what with exams and my final year of high-school, but that's still no excuse. Now, please enjoy this chapter and look forward to what I have in store for all of you. Thank you and off we go... :p
SOMEWHERE IN THE UK: HIGH ROYAL LUNATIC ASYLUM:
The air was crisp and cold, just like a winters night. Each wall had become a relic over time. A name or date transcribed into the cracking paint. I could hear the rain lashing down, thundering against a variety of tough surfaces. Voices echoed around, distantly whispering about the past and what the future held. I shivered violently as the breeze boasted into the room. Except, this was no room; this was certainly not my home. A cell, probably the tiniest in the block, held my captive and forced me to surrender. My eyes floated open, no tears present. I'd already cried myself dry, I was used to this by now. I wasn't supposed to be here. No, it wasn't supposed to be me. I'm cocooned, yet, I feel no safety. To be quite honest, I blame Sherlock; but blaming individuals wasn't going to help me right now. I rested my dirty locks against the wall and let out a defeated sigh, life in the asylum wasn't the easiest. I'd not even been declared insane, this was Jackson. Jackson Holmes and his bloody government connections. How did I end up in a lunatic asylum, I hear you ask? It all began shortly after Jim's death...
A YEAR PREVIOUS: LONDON:
Standing in front of the mahogany mirror, I brushed out the blonde curls and sighed deeply. Life had improved since Jim's untimely death, but only by a small amount. Every time I saw my bruises, I was reminded of Jackson and the dark thoughts that soon followed. How it would feel to kill him, to torture him and watch the psychopath burn. However, there was no-way I could ever accomplish something of that degree. Unaware of the presence lurking behind me, I continued to stare at my death-like reflection. In the previous year, I'd lost that spark I once held; It emanating in my thoughts and fears towards life. A loud, yet calm cough echoed around the bedroom, causing me to stop and turn sharply. Smiling at the intruder, I continued to brush through my blonde curls.
"It's rude to enter without permission."
The 'intruder' chuckled softly and moved another inch into the small space. The Watson's had been a strong force in my recovery. Especially Mary. She tried her best to include me in the most pivotal of tasks. Whether it was shopping or a coffee morning, Mary invited me along. I suppose it helped me to forget, to take the edge off of things. One time whilst out, Mary had admitted that John thought that I'd end up 'topping myself.' It's sad to say, the thought was certainly there; bouncing off the walls and into my deepest thoughts. But, for Ellie's sake and for my own, I couldn't simply be selfish. I couldn't leave my daughter alone on this dangerous planet. Standing to inspect my attire, I took a quick peep at Mary and sighed contently. Mary took this as a sign and looped her arm around my own.
"I'm glad you agreed to this." She exclaimed, gesturing along with her free arm. "All of the ladies are extremely excited to meet you."
Ah, that's right. The Women's Institution. Not exactly my ideal night out, if I was being brutally honest. I'd would rather of stayed inside and watched Sherlock, helping him with his cases. He was often able to take my thoughts away from Jim and onto clearer things. However, I'd heard many tales from John about the woman at this group. All in their early-to mid thirties and most, divorced or in-the process of. I wiped my prejudiced thoughts to one side and grabbed a coat, slowly exiting the room. Mary followed suit and after a short drive, we arrived to my worst social-nightmare. The restaurant wasn't too fancy, but the establishment still felt rather elegant. The table, situated in the centre of the room, was home to four sour-faced ladies. Mary and I took our seats, the former smiling at her companions. Each of the woman turned to face me and in return, I gave my weakest smile. I was a thorn in a sea of roses. These women had no idea what pain felt like. What death can do a person. None of them have lived and left their comfortable, rich lives. A waiter sauntered over and began to take down our orders. Everyone but myself ordered an alcoholic drink. Once more, the scrutinising eyes snapped back to me. One woman, Sophia Kingsley, smirked and set her piercing gaze onto me.
"Do you not like alcohol?" She asked, a hint of condescension in her nasally tone. I raised my head and stood my ground, staring back at the housewife.
"I'm not a big drinker, I never have been." The woman nodded in response and craned her head to speak to Mary, who smiled at her friend warmly. Oh, the ignorance in that woman was incredibly shocking.
"Have you John thought about having more children?"
This caused Mary to choke on her wine and to the amusement of the other women, spill it onto her top. I responded rapidly by grabbing a serviette and passing it to the flustered Mary. She smiled over, accepting the cloth and proceeding to dab her green shirt.
"We've not exactly talked about it, to be honest." Mary replied anxiously, glancing around the table. The women mumbled, splitting their rouge lips to sly, deceiving smiles. Then it was my turn. All eyes, once again, turned to me. I'd heard about this group of women. They swapped others secrets like they changed husbands. I'd also heard what they'd said about me. All of those whispers and knowing smirks.
"That's her. The psychopath's widow..."
"She's just as psycho as he is."
"I'm surprised that she's not dead too."
"Her poor daughter..."
Slamming my glass down, I glared at the women and stood up abruptly. My emotions were scattered, I wanted these bitches to stop. Mary placed a hand on on my shoulder, however, I simply shrugged her off. One woman, the obvious ringleader, smirked up at me and raised a manicured brow.
"How dare you." I seethed angrily. The women looked threatened by the sudden outburst. Withdrawing from the table, I listened to the gasps of on-lookers and felt my lips curl into a smirk. "You can whisper, taunt, laugh; In the end, it doesn't matter what you really think. I'm done with inconsiderate people. We're all psychopath's in the end. Waiting for our turn on the throne... Guess what ladies? The wheel has turned and now, I'm the god-damn queen." Drinking the remained of my soda, I slammed the glass down and exited the establishment; leaving the others to watch in complete silence.
In the time of stepping inside and leaving, the rain had begun to pour down onto the dingy streets. Trying to shake off the pent-up anger, I set off in the direction of Baker Street. There I would be able to find happiness. Ellie would need her bath... She'd also need cuddles. The thought of my daughter caused a small smiled to seep through. Hailing a cab, I soon began my journey back to happiness. Oh, how wrong I would be. After a short and awkward tax-ride, we arrived and oddly, the rain had seemed to subside into raging sunshine. I paid the talkative cab-driver and exited, taking the small steps up to 221B. However, something was deeply wrong with the scene before me. The large, black door was slightly a-jar. Normally, I'd scold Sherlock for leaving it open after a case. But this wasn't Sherlock, it couldn't be. Sherlock and John weren't even in the country. They'd taken a case over in Sweden, leaving myself and Ellie alone. Mrs Hudson couldn't haven forgotten, could she? Rushing inside, I immediately rushed to find the elderly lady; she was the one watching the children. Her flat was completely empty, minus the smashed tea-cups and biscuit plates. She was gone. Suddenly, a shrill cry echoed from the flat up-stairs.
Ellie.
My heart hammered against my chest as I ascended the staircase. This wasn't happening... Not my daughter. Reaching the flat, I reached for my hidden gun and clicked off the safety. This would notify them that I was home. I entered the flat and was greeted by a horrific site. Three men stood by the fireplace, one sat in Sherlock's chair. This particular man was holding my daughter, cooing nonsense into her tiny ear. My throat dried up at the sight.
"Jackson... You bastard."
Jackson Holmes sat up in the chair, a sadistic smirk on his sharp features. I held my ground and stared at the younger Holmes brother. He glanced at Ellie, watching her cautiously.
"Ah, hello Juliet. It's been too long."
"Give me my daughter and nobody has to get hurt." I spoke calmly, trying not to spook the curious Ellie. Jackson chuckled darkly and motioned to one of the guards. The said guard exited the room, only to re-enter with a very familiar woman. Sophia circled around me, her hazel eyes scrutinising me as she stepped slowly. A small gasp escaped my lips, only to add to her amusement.
"Well, look who's the queen now." She said darkly, before lifting Ellie into her arms. Jackson stepped out of the chair and stood even closer to me, a sinister sparkle in his eyes.
"I won't repeat myself, Jackson. Give me my daughter." I warned, a little louder this time. The two shared a look, then all eyes turned to me.
"I'm afraid we can't do that, dearest Juliet. We've got plans for you." Jackson exclaimed softly. I raised an eyebrow and watched the man carefully.
"Plans?" My voice wavered slightly. Sophia continued to smirk and I took another large, yet un-calming breath.
"Oh, yes. Sophia here has volunteered to take Ellie off your hands. Children aren't really welcomed where we are heading."
Sophia saw a small sign and started to head in the direction of the door. I began to protest, moving my arms to punch the woman but, I was stopped by an even stronger Jackson.
"Let go of me!" I shouted out in protest, struggling against Jackson's grip. "Let me go, please. That's my daughter, no! You can't do this. No... You-You can't do this... That's my daughter..." My sobs echoed around the room. Jackson's grip loosened and rather cunningly, he pulled me against his chest. From then, he began to 'soothe' me and rub a hand down my back. However, I was too caught up in my grief to protest his slimy actions.
"Shh... That's it, shh..." A hand moved to my neck and before I was able to react, a syringe was forced to my veins. As my eyes drooped and the feeling of movement was lost, I gladly welcomed the looming darkness. The only words I recall would stay with me for a long time after...
"Welcome to hell..."
SOMEWHERE IN THE UK: HIGH ROYAL LUNATIC ASYLUM:
There were voices in my head. No, I wasn't insane. But there were voices. Tiny whispers telling me what I've failed at and he people who have failed me. I rammed a fist against the stone wall, sending a shooting pain through my arm. Tears dropped onto my cheeks, as I remembered that fateful day. I wasn't strong enough, yet I had to be. For Ellie, for Jim and most importantly, for myself. A female voice echoed into the cell. I looked up to see Sophia standing at the gates, her condescension ruining my evening. She opened the lock and sauntered inside, however, once she entered; the brunette then proceeded to lock the gate behind her. I simply watched and waited for the come even closer.
"You've not eaten." I let out a tired chuckle and glanced her way.
"If you were me, love, you'd have no appetite too." Sophia shook her head and began to remove an item from her pocket. I tried to make-out the item and soon realised that it wasn't anything friendly. The witch had brought a knife in.
"Stand up." She barked sharply. Following the order, I staggered to my weary feet and leaned against the wall. Sophia smirked and brought the knife into view. "Now, Jackson said that you weren't to be killed. Which is rather annoying, as I want you dead more than anybody else. So-"
"So, you thought you'd have some fun and pass it up as a suicide?" I finished the sentence, already in-sync with her plan. The brunette nodded softly, coming closer and raising the sharp object.
"My, my, Juliet. You are smart. It's such a shame..." She paused for a moment, glancing to her left momentarily; before switching her gaze back to me. "Oh, well."
Sophia smirked sadistically, before driving the knife towards my stomach. I let out a groan and brought my knee forwards, knocking her onto the floor. The knife fell from her grip and luckily landed next to me. I swiped it up, much to my bodies protest, then moved over to Sophia's crumpled body. She cowered over and began to protest. I simply smirked and brought the knife down into her weakest points. Our eyes met and I leaned down, closer to her ear.
"Well, look who's queen now?"
A/N: To be continued... Updates should be regular, as we are starting to get to the nitty-gritty of Juliet's journey. Until next time my lovelies.
