Rory was lost in thought, pacing what bit of the room she could. Her stomach was finally settling, allowing her mind to be a bit sharper. So now here she was, thinking of escapes and thinking of answers. The voice was starting to leave her alone for longer periods of times. She wanted to let that allow her to relax, but she knew she couldn't. She had to be tough, a Holmes through and through. She was the younger sister to the only consulting detective, and dating what was the only consulting criminal. She was not weak, not at all. Tensing her muscles, she scanned the room again. She was determined to get out of there. There was no other option for Rory.
Finally Rory sat down on the bed again, chin in hands. She wished she'd never left the lab now. She was so stupid, not thinking through what was going on. Even Moriarty had warned her… Her sweet James. She groaned. Rory could only imagine how Sherlock was reacting. It was a given that Moriarty would go to her brother, if not both brothers. That would only mean tension and chaos. At the same time, Rory would give anything to watch them in the same room now. The thought of it actually brought a smile to her face, at least for a moment.
That moment faded, Rory thinking about what all was at stake. Did Moriarty realize she was probably expecting? Did he know what she knew? They had finally been working towards what they had always wanted, and now it was at risk for being taken away. Rory clenched her fist, slamming it on the bed as tears pricked her eyes. She shook her head. No, she had to better than that, and not even for herself. It had to be for her child. Rory took a deep breath. She was just going to have to stay strong until Sherlock cracked the puzzle, just as he always did.
Sherlock sat in his chair, listening to the crack of the fire. Moira was asleep, same with Moriarty. The others had all left. It was just past midnight, and Sherlock glared at the box of drugs in front of him. This is what everything had come to. How often had these types of substances ruined him, the things he held close? He let out a deep sigh, knowing the answer was all too many times. It had cost him everything. With a deep growl, he lunged forward, throwing the box into the flames. He watched as the remains of what had held him captive burned and sizzled.
"Sherlock?" a tired voice asked. Sherlock looked up to see Moira, dressed in just an oversized tee shirt, step into the room, rubbing her eyes.
"Did I wake you?" Sherlock muttered. Moira shook her head, walking up to him.
"What are you doing?" Moira inquired with a yawn. Sherlock studied her.
"I burned them… All of them. I'm changing, Mo. I have changed. I will do whatever the hell it takes to show you that," Sherlock explained. Moira bit her lip.
"I get the effort… But… Will it really do anything?" Moira sighed. Sherlock grabbed her arm.
"I want you back in my life. I want them in my life. I will do anything to show you that," Sherlock growled. He pulled her into his embrace, feeling her tense a bit. "I love you," he muttered into her hair, closing his eyes. With those words, Moira finally wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Then get better," Moira urged. She pulled back. "I'm going back to bed. Come with me. You need to sleep for once."
"Mo… I'm fine," Sherlock sighed.
"Sherlock, would you listen to me for once?" Moira demanded. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Fine," Sherlock caved, following her back. He hadn't even realized how tired he was until his head hit the pillow.
In the morning, Sherlock had a better state of mind. He jumped out of bed, careful not to wake Moira, running over to find one of his maps of London. He grabbed a pen, making marks of the murders and where Rory was taken from. He had a feeling they would not risk moving her so far away from where they were killing. What sense would that make? Their job in London wasn't done yet. It wouldn't make sense to move her until they also moved. Sherlock studied the map for a while, unaware when Mrs. Hudson walked up. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"I'm working," Sherlock muttered under his breath. He looked up and over at her. "I may know where Rory is being held."
"What?" a tired Moriarty breathed. He had just stepped out of his room. Sherlock looked over at him with a half smile.
"I need to call John," Sherlock replied, running to his room to grab his cell phone. Moira was just waking up.
"Sherlock, what's going on?" Moira asked with a yawn. Dialing John's number, he sat at the foot of the bed, absent mindedly setting his hand on Moira's feet.
"John, I have an address. I'll text it to you. Meet me there. Be armed," Sherlock explained as soon as he heard John answer.
"Is this about Rory?" John inquired. Sherlock looked over at Moira.
"Yes, I may have the whereabouts of where they're keeping her," Sherlock confirmed, hanging up and sending the address to Lestrade. He sighed as Moira slipped her arms around his neck. "That is a bit affectionate for you," Sherlock pointed out.
"What you did last night… I'm proud, Sherlock, I really am. It's a good step," Moira mused. She buried her nose in his hair.
"I have never stopped loving you," Sherlock told her. He pulled himself away with a sigh. "I should be going. It wouldn't be wise to waste time."
"No, certainly not," Moira cooed. "Bring her back safely, Sherlock." Sherlock managed a smile.
"I wouldn't dream of doing anything otherwise," he assured, stepping out of the room. Moriarty was waiting for him.
"Do you… Do you really think you may have found her?" Moriarty asked. Sherlock stiffly nodded.
"Stay here with Moira. I've already contacted John and Lestrade. I'm leaving now," Sherlock instructed.
"Sherlock, I have every right to be with her," Moriarty growled.
"She needs you here," Sherlock argued. He walked out before Moriarty could argue again. He ran down the stairs, fixing his jacket as he stepped out into the morning. There was a bit of a nip in the air, but it wasn't too bad compared to what it could have been. Grabbing a cab, Sherlock anxiously looked out on passing London. He couldn't think of the irony of everything. It was there… It was there that a life was lost. Sherlock hadn't been back since Ford's death. That place used to be a place of joy. He had his first kiss with Moira there. He also proposed there as summer became fall one year.
That all seemed like a lifetime ago, and now it only held bitterness. It also held his sister, the one he was supposed to protect. His parents had always asked him to take care of Rory since Mycroft and Ford were busy building careers. Everything had gone to hell since then. Most, if not all, was Sherlock's fault. He clenched his fist, watching as they pulled up to the warehouse. He tossed some money to the driver and stormed out without a word. "Sense of irony, isn't it?" Lestrade asked as he saw Sherlock.
"So I was just thinking," Sherlock muttered. John ran up to them.
"So, what's the plan?" John asked.
"We go in. We find her. We take her out alive," Sherlock growled.
"Should we call for backup?" Lestrade inquired.
"We shouldn't spook them. It will only end up causing her harm," Sherlock argued. He shook his head. "No, we must go in alone." He fixed his scarf. "So let's go." The warehouse was eerily quiet. There were indeed signs that someone had been here, but they were not here now. They had left in a hurry though, that was for sure.
Rory was curled up on the bed, shaking after experiencing morning sickness once again. She had heard rushing around just an hour before, followed by utter silence. She could hear nothing above the sounds that she made. The voice hadn't stopped by since the evening before. Rory felt more alone now than she ever had. However, she heard footsteps, loud ones, down the hall. She sat up, staring at the door, ready to go against the voice once more. However, when the door opened, Rory realized it wasn't the voice at all.
"Sherlock, I have her!" John called. He ran up to her, looking at her chains.
"Holy hell, John, how did you…?" Rory breathed, her voice raspy. Sherlock came bounding into the room.
"Rory," he muttered, running to his sister's side. "Lestrade! Look for a key!"
"A what?" Lestrade asked.
"A key damn it!" Sherlock snapped. John began looking over Rory.
"How are you feeling?" John asked calmly. Rory shrugged.
"I… well," Rory stammered.
"We already suspected you may be expecting," Sherlock confessed.
"How the…? Oh god, James found you?" Rory groaned. Lestrade entered the room.
"I, uh, found a key," Lestrade coughed. He handed it over to John who freed Rory.
"There was a man… Did you find anyone?" Rory demanded.
"Rory, we can talk more later. Right now we need to keep you safe," Sherlock soothed. It was only now that Rory realized she was crying.
"Wh-Where?" Rory muttered.
"Home," Sherlock whispered, picking her up in his arms. "I am to take you home."
A/N: So there we go... Rory is safe... At least for now. Also, Sherlock is going through some changes. Will he continue to try and do right by Moira? Or, will going back to where Ford died have a negative impact with him? Also, what happened to the voice? I'm enjoying this storyline the more it grows. I do apologize for slow updates on this one. The chapters are longer than the normal ones that I write, and I have to think through what I'm doing. Check out my profile, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always please leave a review!
