Hey guys, sorry for the long upload time, I caught a nasty cold and had 2 assignments to finish for college, but finally the next chapter is up! Thank you for the favs & follows everyone, I really appreciate it! And please review, otherwise I don't know what you guys want to read in the future! :)
Oki, so now, enjoy!
The first thing that I noticed was the incredible pain in my wrists. The stinging, blood cutting sensation was followed by the unforgettable rush of adrenaline, caused mainly by the gut wrenching fear I was experiencing. Despite my best efforts my eyes remained shut, though my hearing and smell returning slowly allowed me to be assaulted by the traffic sounds from outside and the unmistakable smell of moist concrete and wood. My head was throbbing and out of reflex I wanted to raise my hand to my forehead, but found that I couldn't. Whether I was tied, or simply paralyzed, I couldn't tell you. Panic rose and so did my breathing rate, my lungs gasping for any amount of oxygen I could manage, but I knew that it was still too little.
'I know you're awake' a familiar voice sounded, saying these words in an almost sing song manner, though the underlying frustration was hard to miss. Wanting to respond with a snarky reply, I opened my mouth, but my vocal chords seemed to be on strike, probably due to their dry state. Either way that response never made its way out, dying as a coarse gasp left my lips. I kept on pushing my brain to open my eyes, panic spreading through me as I still had no visual on my companion, that was the only means of identifying someone for me. Had he blinded me? No, that would be too risky and significantly more painful. As my eyes finally got assaulted by an all too bright light, instead of being annoyed about the pain I felt a surge of relief over me, so I still had my eyesight, however I had to close my eyes to ease the pain. Once again testing my body functions I attempted to lift my hands, feeling the muscles strain but the movement remained minimal. An almost sigh like breath left my lips as I realised that I was not tied down, simply under the effect of the drug. The drug. The headache subsided as memories flooded my internal sight, the cabby, the drug, the ride, the face I saw before I passed out.
'Le... Let me... Go' I managed to croak out finally, though every letter in those words hurt my throat more than being strangled. I could hear my wheezing breaths internally, though my ears were still coated in cotton wool. I furrowed my eyebrows, or well, at least I meant to do that, when I realised the cabby had started laughing. What was so amusing? Then again, people like him will find anything amusing that hurts another person. That's why I hunt them down.
'How about we play a game?' he asked, and I heard him lean down on a table I think.
My head hurt, my eyes hurt, my arms hurt, everything hurt. Now I had to battle a different kind of pain. Come on Kiera, you can do it, just do it, come on. I kept chanting in my head, knowing that what I did next would hurt more than anything, but once I did it I couldn't undo it. As I repeated the chant a second time I snapped my eyes open, the bright light assaulting my every optical nerve, stinging beyond anything I had ever felt. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, but I kept my eyes open, until they no longer burnt. With my vision swimming I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. Blinking several times to wash the rest of the tears down my vision became somewhat clearer, and I quickly recognised I was in a warehouse. The fact that I heard the steady rush of cars from the outside meant I wasn't far away from a major road, so already my brain was trying to work out a possible location. But to what end?
'Wha... What game...' I wheezed, my throat still scratching uncomfortably, though slightly better as I managed to wet it with some saliva.
'Oh, just a simple game really, I was told you're smart' the cabby smiled at me, almost warmly, but his eyes revealed a certain kind of crazy spark that no one should ever trust. I let my eyes settle on his, waiting for him to explain the rules. 'All you have to do is choose a pill, from the ones I set in front of you. One is the good pill, and the other is the bad pill. I take the one left over and swallow it. It's a game of intelligence really.' He placed two pills in front of me, both identical in colour, shape and size, and presumably in weight too.
'Chance' I croaked, 'A game of luck'
'Oh no, it's not chance, if it was I'd be dead' he smiled.
'You make them swallow the pill, under what condition? What's the security in that? What if they refuse?' I tilted my head, my throat finally soothing somewhat to allow me to form proper sentences, though my tone was still well rougher than my usual one.
'I don't need security' he smiled smugly.
'Then I refuse' I leaned my arms on the table, having to admit that that motion felt as if they were made of jell-o and probably looking that way too.
'I wouldn't recommend that' he now looked somewhat annoyed, fiddling at the back of his trousers to try and intimidate me.
'Whoever told you I'm smart told you I'm a detective too, I'm assuming?' I leaned in more onto the table, most of my body weight on the four legged contraption now.
'Oh yes' he smirked.
'If you have a gun just bloody shoot me then, I'm not taking any of those pills.' I smirked slightly at the confused look on the cabbies face, but to his credit he did pull the gun. My smirk died when I noticed that it wasn't a real gun, looking down the barrel might have scared most other people but one glance to the side revealed that the safety was fused to the rest of the body, the barrel too tight and the telltale straight line running through the middle of the gun showing where the plastic filled the impression gap in casting. Well there goes my chance at a painless death. Now the only question was do I play along, or do I call out his bluff and fight?
'You have nothing more to live for anyways, Miss Creedon' his smug voice almost resounded in my head, those words repeated to me after everything that had happened so many times I grew numb to them.
'There are many things to live for, if I lost what I had I'd just find something else to keep me going. At the stage I'm at, going to sleep just to wake up to see the sun rise is worth living for, when I finish breakfast; dinner is worth living for. There's always something.'
'Beautiful' he simply exclaimed. I chose to not reply to that and started thinking of something I could actually do to get out of this sticky situation.
If the man has any brains he wouldn't be here alone with me untied. However, the fact that I had barely any control over my limbs and that I probably had less strength than coordination at the moment, mainly thanks to the drug, left me with no real choice.
'Fine, I'll take the pill, got any water to swallow it? Or do I chew it?' The cabby smiled at my choice, clearly thinking he had won the battle of power, and replaced the gun into the back of his jeans.
'Chew, I forgot the water today' Chew huh. Though the results never came back on what the drug was that killed the 'suiciders' before me, that drug either had to be of a distinct smell when mixed with water, neutralised by it, or simply too weak when diluted.
Slowly picking up both capsules I roll them around in my fingers, try and stall the man I kept telling myself, maybe Mycroft has tracked my phone, maybe Sherlock or Lestrade noticed I was gone, maybe, just maybe, I was going to be saved. Both tablets contained an almost sugar like substance in them, and my mind quickly concluded what drug it was. Asphyxiation, chew, sugar like appearance, quick action. Cyanide. How Germanic.
'You know, they used those in Germany' I attempted to keep a conversation going, stall him until I couldn't anymore. 'World war 2' The man looked at me interested, I guess he hadn't researched it, his gaze urging me to continue. 'It's how Himmler died, over 7000 suicides in Germany between 1939 and 1945 were committed using a highly effective, quick, but incredibly painful drug known as Hydrogen Cyanide. You know what it smells like when dissolved?' I tilted my head to the side, how much did the man truly know? Was he simply handed the pills and told which ones are good and which ones bad, and to not use water at all?
'Bitter almonds' he replied, correctly so. I nodded my head.
'Not everyone does smell it though, funnily enough it's like brussel sprouts. Just like some people will always find brussel sprouts bitter and horrible, some people will never smell Cyanide. Genetics is funny isn't it?' The tablets were still in each hand respectively, still twirling between my fingers, the plastic casing slowly becoming softer and softer. 'I was tested for those genes, simple experiment we did in college, but ever so handy now, at least I know I can always eat my face full with brussel sprouts during Christmas.' I smirked at the man, who was listening intently to my little speech, good. 'And I also know that I am one of the people that can smell bitter almond' I said a little prayer to god that there was any amount of residue on the capsules as I lifted both of them to my nose, and god would have it I perceived the slightest whiff of that glorious smell from my right hand. Replacing the tablets on the table, the intent gaze of the man shifted to one of confusion, then to anger. He only now noticed what I was doing. As I was replacing the pills I let the pills swap around in my hands, holding the man's gaze, making my motions as unnoticed as possible. I'll give him his death.
'Smart.' Was his only remark, as he shifted the left tablet towards me, and going to grab the right one. However, my hand was closer and I managed to grasp the tablet before he did, lifting it up and towards my mouth. 'Oh' was all he said as he took the left one, also lifting it to his lips. Seems like my attempt at swapping them out was successful. Feeling the softened shell of the now warm tablet on my lips I wanted to gag, the idea of it slowly and painfully sliding down my already burning throat making the bile rise to my stomach. Fully intent on swallowing the tablet I opened my mouth and propped it between my teeth, looking at the table as I was unable to hold the man's victorious gaze. Just as I looked up to meet the steel eyes, a loud bang echoed through the empty concrete room and I felt a warm trickle on my face, before seeing the cabbies eyes widen in surprise and what I perceived to be relief before they went empty and his lifeless body thumped on the floor.
'No... No, no no!' I shouted, the pill falling out of my mouth, forgotten. I rose to my feet for the first time since I left Charlie and looked around frantically, trying to find the shooter. The acoustics of the building made it impossible for me to hear any particular direction, as the shot rang out and echoed so many times it overlapped the original source. Soon standing up was too painful and I collapsed back into my seat, moments after hearing the door being thrown open and frantic voices shouting commands. I looked at the corpse of the cabby, he didn't even get to die his own death. Even that little privilege was taken from him. Somewhere within me I know he knew I gave him the bad pill. He wasn't dumb, just misguided and probably expecting a death that he didn't control. No one risks their life like that simply for the thrill, it was possibly the last thing he had control over and he lost that. Had he a wife? Children? Had they loved him? Left him? Did he have relatives at all left? Anyone to miss him? I never usually asked those questions when looking at a body, but for some reason I couldn't stop them now. And finally I asked the question that explained my unusual thoughts: How do I want to die?
The voices and boots grew louder by the second, and soon police officers stormed the room I was in, still sitting on that measly wooden chair in front of the too short wooden desk and the body in front of it, laying still in a puddle of crimson water. I couldn't help but admire the way the blood stained the grey concrete, it reminded me of the way expensive red wine coats the wine glass in a thick, even coat.
'Kiera!' I heard Lestrade shout from behind the officers, but I didn't have it in me to respond in any way, still staring at the mess in front of me. 'Hey' he repeated as he took hold of my shoulder. The grasp was in no way hard, quite contrary, it was a gesture of absolute truth and sorrow, but I still flinched away from the brown eyed man. Was he the one that took away the only control that the dead man before me had? Could he have done that? The simple answer was yes, he could have done that. He was a trained police officer, like me, and we are told to shoot when a threat arises, we are told not to care. I turned my head to look at Lestrade, his eyes showing clear upset at the fact that I rejected his touch, but also lined with concern. He must believe I was in shock. Perhaps I was, its hard to tell when it's happening to you.
'Did you shoot?' I asked, nodding my head toward the cabby. Lestrade broke eye contact to look at the body, then turned back and shook his head.
'No, we heard the shot and stormed the building; we're looking for the shooter.' He glanced sideways again, as if looking for the shooter despite knowing that they weren't there anymore. I let my head drop into my hands, shoulders rolled up as I just folded into myself. I wasn't crying, but the exhaustion hit me all of a sudden, my body clearly not as recovered from the drug as I thought it was. I felt Lestrade place another hand on my other shoulder, but didn't react to it at all, too tired to move my muscles. As I sighed, slouching that little bit more, Lestrade started whispering in my ear 'It'll be ok, you're fine, you're alive, isn't that what matters?'
'What good is my life if I can't even choose my own death?' A rumbling hum arrived from the other side of me, so I slowly lifted my head and looked up to investigate the source. As soon as I saw the dress shoes and suit trousers I could have a pretty good guess at who it was.
'The shooter, you're looking for someone who is an exceptionally good marksman, loyal, probably military training' He already shot out his deductions while I just let my heavy head fall onto my lap, medical personnel only now arriving, and almost frantically checking me for wounds, fussing over my wrists and asking if I got injected or otherwise injured. I told them about the drug so they promptly took a blood sample for analysis, after my very persistent request. Sherlock looked around a little longer, his eyes landing on Watson who was several meters behind him, notepad out and all. The Consultant was muttering something under his breath that I was simply too tired to even attempt to catch, and the cover that was thrown over my shoulders did little to alleviate my sleepiness. 'Actually, scrap that, I made a mistake' I heard Sherlock mutter before darkness once again befell me. Last thing I remember was a strong set of arms catching me before I hit the hard floor, and frantic shouting of the medics. I need a drink.