A/N: Hey! So, it's me. I am really sorry about the amount of time it took to update this. I've been trying to bring my grades up (they were really bad-I had 3 C's and an F.) Aaaand then I procrastinated on editing this (my editor did, actually, but... I mean, I did too tbh). I am really sorry. But, hopefully, my grades are higher, and I will be posting more often! As always, please favorite/follow and/or review!
"When the days are cold and the cards all fold and the saints we see are all made of gold..." Sherlock woke up to the sound of someone singing. He listened for a few minutes, trying to figure out whose voice it belonged to, when it finally clicked...it was Isabel! He could still hear her singing fantly, even though she was downstairs. Sherlock finally got up, and began heading down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he finally reached the door to Isabel's flat, he noticed that it was slightly open. He stepped inside, and followed the sound of her voice, which lead him to the kitchen.
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale
I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
At the curtain's call
It's the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl
So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you've made
Don't wanna let you down
But I am hell bound
Though this is all for you
Don't wanna hide the truth
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Isabel had been looking at Sherlock since he had walked in. She eventually walked over to him as she had just finished the song, and looked at him, smiling shyly.
"You know, the music someone listens to tends to say a lot about that person. And if someone wants to to listen to that song, there is usually a hidden message." She murmured, her voice still slightly hoarse from the singing she had done.
"What are you hiding from me?" Sherlock questioned, but his voice demanding.
"Nothing! I just thought it was a neat little fun fact!" Isabel said, albeit unconvincingly. Sherlock's eyes squinted at her, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Tell me Isabel." Sherlock demanded, rasing his voice slightly. She dropped the false smile, her expression suddenly turning serious.
"I'm not telling you anything, Sherlock." She stated, her voice grim and tone sharp. She brushed passed him, walking into the living room, and went to grab her gun.
"Why won't you tell me?" He asked, treading carefully with his choice of words, seeing that she now was holding the gun.
"If I were to tell you anything, which I am not, but if I were, we would both end up dead. The same goes for anyone else who finds out." She explained, her voice filled with seriousness, and her eyes held no trace of being anything but. Then, she placed the firearm back down after a minute or two.
"I have supposedly been dead once, but yet, I am still here." Sherlock said, trying, (but failing), to make some light of the situation at hand. But, seeing Isabel's grim and tensed expression made him serious once again.
"NO! You don't understand-"
"Well, obviously, I do, Isabel." Her eyes showed her grief and slight annoyance and worry.
"No, Sherlock! You don't. You may tell yourself you do, but you don't! This is one thing that you will NEVER EVER undersstand. If you ever do, it'll be in the last few moments of your life. Please, just, try to understand, this is something I can't ever tell you of. Alright?" Isabel asked, her eyes glassy with nonexistant tears threatening to fall, but being held back. Isabel placed a hand over her ayes, and dragged it down her face with a tired sigh.
"Why would I understand it only then?" Sherlock asked. Isabel turned to look at him with a strong look of irritation.
"Because, as soon as you understand why, the people who I have been avoiding will begin to go after you. And, if they are originally and really after me, then they would be ready to kill me at any moment without any hesitation, especially if I give any detail of information away." Isabel began to breath a little heavier, tears breaking through her strong hold on them, and then running down her cheeks. "And...I can't have you dead. I just can't, I couldn't forgive myself if you were killed due to something I did or said. The only person that would maybe tell is-" She cut herself off, not wishing to tell Sherlock, and let him know about Mycroft's involvement with her dire and dangerous situation.
"Who?" He demanded, "Who else knows and might tell me?!" Isabel froze, unsure of what to do, her thoughts ran through the only option, 'Tell the truth, or lie.' She took a deep breath, trying to regain what little will and strength she had to rebuild her composure, and spoke,
"The only person that might possibly tell you without having their life be in peril, would be...Mycroft." She stammered, staring at Sherlock intently, unsure of his reaction. Anger, irritation, confusion, fright, shock, hurt? Betrayal? "He would probably lie all about it, though, Sherlock. Please, try to remember that. Please!?" She murmured. Then taking a few steps towards him, but instead of saying anything, he walked right past her, and then out the door. All the while, he ignored her presence completely. Isabel just sighed, and sat down on her couch, in deep thought of what had just happened, and what might come of it. _
Sherlock hailed a taxi, and as the cab pulled up, he realised he had forgotten his long coat, as well as his scarf, oh, and along with his gloves. He gave the driver the directions to the old, and abandoned, ware house that Mycroft, (For some weird, creeepy, and a bit over-dramatic reason) likes to meet people at. On the way there, he texted his brother, telling him that he would be there soon. When Sherlock arrived, Mycroft was already there, waiting for him.
"Ah, dear brother of mine, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit for?" The elder of the Holmes brothers asked in an all too caring tone. Sherlock just scoffed at his brothers false antics and acts of 'care.'
"We need to talk about Isabel." He stated seriously, needing to know what has been going on. This statement made Mycroft's expression change, into a visibly disgusted look.
"What? Has she done something wrong?" Mycroft asked, not even bothering to hide his very obvious distaste at the subject Sherlock had brought about.
"She is obviously involved in something big, but she won't even tell me what it is."
Mycroft scoffed, "Sherlock, of course she isn't going to tell you. She was a criminal!" Mycroft stated, his tone slightly louder and even more disgusted, especially as he spat out the word 'criminal' as if it were a curse.
"No, she isn't Mycroft. You know that." Sherlock quickly retorted to his brothers previous statement. Mycroft just sighed.
"If you want to believe that is so, fine. But, the truth..." Mycroft trailed off, waiting for a few minutes, (most likely trying to add for effect), then, he began to tell Sherlock the whole story. "The truth is..."
Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street, and as he stood just outside the flat. he noticed that Isabel's car was still parked out front. He sighed in relief. He walked inside and then knocked on her door, waiting, as he heard footsteps. He took a deep breath. All of a sudden, a man, not Isabel, as he had been suspecting, answered the door instead, wearing an evil grin.
"Hello Sherlock!" He said, his smile widening to a sickening sweet, and toothy Cheshire grin.
"Why are you here, Moriarty!?" Sherlock yelled, his mind's thoughts and worry of Isabel's whereabouts gnawing away at him.
"Oh, I just had to...settle something...with my dear little Isabel." Moriarty's eyes filled with maliciousness and pure evil. This comment had also made Sherlock look behind Moriarty...
Isabel...was laying on the floor, unconscious.
A/N: Well, I hope you liked it. If you didn't, well... Can't please everyone, can I? I'm sorry it was such a short chapter. I promise the next one will be longer.