A/N: Chapter two. I wrote this in one sitting when I was feeling rather depressed from the weather. Hope you enjoy. Same review policy from last chapter applies here. I was experimenting with a more dialogue driven style with this too.
The Choice.
The screams, physical pain.
"Holmes go back! Save them! Holmes!"
The little girl. You could hear her screams echoing, reverberating off my brain. A struck chord.
"Holmes!" I whirled around to face Watson's tear stained face.
I couldn't save them. I failed. What did one say to a man who was watching a family lose their everything?
Speechless for the first time
"There is still time! We can-"
A shot.
Sobs.
A shot.
Screams.
A shot.
Silence.
I stood stiff. Silence is relative, and the air was thick with unspoken words.
"I'm sorry." There is no way this is adequate.
"Is that all you can say?"
"I'm sorry." I say louder, yet still hardly above a murmur.
The little girl. She looked like Mary. She was only nine. I murdered her, even if my hand was never on the trigger, my silence murdered her.
Silent tears.
The look on his face was of such sheer revulsion that it was hard to tell these were the same friends who had been seen dining at Simpson's earlier.
"Do not make me choose."
"Choose? What the devil do you mean? What the devil was more important than that child's life?"
"I can't tell you-"
"No! Because you don't have an answer. Can you admit for once that you are as confused as the rest of us?"
"I cannot save them all!"
Tempers rise.
"I wish it could always be that simple. There are times, that to interfere would bring about worse consequences then to let things run their course. Sometimes people must die!"
"A child!"
His glare revealed the stirred up passion beneath his shaking, ash covered exterior.
Failure.
Cowardess.
A Choice.
"My brother!"
Shock.