Chapter 18: Ring Around the Rosey~
The car stopped, right outside the burnt wall of the old warehouse, right outside the self-same room in which Sherlock was once tormented as a child,and where-in Chaya died.
Sherlock sat up from Mycroft's arms, shaking like a leaf in a winter's last breath. Mycroft still clung to his hand. He turned to look at him, eyes wide, as if discovering some sort of horrible truth.
And who knows how fear is processed in the beautiful mind of Sherlock Holmes? How the most rational of minds could come to the conclusion that he needed to be afraid? Violently afraid...
Mycroft didn't tell him he was alright, because he knew that he was not. But he needed to tell him something, to give him some ,small measure of peace, in the torment of his memory.
"I'm here..." he whispered, and Sherlock nodded. Jim tore open the door. Sherlock closed his eyes, preparing himself. Let out a huff, and opened his eyes, clenched his jaw, trying to be ready, even though he never would. Nobody should ever HAVE to be ready for ...this. Before he could turn around, Jim had taken him by the head, kissing him in the midst of his hair. Mycroft felt like he was going to be sick.
"Mmmm...Sherlock, I'm going to miss you SO much, you know?" he said, as he reached, and undid their cuffs, prying their hands apart. Or he tried to, in the end, to prove to Mycroft he could do this, Sherlock had had the courage to let go himself, and to bat Jim's hand away. Who proceeded to draw his hands ,in a pretense of affection, through his hair, and leaned close to his ear,whispering,
"Oh, I have to show you something...before we go in..." He grabbed Sherlock by the throat then, and lead him into the wreckage...
Sherlock came running out, unrestrained, a moment later, eyes foggy with tears, stumbling as if he was lost.
"There...She's...she's in there,Mycroft! She's...still there..." he gasped...
Mycroft slowly stood, hands folded. "So, there is still a body, Moriarty?" he addressed the psychopath.
"She is really lovely...looks better like that ,than she did in life, even. A bit skinny though..."
Sherlock turned to him, eyes wide with pain greater than fear..."For God's sake..." he croaked..."Don't make him go in there. Let him go now...Go home...Let all of this..end between you and I..."he held up his wrists,
"Let it be over now, whatever you thought about doing to me, I ask you to do far worse, if that is what it will take, to leave my family in peace..."
"Are you begging, Sherlock? You? Beg ?! Tsk, tsk, I am disappointed..."
"No...Not begging..."Sherlock hissed, jaw twisting in agony, "But if I must die -like this-by God it won't be for nought!" suddenly he tore out of his coat, and threw it on the pavement.
"Where is this device?Where?! Shall I lead the way, or will you do the honors?" he stormed towards the other door, and into death's waiting arms.
Quietly, shadowy like the Reaper,trying not to glance into the place already claimed by fire, Mycroft followed.
And there it was, a long track, like a factory belt, with two hooks hanging down, with cuffs for locking someone's wrists in.
"Simply step up on this box, and I'll push a button, and "Presto!"you're ready to go" Jim said in an animated tone. "It's set up like a car wash, we'll have to rinse you first."
Sherlock climbed the milk crate Jim gave him. With a hiss, he closed his eyes, and lifted his wrists,and Jim locked them in ,and kicked the box out beneath him And then he was suspended by his wrists,and gave a painful cry. But the worst part- the anticipation- was over now. The look Sherlock gave Mycroft told him we was ready...
But Mycroft Holmes is not one to give up that easily.
He pulled out his mobile. Jim pulled out his gun.
"What!- do you think you are doing?"
"Oh, texting the Queen to tell her about the assasination plan. Bloody well time someone did."
"Give me your phone."
"Are you going to threaten me with death?Sorry, but that would be more welcome than your initial plan."
He nodded to Sherlock hanging in the torture device..He was panting, thrown off by Mycroft's stalling.
For the upteenth time in their lives, his eyes said,
Don't try to save me...
And with his eyes Mycroft said back,
How can I not, brother mine?
"Anything you can threaten me with now, I can do worse to you..."Jim started, "Or rather, to him...I can make this SOOOOO much more painful than it has to be."
"Do it!"Sherlock hissed.
"What?"
"I'm going to die anyway. What does it matter?"
"He has a point."Mycroft shrugged.
"OH THE BLOODY HOLMESES!"Moriarty roared, suddenly violently angry,and pacing.
"Oh, are you angry, Jim?A tantrum?You?! Nahhh..."Sherlock mocked,in a vicious tone.
"SHUT UP! I'm thinking of a way to make this worse, if there is one, which there better be for my sake, so sorry for you..."
"Take your time, it's not like we're... going anywhere..."Sherlock said, looking up at his wrists...
Absently ,he started to wonder how John was taking all of this...