A/N: Hello all! This is my first adventure into a crossover story. I REALLY hope you like it; I have been working this for about a month. I would love your opinions, reviews, thoughts, what you like, what you didn't.
-Summary: 13 years of pain, suffering, & a wish for death is suddenly taken away when a man with slate/blue eyes gently grabs my wrist and just gives me a smirk.
-Story revolves mostly in normal London, with some mentions of the WW, maybe an 'adventure' to it later on. Fem!harry, nonromantic john/sherlock, differentish Mycroft (to a point) and Greg just being Greg.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but original characters. Duh. That is all I will say.
A/N: So for this chapter, we are going to go back again. Going back to when IT all began to implode. So…here we go.
I remember how they looked after their first interaction with Moriarty, with them almost being blown up and/or shot in the process; shaken, on da's part, while dad was torn between intrigue and anger. Dad had tried to keep me away from the case, abate that being hard to do with the telly covering that explosion that murdered twelve people, but in the end both the dads agreed I needed to know about the psychopath mass murdering man obsessed with dad; also, I needed to know about how close the man had come, seeing as he had placed the trainers of Carl Powers in 221 C, a flat that hadn't been opened in the months since dad & I moved the lab back upstairs, according to Mrs. Hudson. It seemed that Moriarty knew nothing of me, but seeing as he had nabbed da like it was nothing drew concern from all of us; despite his shoulder injury, da was still a soldier who could, and would, fight back when needed & Moriarty was still able to pull him into the shadows & placed C4 explosives to his chest.
Thinking back, I should have paid more attention to the flat when I returned from school; the lights were on when da or I always turned them off when we left the flat, the telly was off while dad left it on nowadays to drown out Uncle Mycroft's bugs, & the door was unlocked, while the dads' coats were gone. This should have raised a red flag if I had not been distracted while talking to Cadence about the Chemistry essay due next week; I had walked in like I normally did after school, but when I got to the top of the steps I knew something was off. Hanging up the phone & sliding it into my pocket, I placed my bag on the nearest chair before making my way into the living room. But nothing was there, no one was there; still, I cast my eyes up to the bookshelf, praying that there was a new camera there to replace the one dad broke two nights ago. But before I could make any code signs, a foul smelling rag was shoved over my mouth and nose, the living room blurring before it was gone in a sea of black.
That was how I found myself here; torso tied to a metal chair that was chained to the wall, a gag in my mouth, my wrists & legs bound separately with chains & my head throbbing as I took in my surroundings. It was a four by seven cell with no windows, no vents, & one heavy, metal door. How do I know it's a heavy door? Because I had woken up to it slamming shut. I don't know how long I have been here, but I have been awake for only two hours; if I could see the sun, I could tell how long I was here, seeing as it was close to five when I got home from school. Whatever drug that had been used to knock me out was still active, making me nauseous and dizzy, the room spinning every now and then; that being the only reason I am glad to be held upright by the rope. I am not delusional, I know that it was Moriarty who kidnapped me; I just pray Uncle Mycroft's camera caught everything and I almost beg whatever deity out there that will listen to me to have my phone in either Moriarty or one of the kidnapper's hands. It did not matter if the phone was shut off or not; it was designed to be found. One of Uncle Mycroft's very secret technology projects he let me have; again, not fooled in the slightest, but it's nice to know how far he would go to keep me safe.
My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, a man with short brown hair and devious brown eyes walking in; Moriarty, I recognize him from the dads' description. He's wearing a three piece suit, although not of the same quality that Uncle Mycroft wears, his shoes were a soft black with red dirt on the bottoms; not from the cells, as they were stone with no dirt in sight. Maybe it's from the exterior of the building where I'm being held? He has yet to speak, watching me as I watch him; I can't stop the fear that is building up in the back of my mind as he stalks closer until he stops only a few feet from me.
"Who would have thought Christmas would come early for me? If I had known about you before, I would have had you AND your dad's pet blogger all wrapped up for him. I can see you, little Stella Holmes, and I can smell the fear." He whispers the last in my ear, prompting me to try and pull back from him, stopped by the chains holding my hands.
I have many retorts for the man, but with the gag I am silent as he moves back to the door. It opens when he knocks, but he doesn't leave, instead he turns with a covered cart as the door closes again. His manic expression causes my brain to start panicking; my magic started to stir, the cracks in the wall surrounding it beginning to expand. But after almost a year of not using it, it struggles to find traction again; not to mention the other magic that was lingering in a section of my mind, waiting for a chance to be used. After that magic tried to lash out at dad one early morning, I kept it locked up tighter than the rest; the very essence of it made me sick.
Moriarty was gazing at the cart with a thoughtful expression before it morphed into one of glee, turning back to me with a corkscrew in his hand. His march forward was slow, but that didn't slow the fear that was spiking now; how I wished I was still groggy from the knockout drug. Nothing heightened the sense of panic like seeing your kidnapper turned torturer come at you with a sharp object. When he stopped, his free hand cradled my cheek despite my efforts to pull back, while his other one pulled back and jammed the corkscrew into my leg, drawing out a painful scream from my throat. I could feel the blood oozing out of the wound, but my concentration was on the rotation of Moriarty's hand; he drove the object until it met bone, eliciting another scream as metal met bone. He left the object in as he turned back to the cart, not seeing the hateful look I sent his way. He asked no questions of me, only laughed with every scream that filtered through the gag; I think I would take Quirrell/Voldemort in the Mirror Chamber again over this, any day. His next toy was a serrated knife about five inches long that he drags along my arm with no pressure, until it rests against my neck; that's when he finally speaks again.
"Now, all I need is some information from you and I'll make this somewhat quick. Where are Sherlock and Mycroft keeping the Iranian plans? I know the Flight of the Dead was scrapped after Miss Adler's help, but I just need to know, little Stella, please." He removed the gag, but holds my jaw closed. "Any funny business and I slice you open like a fish." His voice dropped several octaves & the glint in his eye sharpened, terrifying me further.
Once he removed his hand, I drew a deep breath and spit up the blood that had been pooling in my throat to the floor, near his black shoes. "Fuck off, if you think I will tell you anything, you are insane!" Even gagged, my voice was showing the strains of the screams of what seemed like a hours long event.
He back hands me with the knife still in his grip, pulling the edge of the blade across my cheek, tiny spots of blood littering the silver instrument. He then drags the blade across my legs, the jagged edges cutting the flesh into ribbons. The scream tore through my throat, echoing off the stone walls before the man stopped, dropped the knife before picking up a scalpel. He grabbed my hair and forced my head back, revealing my scar to the single source of light over my head.
"Let's add to this, shall we, Miss Holmes?" His voice held no illusion as to who he was; a mad man.
That's when I felt two things at once: the scalpel touch my forehead and that magic spring forward, blasting out of me towards Moriarty, who was slammed back into the wall. I suddenly felt groggy and drained as the world spun around me; but I could feel it move back to me, stopping short of my abdomen. It felt weaker than before, as if it was as drained as me from the blast. I feel it travel down my legs to the chains holding my ankles together before a 'click' had them falling off. It didn't try to return to my head again, instead it kind of, grew in size, until there was a blurry form standing between Moriarty and me. Though hazy, I could swear there was a teen standing there with black hair and dark eyes, his shoulders stiff as he watched me; he eventually gives me a small nod before speaking once and disappearing.
"You're safe now." Then, nothing; he was just gone, as was the presence of it from my mindscape. Was that what was in my head this whole time? Another person!? But…ow, my head was throbbing and I was still drained from that leaving me with the force that it did. Despite the pain that rippled through me, I pull my legs onto the chair until I could rest my head on my knees, releasing the tears that I had held back throughout the whole event. I don't know how long I was like this before Moriarty sat up, groaning as he stood on his feet. He had a massive bruise on the side of his face, but his eyes were still lit up with maniacal rage. Oh no, please no more, make it stop!
"That was interesting; we will have to do this again, my sweet little Stella Holmes. Tell Sherlock, I OWE him."
Then he too was gone, the door slamming shut behind him; the sob tore from my throat when he left, the terror coming out as one with that sound. Now the wait until the I'm found by either the dads or Uncle Mycroft's men.
"OH!" The doors! How could I have forgotten them, even with them sealed shut; you see, it was not always the nicest thing in my mind and had tried several times to get into my men's minds through our connections, forcing me to seal them behind my magic. But, with it gone from my mindscape, I could open the doors with no problem. Letting sleep take me, my eyes drooping as I climb into my mindscape, slamming the doors open before passing out. I can suddenly feel dad's anxiety and fear turn into alarm as my mind slams into his; but I can't gage his reaction before my mind also blacks out.
The next thing I know, the door to my cell is slammed open before my name is yelled out. They're heavy, but I force my eye lids open as I lift my head, finding dad's slate/blue eyes wide with panic and relief while his hands cup my face. Da's here too, but I can hear him over my head, working on releasing me wrists, which he does then slices through the ropes tying me to the chair; the sudden relief is drowned out as I fall off the chair, into dad's arms. I can hear several voices in the cell, but I focus on the dads' as they work on pulling the corkscrew out of my thigh, gritting my teeth when it finally releases, fresh blood spilling out over the clotted.
"There we go poppet, we've got you. John, she's still losing blood!" Dad, panicked? Man, I must look like hell, I certainly felt like it.
When he stood, I curled into his chest, breathing in the scent of a safe haven again. Right now, the world could be ending and the only thing that matters is that dad has me again and da is right near if I need him, which I do, but I don't want to leave dad's arms; what if I do and I wake up to find Moriarty has drugged me again? The gentle pressure on my thigh draws my heavy eyes to da, who was using his hands to keep the blood loss to a minimum as we ascended a flight of stairs. 'When did we start moving? Oh, ow, sunlight.' I bury my head into dad's chest again as the bright orb suddenly fills my eyes, but I can hear him rushing towards something. That's when I hear another welcome voice.
"Sherlock! My god, she's covered in…I've got a bus coming as we speak." Uncle Greg's voice was tight and fatigued and I wanted to talk to him, but I could still feel the bright sun on my head.
"She's lost a large amount of blood, if that ETA is more than five minutes we have to take her ourselves inspector." Dad replied, moving again until he sat. "Ok poppet, you can open your eyes now."
I do eventually, after again fighting my eyelids, into his chest before moving me head, locking eyes with him again. "Daddy…" My voice is strained and I can hear it cracking.
"Stella, my dear, you need to save your strength."
I do the opposite and swing towards the voice, burying my face into da's chest, his arms wrapping instantly around me to stop me from falling from dad's lap. His hands are gentle as I sob again, taking in his presence. "Oh, sweetheart, it's alright, we're here." Da's voice whispers in my ear, while dad talks to Greg over my head.
"Daddy I was so scared, he's a maniac!" I can feel the hysteria building in my mind now that I know I wasn't dreaming.
But, before he can respond, Greg's brown eyes catch mine. "John, the bus is here."
With that statement, I'm lifted again by da with dad next to us before I'm loaded into the bus, the pain roaring back when my leg is moved to wrap the wound. The scream tears through my lips before I can stop myself; grabbing dad's hand that is currently holding my head. The journey to the hospital is soon blurry due to the pain medication, but I can still feel the dads next to me and in my mind as I finally succumb to the darkness again.
After I woke up in the hospital, I spent a week there, under heavy guard from Uncle Mycroft, repairing and healing. The Dads barely left the whole time I was there, even with Nan coming by to try and have them rest; but we all knew it was futile as long as Moriarty was out there, and as long as he was, dad wouldn't stop.
That should have been a clue as to what was coming, but I don't think I was anyway prepared for how it came about. We were not surprised when he pulled multiple heists at the same time, we were not surprised that he has been 'caught' wearing the Crown Jewels, but I can tell you were very surprised when that man was cleared of all charges even with the mountain of evidence, well I was, dad seemed prepared for this. I had stayed at home the day of the verdict reading, wanting to avoid the courthouse at all cost; but I watched the revealing on the telly in my room, wrapped in my robe. Dad was downstairs, eyes on the window while he waited for da to call, which he did within minutes of the verdict hitting the news. I don't move from my bed when I hear dad suddenly active downstairs, but I send a text Cadence's way; she was the only other one besides the family and Scotland Yard who know about what happened to me, so she was kept up to date about Moriarty. My phone goes off as soon as I see the text, but it was da calling me, not my friend.
"Stella, he's free already and I think headed towards the flat. Stay. Upstairs."
Nodding, I respond. "Hurry home, daddy." If my voice was shaky, he didn't comment before hanging up the line. I'm off the bed quickly, turning my radio off before moving my door, cracking it open, hearing the leading stairs creaking as someone walked up. Moriarty. It could be no else; my leg twinged with pain at the memory of the man. It had only been three months since that event and the flesh on my legs had finally healed with minimal scarring; but the memory of that man's eyes haunt me as much as the…the incident at school. I can hear voices from the living room, dad's baritone covering Moriarty's. When I decided it would be smart to inch out of the room on my knees, I couldn't tell, but I found myself at the edge of the railing, the voice now carrying up the steps.
"Because nothing—nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you in to all three."
"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now, they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy. I own secrecy. Nuclear codes. I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king, and honey, you should see me in a crown."
Giant ego on this man.
"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do."
"You could break any bank. What do you care about the highest bidder?"
" I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. "Daddy loves me the best!". Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well you know. You've got John. I should get myself a live-in one."
Anger bloomed at the mention of da, knowing that this man would do anything to get dad's attention; he done a lot already between the bombings, strapping da with C4 and then kidnapping me. What would it take to get him to stop? I already know the answer, but I don't want to be forced to think of my dad in a position like murder, despite Moriarty being worthy of it.
"Why are you doing all of this?"
"It'd be so funny."
"You don't want money or power, not really. What is it all for?"
"I want to solve the problem. Our problem. The Final Problem. It's going to start very soon, Sherlock. The Fall. But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination."
"Never liked riddles."
"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I. O. U."
Footsteps suddenly leaving the living room break the conversation, leading me to think that Moriarty was leaving the flat, but a quick succession of footsteps up the closest brings the mad man's head into view; I can't stop the small sound that escapes, bring his head around quickly. His dark eyes lock with mine, his lips mouthing 'See you soon dear.' before he descended again, this time actually leaving the flat. The panic is coursing through me as dad makes his way quickly up the steps until he pulls me into his arms. We're silent as we walk back to the living room, silent as we sit in his chair, hands rubbing circles on my back. I don't know how long we are like this before da gets home, racing up the steps.
"She's fine, John. Just shaken up." Dad says this while da is checking me over, making sure for his own sanity that I was indeed fine and that yes, dad was unharmed as well.
Two months. Two months without a hide nor hair of the madman, but we all knew he was out there. The dads were involved with the case of two missing kids of some important diplomat, so I was being 'watched' by Mrs. Hudson; not that Uncle Mycroft didn't have his own men following me along with the CCTV cameras that were surely malfunctioning to be following one girl in all of London. I was surprised to find the dads home when I got there; they were supposed to be at Scotland Yard right now.
"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me. They have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want. And if one of them approaches me..."
"The others kill them before they can get it."
"Assassins?" My voice startles da, who jumps before turning to me, grim written all over his features. "Is that what Moriarty's been up to?"
"After what he pulled in the cab, I won't be surprised if…" Dad trails off & it looks like da has no idea what he's talking about either.
But before we can ask, footsteps run up the steps and Uncle Greg…no, he's in DI Lestrade mode, appears, his features mirroring da's. Dad turns, his face set in his normal 'I'm dealing with morons face.'
"You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home." He taps his forehead. "There."
"Will you come?"
"One photograph. That's his next move. First the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch-by-inch. It is a game, Lestrade. And not one I'm willing to play. Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan."
Greg leaves, giving me a small nod, which I do not return, anger simmering underneath. Someone had convinced him of dad doing something and now he was trying to arrest the same man when he knew dad was innocent of whatever Donovan was telling him.
"Stella, I think night in would be best for you." Dad's voice draws me back, his eyes locked with mine. "Sleeping draught I think would be best."
I haven't had to use one of those in a long time…why would he want me to now? "I don't understand, dad, why?"
"I'm asking you to trust me, poppet." Then I see it; the subtly shake of his left arm and the fist he had made with the other. I nod and head up the stairs until I get to the landing, watching my dads stand with tension filling their frames. One look from da has me walking the rest of the way, but I can still hear dad when I down the vile potion, hidden in a secret part of my desk.
"They'll be deciding."
"Deciding?"
"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me."
"You think?"
"Standard procedure."
I curl onto my bed, my door still wide open, letting in the sounds from downstairs while I drop into sleep, my arms still tucked around my torso.
I can't have been asleep for long before a loud bang downstairs wakes me up, angry voices following it. I race to the steps in time to see da clock a larger man in a stiff looking suit, the officers around him soon having da in hand cuffs. I don't see dad in the room…does that mean that Greg actually arrested him? No, Donovan was there, looking smug until she saw me on the steps, my clothes slightly wrinkled from my brief stay in the bed. Da catches my eyes as he passes, giving me a subtle nod before he was ushered down the steps; so, that situation was in effect, understood.
"Come on, mini freak, you need to come to the station with us." Donovan's voice really made me want to punch her, but I hold back.
"Oh no, she's staying right here with me, missy!" Bless you Mrs. Hudson.
"In the event that my dads are unable to care for me, Mrs. Hudson is my guardian. Ask DI Lestrade, he was there as a witness, so I am going nowhere with you, Sally." I almost hiss her name, my anger seeping through.
I descend the steps to the living room, bypassing the angered inspector, and rushed to the window, in time to see dad holding a gun to…to da's head?! He looks up quickly, catching my eyes and gave a small nod before returning his attention back to the officers in front of him. Ok, there is more going on than I can possibly understand; dad has to have a plan…well, he must seeing as he's running away with da behind him…well, more like attached, seeing as they are handcuffed together. Mrs. Hudson pulls me away and sits me down with a cuppa, shooing the officers out of the flat, yelling about disturbing a child after seeing her parents ripped from their house. Bless you Mrs. Hudson, you are the best land lady the girl could ever ask for.
I eventually fall asleep in dad's chair, the drained tea cup falling to the floor in the process. I vaguely remember her covering me with a throw before suddenly waking the next morning, the alarm on my phone going off. Oh, right, school, forgot about that; should I even go?
"Sweetie, want me to make you some breakfast while you get dressed?"
Mrs. Hudson was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her housecoat wrapped around her. She must have woken up not long ago and heard my alarm going off. "And let's not discuss the notion of you not going to school, young lady. Those boys are safe and I bet by the time you get home, they will be here to greet you. Appearances must be kept for the public darling and if that means you attending school, then you will."
"Yes Mrs. Hudson, you're right of course. Anything light would be appreciated and tea please." I reply as I stand & work my way up the steps to prepare for what would be a long day at school no doubt.
"Just this once dearie, I'm your land lady, not your housekeeper."
Her familiar words bring a small smile to my face before the events of last night replace it; silly land lady phrases could only distract me for long. But I prepare and head back down stairs to find a small pile of toast and jam, along with a cuppa waiting for on the table, Mrs. Hudson absent from the flat; I can hear her downstairs, flitting about her own kitchen. I down the toast and tea and sluggishly walk out of the flat, surprisingly finding Cadence glaring at the officers stationed outside the doors to 221 B. When I reach the bottoms of the steps, I turn to one of the officers, a blonde man by the name of Rogers, whose brown eyes were wary as I glared at him.
"You tell Detective Inspector Lestrade that if you two are not gone by the time I get home, there will be hell to pay! There is no reason to have you here, seeing as the dads wouldn't come back here, knowing it would be watched." With that said, I turn away & walk with Cadence to school, both of us silent; unusual for her because she was always chit chatting whenever we walked together.
The day started to blend together as I blindly went through class, my mind wandering to my dads every time Cadence let me have a moment away from her conversations. It would have been event less day had it not been for the brunette bitch of wonder stopping me in the hall on our way to Chemistry.
"Saw the papers today, freak. Someone finally got wise to those poof dads huh? Always knew your dad was a fake, freakish man. Shows where you got it."
Janice & Kayla laughed at the attempt to elicit a response from me, but Cadence simply pushes her aside with me behind her. Don't get me wrong, I'm pissed, but the last thing I need is a session in the headmistress' office concerning a scuffle while everything else is going one. There's a review for the final coming up in Chemistry, so Cadence & I simply sit in our normal spots in the back and ignore the rest of the class, seeing as we were the top two student in the course. I may have had a hard time when dad first started teaching me and believe me, he is a hard teacher, I had a very good understanding of the subject, like many things that dad tutored me in; and compared to Snape or Mrs. Davis' ways of teaching, his was the best way I learned. Cadence was the same way, absorbing the information like sponge, always retaining what she learned; she wasn't on the level as my dad and Uncle Mycroft, but she was still smart.
I started getting a headache halfway through the class, but it was soon replaced by a sudden tightness in my chest that quickly evolved into stabbing pain in my head and chest. 'Dad!' The connection was fraying and I couldn't grasp the threads fast enough. I bolt up and race out of the room, my phone in my hands as I move down the steps. I dial dad's number, his voicemail picking up after three rings, prompting me to hang up and call da, whose number did the same thing after five rings. Panic was building in my chest as I shakily text the safe word Uncle Mycroft before racing out of the building, ignoring the calls from the administration office as I bolt out into the crisp air, heading home.
There was no one outside 221 B when I finally made it home, my lungs burning and my limbs almost numb. "Dad! Da!" I scream out when I enter, but no answer comes down. I freeze halfway up the steps as the pain amplifies in my head before suddenly stopping as dad's door slams shut and locking of its own will. Uncle Mycroft still hasn't responded, that's not right, he said he would if I ever needed him! I don't know how long I've been standing there before the door opens, revealing da, his jumper covered in dirt…and blood?! He freezes when he sees me on the steps, still shivering from the cold. I had left my jacket scarf in my locker and my bag in Chemistry next Cadence; but at the time, I could only run.
"Da…da what…where's…" My thoughts are jumbled as my grip tightens on the railing.
He closes the door and moves until he is standing on the landing, three steps below me. His face is pale and is filled with a grief that made my panic build up again.
"Daddy…where's dad?" That broke his silence, his blue eyes now wet with tears.
"He…he jumped…from…from the top of Saint Bart's…after Moriarty shot himself in the head…" He looked up in time to see me fall forward.
My eyes rolled up into the back of my head, but even unconscious my mindscape was in a tornado of emotion. NO, NO, NO he couldn't be…he's my dad! He can't die, no, it's not real. I wake up hours later on the couch, da sitting on the floor next to me, his one hand tucked around my head, fingers buried into my hair while the other was gripping my hand.
"Da?" I whisper, moving only slightly.
He jumps awake, his blue eyes taking me in, as if he was afraid I was going disappear as well. Then my memory came crashing back, the tears starting up as I suddenly remember that I lost on the most important men in my life to a mad murdering psychopath! The outside door opens, with heavy footsteps following it. Then, DI Lestrade appeared in the doorway, his brown eyes taking us in, filled with shame, anger, and sadness. Da stands and I can see the anger pouring out of him.
"Why are you here?" He growls out at the man, the soldier underneath rearing his head.
"I…I had to…" Greg falters, not knowing what to say.
"Just leave us alone!" I think this is the first time I have ever even raised my voice, let alone yell, at my uncle since I arrived at this flat, but knowing he played a role in all of this, I don't care if he was pressured into it by Donovan, Anderson and his superior; he was the reason my dads were arrested, was the reason he had to run while Moriarty was out terrorizing my family!
The salt and pepper man ducked his head, tears wetting his eyes before leaving the flat, the door closing silently behind him. Da sinks to his knees again, anger flying away as grief grips him again, pulling me into a tight embrace that I melt into. The world could piss of for all I care; right now, nothing exists outside the flat and the only thing that mattered right now was the man who holding me tight to prevent me from fading away. Da's presences pushes the panic back until I felt myself falling asleep again, the day and the grief catching up with me; but nothing could make me move from my daddy's arms right now.
The funeral caught me by surprise, as I can barely remember the past two weeks between the attorney and Uncle Mycroft visiting multiple times, Mrs. Hudson unable to keep her tears back every time she ventured up into the flat, and Nan visiting when she could, but even she was unable to stay in the flat for long. Somehow da and I managed, but that was because we simply refused to be pushed out of our home; we both had our own breakdowns multiple times a day, most of the time, I found myself curled up in dad's chair, watching Doctor Who, filling in his critiques that I know from previous viewings.
So, to find myself dressed in a black dress that brushed my knees, gloves up to my elbows and a black veil covering my face told me Nan had dressed me without me being mentally present; I knew I had to thank her when I was coherent enough. The whole funeral was a blur, but it suddenly ended with only da, Mrs. Hudson, & myself by the sleek black grave stone, dad's named etched in white, the words burning a hole in my heart. Mrs. Hudson eventually left, leaving us to our own grief; dad moved closer and then I heard him talking to the grave stone, tears sliding down his cheeks.
"Um. Hm. You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Um. There were times that I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man and the most human... human being that I have ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so... there. I was so alone and I owe you so much. Please, there's just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this…" Da suddenly stands, salutes dad's grave before turning and marching away, trying to stem the flow of tears.
I shakily turn the stone that rested a top the best person I could ever need and want in my life. My hand rests on the cold stone, the cold seeping through my bare fingers as I kneel down.
"I miss you daddy…I can't…I can't do this without you…I need you to be here…"My whole body starts shaking as I release the tears that I held back the whole funeral, refusing to allow perfect strangers see me breakdown.
"I…oh, daddy…" I spin away and almost run from the gravestone, tremors shaking my form as the panic attack begins to form in my mind. Da's hand wrap around me as we walk back to the waiting car, but the feeling I was being watched reared up in my mind, but when I looked around, the only thing I saw was gravestones and shrubbery with the occasional tree; but I can't shake the feeling that someone was there.
We slide into the auto, Mrs. Hudson waiting with a box of tissues as we starting moving away from the grave yard, my body tucked into da's side.
A/N: Ok, so this chapter was really hard for me to write, not just for the torture scene, but also because this episode always makes me cry whenever I watch it and having to write it from Stella's POV really tore into me. I lost my own father to suicide, so this was truly hard to write.
I used actual dialogue from the show that I do not own. It is property of BBC, and I am grateful that I have such wondrous writing to pull from.
Now, Moriarty cared not that she knew nothing about Mycroft's plans concerning any bombing, but in the end, he just wanted to torture something precious to Sherlock. That was hard to write, but needed to be explained as I have mentioned before that Moriarty kidnapped her.
So, what does everyone think? I will be going back to her present next chapter, I promise. Now, the Raven tis hungry, bring forth the reviews.