Six
Charlie POV:
Just like she had predicted John was furious however he was angrier with Sherlock for driving Charlie outside in wet clothes. She was shivering when she finally sat down before the roaring fire and began to feel its warmth. A takeaway container filled with rice and Asian vegetables was put in her hands and she smiled at John before burying her face into the stuff. When she was done she listened to the yelling match between John and Sherlock, something about filling the bath with enough blood to drown someone in or something, while she flicked through the channels on the small TV in front of her. There was nothing on, a few murder mysteries, some stupid cooking shows and the odd comedy sitcom but to be honest she was too tired to care. As a shampoo commercial filled the screen Charlie remembered she needed a shower she dragged herself from the chair she was in and after stopping at her room to pick out some pajamas and a towel she slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. She placed the overlarge men's shirt and old shorts on the sink before looking around. There was indeed blood in the bath, and following the trail, on the walls. She screamed piercingly. Running footsteps alerted her to the two men followed by an immediately there was a pounding on the door.
"Charlotte, open the door!" Sherlock yelled and with a trembling hand she turned the lock and opened the door, staring up at the two men with a deathlike pale face.
"What the yell is it doing on the walls!" She screamed at Sherlock and he looked at her in astonishment.
"You don't like blood?" He asked and she shook her head vigorously.
"I'm fine with blood, just not on the walls. It reminds me off…" She broke off and choked on the words. John peered around her and bit his bottom lip at the blood splatter.
"Ah," Sherlock said and merely looked proud.
"Just like I thought. Childhood trauma; probably a violent death or attack that happened to a close friend or family member. I'm going to go with family member because you don't have many friends and none of which actually exist outside work; according to the photos in your bag. Plus there's the blood splatter, you're fine with bleeding and pools of blood do not affect you on the floor as was proved with the cabbie not 24 hours ago so…" Sherlock began to rant and Charlie slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed throughout the house and John looked ready to run out of the house himself. Sherlock's eyes bulged slight as he realised just how far he had stepped over the line. Charlie looked livid, her usual expression of complete calm destroyed as she gazed up at the tall, dark haired man in absolute fury.
"I will give you one warning Sherlock Holmes. You may ask me about my family, you can tease me about how crap my life is by the state of the freaking amount of dirt upon my shoes however if you ever try to delve into that ever again I can promise right here and now that you will never see me again." She said and her eyes blazed as she slammed the door in his face. She leant her forehead against the back of the door for a long moment, completely drained, and then hauled herself away in pursuit of the shower. After tugging off her clothes she stepped into the steaming water and scrubbed herself clean, carefully washing the cuts and bruises that were forming from her tumble on the rooftop. After about ten minutes she got out, wiped herself down and dressed. Ignoring the ruby splatter on the white walls she left the room and walked into the lounge room with a smile. She settled in one of the armchairs, pulled a book out from the rather battered looking bookcase and buried her head in its dusty pages as the two men looked at her wearily. After a few moments she got bored, she had already read the book; Of Mice and Men, and looked over at them with a puzzled expression on her face.
"Is there something on my face?" She asked sweetly and the two men shook their heads. There was a chess board on the coffee table and she pointed to it.
"Anyone up for a game?" She asked and John shook his head, knowing full well he had no hope of beating this woman and wanting to keep some pride after the disaster that this night had become. He watched as Sherlock nodded, turned around and began to set up the 40 black and white pieces of wood. Charlie smiled and waited.
"Which colour?" Sherlock asked and tilted her head as she thought about it. Black or white, Charlie thought to herself and decided to go harder on herself tonight.
"Black." She said and he quirked a brow but said nothing. Soon the two of them were deep into the game, taking, recovering and moving pieces all around the board. Never once did either of them take their eyes off the other.
"So, I heard you spent a fair time at the lab at St. Bart's." Charlie asked as she moved her rook forward to take one of Sherlock's unprotected bishops.
"Yes, their labs are quiet easy to get into and have a highly ranked resource department; very convenient if I'm working a late case." He said and she nodded. He moved his knight and collected an exposed pawn that was on the verge of metamorphism.
"Don't see much of you in the psychology department; I've worked at ST. Bart's for 2 years and one month but I didn't even know you came until my boss told me about it today." She said and moved her queen forwards.
"Easy access would mean using that little lab assistant's affection for you to get in wouldn't it?" She asked and Sherlock smirked.
"Naturally." He said.
"What about you, two degrees in psychology and criminology in less than five years that's impressive… why not try for a position in the government or something similar; Mycroft I'm sure would be very helpful." He said with a small sneer at the mention of his older sibling.
"Oh please, I'm a lot like you. Government job; "For Queen and Country" sounds a little dull, I want the freedom to move around, legroom if you will." She said and he nodded.
"St. Bart's is also convenient for me, I can work all hours and the pay isn't too bad now that I've got you two sharing the rent. Besides working with your brother would not only be slightly awkward due to the obvious dislike towards him on your part. You should really discuss that whole mother issue Sherlock; he might have upset her but do remember you played a little part yourself." She said and saw him stiffen slightly.
"Oh." Was all he said and she nodded.
"Family matters only get worse with age; trust me my own were a bloody nightmare by the time I moved out." She said and took his other bishop.
"I see mother issues yourself." He pointed out and she grimaced.
"Let's not go into that, I won't push the Mycroft issue if you don't push the Mother Dearest." He nodded and they dissolved into a comfortable silence. For the next four hours they battled it out on the chess board. John fell asleep at about 12 but the game continued.
"What made you want to do this kind of detective work?" Charlie asked and Sherlock frowned as he thought about it.
"Well, the police department is…"
"An embarrassing attempt to placate the general public." She said and he laughed.
"Something like that. I figured out pretty early that I was a whole lot smarter than people even double my age and it became almost a game I suppose." He said and she grinned.
"Ever come across a case you couldn't solve?" Se said and he frowned deeply.
"Yes." He said and she tilted her head quizzically.
"Must have been young then, everything I read about you today says differently." She said and he smirked.
"So you read about me as well." He said and she grinned.
"Guilty as charged the pair of us. Lestrade seems alright though, a little clueless sometimes but overall not a bad guy; I mean he put up with a lot of crap from you and I the other day." She pointed out and he merely stared at her.
"He's annoying. Wouldn't be able to function without me." He said and she smirked.
"And you without him, you need him for an excuse and you know it." She teased and he scowled from across the board. John awoke with a start and glanced at the clock over the mantel.
"You're both mental, I'm going to bed." He said and Charlie stood up. She hugged him goodnight and thanked him for dinner.
"I'll win for you." She said to his retreating form and heard him chuckle as he entered his room. She returned her attention to the game and met Sherlock's amused gaze.
"I notice you play violin, Mother force you into that one or did you?" She asked and he cocked his head lightly.
"A mixture of both I think, I was the youngest and probably the most disturbing of her children so I think we both agreed on it so I had a reason to stay out of her way." He said and she nodded.
"My mother forced me into piano lessons for nearly ten years. I became very good at it, just not while she was around." Charlie said and Sherlock laughed.
"Stalemate." Charlie said and Sherlock looked down at the board. They smiled and shook hands. Charlie curled herself around the arm of her chair and turned her attention to the late night murder mystery on the television.
"These ones aren't as bad as that prime-time crap from America, a little more classy if you ask me." She said and Sherlock snorted.
"Can't stand them all really, I can see who it is after fifteen minutes tops." He said and she sighed.
"The problems of being a genius." She said sadly and he nodded. They looked at each other and began to laugh. Sherlock shaking with silent laughter whilst Charlie tried to stop herself from falling out of the chair. When she finally calmed.
"What day is it?" She asked and he looked at the clock.
"Saturday." He said and she swore.
"Gotta go take the meds." She said and walked off down the corridor. She rummaged through her toiletry bag and pulled out a battered pill case that had belonged to her grandmother. It was a mother-of-pearl and black ebony case and Charlie smoothed its worn edges before opening it a taking two different pills from it. She replaced it and, after taking a large jumper from her bag, went back to the lounge room. Sherlock had lain down on the couch and was applying fresh nicotine patches.
"Damn, wish you told me before I took those." She said and he looked over at her as she crawled onto the other end of the couch. She smiled at him and lay down as well, her body fitting close to his as she relaxed.
"What are you doing?" He asked stiffly and she smirked at him.
"Sleeping, or trying to, some idiot keeps talking to me." She said and he nudged her not too gently with his foot, nearly sending her crashing to the floor.
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Anyway I knew that just wanted to know why it was on my couch. He said and folded his arms across his chest. Charlie yawned and smiled at him.
"Oh please, as if I actually enjoy sleeping in a bed; I've always slept on a couch." She said and held up a hand to stop his next question.
"No work tomorrow. Know what that means?" She asked and he shook his head, he was adorable when he looked confused. Wait did you just call him adorable? Stupid medication!
"Sleep in." She said, shaking her head to clear it. He frowned.
"A what?" She merely laughed and closed her eyes.
"Good night Sherlock." She mumbled and he smiled in the darkened room. She pulled the blanket she had found closer around her shoulders, covering the faded shirt completely and shielding her tiny frame from view. Sleep enveloped her very quickly but just before she drifted off completely she swore she heard him whisper.
"Goodnight Charlie." Stupid medication.
Sherlock POV:
He still couldn't believe he was doing this. How on earth had he allowed himself to be dragged into going shopping with Charlie was unbelievable. Not that he had had much choice in the matter; she had all but dragged him from the house in search for a new vest for the one he had ruined on Friday night. It was now Sunday and she had decided that today was the day for shopping. John had come along, claiming to be in need of a prescription for his knee but really he was just enjoying the sight of Sherlock stiffening slightly as they walked through the woman's department. Both he and Charlie were quiet bored but Charlie need that vest, apparent it had been important so he had grudgingly agreed.
"What about this one?" She asked for about the one thousandth time and Sherlock nearly swore. She was just annoying him but it was working, he could actually feel his brain rotting away as he stared around him in the middle of the department store.
"Look Charlotte just get whatever you want and I'll buy it but I am actually going to beg that we leave immediately before John's manhood and my own disappear in a cloud of Channel No.5." He said and she gave him a pitying look. It was true the entire store seemed to be filled with more perfumed fragrance than actual air and Sherlock could feel his brain slowly suffocating.
"Alright, I'll get it if it means that much to you." She said and both men sighed in relief before grinning at each other as she tuned away.
"Works every time." Sherlock muttered and Charlie whirled to look at him. He gazed at her innocently and she smirked.
"Fine, keep your secrets." She said and turned around, mumbling something about men. A scream of distress brought all three of them to a halt. They followed the noise until they found a woman, crying and calling out hysterically while several bystanders looked o worriedly.
"What's happened?" Charlie asked and an older woman looked around.
"Her girl's gone missing and the mother thought she saw a man lerking around this section just a few minutes ago." She said and Charlie was immediately interested. She looked at Sherlock pleadingly and he rolled his eyes. From is pocket he pulled out the stolen ID pass he had swiped from Lestrade and moved towards the woman.
"What happened?" He asked and she began to control the sobs long enough to explain that she had been looking at a dress nearby when she had heard running feet. Looking up, she said, she saw an older man with greying hair standing in the isle opposite and her daughter running up and down the main thoroughfare.
"I j-just looked away for a f-few seconds-s and… when I looked back sh-she was gone!" The distressed woman said and Sherlock merely nodded. Honestly the most likely explanation for all this was the child had simply wandered off to the toy section or fallen asleep under a clothes rack. He thanked the woman politely, refraining from rolling his eyes before walking back over to where the little girl had last been seen. He began to check the surrounding area for the child, if she wasn't there then Plan B. He could feel Charlie's gaze following him and the small crowd began to copy him, pulling apart the clothes and peering under racks. He sensed rather than saw Charlie walk over to where the distraught woman sat in stunned silence, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into them. He turned away and continued his shirt, grinning at the avoidance of having to go through a dull shopping trip. Okay so he wished it wasn't a child, he had never enjoyed cases involving them so he wasn't really having a great time however it beat standing around watching Charlie bore the socks off him while she went clothes shopping. Thinking about the older man he prayed, though he didn't believe in God, that he was one hundred percent correct. He walked over to where Charlie and the woman were talking and just managed to catch the end of the conversation.
"She's doing an assignment on Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee; he was talking to her about it… he was very intense…"
Charlie POV:
"What's your name?" Charlie asked and the woman spoke from behind her hands.
"Belinda Jones." She said and Charlie nodded even though the woman couldn't see her.
"My name is Charlotte Myers. What's your daughter's name?" She said and the woman looked up at her with a tear stained face.
"E-Emily but she only answers to Emma." The woman choked and Charlie took the woman' trembling hands in her own, nearly resulting in a broken hand as the woman squeezed it tightly. She gazed deep into the woman's eyes.
"I need you to calm you breathing. I'm a trained psychologist as St. Bartholomew's hospital and I need you to calm down before shock renders you completely useless to me and to this investigation." She said and the woman gulped back her tears and began to control the ragged breaths she drew.
"That's better, now what I need you to do is close your eyes." She said and the woman looked puzzled.
"I want to try and help you remember exactly what happened to your daughter; it's an American psychological exercise but I figured since its fresh the memories will come a lot easier than waiting around." She said and Belinda nodded before closing her eyes.
"Now I want you to picture yourself standing as you were when you last saw your daughter, what was in front of you? What did the air smell like? What could you hear or see around you?" Charlotte recited and the Belinda's eyes began to flicker as here memories came flooding back.
"There was a blue dress in front of me and I could hear Emily playing. She's laughing; calling out to someone so I look over… the man's just standing there reading I think… Emily's running away so I just look back. Wait! What was that noise? Like a squeal or shout… a boy's voice." She said and her eyes flickered open as she came back to reality.
"There was a boy, a young boy she was talking to in a book store we were in earlier, and I didn't even think to ask where his parents were I just assumed… oh God he took my Emily!" The woman began to hyperventilate and her eyes grew wide in panic. Charlie smacked her lightly across the face; bringing the dark haired woman back to calm.
"How old was the boy?" She asked and the Belinda thought about it.
"About 15 or 16, I'm not sure but he had blonde hair; really messy." She said and Charlie nodded. She squeezed the woman's hands.
"What was your daughter talking about with this boy?" She asked and the woman's eyes widened.
"She's doing an assignment on Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee; he was talking to her about it… he was very intense." She said and Charlie began to grow worried.
"She wanted to leave immediately after talking to him so we did, I just thought she was bored." Belinda said. Sherlock who had walked up to them snorted slightly and Charlie smiled at the woman before shooting him a warning look. She bid Belinda goodbye and followed Sherlock over to the runway. She stifled a giggle as he lay himself flat upon the ground and began to inspect the floor. He was peering at the tiled ground of the main thoroughfare as though by staring at it Emily would float through it and he would be able to go home. She waited until he got up and the two of them spoke at once.
"She was taken by a young man."
"She left with a male of about 16 years of age." John shot them an amazed expression before moving over to them.
"So it wasn't the old man?" He said and they shook there heads.
"Oh good, because I've been talking to this guy over here who claims to have been reading at the time." He said and pointed to where a guilty-looking man of about fifty seemed to be searching with the other and Charlie nodded.
"That's right, Belinda said she saw him reading." She said and John smiled.
"This boy then, where would he take a girl?" He asked and Sherlock put his hands on his hips.
"No idea." He said and Charlie frowned.
"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea." Charlie recounted and Sherlock looked at her like she was mad. John merely tried to look as though he understood and failed miserably.
"This isn't the time for poetry Charlotte." He said and she growled at the use of her given name. Ignoring the comment she bit her lip and began to think.
"She was talking to this boy about the poem Annabel Lee," She said and Sherlock's eyes widened.
"Of course, In this Kingdom by the sea, where do you think he's taking her?" Sherlock shouted and began to run. Charlie sighed and began to sprint after him. She heard Belinda call out from behind her and didn't need to turn around to know the woman was also following her.
"Tower or London?" She teased Sherlock and he grinned.
"Tower, much easier to be unnoticed." He said and she nodded.
"Good… thing i… listen during… interviews." She panted and he nodded as they narrowly avoided being hit by a car as they ran out onto the road. John caught up to them, as did Belinda, and they all piled into a taxi that Sherlock miraculously managed to flank down.
"Where are we going?' Belinda asked and Charlie explained.
"Your daughter has been kidnapped by a 16 year old boy, he's a obsessive and paranoid narcissist. He has probably been following your daughter for months. He finally asked your daughter to go out with him after talking her up in that bookstore and she refused. By refusing she wounded his ego she has to pay for this humiliation; he's going to kill her then himself… so they can be together forever." Charlie said and looked over to Sherlock.
"Romantic isn't it?" She asked and he nodded. The woman gasped and began to stammer in anger.
"How can you say something like that? He's going to kill my daughter!" She screamed.
"Not if we get to Tower Bridge in under approximately 3 minutes." Sherlock said and Belinda began to sob. John shot his Charlie and Sherlock twin evil glares before putting his arm around the dark-haired shoulders. He murmured comfortingly to her and exactly three minutes later the three of them were running up onto the tower bridge in full peak our traffic.
"Can you see her?" Charlie asked as Belinda looked desperately around for her daughter. She began to shake her head then she screamed and pointed. Following her finger Charlie could see a pair of teenagers perched on the ledge in the shadow of one of the bridges four pillars. The girl was crying and the blonde boy beside her seemed to be yelling and comforting her in intervals. Surprisingly it was John who reached them first. He had taken off almost immediately after Belinda had pointed and had reached the couple way ahead of eve Sherlock. They found him, trying to talk the boy out of letting Emily go.
"Please James, look at her she's terrified of you… do you honestly want to make your love that scared of you?" John was saying and the young man looked to see Emily's tear stained face. He seemed to deflat a little and tenderness filled his face.
"No, but that's beside the point." The young man said, bitterness returning. He began to lean back over the edge, his arm holding Emily to his side tightly. She was begging him to let her go, screaming for her mother. People stopped and began to rush forwards.
"I can't let her go… we were meant to be together." He said and with all three of them watching, fell backwards off the side of the bridge… taking the screaming Emily with him.
Duh duh duh! What's going to happen? Should I kill her? Save her? You decide. Reviews people that's what's driving this fountain of creativity. Love ya peeps.