When I finally saw light again, the light was false. The sun had long gone down and the only thing lighting the large room was a warm-looking fireplace. In front of it sat a cozily large armchair.
"Do you know where you are?" A voice behind me asked. I looked around quickly. I may not be Sherlock, but I'm good enough to know that this place was where my brother resided.
"Mycroft's home, I imagine," I said, though I was sure. I didn't want to damage my twin's thought that he was silent and indecipherable in everything that he did. I was sure there wasn't much else he was proud of.
"You are correct," A voice I placed as Mycroft's chimed in from the big blue chair. My brother rose and from his tall silhouette an even taller shadow descended and fell upon me. He strode towards me and looked down at me before looking at the male who was behind me. They shared a look and Mycroft nodded, which must have meant something because in the next second my hands were cut loose. I rubbed my wrist gently and stood from my kneeling position.
"Necessary precautions," Mycroft defended with a shrug. I rolled my eyes before taking another quick glance around. The place was quaint, but bare; it felt empty and lonely. He lived well, but it was clear no one ever visited. I sarcastically wondered why to myself.
"Where is John?" I inquired, noting that he was not in the room with us. Mycroft did not speak, but only nodded to a nearby hallway to my right and went back to sit in his big chair and leave my to my devices. I strolled over to and traveled through the dimly lit hallway until cracked open door to my left caught my attention. I rapped my knuckles lightly against the hard wood, hearing it resonate in the silence.
"Come in," John's voice replied to my action. As I did, he was pulling a sweater on.
"Hi," He breathed out, looking solemnly at me. In his eyes I saw an apology, and apology I was not ready to answer. He looked down, realizing I was not yet forgiving him, and I sat on the edge of the large four-poster in the room.
"Why? I need to be doing everything I can," My voice was calmer at first, but as I revealed the elephant in the room it grew more frantic. My eyes were wide and searching. I needed an explanation for this betrayal. I was something unexpected from John, so I imagined Mycroft was the one to paint the idea while John held the canvas. It still hurt, though, despite what I knew.
"I know, but we need to be doing something to make sure you're okay; that you're safe, Myra," He stated in reply. I shook my head, scoffing a bit. Both sided of me were conflicting; the side that held my basic instinct to stay alive and the side that told me I should be finding this man and making him pay for not only what he did to me, but what he did to that girl.
"How long do I have to stay?" I asked, dreading the answer. John looked pained, which made me feel less than happy to know what he said next.
"Until it all dies down," He said quietly, coming over to me. He put a hand on me and I sighed.
"It's not going to die down, John. He wants me and he wants me dead. He will proceed to kill any girl he thinks looks remotely like me until he gets what he wants, John. It is who he is and no matter how deep you hide me he will find a way to get me out like he already has. I have to help them, John. It's my fault that girl is dead and it will be my fault that anyone in the near future if injured or killed," I said, barely breathing between sentences. My heartbeat had quickened and I uttered a shuddering exhale. I had gone and upset myself. John was closer now, sitting beside me. Soon, his hand was on my face and slowly out faces grew closer until we were no more than a mere centimeter away. There was so much electricity. I knew both of us felt it. When our lips touched, it was not yet a kiss. Sort of like a caress.
"It's not your fault," John whispered against my lips, then moving to place his over them. I couldn't answer and quite frankly I didn't want to. Everything inside of me lit up like a lightbulb. The feelings that I felt were stronger than anything I had ever felt with anyone else. Suddenly, though, it was over. John was standing and staring at something behind me. I whipped my head around to look and blinked several times.
"Sherlock?" John gasped, clearly very upset.
"Hello, John. I see you've met Myra," Sherlock said with a smile. John went to him, but instead of hugging him or saying anything, he landed a punch square on the taller man's jaw. I collapsed from shock, the sight of my previously dead brother too much of an addition to my already hectic and terrifying day.