Jane lay on the John's bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. What if this is all a trick? Jane thought, nervously. What if my dad planned this whole thing to see if I would run away with the man? What if he punishes me for taking the opportunity?
All the what if's were starting to give Jane a headache. She decided to just clear her mind of all the negative thoughts and focus on trying to sleep.
While lying there, she couldn't help but notice that there were voices coming from above. Since falling asleep was a lost cause right now, she decided to listen and try to make out what the voices were saying.
"Do you know what she was doing with a pistol?"
Jane guessed that it was probably Sherlock talking.
"I have no idea," John exclaimed.
"Wasn't anyone there, like her father?"
"No, she doesn't have parents, and why would you think she would be living with her father? She is a grown adult."
"Isn't it obvious? She is wearing men's clothing."
"It could have been a boyfriend's."
"With hygiene like that, I highly doubt it."
Jane couldn't help but feel a little insulted from that remark.
"Well, I guess you were wrong this time because she told me that she doesn't have a father," John told Sherlock.
"Unless, she was lying to you."
Jane quickly stopped listening to their conversation and started to panic.
Oh my god! Jane thought nervously. Are they figuring out that I lied to John… wait, if John believes that I do not have a father then they can't possibly be working for him, can they?
Relief flooded over Jane, but that relief quickly faded away when she started hearing footsteps coming towards her door.
Jane quickly got under the covers on the bed, shut her eyes, and pretended she was sleeping.
John softly knocked on the door and walked in.
Jane tried to keep her breath nice and steady, so they wouldn't notice that she was really awake.
"See Sherlock, I told you she was sleeping," John whispered. "We should just go back upstairs."
"Fine…" Sherlock said, sounding slightly annoyed.
Sherlock walked out the door and John followed, quietly closing the door behind him.
Damn that was close. Jane thought. She opened her eyes and adjusted herself, so that she is laying on her back staring at the ceiling again. Any second sooner and they would have caught me awake.
Jane lay there, contemplating on whether or not they truly trusted her. Doing this she slowly fell into a deep sleep.
"Jane… I have a surprise for you... bloody hell Jane; I am not in the mood for a game of hide in seek. So why don't you be a good girl and come out and give daddy a nice big hug."
A loud chuckle came from the outside of the little girl's door. The door slowly opened, making a creaking sound.
The man walked in holding a syringe in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.
"Hmm, I wonder where little Jane is? Is she in the closet?" The man opened the closet; no one there. "Is she in the Lou?" He opened the wash room; no one there. "This is getting really tiring Jane." He stopped right in front of a wardrobe, hearing whimpering sounds from inside. "Ah," He said chuckling, "she can't possibly be in here, can she?"
He quietly walked up to the wardrobe. He waited one second, and then slammed open the doors.
"I found you."
The little girl screamed as the man grabbed her. The man just chuckled, dragging the girl out of the room.
Jane woke up, gasping for air.
"It was just a dream… just a dream." Jane sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face into her knees. She silently cried to herself.
After ten minutes of crying, she unraveled herself and wiped the tears away. She put her hand in her pocket, grabbing a now wrinkled piece of paper that she wrote the day before.
She sat at the edge of her bed reading its contents over and over again.
My name is Jane.
I never really liked that name, since I never thought I deserved to have such a pretty name. Jane should belong to a happy, beautiful girl… not like me. My mother would always hold me and tell me that I was such a pretty girl. At least that was before she died. Now I am all alone. I do have a father… if I should call him that. Anytime I see him, I try to hide so he doesn't find me. He yells and screams, saying things that I wish I could never hear. And when he does find me… I wish I were dead. And who is my father you may ask… It is a name no one ever wishes to hear. A name that when it is mentioned, you cringe in horror. It is because of him that I am writing this note. This is my final testament before I take my last breath. Goodbye world… Goodbye to the man who gave me life, and is now taking it away… Jim Moriarty…
She stared off into the distance, still holding the suicide note in her hands… her suicide note. All she wished for was to die so she can finally escape her evil father, who so tortured her and so many others before.
I am his play thing. That is why he has kept me alive all these years. Why couldn't he have just killed me and save me the pain of living this God forsaken life.
Jane started to cry again. All she wanted to do was be alone, even if it had to be in a strange man's room, a man that she doesn't even know.
While she was crying a man came quickly into her room. This startled Jane, causing her to slightly jump.
Sherlock stood there staring at her as she jumped. There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.
Sherlock then realized that she jumped because he startled her when coming into the room.
"Oh… I didn't mean to startle you." Sherlock looked at something on a shelf. "I just came in here to grab something."
Jane watched as Sherlock walked to a book shelf in the corner of the room and grabbed something that looked a lot like a syringe needle.
When Jane saw him grab it, and he started to walk towards her direction with it, she screamed really loud and ran to an empty corner of the room and hid her face in her hands, crying.
Sherlock was in such shock that he just stood there and didn't move.
What did I do? I just grabbed this needle and was going to grab something else I needed on the other side of the room. Sherlock thought, not moving. What did she think I was going to do?
Suddenly, the sound of loud, fast footsteps came down the stairs. John slammed opened the door.
"What happened? What's wrong?" John stopped and noticed Sherlock was standing near the bed, shocked, and Jane was on the other side of the room in a corner, crying and screaming.
John looked at Sherlock and yelled, "What did you do this time, Sherlock?"
Sherlock didn't answer right away. He finally, still in shock, said something. "I… I don't know. I just came in to get two things for the experiment I am doing in the kitchen…" Sherlock sounded very baffled.
John went over to Jane. He squatted right next to her, but when he tried to put his hand on her shoulder, to calm her down, she flinched and screamed, "Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me!" while trying to push John away.
"Shhh. It's ok. It's me John; I'm not going to hurt you."
John sat right next to her. Jane collapsed into his arms, burying her face into his jumper. John just held her, trying to calm her down.
"It's ok, you're safe," John said in a soothing voice.
Sherlock, still standing in the same place, stared down at them. John looked at Sherlock and made a face that probably means that Sherlock should leave.
Sherlock hesitated for a second, but finally decided it would be a good idea for him to leave. He walked out the door.
As Sherlock walked up the stairs to get to the living room, he began to think. Did she really think I was going to hurt her? All I did was grab one of John's medical syringes and started to walk to the other side of the room.
Sherlock kept playing the scene in his mind, trying to see if he can deduct anything that just happened. I walked to the book shelf. I grabbed a syringe. I turned and started to walk to the other side of the room. She screamed and ran to the corner of the room. Was there a spider on my shirt? No that can't be it. Did I remind her of a scary telly show? I highly doubt it.
Sherlock sat down in his chair. He looked down at what he had in his left hand. The syringe needle… could she have been scared of the syringe needle? That had to be it! She must have bad memories with these!
Sherlock smirked to himself and looked at his watch. I figured that one out in less than 30 seconds.
John continued to hold Jane in his arms. They have been like that for about 15 minutes. Jane has mostly calmed down, besides for the little whimpers here and there.
John was still really confused on what happened with Sherlock and Jane. I wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock did something that scared her. But I can't imagine Sherlock doing anything to scare her enough to make her scream and cry like this.
John softly stroked Jane's hair. After 5 more minutes had passed, Jane fell asleep in John's arms.
John picked her up and placed her on the bed. He pulled the covers over her and lightly kissed her forehead. He started to walk towards the open door, but something caught his attention. There was a wrinkled piece of paper on the foot of the bed. John, with curiosity filling him, silently walked over to the bed and picked it up.
As John read the piece of paper, his eyes grew wide. When he read the last two words, he gasped and dropped the paper.
John couldn't believe what he just read.
This is my final testament before I take my last breath. Goodbye world… Goodbye to the man who gave me life, and is now taking it away… Jim Moriarty…
I now know what Jane was doing with a pistol. She was going to commit suicide… And her father is... John stared at Jane. He was breathing heavily. Jim Moriarty is Jane's father.
John tried to process this. Moriarty, the man that strapped bombs to me. The man who has killed so many… is Jane's father.
John quickly ran upstairs. He burst into the room where Sherlock was sitting on his chair, obviously thinking.
This startled Sherlock, since he was in deep thought. Sherlock stared at John. John was clenching one of his hands, psicho-somatically.
Sherlock quickly got up ready to tell John what he just deducted about what happened with him and Jane.
"John I know why Jane freaked out down there," Sherlock said excited. "She is just scared of syringe needles!"
Sherlock's excitement faded away when he noticed how tense John looked.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock said, actually sounding concerned.
"I know who Jane's father is…" John spoke in a tense, slightly scared voice.
"Who is it?"
John didn't answer. He put his face in his hands.
Sherlock, sounding really worried now, said, "John, just tell me. Who is it?"
John looked up, his eyes were all red. "That poor girl," John said softly, his voice slightly cracking. "That poor, poor girl…"
"John, please… just tell me who the father is." Sherlock looked into John's eyes, showing that he was serious.
John looked into Sherlock's eyes. "J-Jim Moriarty."