Chapter 16

I'm Sorry

He bolted open the door and flew down the stairs almost knocking dear Mrs Hudson off her feet as he went. Flinging open the door, he stood outside on Baker Street, his eyes flying around looking for a taxi. "Sherlock?" Her voice was like a punch in the face, Page Santos stood right in front of him. She was just about to enter the flats. A grin was perched on her face; Sherlock studied her, trying to make out where she'd been for so long. She held no corner shop bag. Something about her wasn't quite right, the way she held herself upright, the way her smile forced itself upon her face. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of life, now they were tired looking and dead. He could tell she'd done her best to brighten them up- though she'd missed a slight drop of runny mascara- she'd been crying.

"Page!" His voice was rushed as he stared down at her...wondering about where she'd been. She certainly hadn't been for coffee.

Like a good man, Sherlock invited her inside, he was going to confront her- it'd be easier because John was out with Sarah. He watched as she hung around the doorway, her arms folded, though Sherlock knew why they were folded, she didn't want him to notice the fact that they were shaking- too bad. He already had! Her head was hung low and she seemed to stare at the ground a little too much, she was quiet, very quite for her. She was usually such a chatty little thing. "I've been worried sick actually, where have you been? You said you were going to the shop, for coffee." He nodded his head at his words and waited for her reply. She grunted and shrugged, hmmm, he thought, she was doing her best not to let on to anything. "Ok come on Page, where have you been? I was on my way to find you, Trafalgar Square actually, considering that's the only place they haven't murdered yet- the only place remaining out of your photos for the magazine. I know page, whether you know the whole story or not, I know that your boss and his "fellow" staff aren't who they say they are." This time he looked her straight in the eye, waiting patiently for her response, he watched her eyes as they blushed red and as a small tear escaped from them. Perhaps she didn't know the five Ws, but she knew what he was talking about. "Your being played Page, your being used, used to get to me. You a simple young woman, being created as a diversion all for me. Your boss Mr Mason, I bet that's both his real name, is it?" He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders waiting for her to eventually say something to help him out. Tears streamed down her face and she unfolded her shaking arms and fumbled around in her coat pocket. Sherlock screwed his face up...what was she doing...was it what he thought it was? No...she wouldn't! Would she? Her hands brought out from her coat a shiny black...handgun. Pointing it upwards towards him, Page cried harder and the tears splashed down her face.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock, I have to do this, or he'll kill me, I have to do this...I have to kill you!" Her voice was a growl and she forced the words out of her mouth, her hands shaking as she held the gun ready to fire. Sherlock waited, standing very, very still. She wouldn't shoot, he knew she wouldn't shoot.

"No you don't, you don't have to do anything but put the gun down and calm yourself, everything will be alright, Page put the gun down." His voice was a mere soft whisper as he waited for her to gain confidence. Her head shook from side to side.

"No, I have exactly half an hour to kill you. I'm sorry Sherlock but you have to die now." Her voice croaked and creaked and she spluttered through coughs from the un-controllable crying. Sherlock out drew his hands and lowered them, showing her what to do with the gun.

"Page put the gun down, put it down Page." Softly he ordered her. Her eyes shut tight and she cried harder as her fingers caressed the trigger.

"I'm sorry." She mouthed at him.

"SHERLOCK!" John's voice bellowed as he flew into the room.