Part Eleven: Missing Files
"You're sure it's Moriarty?" John asks. Sherlock is pacing up and down the floor of his flat.
"No, I'm sure it's someone working for Moriarty," Sherlock explains. "Moriarty is dead. Someone is working in his place."
"You believe it's the same guy that took you?" John asks me.
"Yes John," I say, "I do."
"Alright so where do we go from here?" he asks.
"You're not going anywhere. You need to be somewhere safe that they can't get to you," Sherlock says grabbing his coat.
"Where are you going?" John asks as Sherlock steps out the door.
"Paying a visit to my brother. He'll want to see me, and I've got a hint for his security," he says before stepping out.
"But why do I have to stay?" John asks looking at me.
"He's keeping you safe," I begin, "for the man working in Moriarty's place to finish Moriarty's plan he has to kill you, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft."
"Why me?" he stutters.
"Moriarty said he would kill the people Holmes cared about if he didn't jump. You're one of those people," I further explain.
"But what about you?"
"What about me?" I ask a little confused.
"Well you're one of the people he cares about. Shouldn't you be included in that?" he questions.
"Sherlock doesn't care about me," I roll me eyes.
"Yes he does. You're like a copy of him, only a girl. The only person on earth to match him intellectually," he insists.
"No one cares about me. Why should he?" I ask.
"Why shouldn't he? You've seen him more since the fall then I have. You solved what happened to the girl faster than he could. He looks at you like he's taught you everything you know. The way my father used to look at me," he notices.
"Well I wouldn't know how a father looks at his child now would I?" I explode and storm out. He doesn't follow me. I run across the street and into my flat. There are still police officers everywhere. I ignore their requests for me to stay out and storm into by bedroom where I go to my files.
"You can't touch anything!" an officer yells. Again I ignore his request and pull down the box where all my research on Moriarty is kept.
"It's gone." I look into the box where my files once were kept. None of them are there, "officer was anything taken from any of these boxes?" I ask pulling the next one down.
"No miss," one of them answers. At that I whip out my phone.
They took the files. A.A. knows who I am.
-K