Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 49
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
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WARNING: Some of the following chapters have descriptions of captivity and, torture and all things not nice. If you are a younger reader, or sensitive, Please skip or read chapters marked as non-graphic this is still rated T. If alternate chapters are offered, it will be marked clearly. For example alternate chapter 6 will be marked LESS-GRAPHIC CHAPTER 6. These alternate chapters give the information in a more non-graphic way, but still T rated way. As always, thank for reading favorite, and comments.
**Rating temporarily T**
"Fortune knocks but once, but misfortune has much more patience."
~Author Unknown
Deleted Memories of Abduction
Ayyad was a tall, well-built man in his late forties, with a receding hairline, and a love for all things expensive. It showed in the dark black suit he wore, and polished black leather shoes.
He had a regal heir.
His brown eyes however, revealed his soul. A soul that was cold, calculating, and treacherous.
"Tell me," Ayyad spoke as he moved closer, "who is helping you?"
Sherlock stiffen, but he did not answer.
Ayyad misread his body language as fear. In reality, he did not want to give anything away.
There had been Molly, but he had limited his contact with her after faking his suicide. He was careful to leave her flat within a week, when arrangements were made. He did not want anything to lead back to her.
Molly was special to him in a way that Sherlock was not yet able or willing to process. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself, or forgive anyone who harmed her.
Then there was Irene Adler, the women who had provided him with shelter. The only woman he had ever considered his equal intellectually, or moved him. Sherlock had helped Adler on several occasions, since he helped her to officially disappear. She had returned the favor.
They had grown close over the last year. She was fascinating. She stirred something inside of him like no one else had. Though they had never had dinner, Sherlock had been close to having lunch, but something always stopped him. Perhaps he did not completely trust her, at least not with his heart.
His mind kept wondering unbidden back to Molly, he briefly wondered why. Sherlock reasoned that he must be concerned for her safety. They were friends after all, were they not?
Ayyad's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Come now, we are friends, we thought you worked alone, but someone sent information to your government about one of our little operations yesterday. Come, who was it?" Ayyad's voice sounded like a snake hissing.
Again, Sherlock said nothing, but stared defiantly straight ahead.
Sherlock realized then, that they were speaking of Irene Adler. He felt relief. Ayyad's admission told Sherlock three things: Adler had received his message, decrypted, and interpreted the information; and had passed it on to Mycroft anonymously. She was alive and unharmed. Finally, she was aware of a threat to them both. Adler could take care of herself.
"I have a friend, maybe it is just me you don't like, let's see if your tongue loosens?" They left then, without another word. Novák smiled.
Nothing happened the next day. For the first time, no one even came into his room. Sherlock heard movement. There were not as many footsteps now.
Sherlock gathered that most of the people there had been moved to another location. Only a few men remained behind. Sherlock gathered that they were planning to totally abandon the warehouse soon, and did not plan to take him with them. He was only alive because they still needed further information.
Sherlock, although hating to admit it, became a little unnerved. Every time he heard footsteps, he prepared himself then the footsteps would pass.
Sherlock would cope by organizing information in his mind, categorizing data, and plotting possible escapes. When boredom set in, he recited the periodic table by atomic number in French, backwards.
Sherlock did anything and everything to stop thinking of how many effective ways there were to torture a person, and break the mind. He forced himself to rest, drink, and eat best he could, while pushing back the bile he felt rising.
To survive he needed to be as physically strong as possible; present circumstances considered. Sherlock dragged his sore body to the mattress and closed his eyes.
Holiday was definitely over.