Sherlock story

Deleted Memories, Chapter 63

Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy

*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.

"Evil does not crawl slowly it walks quickly." ~Freeman

Present day

The soldier walked quickly. He was relieved for the day and was told to report directly to Ayyad. Almost no one but the top men reported to him directly. The soldier rarely felt fear but Ayyad's reputation demanded respect.

The rhythmic tapping of his shoes on the concrete floor of the warehouse seemed to echo throughout the opened space. He came to a smaller room and paused briefly outside. His hand paused on the knob then he took a breath before opening the door, and walking in. He projected more confidence than he felt. Several people were in the room including his direct superior.

There was a chair in the middle of the room. The soldier looked around and purposely made his face blank as he walked into the room. Sweat ran down his back and his heart rate picked up. However, no one looking at him would be able to tell. Ayyad, at first glance did not appear intimidating, but the solder's fear came from his reputation. He looked like a well-dressed, middle-aged businessman, except when one looked into the eyes.

In the eyes, there was nothing human staring back. It was almost as if evil found its form.

"Mr. Veselý, please be seated." Ayyad commanded.

The soldier obeyed and sat in the chair.

Ayyad inhaled his cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs then exhaled in the soldier's face. "You were given a simple but critical assignment. You were to bring Mr. Holmes to me alive; I never finished having a talk with him you see. The man is injured, I was there, I know. How much trouble can one injured, broken little man be? I only required discretion. I have other projects that have already been interfered with because of your failure. I normally do not interfere with my generals but I am forced to, you see."

Ayyad moved away from him and walked over to his direct superior, Procházka. He looked curiously at the soldier's superior. Before turning back to the soldier and speaking again.

"I am not pleased Mr. Veselý, I am not pleased." Ayyad took out a gun, held it in one hand while taking another drag of the cigarette with the other. After the cigarette was returned to Ayyad's mouth, he screwed in an attachment on the gun, which would muffle the sound when a bullet was shot.

The soldier swallowed hard but remained perfectly still. If this were to be his end, he would not beg or scream.

Ayyad motion to the soldier's superior, then spoke.

"I need you over here; can you come here for a moment please, Mr. Procházka?"

"So," Thought the soldier, "I am to be shot by the very man that I fought side by side with. Maybe it was more honorable than a stranger." The soldier watched as his superior advance on him and prepared himself.

The soldier superior was right in front of Ayyad now.

Procházka looked grim as he asked Ayyad for further instructions. "Yes sir what would you have me to do?" he asked Ayyad.

"Die," Ayyad, said simply.

Muffled sounds were heard as three shots were fired in rapid succession.

The soldier felt droplets and matter spray on his face. His heart was pounding out of his chest, his breathing rapid. Yet, he remained in place.

Procházka lay dead on the floor with half his face gone.

Everyone in the room remained both quiet and still.

"Mr. Veselý, I wanted to personally express the important of you bringing Holmes to me, discreetly of course. By the way, you no longer work alone."

"Think of this as an opportunity Veselý, Remember, no one sees my face and lives except a chosen few. This can either be your promotion or…" Ayyad let the soldier draw this own conclusion.

Ayyad walked out but threw over his shoulders, "Remember, I liked Procházka, that's why I killed him quickly. If you fail again, you I will not like so much. You may go." Ayyad walked out along with the other generals.

The solder sat there for only a moment before shooting out of his chair. He walked so quickly he was almost jogging.

The soldier was afraid, and angry, and very, very motivated.

All of his frustrations were directed at a one very bothersome, Sherlock Holmes.