Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 149
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
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A/N: I posted part of this a little early because of private and public requests. I hope it lives up to your expectation. Love you all. Good luck to all graduates and those taking final and entrance exams. Let's all do well and survive!
Love and Lots and Lots of Coffee, Zacha :)
"I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed" ~ Jonathan Swift
Present Day
Sherlock turned the doorknob and let it swing open. There was no point in trying to muffle the sound, his arrival was apparent. There were a few yards of a wall that blocked the room. He walked slowly pass it with his gun drawn. He was fatigued so he kept both hands on the gun as opposed to one.
As Sherlock walked in the room, he found Ayyad standing with his gun drawn looking at him.
He, with John beside him, was at the end of the very long but narrow room. John was tied to a chair and gagged. John eyes followed Sherlock but he did not make a sound. There was not much furniture and the little that was there was pushed to the side against the long wall by the windows.
"So, you called Ayyad." Sherlock walked in gun drawn.
Although he knew someone had broken in, he expected a group of trained agents not Holmes, and certainly not Holmes by himself. He not only had the physical strength to walk in, but also was apparently the cause of all the chaos.
Ayyad had a moment of true shock.
He did expect Holmes just broken, sniveling, dragged in kicking and screaming. Pleading, along with a few bruises from resistance would have been a nice touch.
Well, at least he was bruised.
The events of the last fifteen minutes were unexpected.
"You came, albeit, not as I planned." Ayyad had his gun pointed at Sherlock. He was watching him closely.
He took in his bruised and bleeding face and general appearance, he looked like he had been in a fight; he sighed. That explained the gunshots.
"You've spoiled my planned evening entertainment, Mr. Holmes. You were to be the main event, although I was going to make it a double act."
"What could you possibly have planned that topped what was already done to me? Slowly skin me alive while Mozart plays in the background softly?" Sherlock walked forward, both hands on John's gun, while scanning the area.
"I was planning on playing Bach," Ayyad said dryly.
"Sorry to disappoint." Sherlock kept his eyes on Ayyad , but risked a glance at John.
"Well Mr. Holmes, since we are just here pointing guns at each other; care to answer a few questions?" Ayyad asked conversationally.
There was a brief moment of tense silence.
"You're the mole?"
Sherlock said nothing but took another step forward.
"I had many men killed thinking they were betraying me, information that no one could possibly know kept "leaking out". I looked within my organization. I never considered looking without. Was it you?" Ayyad had a mixture of anger and intrigue wrestling in his mind.
Sherlock smirked then stopped moving for a moment. His head was still but his eyes moved scanning.
Ayyad notice Sherlock's brief smirk. "Oh, I see," He said.
"You have been a thorn in my side Mr. Holmes," Ayyad reported as he frowned.
"My reputation precedes me." Sherlock risked a look at John quickly again, trying to reassure him.
John had dried blood on his temple and cheek and looked a bit battered and roughed up, but his eyes were clear and strong. Sherlock saw a little fear but mostly anger.
John discreetly nodded.
Sherlock was relieved. They had not had time to start the real torture on John yet then. He had not been too late. No apparent concussion either Sherlock thought, but he could not be sure without talking to John. He forced himself to direct all his consideration on Ayyad now that he felt John was at least in no immediate danger.
"So, you manipulated all of us, revealing secrets, even from the beginning. The entire time it was… you." Ayyad looked amazed and wanted confirmation.
"What secrets? Oh… you mean like the fact that you were making money on side deals, or that you planned to blow up the innocent because you find it amusing, or that you had a contract with Moriarty's rival and told him how and where to assassinate Moriarty. What's the matter, too afraid to face Moriarty yourself?" Sherlock intended for his tone to be mocking.
As dangerous as Ayyad thought that Holmes was, this little heart-to-heart confirmed his new suspicion, that Holmes had been ten times more dangerous a man than he first believed.
Ayyad thought deeply as he looked at Sherlock's gun that was pointed at his chest. Sherlock obviously was not interested in injuring him. His aim was deadly, not that he could blame him.
Ayyad grew up in a crime syndicate. His father had always given him his every whim. He was taught that nothing he wanted was unreasonable. That he was the god of his world. He was taught to care for no one, that caring was a weakness. He feared no one in the world, ever, but Moriarty.
His father said the word no to him only once. He considered the fact that he killed his father soon after that and took over his father's kingdom. His father would have given it to him one day but, why wait. As he stood before Holmes, it was the first time in his spoiled and privileged life that he felt the slightest sensation of fear, with the exception of Moriarty
Another first in his life occurred simultaneously; it was doubt. He privately wondered if Veselý was right about Holmes. Should he have just killed him the first chance he had? Was Holmes really too dangerous to breathe?
Ayyad's eyes narrowed as he looked at Holmes suddenly determined to have his answers.
"The woman, what's her name?" Intrigue left Ayyad only anger remained.
"Sorry, it escapes me," Sherlock replied flatly. He started moving forward again.
"Who is she to you that you would suffer so much to protect her?" Ayyad wondered aloud.
Sherlock said nothing.
"You really are as annoying as they say," Ayyad's face flashed irritation as it now joined rage.
"Again, my reputation precedes me." Sherlock inched his way toward John.
"My men?" Ayyad asked already knowing the answer.
Sherlock smiled but said nothing.
Ayyad wondered not for the first time in minutes, who was this Sherlock Holmes, really.
"So what do we do now point guns at each other for all eternity," Ayyad asked.
"Actually, I plan to shoot you, save John, and recover the last code for the bomb, any particular order will do."
Sherlock glanced at Ayyad up and down making a deduction. "So, still keep the codes in your left pocket. Rather unimaginative, although admittedly convenient."
"It will not do you any good, Mr. Holmes unless I have some sort of sign that you surrender."
Ayyad smirked briefly but it turned into a frown.
Sherlock noticed the smirk and filed the information away. He thought Ayyad's statement and facial expression seemed a little odd and out of place. Sherlock kept his face blank.
Ayyad scowled left as he looked at Holmes appearance. He was obviously freshly bruised, and that was what he could see. He smiled at the thought. He was breathing faster than he should be and sweating. The Consultant Detective appeared to be near exhaustion but Ayyad did not trust that fact. His personal experience told him that Holmes seemed to be able to pull some sort of last energy reserve out of a hat when it suited him.
Ayyad looked at his face again. He grimaced every now and then. He doubted the detective was even aware that he was grimacing. The way he moved, he was in pain and trying to hide it.
Ayyad thought that he should know. He had caused enough people pain to recognize someone in pain. Holmes was trying unsuccessfully to hide that fact.
Ayyad's smile widened.
Sherlock hands started to have the slightest of shakes.
"I can tell you're fatigued, not quite back to yourself are you Holmes? What kind of injuries do you have Mr. Holmes; want to share the details? It really would make my day." Ayyad mocked.
"I guess trauma of that nature takes a while to recover from." Ayyad grinned , "Some never recover completely do they Mr. Holmes?"
"Oh I don't know; I'm tougher than I look. You've underestimated me three times now. Underestimating me again would be a mistake." Sherlock stepped closer and maintain both hands on the gun, attempting to edge his way toward John. Step-by-step, he had managed to move a little more than one-fourth the distance across the elongated room now.
Ayyad looked at Holmes, really looked at him. Ayyad smile faded when he looked into Sherlock's eyes. He did see pain, but he also saw a steel-like, confident determination that seemed to overshadow everything else.
Ayyad's heart rate was picking up now. If he was not so distracted, Ayyad would have noticed sweat starting to form on his own forehead as well as upper lip and running down his back. He wondered at the unfamiliar sensations of feeling as if a lump was in one's throat, and feeling as if one would explode out of one's own skin. He had no frame of reference for it.
Ayyad did not know that these were side effects of fear.
However, Sherlock noticed.
Ayyad heard the faintest of sounds. It was the sound of sirens approaching. It sounded still to be a long distant away. He had noticed too late. He sighed dramatically now.
Instantly, Ayyad realize he had been outplayed.