Chapter 2- The Reasons Why
A/n: here is the next chapter! I hope you are enjoying it so far! This one is pretty short so I apologise for that, but I hope its ok! Xxx
SH
The room was empty. Silent.
John was still asleep; a quick glance at the clock told me it was 4.30 in the morning. He shouldn't be up for a while yet.
I lay on the sofa, head on the arm, staring at the ceiling with determination.
On my left arm, I had placed 2 nicotine patches, and was about to stick on a third.
The result was perfect, helping me focus my buzzing mind on the things that were important.
I thought back to yesterday. The forth letter had come. John had asked me why I was so worried, or scared as he put it.
I hadn't told him.
I hadn't told him how hard it had been to track and bring down Sebastian Moran.
He was, well- had been Moriarty's right hand man. The one he had trusted the most. The one who 'got his hands dirty' for Moriarty.
I closed my eyes and pictured him in front of me.
He was an ex-soldier like John, only with none of John's compassion- or medical abilities. He was one of those guys who looked made for battle, tall and lean and strong with cold grey, emotionless eyes and a map of scars adorning his face and arms, telling the story of his past more effectively than he could himself.
And his aim with a gun was murderously accurate. I've never seen anyone who could shoot as accurately as him. With exception to John, I reminded myself, remembering how John had managed to hit the cabbie in the heart through two windows a meter away from each other.
But Moran- he was exceptional. He never missed.
He had been the one given the most important jobs- like holding the rifle primed to explode John in the swimming pool scene.
Like the rifle aimed at John ready to shoot if I didn't jump.
I shuddered slightly, remembering how my mind had completely jammed when I had realised that. How close John had come to dying because of me.
I hadn't told John that. Not yet. How could I?
And what was more, I found it difficult to read Moran. It was like a strange barrier, preventing me from reading his life like a book. I've only ever felt that once before. And that had been with Irene Adler.
And then there were the letters. The notes. Always saying the same thing and always exactly a week apart. It was almost like he was counting down to something. What did they mean?
In my lap, under my clasped hands, another letter sat, still to be opened. It was the one Sky had given me when I had met her in Vauxhall Arches. I had put it in my coat pocket and forgotten about it until now.
I raised my head languidly and held up the letter in line with my eyes, unfolding it carefully.
I will end this fairytale. Play with me.
I stared at the words for a long time, my head in a rather disconcerting turmoil. What did he mean?
One thing I was certain of though- he was definitely trying to copy Moriarty.
I closed my eyes again, trying to make sense of the words. The reasons why he was doing this. Was John right? Was he trying to destroy me? Hadn't Moriarty already done that? Not many people knew I was alive. Just Lestrade, Molly, John (obviously), Sky, Mycroft and maybe a few police officers at NSY. As far as most of the world knew, I was still 'the fraudulent detective who took his own life' and my reputation was far from restored.
So what then, was he trying to do?
My eyes snapped open at the sound of the door opening, a little confused. John was awake? Surely I hadn't been in my mind palace for that long?
I glanced at the clock again- 5.00?
I relaxed a little. John was up early.
"Nightmare?" I wondered vaguely, as his tentative footsteps padded over to the kitchen. I didn't turn my head.
The footsteps faltered. I could almost imagine him turning around to face me awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fists, nervous.
"Uh yeah, kinda," he clears his throat, obviously embarrassed at being caught again.
"Which one?" I sighed, realising that, as a friend, I really should ask.
There was a small pause.
"Um about- about- you know- uh you..."
I grimaced to myself. Not only did that make me feel the twisting sensation in my stomach I always got when he mentioned that, but this time it was accompanied with an unhelpful reminder that Moran was in fact, John's would-be killer.
Killer...
Oh Christ!
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from gasping allowed, as the realisation hit me. The reason why.
Moran did want to finish what Moriarty started. But it wasn't to destroy me, Moriarty already did that.
It was to kill John. And burn the heart out of me completely.
A/n: erk sorry about the shortness of this chapter again! But I hope it was ok!
A review or two would really make my day so let me know what you think! X