AN: Hello wonderful readers! So a little surprise to fit in with my writing plans. I will be updating weekly, every Sunday up until a certain point, and then it will go back to an update every two weeks. This will all become clearer as we go along.
A small warning, there are only three, including this chapter, chapters left of this story before the sequel "The Girl that Lived" begins. I will make it very obvious where to find it when it starts posting and before!
This chapter is dedicated to Madam Hawki for her lovely reviews and an idea she placed in my mind.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did?!
Chapter 49 - When a Wrong makes a Right
Angie was recovering. Her body healing quickly, but her heart and mind were going to take a long time and lots of love and support. She'd been released from hospital after a week. It was a situation that had to be taken one day at a time, and even hour-by-hour. John was taking wonderful care of his sister. I wanted to be there for her, but I think I made it worse. I think I reminded her too much of Sherlock. John even commented that I sat like him. Perhaps it was better to keep my distance? I was angry, so angry with Sherlock and with myself. If Angie hadn't been at our house that morning they would've taken me, I was far less precious. Worrying about ifs and buts did me no good, but I couldn't stop my mind wondering.
Jim and I needed to talk, but it wasn't going to happen. I knew his feelings on the whole child issue, but seeing Angie physically lose her child it was too much. So instead of talking I turned to the one thing that always made the darkness recede, drugs. Everyday as I got to work and before I left to go home I did a line of coke. Not enough for anyone to notice, but enough to be unaware of the more pressing issues. I stopped caring just enough to survive.
It was rare that James Moriarty could be bothered to get his hands dirty. When he did, well none except him came out alive. Unluckily for the two idiots left dead in an Addlestone warehouse, he had recognised them. He knew who their boss was. That person was 'The Guru', a pretentious and superstitious gang leader who operated out of Baltimore but more recently had been committing crime London and Manchester. It was the prayer beads around their wrists that gave them away. Someone was going to be made into shoes, two pairs of shoes, those shoes would then be sent to his mother and his wife.
Firstly, it was rude of the 'Guru' to assume he could just start operating in his City without so much as a coffee invitation first. Secondly, and more importantly, this leader had targeted his wife. He'd then hurt her best friend and made his wife very, very upset which was simply unforgivable.
It was time for some theatrics and rather splendid suit. A shame it would be ruined, but worth it for the screams of pain and satisfaction of retribution. HE was glad Percy had been permanently at work, the ball of anger growing inside of him was about to explode, he didn't want her seeing this side of him. He dinned a dark grey Prada suit, almost black, a dark green shirt and pewter coloured tie. The dark colours didn't show the blood so starkly. He slipped a long silver skinning knife into his inside pocket. He looked fabulous and felt evil, the perfect combination. He left any semblances of his humanity at home, locked away and safe.
It was so simple to undermine, extract and gain access to the 'Guru'. Sebastian easily took out any guards. He'd already hacked the security feeds and alarms. All he had to do was walk in. Moran would be waiting outside in a van to take the body to a morgue that never asked questions for a small monthly fee. The clean up team were on standby and the mild sedative and surgical gloves were in his coat pocket.
A plastic receptionist greeted Moriarty; she simply fumbled over herself to help him. Dull, he thought. He'd kill her for being an oxygen thief. Later, his inner demon purred. He ignored the bimbo and entered an over pungent dark room. It was essentially a harem. The 'Guru' sat on a mound of cushions looking like an overstuffed, gilded cat.
"We have a problem. I don't like problems." Moriarty practically hissed.
"How can we have a problem when we've never met." The Guru replied calmly.
"Last week I shot two of your men. First mistake, they tried to kidnap my wife but they got the wrong girl. Their second mistake, they took a friend of mine, my wife's best friend in fact. Then they caused more damage than they were worth. Worst of though, they made my wife cry." Moriarty explained calmly.
"The debt has been paid, they upset you, and you killed them. We have no problem." The Guru replied.
"You're reputation doesn't exactly proceed you. You're in my City uninvited, that is dangerous, but I was willing to let it slide. Now, I'm going to make you into shoes." Moriarty giggled.
"Who are you? You have no right to threaten me. I have power on my side, almighty power." The Guru replied pompously, like it was a threat.
"Wonderful, good for you. Is it helping?" He replied bored.
"Blasphemy." The Guru whispered.
"Amongst some of my sins, yes." Moriarty purred and carefully extracted the silver blade from his inner pocket. The blade glinted in the low light, shining with a deathly palour. Moriarty knew image could induce fear. He stood his head cocked slightly to one side and a manic glint in his pitch black eyes. He was looking forward to removing this parasite. The Guru heaved himself out of his chair and tried to escape, he found every door locked, the panic buttons doing nothing. Realisation set in and fear took over, he cowered.
"Who are you?" The Guru rasped.
"Moriarty." He replied. His reply was a scream. With his free hand Jim pulled out the syringe and quick as a cobra stabbed the syringe. He'd sleep for twenty minutes, but would wake up half way through the skinning. Perfect.
The deed done and not much blood spilt, after all he'd done this a few times, Moriarty made his way home. Fatigue and numbness setting in with ever inch closer he got. This was the real effect Percy had had on him, after the veil lifted, after the monster was wrestled back into its cage, he felt. The guilt, remorse, disgust at his own depravity, and the need for reassurance and love settled in.
Home was empty. It was silent.
He pulled at his soiled clothing and made his way up to the bathroom, he turned the water as hot as his skin could stand and let the steam wash away the blood, sweat and stink of murder. Thirty minutes of dosing his body he left the deluge, wrapped a towel around his wait and looked in the mirror. He could see something was missing, another piece lost to the insanity that always threatened to take over.
He wanted Percy; his mind was wondering to dangerous places, he needed her to ground him. He wanted to take comfort in her arms, her body, and her soul. Her warmth had always chased the demons away. He knew she was slipping away from him, he'd seen the traces of white powder in her bag. She was barely sleeping or eating.
Home was broken.
I always forgot about Mycroft. Now, that may seem difficult to believe, but I forget how well he knows me.
"Percy, I think we need to talk about certain activities you've been doing at work." Mycroft said from the now closed door of his office.
"You've noticed then?" I asked with sigh.
"Of course I did." He replied slightly belligerently.
"I'm not going to apologise."
"I wouldn't expect you to. I'd like an explanation though." Mycroft demanded kindly.
"Life." I retorted.
"Can you be anymore specific?" He asked. I knew he knew, but he was letting me tell him.
"Two weeks ago I watched my best friend bleed out on a warehouse floor and miscarry my brother's child because some American thugs thought she was me. To add to the laugh-a-minute activities, my husband likes to pretend that I never fell pregnant or miscarried and so I can't talk about anything. It's either I remain mildly high all the time or I jump off a building." I spewed emotionally.
"Do you need a distraction?" He asked.
"Yes." I replied bluntly. He knew me so well.
"I have a few jobs that need doing, they are dangerous and time consuming. Does that sound appealing?" Mycroft asked carefully. I looked up at him with watery eyes and gave him a small smile. Danger, that was always fun.
I was alone in a very unpleasant part of the city, so much for the glamour and cocktails of James Bond. I'd been scouting out the area for the past hour having been briefed at eh office beforehand. I was to meet the target, collect the package and get out. No one needed to die. No one needed to get hurt. The plan didn't work. The target arrived on time and I collected the package. I successfully got the package to the drop site, but that's when the problem occurred. At first I thought it was a colleague following me, making sure I got away safely. Then I noticed another man following me, and another. I tired to lose them by zigzagging through random streets, but this late at night there were no crowds to los myself in. I picked up my pace, kept my head down and tried to blend in to the shadows, but it didn't work. I had stopped concentrating on my route I was cornered. I had enough time to pull out my silencer and attach it to the end of my gun. I looked around eagerly. Five men walked into the alley. Two stayed by its entrance, three came towards me. I calculated the risks. One had a spinal injury. One had shoulder issues. Another had a healing broken nose. I couldn't see the two by the alleyway entrance. I managed to fight off the first three men; I sustained a few punches, but nothing drastic. I'd survive.
My problems truly came with the two men standing guard. Both were at least seven inches taller than me and built like stonewalls. One grabbed me and wriggled and fought to get free. The second goliath of a man caught my arm and gave it a swift, sharp tug. A loud crack echoed and I cried out in pain. The bone was broken. The men shoved me to the ground. I landed on my now broken arm and cried out again. The pain so intense my vision blurred.
Before I found myself running through the streets trying to find help, I think I blacked out. I kept running until I found somewhere I recognised. I turned down street after street until I was on Marylebone Road. John! He could help. I sprinted to Baker Street. I picked the lock, which took me minutes than my usual seconds. I shut the front door and nearly collapsed from the pain and exhaustion.
"John?...John?! Please help me." I cried out as I stumbled up the wooden stair into 221b. I heard John's bedroom door break open and he looked down at me bleary eyed.
"Percy? It's like 5am." He grumbled, but sobered quickly as he noticed the way I was hold my arm. I sighed with relief. "Come in, what's happened? What's wrong?" He asked, a firm but kind tone, the Doctor in him had taken over.
"Um...I got into a bit of trouble, I think my arm is broken. The adrenaline is wearing off...the pain is..." I stuttered out and groaned as I tried to move. The adrenaline had numbed the pain until now. I felt like I had white-hot needles piercing every nerve ending from my elbow to my wrist.
"Alright, sit down, just hold on." Instructed John. He helped me sit down on the yellow leather sofa. John looked at me before running upstairs to return minutes later with a medical kit. "Alright, here are some painkillers. They won't be that effective because I need to see how bad your arm is." He smirked as he injected the painkillers.
"Thanks..." I winced as the needle went in. "Sorry it's so late, early whatever, I didn't really know where else to go." I said quietly.
"It's fine. Let's get your jacket off." Said John, standing up and reaching for my blazer. I flinched away form the pain and stifled a scream of agony that ripped through me.
"Oh God...getting shot is less painful." I ground out through clenched teeth.
"Sorry. Try to roll up your sleeve so I can see." Asked john calmly. I tried to roll the sleeve, but my arm had begun to swell and it was so painful. I decided not to fight the tears. John wouldn't judge me for crying.
"Just cut the damned sleeve off, I can afford a new jacket..." I snapped. I didn't have a very high pain threshold and pain made me very cranky. John got to work cutting off my sleeve and as carefully as possible. I let our a few whispered expletives in the process, but the sleeve was finally removed and John examined my broken limb.
"So am I going to lose an arm?" I asked with a weak smile,
"No, it's not bad. It is broken, though, right under the elbow." Said John, as he gently felt where the break was. "I'm gonna have to set it." He said calmly. I looked John in the eye.
"Just do it quickly...can you chuck me that pillow? I need something to scream into." I requested. John passed me a cushion gave me a quick smile.
"Okay, ready...?" He firmly pushed the bone back into place with an audibly sickening crack. I let out string of muffled expletives and a scream. That had to one of the most painful experiences I'd ever had to endure. At least it had been quick. I felt a throbbing push through my arm from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers; it hurt but was just about bearable.
"You okay now?" Asked John looking concerned.
"Just about, thanks." I asked breathing heavily. "It's going need a cast right?! Jim is going to be so mad...deep joy." I sighed. I slowly let my breathing calm.
"Yeah, it'll need a cast. You're going to have to manage for a couple hours until I can get into Bart's, I'll wrap it up until then." John informed me. He rummaged through his kit and pulled out a sling and bandages.
"Okay. Have you got any stronger painkillers? The ones you gave me aren't doing anything." I asked with another groan. John finished tying the sling tight so my right arm was pinned across my chest with my right hand rest on my left shoulder.
"Yeah, since I'm done with your arm. Here." He handed me two oval tablets. "I don't suppose you're gonna tell me how this happened? And I'm asking as your doctor, not as your friend." He said looking at me with concern again.
"Thanks." I dry swallowed the pills. "Okay, So you know how Sherlock was a consultant for the Yard, I kind of do something similar for Mycroft, something went a bit wrong in the plan, I was outnumbered. I can't tell you much more." I said quickly.
"I suppose he can't use Sherlock anymore, so...How often do you do this sort of thing for him?" Asked John.
"Since I was sixteen." I answered honestly. John gaped at me for a moment.
"Sixteen? Since...he used a minor for these sort of things?!" John asked shocked.
I attempted to shrug in response and winced with pain. "
You've been doing this stuff since you were sixteen? Did your parents know what you were doing?! Or, let me guess, Mycroft kept it covered up cause of government secrets and everything." He seethed. I looked up at him. My protective older brother had returned. I smiled a little remembering how John had always looked out for me, even if I didn't always like it.
"Probably, I don't know. Didn't really see Mum and Dad much after I left school, went to live with Mycroft, met Jim, that's it really, well I did get through Art College too. Simple really." I sighed.
"Percy...I don't mean to be blunt, but...is one of these...'favours' what led to your miscarriage?" Asked John, he came to sit next to me.
"No, that was my own stupidity." I said sadly. I would never forgive myself for losing my child. John sighed and nodded.
"Alright. But tell Mycroft to take it easy, for god's sake. I don't mind seeing you, but I would prefer to see you more as a friend and not as my patient." He said.
"I might get some time off now, doubt it, but it'll be worth a try. The first time I got shot, I was allowed 24 hours before I had to get up and get back to work. Thanks for patching me up." I smiled grimly. I looked back at John. "I'm sorry we fell out; I know it's hard."
"Forget it. You're practically like another little sister. Tell Mycroft that you need at least two weeks off, doctor's orders, and I don't care if he is the British government." He smiled. I smiled back. It was nice to feel part of the family again.
"Okay, thanks big brother. I might just set Jim on him and see what happens. I'd actually like to sleep this week." I said tiredly. I hadn't been home properly in four days add in a broken limb, now I felt like sleeping for a week.
"You are exactly like Sherlock was." Sighed John.
"Thanks." I smiled. I took it as a compliment, whether it was or not.
"Obviously, Angie hasn't told you everything about him." John enquired.
"I have a warped view of him, between the scant details from Mycroft, Jim's tainted viewpoint and Angie mooning over him, I'd love a normal person's opinion." I smirked. I knew this would be hard for John, but I hoped that talking about him might help?
"Uh, well...he was brilliant...full of himself...uh, he could be very frustrating most of the time...but, whether he liked to admit it or not, he was an amazing man, and...and my best friend." John finished with a heavy breath.
"He sounds amazing; I'd loved to have met him. I'd probably irritate the life out of him, too emotional and argumentative." I smiled.
"I think he'd be able to handle you as long as you and Angie didn't team up." Smirked John.
"We so would, just as an experiment..." I grinned.
"I would have liked to see that." Laughed John. I felt so relaxed and floaty. It was fantastic; apparently the painkillers had kicked in.
"In future, please keep this painkillers hidden, they are wonderful. Oh I said that out loud...sorry." I blushed. John stared at me and eyes the bottle before putting it away in his bag.
"Right...sorry." He apologised.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to relapse. Best to remove temptation though. I heard Sherlock had a similar habit..." I asked, curious about how much John knew.
"Yeah, I guess. I don't think he actually ever did it while I was here, or else he would have died a lot sooner by Angie's hand. The worst habits he had while I knew him were cigarettes and shooting the bloody wall when he was bored." John reminisced.
"Yes, I heard about the wall shooting. It's funny, I never understood smoking I can't stand it." I agreed.
"I never understood Sherlock, so...he said it kept his brain busy or something, he only wanted them when he didn't have a case." John said absently, as though he could see Sherlock in the room with us.
"Understandable, it is so annoying when your brain won't stop but the mundane slows you down. It's like being stuck in busy traffic, you stop, start, stop, start." I rambled. Oh these painkillers impeded any mouth to brain filter I had.
"Okay...I think he described it as a rocket stuck on the launch pad." Said John quietly, looking at me again like I didn't quite fit what he was seeing.
"That analogy would work too." I smiled lazily.
"Well, I guess my brain's too slow to understand." John sighed sadly.
"No it isn't its just different, you see things I never could. You're brilliant John, never doubt that." I said honestly. Taking his hand in my free one.
"Thanks." John smiled. We sat in silence for a while.
"Sorry, but is Bart's open yet?" I asked. I glanced at my phone; it was already 6:30am. I needed to be home soon. I had made a promise. "I need to be home by 9am. It's either we do this now, or you get to deal with a frantic and grumpy Jim?!" I offered.
"That doesn't really scare me anymore, but yeah, it won't be as painful once we get your arm in a cast." He agreed.
"I'll text him...what?!" I asked noticing John's strange look. "Sometimes it's easier, he gets a bit over-protective." I said quietly. I nodded and composed my message. I had to choose my words carefully.
"Alright, do whatever you need to do." John nodded and headed upstairs to get dressed. He came back into the living room five minutes later. "Let's just get you to Bart's." I nodded.
Morning! I'm going to be a bit late. Had a bit of trouble last night, John is looking after me. I'll be home by lunchtime at the latest. John is taking me to Bart's. I love you. P x
John helped my up from the sofa and hailed us a taxi. I was surprised he could this early. We got to Bart's in record time as the streets were so quiet, just early shift works and the odd commuter were out this early. John led me through the entrance gate and into A&E. He booked me in and ordered an x-ray. Whilst I was waiting my phone buzzed in my pocket.
What? Are you alright? What happened to you? I'll be at Bart's in an hour. JM.
I rolled my eyes but smiled. I was a lucky woman to be loved so much.
Jim Moriarty was astounded at the lax security surrounding Whitehall; this was the second time he'd done this. It was practically child's play to hack into the computer network and suddenly remove each member of staff on Mycroft's floor. The simple addition of his aviator sunglasses and a government ID lanyard seemed to disguise him enough. This was pitiful. He'd seen higher security in supermarkets. He casually strolled through the hallways towards a heavy closed wooden door. The shiny plaque read M. Holmes. Bingo! Jim opened the door and sauntered into the office.
"Mycroft. You're looking awfully tired, a busy night?" Jim asked casually. Mycroft heard the hint of malice.
"It is always busy. Crime and the Nation's safety don't keep office hours." Mycroft replied.
"Don't I know it?" Jim chuckled darkly.
"Hmm. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Mycroft asked. He already knew it would be regarding Percy, it always did.
"I just got an interesting message from my wife. Apparently she's got a broken arm. I wonder how she could've been hurt. It's never happened when she's with me, so it must some little job she's been forced to do by you." Jim ground out, his anger bubbling to the fore.
"It is most unfortunate if Persephone has been injured, but she is so reckless." Mycroft said pointedly. Jim nearly swung for the man.
"No, she was put in harm's way, that is different." Jim snapped.
"She isn't forced, she can leave whenever she wants. She chooses to stay." Mycroft countered smoothly.
"Of course, not that you don't love to manipulate loyalties, if you weren't so angelic I'd be dying to have you work for me." Jim smirked.
"Be that as it may, it isn't going to happen. Will you just threaten me and leave, I'm sure Percy is fine without you. She's quite resilient." Mycroft taunted. He was pleased when he saw a minute twitch in Moriarty's left eye. Jim took a calming breath and stood up.
"I'd get your security changed Mycroft, this the second time in months I've done this…too easy. I do hope dear little Anthea can still text with only one hand." Jim sang as he swept out of Mycroft's office and toward Bart's.
Mycroft didn't take the threat seriously, Moriarty and his games. An hour later he got a call from the Westminster. Anthea had been admitted with a broken arm, her radius and ulna shattered beyond repair, she'd need extensive surgery and steel rods to repair the damage. For a moment, Mycroft felt a little unnerved.
James Moriarty could remain calm in almost any situation, except when his wife was anywhere near a hospital. Then his control slipped and he panicked. He arrived at Bart's in ten minutes; he'd paid the cabbie triple to make it happen.
Jim walked up to reception and asked for his wife. What he found irritating was the fact the receptionist decided to flirt with him after he'd asked for his wife and said the word wife four times…he was not having a people person moment. After what felt like an age, and was actually two minutes, he was able to leave and headed towards ward six.
Jim entered the ward and spotted Percy instantly, the ward was quiet and relatively empty. Percy was sat on a bed with a languid smile whist Doctor Watson applied the layers of plaster for her cast. He walked towards the pair quickly.
I was rather happy. John was talking away to me and whatever pain meds he'd given me worked wonders. I was in a bendy happy place. My little hazy bubble was burst when I heard a very familiar voice ask a question.
"Percy, are you okay?" Jim asked concerned.
"Hmm, yeah I'm alright. John has been a superhero looking after me." I smiled.
"Thank you Doctor Watson." Jim said honestly.
"No problem." John replied, not making eye contact with Jim.
"What happened to you?" Asked Jim pointedly.
"Stuff." I evaded.
"Percy, come on." He urged.
"Um two giant blokes four times my size and an alley way." I replied quietly.
"Right." He nodded.
"I may have had a fight too." I added even more quietly.
"How many?" He asked, slightly amused.
"Four on one."
"You're going to give me heart failure one day you know that, don't you?" Jim said, a small proud smile gracing his features. He took my good hand in his.
"Sorry." I said quietly. Jim shook his head and kissed my cheek, I winced slightly as he grazed bruise.
"You okay?"
"Bruises. I'll heal up, always do." I smiled half-heartedly. The pain might be lessened, but now I was thinking about the event, all I wanted to do was curl and up with Jim and cry.
"Okay, I'm done Perc, don't move, you've got to let it set. I'll be back to check on you in half an hour, I'll get your paper work sorted."
"Thanks John, you're the best." I smiled as he wondered off. His shoulders relaxing the further away he was from Jim.
"God I was worried about you. You've not been home in a few days." Jim said quietly. I could see the emotions crashing through him.
"I know, I'm sorry, I've been dealing with some stuff. I stayed at Mycroft's. I needed to sober up." I replied more harshly than intended.
"You should've said if it was getting that bad again. You know you can talk to me about anything. You getting the crap beaten out of you won't help." Jim chided.
"I couldn't talk to you, it's the one thing we can never talk about. So I went and dealt with everything the best I way I could. I'm clean and busy, so it's all fine." I snapped back. Keeping my voice to whisper as a nurse passed us.
"You're okay and that's what's important. Are you going to be given any time to recuperate?" He asked, if the answer was no, someone would lose a head.
"John is getting me a leave of absence, which Mycroft can't ignore." I replied and gently smoothed the frown off his face with my thumb.
"Good." He sighed. Jim stepped closer me and I leant my head against his chest. We stayed in silence for a while, enjoying being back together. My mind started ticking over more quickly as the painkillers were wearing off. I probably should've mentioned to John that I had a very high tolerance to painkillers.
"Do you know what's odd, now I think about it, I'm surprised anything happened at all. It was a simple drop off job, nothing difficult and it turned into something else." I thought out loud.
"What do you mean?" Jim asked confused.
"Well it was that simple. Drop off and report in. That's all I had to do. Suddenly I am being followed and getting attacked. Only four people knew where I was, one of them being me." I explained.
"Who else knew where you were?"
"Mycroft, Anthea his assistant and my contact."
"One of them must have something against you. Unlikely to be the contact as you gave them what they wanted. Mycroft, however pushy he is wouldn't want you dead. So that leaves the assistant." Jim concluded, our thought process working at the same speed. "She has very brittle bones." He added darkly.
"You didn't?" I asked exasperated.
"Possibly." He said innocently.
"If you're right, which you usually are, then she got off lightly." I nodded. I won't condone him for trying to protect me. "Will you watch her for me?" I asked scared.
"Of course, I already am. I'll do anything to keep you safe." Jim smiled.
"I know." I smiled back.
John came back and checked my cast, it had set and he wrapped a sling round my shoulder and neck and told me to kept it elevated. He told Jim what painkillers I needed to take and when. He handed me my paperwork and discharge notes to sign and the exemption from work. I hugged John with my good arm and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you so much. I'd be lost without you." I whispered to him before taking Jim's hand and going home.
Moran was seething. He'd planned the whole meticulously, she was supposed to be half dead, not just have a broken arm. That idiot whore Anthea seemed all to keen to help but was useless, not bad in bed. It was easy to see what Holmes saw in her.
There were six dead criminals found by Scotland Yard the next morning. Each one had a bullet in the head. All six were wanted in conjunction with various petty crime and several accounts of grievous bodily harm.