Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 20
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story however is my original thought, and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
** Thank you Prothoe, briongloid fiodoir, Isaldaria, hanging in there, Warm-Glow, Tammy, Taylor501, bruderlein, Puky2012, socalrose , ShiverandShamy (SAS), hJohn302, Voldemort101, and Jenna Yemowa, or you review and PMs of the last post.
Thank you ; Esstell, Lunita28, eohippus, Burning Phoenix, bruderlein, danishprince, Nietzsches, Warm-Glow, drpaz, April29Roses, ShiverandShamy, christistina, waterbaby, 84, Peacefreakx3, and Nietzsches and for your review and PMs. Cyber hugs for you! **
****Thank you for all your kind words and cyber tea. It may entertain you to know that for every cyber tea sent, I drank a real tea. ( I was supposed to drink lots of liquids.) Your well wishes made me smile.( While conscious of course.) I am a little tired still but much better, thanks again. You were tea to my thirsty soul. Ok… Ok, I know that that was corny, but it is nonetheless true (Smile)
Love to all, Zacha
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
A/N:Substitute if you like baseball bat for cricket bat. Not the same thing but you will get the idea.
"Hear no evil, speak no evil - and you'll never be invited to a party" ~Oscar Wilde quotes
The Next Day
Current Day
Sounds of screaming and crying echoed off of the walls of the damp basement floor.
"Please… please… please… I swear I ain't the one that took da money. I swear… I swear." The tall muscular man broke down into a fit of sobs and whimpers.
Another man in a Westwood suit, looked over his phone as it played a familiar tune. Bach Sonatas, Number Three. He took a moment to enjoy the music.
He frowned. "Shut. Up!" He growled while glaring at the sniveling man. The tall man put his sleeve to his mouth to muffle his own sounds. He could not help weeping, but he choked back any other words as it turned to harsh gasps and hiccups.
"Idiot," Moriarty commented as he picked up his mobile and pushed a button on his phone.
"Yes," he said absently as he looked at his nails. It was time for a trim.
"Mr. Moriarty, this is Doctor Yáng."
There was a brief pause as Moriarty sighed.
"Are you a half-wit? I know who you are, the question is what do you want?" He said impatiently.
"Um, yes. The matter about Mr. Holmes, Sir. I believe that he is close to recovering his memories. His focus and mind is becoming more clear every day, and… he discovered that we were drugging him. There was an error with the sugars. Someone miscalculated the drug amount that was put in his tea. The extra sweetness made him suspicious."
"And what do you plan to do about this? He is one injured man with amnesia, Are you saying that you can't handle him, Doctor Yáng?"
Moriarty walked and picked up a cricket bat with his free hand as he held the phone with the other. The smell of linseed oil permeated the moderately sized space. He looked at the man on his knees curiously.
"I plan to arrive in a few days. It is your responsibility that when I do, a recreated man stands before me."
"One second." Moriarty turned around. He whispered an apology to the whimpering man who then bowed his head after Moriarty looked at him. His whimpering increased.
"The plans that we discussed earlier over the phone. As I said, it is an experimental drug. It will not affect his intellect in the slightest but physically it may cause the side effects that we discussed earlier. His moods can be unpredictable. And, any sudden withdrawal from the drug will be extraordinarily painful, possibly dangerous."
There was a pause as the rustle of papers was heard, "In the test subjects, the drugs results were quite promising. Nevertheless, his mind is exceptional and the results to him may be a bit unpredictable." There was a another smaller pause, "Shall I proceed?"
"It will not affect his intellect." Moriarty wanted confirmation.
"No sir, but he may suffer physically if we are not cautious."
"Oh, pain, is that all? Then yes proceed." He fingered the blade of a cricket bat in his hand as his fingers ran along the flat end. He then hit the bat on the floor a few times. There was more whimpering.
"By the way Doctor Yáng, if you should not fulfill my wishes exactly, your services will no longer be required."
"Sir, do you mean that my employment will be terminated without pay?" She heard the phone click in her ears.
She frowned briefly. She would get through to the test subject, one way or another.
Moriarty turned back to the man smiling. His mood much happier.
He looked at the man inquiringly. Four of his men were waiting for further instructions.
"Tell the truth," he said calmly walking back and forth.
"I… I swear, I thought you were de… dead. I thought I was stealing from the other p… person, Ayyad. I would never steal from you, Sir. You… know I would never… never steal from you." He broke down and cried again.
Thinking of Sherlock affected Moriarty. He was in a rare generous mood and decided to do something more rare, he would forgive him.
"I forgive you." Moriarty said as he tested the words.
"What Sir?" The man sniveled. The man never knew his real name, Sir was all he had ever called him.
"I forgive you." Moriarty said more confidently the second time.
The Master Criminal looked at the man and smiled.
The tall bloodied man that was on his knees started to cry in relief. Moriarty frowned.
"Pat his shoulder or something," Moriarty told one of his men. The closest guard looked confused and stiffly patted the shoulder of the man on his knees. This made him cry harder from relief.
"Well, time to go," Moriarty said.
"Tha… Thank ya S… Sir," he wiped the snot from his nose with the back of his sleeve. He couldn't use his fingers; they were broken. Moriarty turned to leave then stopped suddenly.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He half turned.
"Peel the flesh from his chest only, just the front and break one knee, he can choose which one." He waved one arm in the air dramatically as he searched the internet already bored.
"While he's alive?" One guard asked.
"Of course. If he was dead, it wouldn't hurt now would it?" Moriarty changed screens while opening a new web page on his phone. "Moron," he said to himself. Normal people could be so thick.
"Um, no Sir," One of his men said as they prepared to drag the suddenly quiet man away. It surprised no one that the spot that he had knelt, suddenly had a wet puddle on the ground.
"Wait!" Moriarty looked at the man intently all amusement vanished from his face. His brown eyes looked as if it was swallowed in darkness. "You forgot to say thank you." The man on his knees was reminded with all sincerity.
"Thank you," The suddenly quiet man whispered in a monotone voice as he stared into nothingness.
"You're welcome," Moriarty suddenly smiled. One should always say thank you when one is forgiven. He always had to say thank you whenever his father would forgive him as a child.
"Release him when you're done." He waved his hand dismissively as his attention returned to his phone.
"Well," he said with a big smile, "Don't want to be late for my next appointment."
The man remained quiet, opened mouth, and wide eyed as he was dragged away toward the back room where the tools were.
Moriarty smoothly put on his sunglasses before he exited the building.
The driver opened the door for Moriarty. He climbed effortlessly into the back seat of the Mercedes Benz. His body pulled gently to the right as the car pulled onto the abandoned dirt road. He sat back searching the internet on his mobile phone as the Benz gently bumped and rocked while driven.
Some buttons were pushed and a picture of a bedroom and a sleeping man came on the screen of the mobile phone. Holmes started to awaken. Moriarty smiled, as he looked intrigued.
He was no longer bored.
He never knew of the renewed screams of the man in the building that he just drove away from. The car disappeared in a cloud of dust down the lonely dirt road.