Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 28
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.
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Thank you ; Warm Glow, Esstell, Lunita28, Guest, Danishprince, Warm-Glow, and Lunita28, Nietzsches, ShiverandShamy , briongloid fiodoir, Isaldaria, hanging in there, Warm-Glow, Tammy, Taylor501, bruderlein, Burning Phoenix, bruderlein, April29Roses, ShiverandShamy, christistina, waterbaby, 84, and Peacefreakx3 for your review and PMs. And all the guests .You are appreciated.
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
Things to know. 1. Just a reminder that a jumper is a sweater 2. a goatee beard is a short beard cut close to the face.
"We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear." ~Martin Luther King, Jr.
Current Day
Undisclosed Location
Her eyes closed suddenly as she heard the door open. Her back was to the door. She opened them and locked eyes with Sherlock. She tried smiling at him as he looked sleepily at her. She grabbed his hand and squeezed gently.
She refused to look away from him even when she heard a voice behind her asking.
"Need some help?"
Irene took a deep breath as she looked into Sherlock eyes. Everything seemed to happen at once. Three bodyguards walked into the room. Two bodyguards took Sherlock and carried him to the bed as one gave an injection in his arm. She watched as his eyes looked at her then shut as he collapsed on the bed. One guard had her firmly held in place as she attempted to turn her head to look at Sherlock.
She attempted to ignore the sudden sensation of hot breath on her neck. "What did you give him?" She asked while still looking at Sherlock.
"Just something to make him sleep and, shall we say, forget about tonight." Moriarty nodded and the guard let her go and backed away. Moriarty turned her head toward him with his hand on her chin. He looked at her face and smiled as one finger hooked under the wig and pulled it off. It fell to the floor. He then took her pined dark brown hair and pulled it loose so that it suddenly fell beyond her shoulders. Next, he took off her lab jacket and let it fall to the floor.
"There better?" he asked calmly.
Irene said nothing.
"Not dead I see," Moriarty commented offhandedly, as he invaded her personal space again. "Well, we can make another try at it."
"Let him go." Irene said, as she looked him in the eyes not flinching. She would not betray the nervousness she felt. Moriarty almost seemed to be able to smell weakness, like a shark would smell blood in the water.
Moriarty snorted. He seemed to find her request funny. "Let me think about it," he said as he circled her again.
"Um, no." He answered with mockery.
"He's not a toy." She knew he would not listen but still she had to try.
"That's a matter of opinion." He smiled sweetly.
"Jim…" Irene was interrupted.
"You don't call. You don't write, you pretend to die. I'm afraid you don't get to call me Jim anymore. You no longer have a friend status on my Facebook page."
Jim Moriarty was silent for a minute, as he looked her up and down.
"You're a business woman Irene, a successful one. You always have an angle. Two years ago, you hired me to advise you on how to sell and blackmail information to a Mycroft Holmes. That ended badly for you didn't it." Moriarty chuckled lightly. "Now, you come here and risk your life to free his brother. For what? What's that about?"
"You always have an angle; somehow every transaction will benefit you. I'm rather brilliant, but I can't figure this one out. I don't like it when I can't figure things out. Tell me Irene, it'll be our secret, I promise."
"Why are you here?" He lost all mirth in his voice now.
Irene said nothing but kept her face neutral. Moriarty looked in her eyes and processed all the related events.
Moriarty look at her as understanding came to him, he chuckled then laughed unrestrained as he collapsed on the chair.
Irene said nothing but looked away from him now. She glanced discreetly at Sherlock then back at the wall.
Jim crossed his legs as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Sorry, it's been a long day. Last time I check, you two wanted to shoot each other. Maybe you still do, just using a different gun now?"
"I didn't know he had it in him, the two of you? Oh, is it the three of you? Or, is it one sided with you pining away for someone you can never have?"
Moriarty stood up. "Well as entertaining as all that was," he circled one hand in the air dramatically, "I need a few questions answered. Be a good girl and I won't hurt you." They stared in silence at each other for a moment.
He suddenly giggled, "I forgot, you do know me don't you? OK, I won't hurt you that much."
Irene glared at him.
"OK, OK. I'll hurt you a lot. But, would you believe, I'll delay hurting you and I'll feel regret after it's all over?" He asked with a smile.
His smile dropped. His face took on a deadly seriousness.
"In the lab, every trace of the drug was emptied out. The formula deleted from the computer file. Do you have any idea who did it?" Moriarty questioned.
Irene looked away again but said nothing.
"I see," Moriarty said. "I have a lot of his special tea," Moriarty looked at Sherlock as he lay in bed unmoving. "However, the final dose; I'm not foolish enough to think you gave it to him. But… you're reasonably smart; you would keep a dose just in case the sudden withdrawal was too much for his body to handle…" Moriarty stop talking and looked at her lab jacket that now lay on the floor.
In one swift moment, she moved the one-step needed before his men could reach her. A crunch sound was heard under her shoe as liquid soaked the pocket of her jacket that lay on the floor. Moriarty held up his hand to indicate that he wanted the guard that now held her slender frame tightly to back off.
Moriarty silently looked at her with deadly eyes. She swallowed hard and stiffened her body as she prepared for the worse.
"Distrust all in whom the impulse to punish is powerful."~ Friedrich Nietzche
Current Day
He looked curiously at the man asleep next to him. Stocky built, slightly muscular. He never would have guessed that fact that a fit body was hidden under the ridiculous jumper the man was wearing.
The man's blond hair was cut short and neat. The way he carried himself spoke of ex-military. Slight calluses to his right hand on several fingers told him that the man used guns on a regular base. He would have preferred to subdue him but his orders were to deliver him unharmed. The killer heard a sound and looked at the man to his right. The prisoner was starting to shift. He would be awake soon.
Sebastian looked at John Watson curiously. He saw nothing special about the man. By his reports, Holmes was willing to do anything to protect this man and Moriarty was willing to do anything to obtain him.
He could not see why.
He fingered his gun that lay in his lap as the heat of his fingers brushed against the coolness of the metal. He stared at the man who slept helplessly next to him. It was important to Jim that they arrived quickly with the doctor.
Sebastian looked at Watson again, this time with evil intent. He would have loved to wake the doctor up his way, but Moriarty was not to be disobeyed. The scar hidden by his precision cut goatee beard taught him that.
He smiled.
The fun that he had with that prisoner was almost worth it. The scar was superficial. It was meant to be a message not intended to damage. The light scar has been just something to add to his collection of scars.
His smile widened. As much money as he was paid; he would give himself another scar if it excited Jim.
Jim.
He only called him Jim when no one else was around.
Soon Jim would have his prize.
Sebastian looked out the window of the truck as it turned on the partially hidden road. They would continue to drive nonstop. The truck disappeared in a cloud of dust that was hidden by the darkness of night.
"Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac." ~ Baron Lane
Current Day
Undisclosed Location
Moriarty walked up to her and looked as if he would strangle her right then. "I was going to hurt you but I've changed my mind. I think I'll let someone else do it." He glanced at the bed that Sherlock was sleeping in.
Irene did not try to hide the confused look on her face.
Moriarty invaded her personal space while he locked eyes with her. "I'm sure you glanced at the research. You read what the subjects have done after their treatments was completed. Have you seen the pictures of some of their victims? One test subject, for example, with only an order, killed his wife that he loved then passively ate a sandwich with her body still on the floor."
Moriarty looked at Holmes. "Even without the last dose, he received enough of the drug to make him highly suggestible, to my voice only, of course. What would happen if he thought you were one of the persons responsible for hurting him and his family? What if I twisted that protectiveness he feels for his… friends, my words not his, and used it against him. What if he believed that he had to hurt, then kill you, or you would order everyone he loves to be killed. Could that make him into a killer if he felt he had no choice?"
"He wouldn't do it, not even with all the manipulation in the world." Irene spoke for the first time in minutes.
"Are you sure? Willing to bet your life on it?" Jim asked with a deadly calm. Irene said nothing.
Jim nodded to his guard to take her away. Irene swallowed her pride and turned to Moriarty.
"Jim, can I say goodbye, we both know that I'm not going to make it out of here."
Jim held up his hand to stop his guards wondering what her scheme was. "He won't even know you said anything. He won't remember you even being here tonight."
She took a breath, "Please," she said simply not used to that word leaving her lips.
Jim looked in her eyes. Was she sincere? Jim frowned and looked at her then at Sherlock, "I think you've just moved my heart with your plea." He frowned as he bit his lips and thought silently for a minute.
"Oh, no… Mistaken, just gas. I forgot I don't have a heart," he said cheerfully. With a wave of his hand, the woman was escorted out of the room. She did not resist; there was no point. Her head was held high and she walked with an air of dignity. She glanced one last time as she was escorted through the door.
"No one ever drowned in sweat." ~ Dan Gable
Current Day
Safe-house
The conference room was abuzz with activities. Charts, maps, reports, and picture were on every free surface of the room as well as on the walls of the lower level.
Agent Thomas was talking animatedly to two of the agents in the room who were actively listening as they pulled up real time maps. Captain Magoro, Agent Pavlov, and another agent was in a different corner of the room.
Kevin returned to the room that he had just left an hour ago, after reporting that a Doctor John Watson's clothes and personal items were reported to be found in a trash bin in an alley just outside of London. He had another message to deliver.
Kevin Patel took the scene in for a few seconds before he walked up to Agent Thomas and waited to be acknowledged. After a few minutes, the agent nodded to the other two agents. One left walking briskly to the door. Kevin eyes followed the agent as he went up the stairs presumably to leave.
Thomas impatiently turned his attention to Kevin.
"Sir, the signal on John Watson has been fully activated. I thought that you would want to know of the signal's location as of four minutes ago." Kevin held the report out to Thomas with a grim look.
Thomas stared into Kevin's eyes as he took the report from his hand. He read it quietly then looked up again at Kevin.
"He'll be arriving at the mansion in two hours and fourteen minutes Sir."
This complicates things, Thomas thought to himself. "Keep an eye on that signal." Thomas said as he pulled out his mobile.
"Coffee Sir?" Kevin asked before leaving.
"Yes, black." Thomas said absently as he pushed the keys on his mobile.
Kevin turned to leave, but stopped and turned around when he heard, "Thank you Mr. Patel."
Kevin noticed that the agent was already distracted and on the mobile speaking to someone. Kevin nodded and walked away with renewed determination. It would be a long night.
"… It's as you suspected Sir, he's to arrive in less than two hours." Thomas spoke to Mycroft.
"We will need time to adjust the plan if we are able. I need to know what is going on in there." Thomas added as he glanced at the report.
"Agent Myers?" Mycroft already knew the answer.
Thomas now looked at the photos of the mansion. "There has been no contact for twenty hours and twenty-one minutes, Sir. We assume her cover is still intact. No word on whether Adler's cover is intact."
Thomas hesitated slightly. Mycroft noticed.
"Sir, current reports indicate that…" Thomas was interrupted.
"Moriarty has arrived." Mycroft finished for him.
"Yes Sir." Thomas said.
"Adjust and proceed as planned Thomas," Mycroft said rapidly.
"Yes Sir," Thomas said. They both disconnected.
"Power is not sufficient evidence of truth." ~ Henry Kissinger
Jim sat in the chair looking at Holmes as he slept.
He had changed his mind. He ordered them to take away the dark blue suit. He watched as they dressed him in a black shirt and black suit with black shoes, Westwood of course.
Many hours later, he looked fascinated as the man in bed moaned then slowly stirred and woke. Holmes now laid his head back on the wooden head of the bed as he gathered his strength; His eyes finally opened. Moriarty had the fireplace lit. The orange and yellow flames danced happily across the room, first illuminating then distorting images.
The man, who was now sitting in bed as he leaned back, looked around. His blue-gray eyes blinked to adjust to the darkened room as it first traveled then came to rest on the man sitting in the chair.
"Finally awake?" Jim said cheerfully.
The man moved his legs to dangle off the side of the bed. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself as he waited for the dizziness to pass. "Yes," was his quiet reply as he turned and locked eyes with Jim Moriarty.
"Learn to run when feeling the pain: then push harder."~ Unknown
Current Day
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, south of Spain
Mycroft placed the phone back on the wall of the aircraft. "My arrival time?" Mycroft asked the man who sat across from him on the private jet.
"Twelve hours Sir, give or take ten minutes." The man answered.
Mycroft nodded at the confirmation as he looked out the window of the airplane lost, deep in thought.
"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant." ~ Martin Luther King, Jr
Current Day
London England
Mrs. Hudson looked at the phone in the kitchen as she willed it to ring. John promised to call the moment that he landed wherever it was that he was going. She sighed as she looked at her mobile phone now. John was a man of his word. Both her boys, as she referred to John and Sherlock, were.
She unenthusiastically took a sip of tea.
She heard a knock and then the door opened and closed as footsteps were heard at her door.
"It's open Greg." She recognized his footsteps. He had John's key and had promised to check on her daily.
"Mrs. H." He walked and sat down at the table as he removed his jacket. She smiled as she wordlessly pushed a cup his way. She poured tea in his cup and added a touch of cream the way he liked it.
Greg Lestrade nodded his head in thanks.
"No word on the boys?" Mrs. Hudson finally broke the silence.
"Sorry." Lestrade frowned as he took a sip. "Good," he said to Mrs. Hudson. She only smiled wordlessly.
"Have you eaten yet, I could make something. I don't know how the day got away from me." She now looked into his eyes intently.
Greg was about to say no. For Mrs. Hudson to forget to cook was unheard of. She seemed to think food and a good cuppa could keep The British Empire together.
"How about sandwiches, but only if we do it together and I help," Greg negotiated. She normally allowed no one in her kitchen to cook but as she looked in his eyes, she knew that she would allow it tonight.
"Alright love," she said. She closed her eyes and was suddenly motionless with both hands still holding her cup of tea.
"You OK Mrs. H?" Greg asked concerned.
Mrs. Hudson replied without opening her eyes. "Oh sorry, just saying a little prayer for the boys, I have a feeling they're going to need it."
Lestrade frowned and shifted in his seat but Mrs. Hudson's eyes were closed so she never knew. She also did not notice that after a slight hesitation, Greg also became still as his eyes closed.
Lots of Love