Sherlock story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 30

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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Cyber hugs

T rated but some future chapters may be M.

A/N: Important. Sherlock will at times be referred to as Ben or Benedict since he believes that to be his name.

Things to know. Tesco is a grocery and general merchandise retailer or store.

*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment. *

"Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table."~

W. H. Auden

Current Day

Jim Moriarty was talking to Benedict, as Sherlock thought his name to be. He was trying to fill his memories in.

Benedict gained strength as the morning progressed. It was morning but still dark outside as Jim and Ben spoke to each other. He wandered around the mansion with relative freedom. A guard followed him. It was explained to him that it was for his own safety due to his recovering from a major head trauma and past kidnapping. It was also explained that because of the injuries, he might never recover his pass memories fully.

Enough of the false memories were successfully implanted by the drug and mind manipulation procedures, to make the false memories plausible.

Moriarty by nature was meticulous with his preparation. The headaches came whenever Benedict questioned the false memories. The headaches caused the head trauma lie to be believable. He was trapped in a pit of lies. Any attempt to climb out, only cause more of the dirt from the pit's walls to fall on him burying him deeper.

The brothers, as Sherlock believed them to be, spoke for hours. Every word from Jim Moriarty solidified the implanted memories making it more believable.

Jim chose to implant his own childhood memories in Sherlock's mind during the procedure. Jim never questioned himself as to why he chose his true childhood memories to implant, as opposed to a complete fantasy.

Ben was told that he was the adopted brother of a family of four. A family with an abusive father, an older abusive brother, and a complacent mother who allowed the abuse to occur. She did and said nothing to stop the abuse. Both parents were dead and an older brother, killed in a car accident. The secret was that the entire family was killed by Jim. Benedict did not take part in the murders but helped Jim to cover it up.

He was a Cambridge graduate scientist who has been reluctant to take part in the illegal family business. Ben was kidnapped by rival criminals, tortured, and recovered by his loyal, eight-month-older big brother whom he has a sometimes-difficult relationship. The same older brother Jim who risked his own life and safety to fight the kidnappers to get him back.

Truth mixed with false implanted memories confirmed all of Moriarty's lies.

Benedict sat in the chair with his legs crossed. It was a lot to process and a bit unbelievable. He could not possibly be the kind of man that his brother Jim claimed him to be. Yet, enough of his memories existed that he could not deny the papers he was given, or Jim's words. He could not deny his very own memories.

His memories had gaps. For those forgotten memories, he would have to rely on his brother to fill him in.

When Benedict asked why the rival criminals kidnapped him, Jim took him into their library to talk further with him.

"I faked my death but one of our rivals, a dangerous and sick man found out that I was alive. He knew how much I cared for you, so this… maniac not only kidnapped you, he..."

Jim turned away for a moment as they sat in opposite chairs by the fire. A tear came to his eye as he quickly wiped it away. Moriarty was careful to allow Holmes to see the tear before he wiped it away pretending to be embarrassed by the display of weakness. Well, Jim thought as he cleared his throat, enough time has gone by to appear to pull himself together.

"Sorry," Jim said as he again cleared his throat. "You were kidnapped, and beaten, and things were done to you that I am glad that you do not remember." Jim glanced grimly at Benedict.

Pain slammed into Sherlock's head. He felt as if someone took a hammer to his temples. He grunted from the pain. The words triggered true memories of torture as they collided with false implanted memories. Together they formed a collage of mixed up and unpleasant pictures, sights, smells, and the feel of being touched. It was an unpleasant combination of a real PTSD flashback and an implanted flash of memory induced in his mind.

Sherlock seemed to be trying not to hyperventilate as he attempted to get his heart rate and breathing under control. His eyes were shut tight and he was attempting to hide the slight shaking his body insisted against his will on carrying out.

He was to slow his breathing down. Four counts in, three counts out. Someone he trusted more than life helped him to learn this technique, after his recovery from his torture.

Who was it?

It must have been his brother, Benedict told himself as he started to calm his body and mind.

Jim discreetly glanced at his nails. They did need a manicure.

Jim watched Sherlock's distress curiously, as he attempted not to look bored. Other people's distress was boring, unless he was the cause of it of course. His father only taught him two good things in this life. The first was that other people's pain was not important. The last was to take what you want, there were no such things as boundaries or rules.

He wondered a few things as he waited for the slight drama to pause. Moriarty wondered if perhaps he should have listened and waited the three days for the programmed false memories to settle as Doctor Yáng had said. It was difficult to understand her attempts at justifying her results with all that screaming. It was her fault that the procedure did not completely take effect. It could never be his.

This was much more fun he had to admit, than a robotic Holmes that emotionlessly followed his every command without any self-thoughts. In addition, his own memories of his past, his Doctor Watson, and Mycroft Holmes were repressed.

Jim looked at Holmes. He was calming more now.

Now, what was he thinking about, Moriarty wondered. Oh yes, he was considering the fact that a haircut was probably a good idea this week. Next week, he would be busy with tortures, a few killings, and other work.

Jim fleetingly looked at Holmes again. Oh, he almost forgot, maybe he should do something comforting. What would that be exactly? Suddenly he thought he knew what to say.

"Ben, I will not allow anyone to hurt you again." When Moriarty was a child and weak, he had often wished that someone said those words to him. No one ever did.

Benedict looked at Jim and said, "You…" He cleared his throat as he tried to put the embarrassing incident behind him. He took a breath then continued, "You were about to remind me of what your new scheme was that caused the person to kidnap me and reveal that you were alive. What was the big secret that was ruined?"

Jim looked at Holmes oddly. "Have some tea Ben and we'll talk."

Sherlock frowned but took a few sips of tea as he listened. He was not even sure that he wanted tea. Then why was he drinking it?

"It's his fault you know, the criminal I told you about and his right hand man who is known as the Doctor. All my enemies were gone. We had disappeared and I faked my death. Then this annoying person started digging again and discovered that I was still alive. He and his associate are the ones who tried to kill you. They did quite terrible things to you Ben. I'm glad that you don't remember."

Benedict looked closely in Jim's eyes. Something was slightly off. Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't he think properly when he was around his brother.

"You talk as if you're almost fond of this person. Why would you be if he caused you so much trouble and money?"

"He was a challenge, interesting." Moriarty said as he looked at the vaulted ceiling deep in thought.

"What happened to him?" Ben asked curiously.

"Dead, I killed him. I looked in his eyes and watched him die."

"Do you, we often look in the eyes of people we have killed, because the urge to murder is not exactly overwhelming me at the moment. In fact, the urge to stop you seems to be more prominent."

"It's one of your faults but it can be gotten over." Moriarty chuckled as he continued.

"What I was planning was so big that I had to be dead. Every major government would be after me. I couldn't have that now could I? However, they would not look for a dead man. Then this man ruined that."

He smiled. "Rome was once thought to be invincible. The centre of the world. However, it fell, but it burned. How did Rome burn, accident or arson Ben?" Moriarty now stood and walked to the fireplace as he leaned on it and looked at Holmes.

Sherlock looked away briefly thinking. "The question on why it burned doesn't matter to you. In your mind, it was arson or should have been. The fact that it did burn is what excites you."

Sherlock suddenly looked at Moriarty. "It burned. All major governments? Burning? The centre of the world, burning." Sherlock frowned. He did not like the direction of the conversation.

Understanding came to Benedict.

"War." He said as he stared opened mouth incredulously.

"Good." Moriarty raised an eyebrow.

"Nuclear war." Sherlock wanted to be wrong.

"Very good." Moriarty stood up straight.

"You're mad." Sherlock slowly rose from the chair.

"Vicious Rumors." Moriarty smiled.

"With all the major governments in chaos simultaneously, it would be easy for someone with military backing to assert power and control." Sherlock moved closer to Moriarty as he worked out the puzzle.

"And that person would be?" Moriarty started to pace excitedly.

"You." Sherlock looked at Jim pacing and frowned, "You're completely insane."

"Already established Ben."

"You'll need armies." Sherlock reminded his brother.

"Who says I'll need my own. I more a lover than a fighter." Moriarty willed Sherlock to work the rest of the puzzle out.

"Uh." A thought occurred to Sherlock. "There are countries that are disenfranchised with the controlling countries having power. They're willing to do anything, even follow you as their leader in order to gain a voice, to gain what they consider power and respect."

He looked at Moriarty. "What do you want to be ruler of the world," he asked as he snickered with cynicism. Ben's smile left when he looked at Moriarty's face. "You can't be serious… but, you are."

Moriarty looked at Sherlock with a rare display of awe for the man figuring it out so quickly.

"You'll still need nuclear weapons and one cannot exactly walk to Tesco and order one up… But… you do not have to," he looked at him incredulously before he realized something that made his blood run cold. "Already worked that out did you. How?"

Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "You do realize that I get all tingly when you do that?"

Sherlock looked him up and down then said sincerely. "You may want to keep that to yourself. Brother."

"Did I mention that we were adopted?" Jim walked up and invaded his personal space.

Sherlock said nothing but watched him.

"Ok… Ok, just kidding." Moriarty leered as he raised one eyebrow as he took two steps back.

"It will never work, one man cannot have such an effect." Sherlock countered calmly.

"Hitler did Ben." Moriarty said as he walked closer to Sherlock again.

"He was stopped in the end." Sherlock felt his anger growing.

"Yes, but there was a beautiful burn to the world before then Ben." Moriarty said.

"You say my name quite a lot." Sherlock looked oddly at Moriarty.

"It just seems to," he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, "Roll off the tip of my tongue." He paused, "So to speak."

Sherlock looked at Jim peculiarly but continued the dialog.

"People died and were tortured. Cities were destroyed. Do you know how many people died because of Hitler's' policy?" Sherlock tried to reason.

"Approximately fifty million, some historians say as many as seventy. Hitler was not efficient, it could have been more." Moriarty smile widened.

Sherlock looked Jim in the eyes.

"I normally loathe repeating myself," Sherlock looked the man he believed to be his brother up and down and said, "But, you're quite mad, properly insane."

Sherlock turned to walk away when he heard Jim's voice.

"Don't walk away Ben," Sherlock swallowed and fought to keep walking. His headache came back. "Ben stop!" Sherlock observed his body slow then stop. Why did he stop, Sherlock wondered. He wanted to walk and keep walking until he got away from the madman, his brother or not. He stood confused with his fist clenched.

"Come back here Ben." He heard Moriarty say. Sherlock had to stiffen his body, he had to fight, he had to… to…

He found himself back at Jim's side unsure of how he got there. He blinked rapidly.

How did he get there?

Sherlock breathing increased as he stood by Jim. Something was wrong. What was wrong?

"Here, you forgot to drink your tea." Moriarty said almost tenderly.

"I don't want any tea," Sherlock ground his teeth together and managed.

"Yes, you do." Moriarty said as he leaned closer. Sherlock's hands shook as a silent war raged inside him. His conscious self was unaware of the struggle. Moriarty noticed his hands shaking and put his hands over Sherlock's hands, to give his hands the pushed it needed to bring the cup up to his mouth.

"I don't like you touching me." Sherlock's mind was twirling.

"You'll get used to it…, or not," Moriarty said smiling.

Moriarty pushed the cup up to Sherlock's lips again. He seemed unable to help himself.

He looked at Moriarty; He thought of something, there was something that he had to think about. What was it? The headache came again. "What did you do to me?" He asked with wide eyes. "Something's wrong, this is not normal."

"Drink Ben." Sherlock's eye widen in horror as he realized that he was drinking. He soon started to feel more - calm.

"You're getting over a major accident, you're not yourself Ben."

I am getting over a major accident. It stands to reason, that my behavior is not typical - Sherlock's mind whispered.

Sip

When did they sit down?

"You're being silly. I'm your brother, you trust me above all others. You take my advice."

Jim was his brother; no matter how much brothers disagree, a brother can be trusted. - Sherlock's mind said.

A Few Sips

When did he get in his bed?

When did he take off his suit jacket and shoes?

The Last Few Sips

"Sleep Ben, and don't worry, I forgive you. After all, I've done so much for you. More than you could ever repay me for." Moriarty whispered in his ear as his eyes shut.

"Yes… Sorry Jim," Sherlock slurred as his mouth parted slightly and face relaxed in sleep.

Jim raised one eyelid and looked into Ben's eye. He allowed it to close. He would not wake until daylight. Moriarty stood over Sherlock looking, thinking, and wondering. He would be asleep for at least an hour or maybe two. It would be sunrise soon. He would wake with a better attitude. Moriarty raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. Nothing would wake him up for an hour at least, nothing.

He walked closer and leaned down slowly. His smile grew. When he was meters from Sherlock's face, his mobile phone vibrated. He took it out his pocket and read. He now had a toothy grin.

Moriarty made his choice.

He brushed his lips on Sherlock's forehead and whispered. "Goodnight brother." He gave Holmes one last look. He walked out the room. A flip of the light switch on the way out, and the lights went out.

Moriarty shut the door to Sherlock's room, blocking out all light. Sherlock slept, he was unaware that he was surrounded by darkness.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Love to all. Zacha