Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 77
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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Notes:
*****Warning this chapter M just in case, Violence.****. ****
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
…. The Game…
One more bonus chapter on Tuesday. Sorry for the delay.
To my other family.
Note: crack on means to move quickly or with speed.
A/N: Hi everyone. I have three chapters for you with a bonus chapter Tuesday. I wrote this earlier in the week and stayed up the majority of the night and finished on late Friday. I saved it to download to the site and lost it. I looked everywhere. I thought maybe I corrupted the file because I edited it on my Smartphone. I was not happy, this is the second time that this has happened to me. When I tried to open the document, it was missing. I wish that I could say that I was immediately mature but I was not. I spent near an hour pouting and feeling sorry for myself. That is when I realized that I had a choice to make and I made it. I wrote again. Just venting. I said all that to say that if something is going wrong in your life right now, it's OK to pout, but then get up and try again. Cheesy, but it's true.
Lots of Love, Zacha
"The true test of character is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do."~ John W. Holt, Jr.
Current Day
Current Time
Mrs. Hudson tapped her fingers nervously on the table. She glanced at her watch and sighed. She could not stop the startled jump that occurred involuntarily when her mobile phone vibrated on the table. Her hands quickly grabbed at the device. She read the message. It was from Sherlock. She glanced again at her mobile and pressed in a number. She waited breathlessly as she counted to herself.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
Send
The mobile phone line was answered almost immediately."Where is he?" Mycroft's obviously irritated voice asked.
"Yes… well there is a message and an address. Three possible addresses." Mrs. Hudson read the three possible addresses off, and the message.
Mrs. Hudson pulled the mobile from her ears. Her eyebrows rose as she wondered if she heard correctly. She thought that she heard the normally unflappable Mycroft Holmes use profanity. Mrs. Hudson looked at her mobile again with raised eyebrows as she disconnected the call. She decided that it must have been her imagination.
It was an overcast day but not raining. The sun rays would peek through the opaque gray clouds then retreat behind them again. A steady and cool breeze blew.
It was early evening. Watson and Holmes had managed to knock out two of the men guarding the building. They were tied and gagged despite the fact that they were unconscious. Sherlock was fairly sure that they had surveillance and would be able to determine that they arrived. Still, in his mind, it was two men he did not have to worry about. There was scarcely a sound as both men stepped lightly on the cracked concrete floor of the long ago abandoned warehouse. The Consultant Detective naturally moved quietly like a cat. He held his body confidently and stepped gracefully without thought.
John looked around systematically as he moved. Walking quietly did not come naturally to John. However, years of training as a soldier, and trying to stay alive in a war, had taught him how to effectively move unnoticed.
Both of their guns were aimed in front of their bodies. As they approached the area of the building Sherlock believed John's sister to be in, both men hid their guns in their trouser backs. They had decided to go that way because of the fact that they would have to have a confrontation with Moriarty for Harry Watson. They did not have enough fire support to force the criminal and his men to surrender.
The dimly lit passageway opened into a gigantic room. There were other larger rooms seen through three open doors. Luckily, the building was much smaller than most they had been in.
As they crossed the last open area, the dimly lit room came slowly into view. There were three chairs. An irate Harry Watson was sitting in the middle chair with her hands cuffed in front of her body. Four rather large men were standing still. Two were on the left of the chairs, two were on the right. Sherlock without looking held on to the hem of John's jacket as he felt John take a step toward his sister.
Sherlock's mind heard John as his breathing increased to an audible level. He did not need to look at his friend, to know that his body was tensed and ready to go. He also knew that John was a disciplined ex-soldier who would not move despite his feelings unless he felt that a life was in immediate danger.
Sherlock's body stilled. Sherlock mind quieted. His eyes moved as it scanned the room. Information and data flowed into his mind at a swift speed. Useless information was deleted almost as quickly as it was processed.
The room seemed to narrow as his mind focused on specifics.
Sherlock looked at Harry and made a a deduction. She seemed to be in no immediate danger. She was bruised about the face and had a gash at her hairline that seemed to have bled a bit. Dried blood was on the side of her face, neck, and shirt collar. Her long blond hair was entirely cut off. Her hair was hacked off in irregular patterns. She looked like a five year old that had tried to cut her hair herself for the first time.
Sherlock doubted that there was even a point to the act. Except for humiliation. Sebastian seemed to enjoy other people's distress, having power over them. He was glad that he had cut her hair only. If he was not under Moriarty's orders, it could have just as easily been a finger, or an eye that he had sent to John as a present, instead of a bloodied piece of hair.
Next, he made a general scan of the room.
It was set up quickly, Holmes thought.
Red solid lights...
Monitor-Speakers...
Wires leading from the table to floor, then disappearing behind the wall...
Draft, there is another entrance...
No...
Two entrances...
Left side behind the door...
Two ways into the room...
Monitor, two way communication...
Moriarty is not here in person...
He has anticipated gunfire...
Seven men armed, they have not killed, or tried to capture us yet, or even taken our guns...
Ah...
A game.
Sherlock asked John quietly so that only he could hear. "Does Harry have a heart condition?"
"No Sherlock, why?" Sherlock was already focused on something else, and did not answer. John was about to ask again, when he recognized the look in the Consultant Detective's eyes, so, said nothing. John realized that he was trying to use the time that was left to take everything in.
Holmes now looked at the men in the room as he assessed their strengths and weaknesses. Only four minutes had passed.
"Mr. Holmes," Sebastian said as he walked close to Harry.
"Sebastian," Holmes said coolly as he attempted to move further into the space. He was attempting to make his way toward John's sister. John mimicked his friend's movements.
Both men were surprised when Sebastian allowed them to come within a few yards of Harry.
Moran's teeth appear unnaturally white as he moved from the dimmer lit corner to the centre of the room. He had a gun in his hand that was aimed down. Sebastian Moran tapped the gun on his thigh as he walked.
Sherlock now looked at Sebastian and deduced him. He made a point of not frowning.
"Mr. Moriarty will be with you soon Mr. Holmes. While we wait, I want you to think about something." Sebastian smiled widened.
"John, curse if you need to, but… don't move," Sherlock said quietly to John. John frowned as he looked at Sherlock. He noticed that Sherlock held his wrist firmly but he looked at Moran and Harry not him. John's frown deepened as he now looked at the two.
Moran walked over to Harry. She had not said a word but stared death daggers with her eyes at Moran. The bruise on her face in the shape of a hand confirmed that she had learned the hard way to be quiet.
Moran leaned down while he maintained eye contact with Holmes and brutally kissed the woman. She tried to turn away but said nothing. Moran then made a point of looking at John. Sherlock's hold on John's wrist tightened. He heard John cursing Moran down to the third generation, but he managed not to move. Sherlock mind quickly worked out the message. Sebastian's nonverbal threat was remarkably clear. Tell Moriarty what I've done, and I will kill John before Moriarty has a chance to kill me.
Sherlock smirked. How frightfully pedestrian although admittedly effective, he thought.
Both groups waited in silence for three minutes. Suddenly the monitor came to life. Sherlock moved his eyes only and noticed that the steady red lights in the corner now were blinking in a steady rhythm.
Moriarty's voice came out of the speakers in the room. Moriarty's face took up almost the entire screen. Sherlock looked curiously at the screen. Two-way communication, Sherlock said to himself. It was almost as if Moriarty was trying to recreate an image of a crap telly game show.
"Well hello Ben." Moriarty said cheerfully.
Sherlock's said nothing at first as he first glanced away at the three small silver bins turned upside down on the table that were spread directly in front of Harry.
"Jim," Sherlock said. Sherlock glanced at the flat screen television on the wall and responded as he made a point of turning his eyes and looking at Sebastian. He now turned his attention back to the flat screen as he ignored Sebastian's clinched jaw.
Moriarty laughed almost as if he was enjoying himself at a dinner party.
"Well, just call to say hello. Sorry, I could not be there in person, but I have an operation to run, criminals to advice, and people to murder. Busy, busy, busy! Besides love, this is only the beginning. And, I suspect that your annoying brother is on the way." Moriarty's face was abnormally close to the screen. His expression was manic and disjointed. Sherlock resisted the urge to frown.
"A game," Sherlock said casually in a voice that sounded bored. He hid the fact that his heart was racing, well. He had let go of John's wrist and gave him a glance as they communicated wordlessly with their eyes. John gave the slightest nod to indicate that he understood. John's body tensed as he prepared for anything.
Moriarty smiled a real smile now as the cartoon like manic look left. A curious look took its place. "And, this game would involve?" Moriarty seemed to turn his eyes as if he could see John.
Sherlock discreetly looked up at the red light that seemed to move.
"John and some choice. This game was for him … but not really… it was for me. You knew that I would not let him come alone." Sherlock spoke as his mind tried to find the answer to the puzzle.
"Good - good - good," Moriarty said rapidly.
"Speaking of John. John you were exceedingly knotty. What did my text tell you John?" Moriarty's voice took on a whiny tone.
John looked at Sherlock for direction. Sherlock nodded. John noticed his grim look as he spoke. "It said Sherlock, John, or Harriett. You choose. Come alone."
"Did you come alone?" Moriarty asked.
John did not answer.
"I am here now. You obviously knew that I would come, and prepared for the possibility. No harm done Jim." Sherlock said as he took a small step forward. He tried to get personal by saying Jim and not Moriarty. He was trying to take the attention off of John. He did not like the way that Moriarty seemed to be focused on him.
Moriarty smiled for a minute. He barely nodded. Two of the men moved to the table and removed the bins. Three small vials full of a clear liquid were on the table. John's, Harry's, and Sherlock's attention were focused on the vials.
Another man carried out large and tiny square shaped containers. The larger of the containers had a decidedly troubling sound. Moriarty's voice interrupted their thoughts. Sherlock looked at the screen with Moriarty's face on it. Moriarty seemed to smile wider when he saw understanding in Holmes eyes.
Sebastian came up to them, as he looked John up and down smiling.
"You are about to have a series of test. One word will guide you. Choice. I know who you are. You're me. We're the same. You have control here Ben, or is it Sherlock? Who are you really?" There was a brief silence, as Moriarty looked upward thoughtfully.
"Well, LET US FIND OUT, SHALL WE!" Moriarty yelled suddenly.
There was a brief moment of silence.
"Watson ou que vous choisissez." Moriarty said suddenly, all business.
"moi." Sherlock said evenly. John stiffened his body as he prepared himself.
Sebastian held his earpiece in place as he listened to Moriarty's private instructions. Sebastian's smile widened. His eyes now looked from John to Holmes. Three of the four men walked close.
The sound of Althea's high-heeled black leather shoes tapped rhythmically on the marble floors. She walked through the corridor down toward the elegant wooden doors of the conference room. Analysts, M16 agents, handlers, and support staff passed in hurried steps, each desiring to reach their destinations quickly. Her fingers danced across her phone gracefully.
New information suggested an imminent terrorist attack and the tension could almost be felt. The disappearance of the brother of Mycroft Holmes, the British Government added to that tension. Her steps quickened.
Anthea's rhythm faltered as her steps slowed momentarily. She read something on her mobile. Her steps now quickened into almost a slow run.
Mycroft sat quietly as he took in the activities. He was livid when he heard of Sherlock's latest stunt. Two cars had rushed off to Regents Park thinking that the younger Holmes was there. The devil had been at the flat the entire time waiting for them to leave so that he could slip out.
Mycroft sighed. He was grateful that at least Sherlock had not run off by himself this time, John was with him. Mycroft thought further. More correctly, this time around, Sherlock was with John.
The conference room was busy with activities. CCTV footage was being reviewed carefully. The trackers in the younger Holmes shoes, clothing, and mobile were in the process of being turned on. Everyone was waiting for the word that it had been activated.
Sherlock Holmes had purposely worn his shoes that he knew had a tracker in it. Sherlock had notified Mycroft's staff that he was wearing the shoes with the tracker and activated his mobile. They were ten agents in the adjoining room waiting for the signal to start transmitting. Twelve agents were already doing surveillance on the three possible sites as instructed by the younger Holmes note.
Mycroft's attention was shifted to the door.
Anthea's slim fingers, hands, and arms extended as they pressed forcefully against the heavy solid wooden doors. The elegant wooden doors that led to the conference room opened. Everyone stopped talking and turned to the agent, giving her their full attention.
"We have a location. I have dispatched ambulances, the local police, and the bomb unit."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow impressed as he looked at Anthea.
"Sir, this is Moriarty." Was her simple reply.
Everyone attention was once again shifted to the door. A suited tall and muscular man stood in the door.
"You're supposed to take another week to recover." Mycroft said as he walked close to the agent he considered his most trusted.
"I heard," was the simple reply.
There was a brief moment of silence.
"Let's move. Ladies and gentlemen, rapidity is appropriate. Thomas with me." Mycroft was already moving.
There was a sudden flurry of activities as some briskly walked, and some jogged, others ran slowly.
Anthea and Thomas walked hurried beside Mycroft. As they walked, Anthea informed Thomas of all the latest events, and of the Master Criminal's latest, and newest game.
Note.
1. Watson or you, choose, is translated into, Watson ou que vous choisissez. (Anyone who writes in French feel free to correct my grammar if incorrect. :)
2. moi, is translated into, me.