Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 82
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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*****.***Warning this chapter M just in case, Violence.****. ****
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…. The Game…
Note: Addio is translated to Goodbye
To my other family, stay safe.
"There has to be evil so that good can prove its purity above it." ~ Buddha
Current Day
Current Time
"Sir, you have a call." One of the men in his car informed Moran.
Music played softly in the small compact vehicle. A small smile was still on Sebastian's face as he thought about how entertaining the evening had turned out. He was not even annoyed any longer that he could not drive in his Mercedes-Benz as he had grown accustomed to.
Mycroft Holmes was more than a formidable opponent, he thought. From what was reported to him, he had retreated just in time.
He sighed contently as he easily sat up from his seat and stretched his long fingers. They reached inside of his suit to withdraw the mobile phone. He then turned to glance out the car window as London's traffic passed by in rhythmic shifts of images and light.
"Is everything prepared?" He asked with the smallest of smiles. His smile widened as he listened more.
"Proceed," He said simply before disconnecting the call without saying goodbye.
Sebastian Moran sent off a hurried text and sat back, relaxing. It was a very good evening. It would be an even better night.
"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.
Sherlock came out of his mind palace. John did not notice that he had been there for the last ten minutes as he thought and tried to predict the game. None of his theories made him happy. Sherlock sat defiantly across from the trolley that John laid in. He, once 'awake' again, had refused to acknowledge that he fainted. He stiffly moved off the trolley and sat on the side after ripping out the IV and taking off the oxygen mask. He still was shaking slightly. Sherlock thought the shaking would have worn off by now. They were both annoying and embarrassing. He decided to ignore the tremors.
The conversation with a very cross Mycroft, had been the only thing, which begrudgingly kept the younger Holmes from trying to make his way out of there unnoticed. Sherlock had to admit that unnoticed was an ambitious notion in his current state. He also had to admit that he did not want to leave John, even though John would be safer that way. Nothing would have stopped him in the past but now, he hesitated. Besides, John would be cross, and the man did own a gun.
All things considered, John did not feel bad apart from a few fresh bruises. John allowed the fact that Sherlock's eyes were closed to give him the freedom to closely examine the man. He frowned as he looked at his pale-skinned flatmate. Dark bruises marred the face, neck, and parts of his upper chest that peeked through his dress shirt. From what John witness done to Sherlock by the four men, he had no doubt that the rest of his body looked the same or worse.
He was bruised again with a split lip. There were scattered and small amounts of blood, not too much this time. His hair and clothing indicated a struggle. He was obviously in a lot of pain and being stubborn about it as per usual. He refused anything for pain. John was drawn to his eyes. His eyes held a strange sort of weariness. A fine tremor ran through Sherlock's body continuously. Dark circles were starting to form under them as well. For some reason the two latter pieces of body signs bothered John more than any other details.
The eyes.
He needed to be examined. He looked at his flatmate. His eyes were still closed. John steeled himself and opened his mouth.
"No," Sherlock said before John spoke. John frowned. Sherlock eyes were still closed.
"You need to be examined. Treated."
"The game is not finished John."
"I don't care about the sodding game. Get examined." John thought and tried the sympathetic approach. "You wouldn't want me upset with all this poison coursing through my body, would you?"
Sherlock frowned at John's words.
"Open your eyes Sherlock, talk to me," John said gently.
Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked a few times as he seemed to be trying to focus. He looked at John.
"I would feel better if I knew that you were OK. Your body has been through a lot Sherlock." John hated to play dirty, but he felt that this was important. John gave Sherlock his most sorrowful look. The look that usually got his way with Sherlock. "Please mate."
Sherlock frown before saying, "Are we using the look, John."
"It depends, is it working?"
"Perhaps," Sherlock bit his lips as he looked at John.
"John, don't worry, I am going to the hospital with you, but only briefly, and only for some specific medical care." There was a brief pause.
"Um… John… There is something that you should probably know." Sherlock hesitated, John noticed. Sherlock hesitating was never a good thing.
"Go on Sherlock."
Sherlock opened and closed his eyes. He sighed and looked at John.
"John… I…" Sherlock was interrupted by the ringing of his mobile.
Sherlock took his shaking hands and pulled out his mobile. He looked straight ahead and let the mobile ring.
"Sherlock?" John asked as he lifted himself to his elbows on the trolley. Sherlock did not answer but his eyes shifted to his mobile as one long finger pressed a little more firmly than needed on the keypad.
"Yes," Sherlock said with a voice void of emotion.
"Hello Sexy. Have we learned anything yet?" Moriarty's cheerful voice asked.
"You call me Ben, You call me Benedict, and you call me Sexy, everything but my name. What will you call me next?" Sherlock asked with irritation.
"How about dead?"
"Not one of my favorites." Sherlock said evenly.
Moriarty started to laugh. "Just joking. Someone's a bit irritable."
"I can't imagine why I would be irritable. It's been such a lovely day." Sherlock said dryly. He locked eyes with John who nodded. He noticed John on his mobile speaking in a whispered tone. Mycroft and Anthea were at a distance but quickly moving in their direction.
"You gave us a locked box with the antidote. Care to tell us the combination Moriarty?"
"So I am Moriarty now. We've bonded at the mansion, or, don't you remember? You were semiconscious , quite out of it those first two weeks. Jim is more appropriate for such very good friends, don't you think." Moriarty's smile could almost be heard.
"Still there… SHERLOCK!" Moriarty shouted after a moment of silence.
"Yes," Sherlock said. He sounded almost bored.
"You're very quiet."
"Because I'm bored with this conversation. We were discussing the code for the locked box with the antidote JIM, do focus."
Mycroft and the several agents with equipment looked strangely at Sherlock. John looked as if Sherlock had finally lost his senses.
There was silence on the other line for a minute. Sherlock began to wonder if his tactic for dealing with Moriarty had been faulty. Then, suddenly Moriarty burst out laughing a full deep and rich laugh.
"You're definitely irritable. You do know that it is your fault. I wanted to play with your pet a little for blowing my house up. I would have returned him to you whole." Moriarty giggled. "Well mostly. You're the one who had to do the noble thing… Noble Is Boring!"
Moriarty's voice was suddenly not playful or manic but all business. "Chess is an interesting game, is it not. All the pieces of the game have a symbolic meaning. Let's take the rook for example. It is an intriguing and powerful chess piece. The way it moves across the chessboard. A rook is the only piece that can save another piece, the most important piece, the king. It is called castling."
There was a brief pause and noises in the background.
"Unfortunately, when the rook saves the king, the cost may be that the rook is lost." Moriarty sighed with fake sadness.
The game always starts with two rooks. One in each of the corners of the board. Two rooks Sherlock. Did you misplace one of your rooks. Do you have a missing pet?" Moriarty wondered aloud.
Sherlock stiffened but said nothing at first. He noticed Mycroft picked up his mobile. It was such a small movement, everyone else would have missed it, but Sherlock did not. It was only the slightest shift in Mycroft's shoulders. It was the equivalent of someone else flinching. Mycroft caught his brother's eyes briefly before turning away. Agents started moving quickly. Sherlock eyes shifted to John's intense gaze.
"Oh well, just thinking out loud." Moriarty said with deadly seriousness.
Sherlock thought about the best way to approach what he knew was coming. "Where." He finally asked.
"Look at your text." Moriarty said evenly. "Another choice Sherlock. Are you the king, or are you the rook? Are you the master, or are you the pet?" There was another pause. "You need to learn who you are. The ordinary masses don't matter, we do. You belong with me Sherlock. These lessons are for your good, you'll thank me later. You and I are gods."
"Gods don't bleed. You and I bleed Jim." Sherlock was walking slowly as he tested his balance. It was better but still off. Mycroft, Anthea, John and Thomas were by his side.
"You're the one who bleeds Sherlock." Moriarty chuckled. "Addio." The line disconnected.
Sherlock disconnected the call and looked at his brother. Mycroft had managed to move close to his brother quickly. "Don't let John out of your sight Mycroft. Take care of him personally." Sherlock looked intently into Mycroft's eyes.
"Of course," was Mycroft's simple reply. "I should stop you, Sherlock."
"But, you won't." Sherlock said.
"What's the point. You'll just find a way to sneak off. It appears that you have a talent for it." Mycroft mouth turned into a smile.
"Thomas," Mycroft negotiated.
Sherlock nodded then turned to John. "John I'll be back shortly." Sherlock hesitated then put a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed slightly.
He turned away then and walked away without looking back. Thomas talked briefly with Mycroft and then jogged to catch up to the younger Holmes.
Mycroft looked at his brother's retreating form. John pulled out his HepLock and pressed a dressing to his arm to stop the blood from coming out. Mycroft frowned. "I should stop you as well John."
"He needs me," John said simply as he worked quickly.
"You've learned his bad habits," Mycroft said tiredly. John smiled without slowing down his movements.
Sherlock relented and allowed Thomas to help him into the black Mercedes-Benz. He closed his eyes. The door open and closed quickly. "You should be with Mycroft," Sherlock said without opening his eyes.
"We're stronger together than we are apart," John said simply.
Sherlock felt something strange pull at his chest. It was probably something sentimental. He opened his eyes and looked at John. Thomas started to drive to the address that the text indicated.
"I suppose that we are John." Sherlock said with a rough voice. He was silent for a moment.
"Box with antidote?" Sherlock asked.
"Pocket," John said with a smile. Sherlock nodded.
"Rest Sherlock, I'll let you know when we get there." John looked at Sherlock with concern. Sherlock nodded again and closed his eyes. John looked out the window as he thought. The beautiful colors of the setting sun's light, reflected off of the darken motorcar windows.
The Mercedes disappeared as it easily blended into the busy evening traffic.
A/N: I know I said one, but I wanted to give a little more. Three chapters. I hope that you enjoyed it.
Lots of Love. Zacha