Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 83
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…
*Although I try to be accurate slight creative license with some locations.
Busy times ahead for me so I wanted to get these to you.
1. I wrote several chapters so read all at once
Or
2. Section out the chapters until the weekend
Make yourself happy. Those on holiday, be safe.
"The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure but from hope to hope." ~ Johnson, Samuel
The Soho area was still busy with activities. The streets still had some activity even though the sun had set and the stores were closing. They were in the centre of London. They were in Chinatown as local and tourist alike knew it. Chinese restaurants and shops lined blocks of streets along with a few Japanese restaurants that were on the very edge of the small community.
An eclectic, and diverse mix of architectural building styles varied as widely as the blend of the bodies that walked about. Some appeared colorful with Chinese writing, ornate golden phoenix, or dragons, decorating the front and sides of the buildings; some were simple structures with hand written signs in the windows and ducks hanging, others were of plain and conservative design with lettering in English. There were young and old, many who appeared to be of Asian heritage with a good amount of other races, and tourist of every nationality mixed in.
The human race.
A young, smiling couple on holiday from Senegal walked briskly as they held hands laughing. The newlyweds kissed each other quickly on the cheek as their happiness enveloped them. They blended in, and then disappeared in the masses of humanity who were unaware of the drama that was unfolding before their eyes.
The Mercedes Benz continued to drive until it came to the older area that was on the very edge of the community. There were not the decreasing crowds that were located earlier in the drive. While driving, the crowds seemed to decrease then dissipate until now, only a few brave souls walked quickly and with purpose. The increased chill of the cool night air motivated their steps to quicken. The earlier vibrant energy was replaced by a dull and an odd sort of quiet stillness that warned of imminent danger.
The vehicle slowed then stopped as it pulled into an open space at the curb of the road. John looked at Sherlock. His eyes had only opened briefly during the entire trip. By the rolling of his eyes under closed lids and the discreet synchronized hand movements, John knew that he was in his mind palace. John frowned. He looked at his flatmate's closed eyes. Was it his imagination or were the circles under his friend's eyes even darker now. John inhaled a breath to speak, but was interrupted by Sherlock.
"John, you really should not frown." Sherlock still had his eyes closed.
"How did…" John stopped himself. This was Sherlock after all. He chose a long sigh instead. Thomas frowned and looked at John who wordlessly looked back into Thomas' eyes before they both turned their attention back to Sherlock. John glanced at his watch. They had arrived early. Thomas spoke on his mobile, presumably to Mycroft, before putting his mobile phone away and putting an earpiece in. He seemed to be debating with himself before the agent came to a decision and turned the engine off. The motorcar was quickly immersed in darkness. The light of a half moon as it peeked in and out of the clouds cast eerie shadows and glows on the three faces.
"It's time." Sherlock announced softly, before suddenly opening his eyes, blinking. He looked around focusing as he allowed his tired eyes to adjust to the dimness. His eyes fell to their left as he seemed to focus on a shadow.
Sherlock eyes left the shadow and looked upward toward the streetlight. He chuckled once as he said darkly to no one in particular. "Convenient."
The area was darker than anywhere else they had driven. Two broken lamppost gave no light. The immediate area was cast into dimness and dark shadows. Thomas, John, and Sherlock looked quietly. Sherlock eyes fell back on a particular shadow to his right; four other shadows had materialized beside the first. The shadows now moved; they almost seemed to slither along, advancing.
Sherlock started to move, and the other two men followed his movements. John's voice slowed his movements.
"Sherlock, should I take the antidote or leave it?"
Sherlock's mind quickly calculated the risks, possibilities, and probable outcomes. Something inside of Sherlock was fighting against his mind, as it calculated what the best of three terrible options were. He fought against the pull of emotions. His normally near impenetrable guards were weakening, and he could sense this fact. Never the less, he managed to push all emotions back and come to a logical and calculated decision.
"Thomas, you keep it."
"Mr. Holmes," Thomas spoke up, "You don't think that I am going to sit here and allow you to go with them, do you?"
"If I tell you that I need you to not interfere, would you stay?" Sherlock turned toward Thomas' voice.
Thomas snorted before saying. "We both know each other after all these years, don't we?"
"Didn't think so," Sherlock whispered to himself before saying louder. "You're still the strongest right now and the best choice."
John silently handed the tiny silver box over to Thomas who quickly put it inside of his suit pocket. They exited the Mercedes Benz and stood side-by-side, as they waited.
He sipped on his now cold coffee as he looked out of the motor car's window. He was halfway down the street in an attempt not to attract attention. He waited as he looked up at her lit window.
He saw the woman moving about. If his reports were correct, the female had Doctor Watson take out the rubbish nightly around this time. If he were not present, she would take it out herself. It would be a little later because she moved more slowly. It was really quite foolish to have such a predictable pattern, the man thought to himself.
The scrawny looking man racked his bony fingers through his graying hair. It was his duty to make sure that everything was carried out according to plan. Sometimes his men became too enthusiastic with their work. He might not have their bodies, the skinny man thought, but they did not have his brains.
He took a sip of coffee.
He snickered to himself as a funny joke that a friend told him about people being shot to death, while waiting in a long line for coffee, came to his remembrance. One of the impatient customers had become angry at the long line and said in frustration, "Ah, shoot me!" His friend at that moment had aimed the gun at the stunned man's face, smiled, then shot or wounded everyone in the diner and escaped with the currency. This friend had told the skinny man that it was less than four-hundred pounds, but it had been a lot of fun.
His friend always did have an impulse control problem. Too bad that they caught the idiot. He was arrested three months later.
His laugh became full bellied now as he shook his head amused.
The skinny man would not have been caught. He would have made sure that none was alive to identify him. He was prideful as he straightened his thin frame and thought about how long he had been in the business and survived. He had only been arrested twice, he thought with conceit.
He took another sip of the unpleasant beverage and grimaced slightly as he swallowed the bitter liquid down. His tongue came up to lick his lips. He sighed as he thought about how pleasant it would be to have a hot, fresh cuppa in front of him now. Maybe, later, when this little matter was taken care of. The abnormally skinny man's hand came down on his thigh without thought as it reflectively brushed away the few sticky drops of the brown beverage before it soaked further into his trouser. He had long ago abandoned his suit jacket and tie. They lay forgotten in the back of the vehicle.
He used too much sugar this time, he thought to himself.
The skinny man's hand dry wiped his face as he exhaled noisily releasing a bored breath. He glanced at his watch. His thin, spidery fingers pulled and stretched as it reached on the car seat beside him. He pushed numbered keys and waited for the phone lines to connect. He was becoming more bored as he spoke into his mobile. He had better check on the idiots.
"Are you in position?" He could not tell in the darkened alley. They had arranged for a lamppost to be broken. This made the already shadowy alleyway darker.
"Good." He was about to disconnect when the skinny man thought he saw movement. He smiled amused.