Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 104

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.

** Thank you, for your latest reviews and PMs since the last post favorites and follows.

*****.*** T rated, but some future chapters may be M. ****. ****

Note: 1. Motorcar, motorcycles, motorbikes are the same thing. 2. Sessiz means Quiet in Turkish. 3. Tosser here means idiot.

Another chapter midweek.

"Good chess strategy suggests you make your first move with the pawn in front of either your King or Queen…"

… King or Queen part I …

"There is nothing evil save that which perverts the mind and shackles the conscience." ~Saint Ambrose

Lestrade sat in one of the three chairs that were lined up behind a long table. He exhaled noisily as he tried, for the third time, to reach Holmes. Sherlock, normally, would have called by now. The Consultant Detective would rattle off one of his brilliant deductions, immediately after he reminded Lestrade of how unimaginative the common masses were in general.

Lestrade normally would have found the entire conversation very annoying and slightly amusing. However, the only thing that he was currently, was worried. He grabbed his coat suddenly as he started to walk toward the car. He hesitated for a moment then called another number. Lestrade glanced around to make sure that no one was able to overhear his conversation.

The mobile line rang twice before it was answered. "Lestrade. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, but would you kindly tell Sherlock to answer his bloody phone." Lestrade kept looking around as he pushed the door open. He had a feeling as if someone was watching him.

"Why don't you tell him yourself…?" John stopped speaking.

There was silence on the other line. Lestrade stopped suddenly as well. "Let me guess John, you're not with him. And, Sherlock told you that I was with him."

Lestrade had to endure a few seconds of creative cursing before John spoke again. "Sherlock did not exactly lie, but he did imply that you were with him Lestrade, the tricky bastard."

"Calm down John, Sherlock is at a crime scene. Donovan is on her way to pick him up, and Anderson is with him. What's the worst that can happen? Anderson will say something stupid and Sherlock will call him an idiot a few times. He probably got caught up in the case. Another body was found, and to be fair, I was supposed to be there before the murders were leaked to the press. I'm sure we'll have a laugh about this later mate." Lestrade started his car and pulled onto the road.

"I'm about to catch a cab. I'll let you know when I reach him." John disconnected.

Lestrade made another call. "Donovan, how close are you?"

"Um, fifteen minutes Sir, I am almost there."

"Make it twelve," Lestrade said.

"Yes Sir," Donovan replied as she disconnected.

Lestrade did not notice one reporter that kept a close watch from her motorcar. Kitty Riley picked up her mobile and smiled widely as she made a second call.

An agent watched as the man jogged over to his vehicle. He frowned as he heard the repeated tapping on the glass window of the car. He slowly rolled down the glass.

"Yes Sir," the agent said cautiously.

"You're assigned to protect me. I already know who you are. I need to get back to 221B Baker Street, fast. Any problems with that?" John spoke with all the authority of his former military rank and title.

"One minute Sir." The agent made a quick call. Within less than a minute, John's mobile rang.

"John, I've been unable to reach Sherlock as well. However, the agent assigned to him is parked outside of the crime scene. All seems quiet. There is apparently another officer who is also sitting in his car outside of the crime scene."

Mycroft was heard talking to Anthea briefly. "The agent that is assigned to you will take you wherever you want to go, in fact John; I think it is a good idea to stay with him for now."

"Mycroft, what's going on? Is it another one of Moriarty's games?" John spoke as he slid into the back seat.

"There is a lot going on currently John. I believe that there are multiple targets. That is all that I can say for now. Do stay close to that stubborn brother of mine and do manage not to get yourself shot." Mycroft voice was even and sounded almost bored, but John detected the edge in his voice.

"I'll do my best." John checked his gun. "Prepare yourself Mycroft, you know what I'm about to say, be careful as well."

"I'll do my utmost." Mycroft said without hesitation.

"You're getting better," John said before both men disconnected.

Two young adults were smiling as they hurried home in the twilight. It was an open market area with very wide streets. Shops of various kinds lined the left and the right. There were small stands that sold everything from fresh produce, meat, to small souvenirs. The stands lined the middle of the street. A thin girl walked beside her lanky brother who was the same height despite being four years older. The young girl worked at one of the opened markets and every night her brother faithfully made sure that, she made it home safely after closing.

A rumbling sound was heard and seemed to be getting closer. They now heard loud popping sounds. She felt her brother's hand suddenly grip her arm. Their faces contorted into a cross between a frown and surprise. She noticed in the back of her mind that his muscular fingers tightened around her arm in an almost bruising way.

He pulled her to crouch behind a building. They both witnessed two cars and two motorcars chasing a black sedan. One of the cars that pursued bumped the black sedan; the black sedan immediately went into a spin and crashed into one of the buildings.

Several men in suits and uniforms, ran with guns in hand, as they fired on the men in the black sedan. The young adult and her brother heard the sounds of gunfire at the same time that random flashes of light were seen. They also heard the sound of flesh being hit by bullets followed by yelps of pain.

The young woman started to gasp but a hand came around her mouth.

"Sessiz," her brother whispered in her ear.

She nodded her understanding and did not say a word.

They both quietly walked backwards then ran away hand–in-hand.

Donovan pulled the motorcar up to the front of the house to find a shadowy outline in the corner, just outside the door. A hazy fog seemed to ascend from the silhouette. Sherlock Holmes stood in the shadows unmoving. Donovan squinted her eyes, in an attempt to focus on him despite the dim light. She realized that it had been cigarette smoke. She heard rumors that he had smoked at one time, but she had never personally witnessed Holmes doing so herself. Furthermore, she had been almost positive that he had not smoked for a long time.

She waited for a few minutes before anger burned inside of her. She had been waiting for him while he just ignored her and smoked. He had been acting particularly insufferable since he had returned in Sally Donovan's opinion. She thought that it was time that someone told the great Sherlock Holmes where to go.

She got angrier as she opened the door and marched over to him. Did he think that they were all a bunch of bleeding idiots? She had not called him a freak in a long time, but if he was acting like one again, maybe it was time to renew his title.

"What are you doing?" She started in a loud annoyed voice but ended in a near whisper.

"Smoking," Holmes said without even the slightest trace of mockery. He took another draw of the cigarette.

Sally's anger drained away instantly. Holmes did not answer in his usual sarcastic manner. Furthermore, Holmes did not notice her approach, and even more disturbing, he jumped as if he was startled. It was a slight movement and Holmes tried to hide it by pretending to shift his body. But, she had noticed. She had never before witnessed Holmes when he was not alert, and several steps ahead of everyone else. She was not quite sure how to react.

"Where did you get the cigarette?" She asked curiously, as she stepped a little closer. She wanted him to talk. She did not know why.

Sherlock took another drag of the cigarette and was quiet for a minute. Then he started to speak rapidly.

"The victim..., the groom smoked... He did not want the bride-to-be to know that he was still smoking... It was the fingertips that gave it away... The tips of two fingers were slightly stained and slightly calloused... He hand-rolled his own cigarettes for years before trying to quit... He tried the low tar but did not like them, thank heavens... There was the faintest scent near his bed, but not on it... He smoked outside only... The ashtray was hidden... I noticed an ashtray deposited hastily under his bed... His fiancée surprised him and he had to get rid of the evidence quickly."

Sherlock stopped to inhale deeply before adding. "A pack of cigarettes was taped underneath the table. I'm no expert on the subject but it does seem a bit extreme for someone who is supposed to be sharing a life."

"I thought you didn't smoke anymore," Sally stated. Holmes always spoke quickly with his deductions. This time, however, his speech seemed rapid and almost robotic. It lacked his usual enthusiasm.

"Apparently I do." He said with a humorless smile. "It was necessary." He added almost as an afterthought.

Donovan felt uneasy. "We'd better get you home."

It was probably not a good idea to stand around in a dark corner. Lestrade wanted him back at his flat. She turned to leave and walked to the car. She did not look back to see if he was following. She watched him from the car. Holmes shadowy silhouette seemed to take another long drag of the cigarette. After a slight hesitation, he dropped the cigarette on the ground, and crushed it with his feet.

He slowly walked over to the back seat of the sedan and got in. Sally started the car and was about to start driving when she glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Is that a bruise on your jaw," Sally asked suddenly louder. She noticed that he seemed a little disheveled as well.

"It's nothing, I fell." Holmes said in that same strange monotone voice.

"You, fell at a crime scene..., you?" Sally almost laughed at the absurd nature of the obvious lie.

Holmes said nothing.

She looked toward the house with suspicion.

"I'll like to get home, I'm tired." Holmes said as he looked out the window.

Sally looked toward the house again. "Holmes…"

"Sergeant Donovan!" Sherlock replied with irritation. He lowered his voice, "I believe Lestrade asked you to get me home."

Well, Sally thought, he seems to be back to himself. Sally turned on to the main road.

Sally smiled falsely. "Lestrade also said to answer your bloody mobile."

Sherlock frowned and pulled out his mobile. It was turned off. Anger burned in him but he pushed it away. He picked up his mobile to make phone calls to John and Mycroft, when white-hot pain flashed through his head. He could not stop the embarrassing gasp that escaped his lips. He bit his lips to prevent any other sounds from escaping. If Donovan heard, she did not comment. His long fingers involuntarily relaxed around the mobile. It dropped onto the seat beside his right hand. He closed his eyes as he tried to control the disjointed images that were floating around.

As Mycroft's agent followed at a distance behind a patrol car, Sherlock fought to control the pain, and his mind.

Kitty Riley heard the doorbell ring. She glanced in the mirror before opening the door slowly. It would not hurt to have him wait a little while before she answered it. She opened the door with a smiling face. He walked in with complete confidence.

"How did it go?" He asked right away.

"Perfectly, Anderson is so easily manipulated, it is almost embarrassing." She said with a seductive smile. "You know you're taking a chance. He probably wants to come over tonight and tell me in detail everything that he did. He even thinks that it's his idea."

"He's at the pub now. Probably trying to drown his conscious if he has one." Moran laughed evilly.

Riley joined in the laugh even though she felt guilty for doing so. She resisted the urge to shiver. She had never noticed such an evil look in her lover's eyes before. She pushed all hesitation aside. She was an ambitious woman. Her career was more important than anything else. She would do what she had to do. Besides, Bill Smith was an exciting man.

"Robert Anderson is a real tosser." She joined in mocking.

"If Anderson is coming over soon, we'd better hurry." Moran started to kiss her roughly.

The man that Kitty Riley believed to be Bill Smith looked intently into her eyes as he kissed her. She thought that she saw passion, but what actually flashed in his eyes was amusement. What Sebastian Moran was thinking in reality, as he stared at Riley, was how Moriarty was correct, ordinary people could be so stupid.

Anthea hung up the mobile and looked at Mycroft. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. "We have Adler Sir." She hesitated slightly. "Sir, should I contact your brother, he would want to know."

Mycroft frowned. "No, I need him to focus. Any distraction can be dangerous. I will inform him later."

Anthea looked at her mobile as a slight vibration alerted her to a message. "Sir, the agent that was following Mr. Holmes failed to check in. Two other cars are on their way to meet him, but they have not arrived yet."

"Treat this as an event. I would rather have an annoyed brother as opposed to a kidnapped one." Mycroft commented.

Mycroft took out his mobile to make a phone call.

TBC

A/N: Lots of Love to all.

Fun Question.

1. What is the first name of Anderson in BBC's Sherlock ?

Is there a first name that you would prefer the character to have?

2. In canon, what is Moriarty's first name?

Have fun. :)