Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 123
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A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the 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*****.*** T rated, However, there is some violence ****. ****
" Each board contains two knights… The knight – with its strange and unpredictable jumps – is the trickiest of the chess pieces.…"
… White Knight, Black Knight… Unpredictable Jumps…Part III
"There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it."
Current Day
Earlier
The Criminal Consultant looked at the man tied in the chair. Sebastian and a few men stood close by. Moriarty looked curiously at the blond-haired man. "I don't understand what he sees in you people." Moriarty looked at Sebastian and gave the slightest nod.
Sebastian smiled as he walked closer to the bloodied man in the chair. He looked him in the eyes and looked curiously for a few seconds before he very slowly pushed a sharp small knife into his thigh. He was careful to avoid the artery. He left the knife sticking in the leg.
A scream was heard before the man in the chair bit his lips to keep himself from crying out again.
"Do you see what I mean, Predictable." Moriarty looked at Sebastian again. Suddenly, Moran's hand struck the man in the chair on the side of his face. Each blow increased in violence.
Moriarty looked at the second man who was tied to the chair close to the first. "Are you ready to be cooperative or is it your turn… pet."
John Watson said nothing as he looked straight ahead. He was concerned for the blond-haired agent who was only yards away from him, but he knew expressing that concern would only motivate Moriarty to increase the agent's torture. He had been at war and understood how the mind of those who were drunk with power worked.
Moriarty gave a bored nod. Sebastian smiled broadly as he took out another knife and violently stabbed it into the agent's other leg. The agent could not hold back a scream any longer. John kept a blank face, but he did risk a quick glance to the side. He noticed with relief that Sebastian did not strike the knife close to any major blood vessels. He knew that Sherlock would draw conclusions about why they were doing what they were doing. But, he was not Sherlock. John could not make deductions, it was all he could do to concentrate, keep a blank face, and look for any opportunities of escape. He heard the agent moaning. He wished that he would pass out for his own sake.
John felt the first strike. John ground his teeth together and fought for air in between strikes. He ignored Sebastian's smile as he focused on a point on the far wall. Pain radiated from his abdomen outward. John grunted, but did not make any other sound. He was determined not to scream for as long as possible. He did not want to give Moriarty, or Sebastian the satisfaction.
"Enough," Moriarty said bored as he searched the internet. He did not bother to look at the two men.
John was struck again, on the face this time. Sebastian had a ring on, and this caused a small cut to open up on the side of John's face. John felt a warm, sticky trail slowly run down his face.
"Yes Mr. Moriarty," Sebastian said. He winked at John before retreating.
John could feel the taste of copper in his mouth. He spit it out onto the dirty concrete floor. He sat back in the chair. He felt the pull on his shoulders from the odd angle that his hands were tied behind his back to the chair. John glanced at the agent. The agent's head hung down. He was breathing but had finally become unconscious.
Moriarty rose from his chair for the first time since they were dragged into the room. He walked up to Watson and circled his chair. John stiffened his body as he prepared for anything. The lunatic was as likely to kiss him, and dance around his chair as he was to slit his throat.
"Are you feeling more cooperative now? I need for you to call him. Tell him what I've done to your agent." Moriarty moved his lips and pressed them to John's ear as he whispered so that only John can hear, "Tell him what I can do to you. I need him to fail this game. He's close to breaking. He tries to hide it, but I can see it in his eyes. I'm sharing this with you, pet. It's our little secret. You'll never tell him. The sooner he comes to me, the better it will be for him. He's forcing me to hurt him. Even you can see that, can't you?"
Moriarty's lips left his ear. He brought his eyes directly in front of John's eyes. They were so close that John could feel Moriarty's breath on his face as he spoke. He could smell the tea and peppermint on his breath. "You're being uncooperative. You're forcing my hand. If there is another game, it will be…" Moriarty face changed from amusement to one of deadly seriousness. "… most unpleasant."
Moriarty put one finger under John's chin and raised it. "Make… the… call."
John remained quiet.
"Say something, pet," Moriarty said slightly irritated.
John face became blank. "I will never assist you to hurt Sherlock. Go… To… Hell." His voice was like steel.
"I'm sure I will." Moriarty smirked as he withdrew from John's face and personal space.
Moriarty raised an eyebrow at Sebastian and backed away as he walked toward the door. Sebastian smiled and took up another small knife as he made his way back to Watson.
John's voice stopped Moriarty. "I just thought that I would point out that I did say something as you requested. Technically, I was cooperative."
Moriarty stopped his steps and turned to look at John. John had a false tight smile on his face. Moriarty suddenly burst into a full rich laugh. "Point acknowledged dear doctor." He looked intently at John Watson. "You're still unimportant and unintelligent, but you're not quite as boring or irritatingly dull as I once thought."
He looked at Sebastian. "Prepare them. You've had enough fun." Sebastian frowned openly and put the knife back down. Jim Moriarty now looked at Watson, "At least for now." Moriarty turned and walked out of the room without another word.
Current Day
Twenty-eight Minutes Later
"I'm back…" The nurse's conversation was cut short. She looked around confused. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
"Sir?" She looked around as if the mere act could cause the missing man to materialize. It did not.
She looked in the loo, he was not there.
She slowly walked over to the trolley and picked up used wound supplies. It had been laid on top of his discarded suit jacket. She looked at the IV that was disconnected and still on the floor. A drop of blood was still on the end of the catheter needle. The alarm on the monitors had been expertly silenced.
"Where did he go?" She wondered aloud.
Current Day
Current Time
The young medical worker walked into the hospital and walked up to his locker. He stifled a yawn as he stretched his long limbs. He attempted to blink away the fatigue. He was already late; he could no longer delay. He had stayed out late at the pub the night before. He was paying for it now. He allowed the next yawn to occur unhindered.
He pulled the locker door opened as his blurry eyes focused. He frowned as he looked around. His uniform was missing. He looked at his work shoes. It was the only part of his uniform that was still there. He frowned as he looked around the empty room as if it held the answer to all his questions. He looked back to his locker again. He stuck his head a little further into it. Now that he thought about it, his stethoscope was missing too.
And, where was his favorite red scarf?