Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 125
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
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.
** Thank you, for your latest reviews and PMs since the last post favorites and follows.
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
"Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever."
~ Keri Russell quotes
Current Day
Current Time
Moriarty's thick Irish lilt came across the mobile. "Hello love."
His voice sounded as if he was speaking to his best friend. "Did you like my surprise? It was quite amusing to see you wheeled away. Step outside the room. I want to see your handsome face."
Sherlock stepped out the room. He walked to the end of the corridor and looked up at the security camera. He forced himself to smile.
"Jim." He ignored the stares of two medical workers who walked by.
"Let's get on with it then." A smile could be heard in Moriarty's voice. "In darkness of the night - I spied him in a tree - Sat I froze by the sight - He was looking at me."
"Udiah, witness to Yah. In a poetic mood are we." Sherlock noticed Lestrade as he exited the lift and walked toward him. Agent Pearson walked briskly; two agents were close beside him. Lestrade raised an eyebrow and looked at Sherlock oddly when he noticed that he was wearing a uniform. Sherlock exhaled a breath as confidence flooded back into him.
"I take it no one believed your story when you said that they were in danger. Did you tell them that they're all about to die. Painfully and slowly. Judging by the vacant, yet normal expressions on the faces of the common masses in that place, I would guess the answer to be, no. Have you worked out where the danger is coming from yet? I know you know what I am going to do, but, do you know how?"
Sherlock was silent for a few minutes before answering. "Rules."
Moriarty chuckled. "Death."
"It is the one constant in the universe Holmes. Everyone, and thing in that place will die, I'm simply helping nature along. You have one hour and fifteen minutes to figure out how, and stop it. I've told you everything that you need to know, but were… you… listening," Jim sang.
"Can I evacuate?" Sherlock sent a text to Mycroft from the nurse's borrowed mobile as he waited for an answer for Moriarty.
There was a brief silence. "And why would I agree to that?" He knew that Moriarty was being dramatic. "What will you do for me?"
Sherlock knew what Moriarty wanted to hear. He still hesitated. "I would consider it a… personal… favor."
He already knew that Moriarty was smiling. "You have seventeen minutes beginning now."
Sherlock typed a text to Lestrade. His eyes widened as he ran off. Two of Mycroft agents joined him.
Moriarty's voice suddenly became serious. "Here is a warning Sherlock. If anyone leaves after that time. I will be less than pleased."
Sherlock made sure that his voice sounded casual. "I'd like to have John back, unharmed."
The playfulness in Moriarty's voice returned. "I'm sure you would. Miss your pet?"
Sherlock did not answer. He gritted his teeth together in anger. He knew Moriarty well enough to know that mentioning John again, would be a sure way to get him seriously hurt, or worse.
"Our pets are playing together." There were clicking sounds on Moriarty's mobile line. "Seb won't kill him, it's not time for that… not yet anyway."
There was a pause before he spoke again. "You should have left them to die. They're nothing." Several medical workers quickly pushed patients in wheelchairs down the corridor. "Look at the blank, and vacant stares in their eyes. Sheep to the slaughter. I'll be watching. Do try to stay alive. I'd be disappointed if you manage to get yourself killed." The mobile disconnected.
Sherlock looked ahead but did not noticed anything. Masses of people moved quickly around him. The hospital was humming with noise. There was a steady trail of people who were heading for the stairwells. Beds and wheelchairs were being pushed into the lift; while medical workers were both giving directions, and assisting the patients who could walk.
Sherlock stood still, as bodies moved in front, and behind him. He closed his eyes as the agent stood quietly beside him. Holmes hands moved in subtle synchronized movements.
His eyes suddenly opened wide. "The injured agent. Agent Robert Towson, take me to him now."
The agent did not question Holmes. He turned and ran slowly, while trying to avoid the mass exodus of people. Holmes hand came to his side to support it as he ran slightly behind the agent.
Current Day
Current Time
The rhythmic flashing lights of emergency vehicles broke the predawn darkness.
The quiet contrasted dramatically with the sounds of shouting, crying, and the general hum of many voices trying to talk at one time. There was a clear police line that had been drawn.
There was confusion. No one truly seemed to know what was going on. Everyone just had a general idea of danger and the urgent need to evacuate the building. Speculation was wildly flying around the area. Someone said the word bomb, someone else said the word, gas leak, someone else said the word gunmen. But, no one could confirm or deny anything said. The news media were on their way. Only one reporter was there. The reporter seemed to almost have arrived before any one knew that there was a problem. The wailing of emergency vehicles as they approached filled the air, and pierced the stillness of the night.
Miss Kitty Riley stood outside the hospital. She was the first to arrive. The tip from her lover had her there in time to see the mass exodus of people and employees. She did not consider Robert Anderson her lover, just someone to use on her way to the top. One day, she would be famous.
"Are you getting this," She asked her photographer abruptly.
The photographer rolled his eyes irritably. She was bossy most days, but lately she had been a terror. "No, I was just having a bit of tea and biscuits while I watch the telly."
"Shut up and give me a good picture. Let's find someone to interview." Riley said as she moved toward a man limping away from the hospital.
"You're in a right snit tonight," the photographer said. He did not stop or slow his movements. Short bursts of light, flashed as his camera captured the dramatic scene.
"What the bloody hell has happened here?" The photographer whispered as he worked. He noticed a female police officer as she exited a police car. She started to give orders. She seemed to be in charge. He took a picture of her. He wondered why she guarded her side as she moved. He thought to himself. He would have considered her beautiful if it was not for the intimidating look in her eyes.
Current Day
Current Time
Agent Robert Towson lay on the hospital bed with two agents surrounding him. He was too critical to be moved. Every attempt to disconnect the strange colored IV liquid that he was found connected to had resulted in his heart almost stopping. That limited his medical treatments. No surgery could be preformed while he was still attached to it. There was another problem; the IV bag was half-empty. Time, for the agent, was running out.
A frustrated Doctor Cutler was busy trying to think of what to do. He was a proud man and was irritated because he seemed to be unable to think of a logical way to proceed without killing the agent.
Sherlock wordlessly leaned his head against the wall by the door. His hands were folded in front of him. Agent Pearson stood with two other agents on the edge of the room as they watched the frustrated workers move about. Several floors had similar problems. The patients were too ill to be moved in the time frame that Moriarty had given them. The second problem was that medical workers were needed to keep them alive. Most of the staff had evacuated, but several dozen medical workers, five officers and five agents, along with dozens of nurses and doctors had volunteered to stay with the patients.
Sherlock ignored everyone as his mind worked out what this new game was about. He felt, rather than saw, Lestrade approaching behind him.
Sherlock did not take his eyes off the injured agent. "I told you to leave Lestrade; it will be too late soon."
"My place is here. Besides, you might need help." Lestrade's voice left no room for argument.
Sherlock looked at Lestrade, searching him; he sighed and nodded woodenly.
An officer came rushing into the room. "Sir, there is a small group that is trying to leave. They're too many of them. They're not all going to make it out before the time is up."
Lestrade cursed as he ran out the room. An agent and Sherlock followed close behind.
Current Day,
Current Time
There was a crowd that had started to gather behind the police barricade. News camera crews, including BBC were also there. Some in the crowd were concerned, others were looking for excitement. They cheered as more people walked out of the hospital.
The small crowd that stood just inside the entrance to the hospital did not notice. The two arguing men distracted them.
"… Why can't I leave? Look at them. They left just minutes before us." The large man towered angrily over Holmes. Lestrade frowned as he stood close by. The agent and the DI were holding back the twelve people who did not seem to know who to listen to.
"I have explained this to you already. The Detective Inspector has explained this to you already. You're two minutes and…" Holmes glanced at his watch, "Thirty seconds too late."
Holmes was growing increasingly irritated with the imbecile. "If you walk out that door, you will die."
"Really, they seem fine." The large man glanced out the glass door and looked at the small crowd of ten who had just left. They were almost to the end of the police barricade. He got into the Consultant Detective's personal space. "Death. Really, and how is that gonna happen mate?"
Holmes voice held irritation. "I have two theories. If you walk through that door, I'll see which one is correct." Sherlock moved himself in front of the door to block the man's way.
"I'm not staying," the large man took one sudden step toward the glass doors before several hands including Holmes grabbed at him.
Several persons gasped in surprise as the large man punched, pushed, and then broke into a run. An agent was about to follow him out the door when he was tackled by Holmes.
"It's too late," Sherlock, said in a breathy voice while lying on the floor next to the agent. He pushed his upper body up on one elbow, while still lying on the ground. He did not bother to stand up, his attention was on the running man. He followed him with his eyes. He hoped that he was wrong.
Within a few seconds, there was a high-pitched sound, and then a thud.
The large man's body suddenly spun while running, and fell. The force of the bullet, when it hit his skull, had twisted his body to the left. His hollow vacant eyes informed any would be rescuers that it was pointless.
When the man fell dead, panic broke free, and chaos had her day. Everyone was going in different directions. Some seemed to suddenly freeze, some screamed, ran, or cried. Some moved away from the building while others wanted a closer look at the dead man.
It was pandemonium.
The mobile that Moriarty gave Sherlock rang. He looked at the phone with a grim expression.
"It begins," Sherlock whispered.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed. More late weekend. Let me know your thoughts.
Love to all.
** Optional Fun Question: What was the very first book written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, that introduced the character of Sherlock Holmes? Can you guess what it is?
If you want a hint, keep reading, if not, stop reading now.
Still there? Okay, here it is.
It was one of the quotes:
"There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colorless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it." ~ Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir
Feel free to use the internet, but let me know if you already knew the answer, and did not have to look it up.
Have fun :)