Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 126
*This chapter is dedicated to my aunt. The world is a better place because you passed through it
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.
Thank you for your recent post: Bookworm Gal (You are the first to answer. Correct your brilliances blinding. More "fun" ahead.), Dawnfire11 (Welcome, thank you for your post on near every chapter!), lizzie1250, (Genius, you know your Holmes), danishprince (Here is something to ease the tension.), Kitiara88 (Brilliant and correct. Here is more), bruderlein (You are magnificence and correct. More scary ahead.), T're Urvawi ( Correct, I bow to your exceptional intelligence. Thank you for your kind words.), gemstone1234 (Correct mate. I love the relationship between Mycroft and Sherlock as well.), Kelllie (Your magnificence is evident. Correct. More hopefully lovely chapters ahead.), kassandwich (Correct and brilliant. Have a cup of tea on me.), e la mucca salto sulla luna, (Thank you for your comments, insight, and kind words.), Prothoe (Thank you for your multiple post. More from our red scarf hero.) , Natalia (Correct you genius. Your comment made me smile.), Puky2012, (Thank you for your multiple post. You are correct. The sign of four. Two signs to go.) Catie501 (More twist and turns ahead.), Cumberbatch Of Derren Brownies (Welcome), and to all guest and PMs thanks.
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The answer to last week's Fun Question was: A Study in Scarlet.
Edited ****Congratulations! Bookworm Gal, lizzie1250, Kitiara88, bruderlein, T're Urvawi, gemstone1234, Kelllie, kassandwich, Natalia, Puky2012, and Bookworm45669. Hooray. (I have done an off rhythm happy dance in your honor.)****
Warning*****.*** T rated, However, there is some violence? ****. ****
Sorry for the delay, I meant for this to be posted by Sunday. Life's little drama. I also had to rewrite some things. It did not feel right before. I hope you enjoy.
I have written a few chapters so… Read all at once...or ...Read one chapter a day. The choice is yours. Make yourself happy. I will post again as soon as I can. Love to All.
"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 IV
"I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars." ~ Og Mandino quote
Current Day
Current Time
Short bursts of lights, flashed into the darkness. It created ghostly shadows that quickly disappeared. It came from various places in the night. News camera crews now join the newspapers. Well dress television personalities stood, using the hospital as a background. Their practiced faces turned toward the cameras. They spoke with faked sympathy and concern. Everyone reporter had a different theory. The most popular one had been that an act of terrorism was taking place, since the Scotland Yard official comment was; no comment.
A reporter walked up to the Sergeant who was in charge of the crime scene. The reporter pushed her way to the Sergeant. A recorder was thrust into the Sergeant's face.
"Kitty Riley from the Star." She introduced herself. "We need a statement. I have an unconfirmed report that the dead man was killed after a Mr. Sherlock Holmes pushed him out of the door. Comments?"
Donovan looked at the woman oddly. Something nagged at the back of her mind. She did not trust reporters in general, especially since the incident with Richard Brook and Holmes. But, there was something about this reporter that set alarm bells off in her mind. She wondered to herself.
Donovan put a false smile on her face. "I'm sorry, but right now information is still coming in. Off the record, I'm sure if Mr. Holmes is inside the building, it is a coincidence."
She walked away from the news reporter. Constable Grifton looked at her with concern. She nodded to reassure him. He nodded to her, before he returned his eyes back to the crowd. She glanced around quickly before she walked to a dark corner, pulled out pain medication, and juggled it in her hands as she attempted to not lose a grip on her mobile. She dry swallowed two pills whole.
Donovan then walked back out of the shadows and toward the barricade. Her mobile rang. She looked with relief as she answered her phone.
"Lestrade. I've been trying to reach you; what is going on? Please tell me that Holmes is not involved." She looked toward the glass window. "And, tell me that's not Holmes that I'm looking at," She paused and frowned. "And, since we're on the subject, why is he wearing a uniform..."
The reduced crowds went wild, when news camera crews zoomed in through the glass doors, and windows. The news footage revealed a small crowd, including a Detective Inspector, and someone who was rumored to be Sherlock Holmes, himself, just inside the double glass doors.
The news cameras witnessed an unidentified man rise from the floor. A second man slowly got up when he was pulled by the Detective Inspector. The second man seemed to be talking on a mobile as he stared out into the darkness. There was a shadowy silhouette of the man, as he stood, surrounded by light. He seemed to stare at the curious throng of people, outside.
The crowd had been pushed back. The body was still lying on the concrete, in the cold morning air. Blood had spread from the dead man's head, outward. Even in the dim light, the red velvet could be recognized.
Current Day
Five Minutes Earlier.
The agent slowly removed himself from the floor. Sherlock looked toward the darkness as the lights from cameras continued to flash, in no particular pattern. The mobile rang for the second time. Holmes fingers stretched slightly as it reached for the mobile phone that Moriarty gave him.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, but his tired limbs remained on the floor. Sherlock put the mobile to his ear. A part of him wanted to stay right there on the floor, close his eyes, and shut the world out. Another part of him knew that was not an option.
He sat on the floor as he let go of his pride. He had to reserve as much energy as possible. He pushed the connect button and waited for Moriarty to speak. "Maybe you should get off that floor before you give me ideas."
Lestrade's hand came down in front of him, as he looked wordlessly at Holmes. Sherlock left hand reached for Lestrade's hand, as his right hand held the mobile.
Sherlock made sure that his voice was steady and unreadable. "Quite a crowd."
Moriarty's voice had been just as unreadable. "There will be more excitement for the crowd if anyone tries to come, or leave without my permission."
"No one will try to get the body," Sherlock said loudly, as he made a point of looking at Lestrade. Lestrade walked a few feet away and pulled out his mobile. He started to speak to Donovan.
"Do you think I got their attention?" Moriarty asked playfully.
"Well, it certainly was dramatic," Sherlock said, as he used the mobile he nicked from the nurse, to send out text instructions. He walked toward the glass doors. He raised one hand and pressed his palm flat against the cool glass. The other hand held the mobile as he spoke to the madman. His mind calculated as he looked out into the darkness, which was interrupted by the flashing of lights.
"I told you that I would be unhappy if any of your sheep wandered away." There was a pause.
"Fifty-eight minutes left. Leave them to die. I will allow you, and you alone to walk out now. Leave them." Moriarty's voice took on a serious edge.
Sherlock used the time to walk and start moving back toward the injured agent. His voice came out fatigued and somewhat breathy, "Fifty-eight minutes you said?"
"Did I say fifty-eight, oh, I meant fifty-seven." There was a pause as Moriarty's chuckled. "I suggest that you turn on the telly, any one will do."
Sherlock quickened his pace with Lestrade, and one agent followed close behind. "Fifty-seven minutes, remember?" Sherlock pushed the button for the lift. He looked impatiently as he contemplated the stairs, while considering his energy reserves.
"I suggest that you find a telly, now." There was something in Moriarty's voice tone that made Holmes stop.
Sherlock stilled and spoke out loud, as he ran up to the closest waiting room.
"Telly," he said simply, because of the confused look on Lestrade's face. He ran up and manually turned on the television. All three men looked at the screen as it came to life.
There was silence in the small group as they watch the television. There was the image of a man with blood stained clothing, who was slowly limping up to the body of the dead man. His hands were raised. He looked bruised and slightly dazed. The man had approached from the dark side of the building. News personalities and reporters buzzed, as the night was once again lit.
The darkness, once again, exploded with flashes of white light. Several red dots rested upon the body of the mystery man.
Sherlock heard Lestrade inhale noisily beside him. Sherlock stood as still as a stone. His face was expressionless. He did not make a sound.
Current Day
Current Time
Miranda blew a frustrated breath through her pursed lips. She stood in the dim doorway watching quietly. Mycroft was fully dressed. He was in Thomas' villa next to hers. It was about Sherlock, the poor dear. From what she had convinced Mycroft to tell her. Some lunatic had a very unhealthy obsession with her younger son.
Miranda's eyes flashed with anger. Her son had been through so much during his life. He had borne it well. She hoped that Mycroft would become creative when he found the madman. She inhaled sharply as her eyes returned to William. What would happen if the man who was obsessed with Sherlock found out that he had a young, and defenseless child. Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft whimper of that child, as he lay in bed.
Miranda found herself next to William without realizing that she had even moved. She sat on the side of the bed as William opened his eyes. A bad dream, she thought, Sherlock used to have them.
"Shuuuu now love, it's okay."
William's sleepy eyes locked onto Miranda. William's whimpering started to die down as Miranda spoke softly to him. William's thumb found its way back into his mouth.
"Close your eyes little William, go to sleep." She repeated over, and over.
His eyes grew heavier. Miranda kissed his cheek as she continued to coo him. William smiled when he was kissed by Miranda. Moments later, he lost his battle with sleep. He lay in bed; he had kicked the duvet cover off in sleep. She could not resist gently running her fingers through the child's soft, curly hair.
She sighed again as she watched over her grandchild and thought about his father.
"Sherlock," She whispered.