Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 142

*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.

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Note: Knackered means tired. 2. Gobsmacked is shocked.

*****.*** T rated ****. ****

Here are a few chapters. More up by Friday. You can save those for the weekend or read all at once. Lots of Love.

"… Always think twice before the pawn move, pawns do not go back."

… The Fall… Part I…

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
~Eleanor Roosevelt

Current Day

Current Time

The room was filled with the press. Several media personalities were there, as well as several key members of society. Although everyone spoke in whispered conversations, the sheer number of those present caused the room to be filled with a dull buzz. There were rumors that someone other than Sherlock Holmes had been instrumental in solving the latest case.

There seemed to be a sudden quiet when Holmes walked into the room. Several pairs of eyes followed his movement; some held looks of curiosity, some pity, and others smugness. The man that seemed unstoppable suddenly could not seem to get anything correct. Rumors were that he had not been able to solve even the simplest case in two weeks.

Kitty Riley smiled as she walked back into the room with a cup of coffee. Ribbons of steam swirled, and ascended upwards before dissipating and leaving a pleasant aroma in its place. Riley looked over to where her photographer was seated. Of course, she did not think to get her coworker a cup when she got herself one. She took a sip as she visually scanned the crowd. She noticed some famous television personalities. Her mind wandered a bit. Soon she would be just as famous. She would never have to get coffee for herself again.

She looked around and saw Holmes in a far corner, out of the way, by himself. It was not like the man to be so quiet that he was barely noticed. She also noticed that Doctor Watson was not around. That was unusual. They almost seem to travel in packs. Maybe, this was an opportunity.

She smiled.

She thought that it was a lovely day.

She was not supposed to have direct contact with Holmes yet, but the thought of looking him in the eyes, and seeing the realization that she had something to do with this moment of his, disgrace, was more than she could ignore.

It was time to work. She took another sip. Her tongue ran over her teeth, she felt the unevenness, as her tongue cleared the last of the pungent brew away.

Despite the fact that the coffee was mostly full, she threw it in the rubbish bin. She ignored the sloshing sound that the dark, hot liquid made as it coated the sides of the bin. She slowly made her way over to the corner that Holmes seemed to hide himself in.

The chair in the front of the room filled as several men sat down. One was Robert Anderson. She noticed as Robert looked at her with what could only be described as shock and something else. Was it annoyance? It did not matter; she was only using the fool.

Robert noticed her making her way over to Holmes. His mouth went into a tight line. He reminded himself that there was a room full of people who were looking at him, and the other men that were seated. He suppressed the rage that he felt. What was she doing? She was an idiot.

They had a detailed plan that they were to follow. She was not supposed to approach Holmes yet. She had once been exciting, now he tolerated her. She was the leader in the beginning of their relationship. She had been useful. She had seemed to know what was happening before it happened. She was the one to suggest that he use the videotape evidence and blackmailed Holmes. Since that time, he had outgrown her. He had stopped listening to her completely and made his own decisions now.

He watched her approach Holmes and start to speak to him. Holmes seemed to be ignoring her.

This was supposed to be his day. The attention was to be on him. Anderson considered the fact that he once thought that he cared for Riley. He realized now that he did not. She had the contacts he needed, she had introduced him to important people. She was convenient. He enjoyed a good shag and she was always willing, the tramp. But, She could never be Sally. No one could be Sally. If Riley found out about Donovan, it did not matter. After tonight with Holmes, he would not need her anymore. He glanced at Riley and resisted the urge to smirk. She thought that he was in love with her, of course, he was not. He was just using the fool.

The news conference started, general statements were being made as well as acknowledgements, and introductions. Riley stood next to Holmes. His body tensed; otherwise, he remained silent.

They both lingered quietly in the back of the room watching the question and answer session.

She waited for Holmes to acknowledge her, flee, or curse her, something. She was slightly disappointed when he acted as if he had never seen her before. She resisted the urge to frown.

Anderson glanced at the two in the middle of a statement. He returned his attention back to the reporter who was currently asking the question.

Holmes noticed.

Holmes seemed to study Robert Anderson's face. He then, for the first time, turned to Riley. His eyes pierced hers. She resisted the urge to squirm.

"Interesting," Sherlock commented quietly before he returned to ignoring Riley. Riley made an effort not to scowl.

"You have nothing to say to me?" Riley said in a voice dripping with malice.

Sherlock looked at Riley for a few seconds. "You don't like me," Holmes said this as if it was a new discovery. Riley confusion increased. She blinked a few times but quickly recovered. She schooled her face.

"In a few minutes, I understand that Doctor Anderson will announce that he found critical evidence that led to closing the Simons case. I further understand that you had nothing to do with his conclusions."

"Nothing whatsoever," Sherlock said evenly.

Sherlock walked swiftly but quietly toward the door that led to an open area. The area contained a few desks, and Scotland Yard employees who sat at those desks. Before he could reach the door, a firm hand tightly, grasped his left wrist.

"Take your hands off of me," Sherlock voice was even, but his eyes darkened.

"Not quite yet, just one more question Mr. Holmes; since you seem to be of no benefit to Scotland Yard. Will you retire?"

"Shouldn't you be over there with the rest of the press? Ms." He looked at her nametag, "Riley."

She ignored his question. Pretending he did not know her; would not deter her.

"I further understand that an alleged murderer, a Miss Flora Millar, is being taken into detention as we speak, and you had nothing to do with apprehending the murderer." She ran a finger from her free hand over his cheek, "How do you like my new name for you, The Incompetent Consultant?"

Sherlock stared at her wordlessly for several long seconds. He raised his eyebrows. "I'm rather attached to my arm, no pun intended. I need it back now, if you don't mind." He used his free hand to pull her hand away from his wrist.

Holmes voice held the undertones of mockery, "Between you and me, you and Doctor Anderson really should not discuss Scotland Yard business when you're shagging like bunnies. Your already limited intellects suffers greatly by your attempts to think and plot, while simultaneously being engaged in such vigorous activities with your lover...," he stopped suddenly, and glanced at the side of her neck and a faint discoloration that was covered by her hair.

"Oh," he put his fingertips together and lay them to touch his bottom lip. "That would be lovers, one of two. That explains why you look a bit knackered. At first, I thought you might have acquired a sexually transmitted disease, but now that I look at your dull complexion, and dry hair. I think it's only hormone replacement that you need. With all those lovers, maybe you should take a nap between your, shall we say, activities. It might help with your energy levels."

She suddenly noticed that she was squirming and stopped. This was cocked-up. He was supposed to be the one who was uncomfortable, not her!

Riley's face was flushed red from embarrassment. "You'll be sorry you ever met me?"

"I already am." Sherlock's attention was diverted. He had already dismissed her.

Riley followed Holmes with her eyes.

Sherlock noticed that Lestrade was staring at him, his attention seemed to be focus on him. Lestrade motioned him over. A small commotion was taking place just outside the large room. Holmes had walked away quickly. He walked up to Lestrade and shook the hand of the man who was standing next to Lestrade. It was Lord Simon.

Riley nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ears as she walked away frowning. A flush colored her face. She quietly sat down beside her photographer.

"Where were you then?" He asked with irritation. "We have a job to do."

She cleared her throat. Something seemed to be stuck there. "I was talking to Mr. Holmes. There is another story here."

"Well you could have told me that…" The photographer's voice was interrupted by the sudden increase of volume.

Riley noticed the gobsmacked look on Anderson's face. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned her upper body, as she followed his eyes. Her mouth hung open wordlessly.

"Isn't that Miss Doran? She certainly looks good for a dead woman." He turned to Riley. "Did you have an interview with Holmes, did you know about this?"

Riley was too shocked to think of a proper lie fast enough to save her pride, so the truth escaped her lips.

"No."