Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 144

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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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Thank you for your recent post: Note: Knackered means tired. 2. Gobsmacked is shocked.

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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…

"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."

~ Terry Pratchett (English Writer)

He followed the instruction and entered the warehouse. It was one of several such warehouses in the industrial park. It was dangerously secluded. The faint smell of the river lingered about. This particular structure was close to the river Thames. Sherlock knew that it was unwise to come. Anderson however had been persuasive. More specifically, his threat had been persuasive.

He walked toward Anderson. His eyes glanced around the warehouse. It was a dim place with corners of darkness. The musty smell assaulted his nose. Something about this place made a shiver run through him. He was not sure why. He wished that John were by his side. He quickly dismissed the thought and refocused his attention to the room.

He stopped a few yards from Anderson. He did not intend to get closer. He also realized that his intentions mean very little in this situation.

"You… you were irritating today." Anderson said a lot calmer that Holmes thought he would. "You humiliated me."

There was a moment of silence.

"Come closer, I don't bite." Anderson sounded almost friendly.

Holmes scoffed. "I don't think so."

"You're going to regret today." Anderson searched his eyes for fear. "Tonight, you're coming with me. I'm going to finish what I started that day. You're going to let me and not say a word to…" Anderson was interrupted.

"So in this fantasy of yours, I'm to be a willing participant in my own assault? Sorry, that doesn't work for me." Holmes looked at Anderson. "I have a better idea. You have twenty-four hours to turn over the videotape. You never call, text, or touch me in any way again. You and your new friends, stay away from Lestrade. Here is the benefit. You stay out of prison. If you don't, I'll turn all the evidence over to Lestrade."

"You don't have any evidence. I made sure of that." Anderson could not help the frown that had formed on his face.

"We both know that you're not as clever as you think you are. There is evidence. Not to mention that lovely picture you sent me. Thank you for that, by the way. I forwarded it somewhere safe. No matter what your friends told you, and that reporter you're sleeping with, it can be traced back to you."

Anderson spoke without thinking. "How did you know I was sleeping with her?"

"Please," Sherlock said impatiently.

Anderson was dumbfounded for a moment, his mouth partially opened. "You would never show anyone that photograph. You're a proud man."

Sherlock scanned the area again. "That's the first thing that you've gotten correct. I am. Nevertheless, I will do whatever is necessary. You should know that about me by now."

Anderson became angry. He stepped toward Holmes. His voice rose desperately. "Do you know the danger I can bring into your life. Into the lives of those you're trying to protect."

Sherlock took a few steps back to maintain the distance. "What about the danger in your life. You in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by sharks, and you don't even realize you're bleeding." Sherlock gave a condescending look. "Do you even know who your master is?"

Anderson frowned but said nothing.

"Twenty-four hours," Sherlock reminded him. He then turned to leave.

"Don't take another step." A sort of desperation filled Anderson. He could sense his carefully constructed plans, crumbling, and falling down around him. The last bit of his self-control and reserve fell. The crash of it was deafening.

Sherlock ignored him. He was able to take two steps until he heard the click of a gun. His eyes widened as he turned around. He knew the man was getting more imbalanced as the days went along, but this was something entirely different.

Sherlock mouth was set in a grim line. He said, "Are you completely insane? What are you going to do? Shoot me? With your own gun, none-the-less. I'm sure even you must have heard of a little thing called forensic evidence."

Anderson glared. "Evidence is misplaced often, every day in fact."

Sherlock's smile became sugary sweet. "Especially when you're in charge of it."

Anderson moved in jerky, angry movements. He slammed Sherlock against the warehouse wall. The gun found its way to his stomach. "I was a good man before you came along. This is entirely your fault. You've ruined my career, ended my marriage, and caused me to drink. You took my Sally away from me." Anderson smiled for the first time. "I think that you should be punished."

"Is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night?" Sherlock laughed in his face. It was a bitter, mocking sort of sound. "I didn't deserve anything that you have done to me," Sherlock looked intently into the eyes of his enemy, "Is planning to do to me. Are you ready for the truth?" Sherlock whispered to Anderson. "You were never a good man. You could have been, but you were entirely too self-centered and selfish to try, even for the sake of your children, whom you claim to love. I assume that is the sentiment that you were attempting to achieve, but the truth is that, the one talent that you do possess is that you are a believable actor. But, I saw through you within ten minutes, the first time I met you."

Anderson held his head up smugly. He was surprisingly quiet as he listened.

"I ruined your career, or did you. You were called, what was it?" There was mockery in Sherlock's voice, "Oh yes, The Golden Boy of Scotland Yards. I long suspected that you did whatever was necessary, even, at times, planted evidence rather than admit that you were wrong. You even went as far as doctoring your reports. Anything to make it look like you are a genius. The ironic thing is that you were talented. But unfortunately, you were also too lazy and impatient to develop that talent." There was a brief pause. "As far as your wife and the drinking, I am not an expert on the subject, but I understand that most wives tend not to tolerate their husbands having a lover, several in your case, they're sensible that way. Let us pretend for a moment that you're not using drugs and is just an alcoholic. You started to drink to forget the guilt you felt when you looked into the eyes of your wife, and children."

He looked sober. "As for Donoven, you did not love her. You were obsessed with her. Even I could see that. She did love you; yet, found the strength to be rid of you. I believe and hope she'll never take you back."

The slap on his face did not surprise him. Anderson held the gun with one hand now. Sherlock glanced down at the gun. Anderson noticed and quickly put both hands back on the gun. He also thought it wise to take several steps away from Holmes.

"I could do anything I want to you and nothing will happen to me. You'd be surprised who is protecting me." Anderson's voice held pride.

"So you keep saying. I'm starting to believe that you're acting again. Everything that you've done to me is luck, nothing more. You claim to suddenly know people of importance, powerful people. Who could you know that's important?"

Anderson glared. "You'd be surprised at who I know."

"So, you keep saying. I'll never believe you." Sherlock looked condescending.

"You'll never convince me. Even I would admit to being impressed if anything that has happened between us was planned, if you really did know someone of importance. You don't do you?" Anderson looked unsure for a moment and did not answer. A smile came on Holmes face.

"You have no power over me except what I give you." Sherlock held up his head. "I think I've had enough." Sherlock walked backwards slowly as he watched Anderson's hand carefully.

Anderson's mouth was open in confusion. It was vital that he kept Holmes there. He was so close to finishing his plan. Now, the freak was ruining it! Was the freak really backing away from him? Did he not know that he would shoot him? He would shoot him, wouldn't he?

Anderson grew desperate, as his options slammed around in his mind. "You're a proud man. I'll release the entire video of you being tortured by the terrorist. The photograph I sent you was the mildest one. And, I have something worse than the videotape. Do you really want everyone to see your, difficulties?"

A sudden dull pain traveled through his skull, then was gone. Sherlock pressed his lips together.

"You okay"? Anderson smirked. "You seem to get a bit of a headache whenever we discuss your difficulties. Not that I'm complaining. You're easier to handle when you're like this. Bad memories mate?"

Sherlock ignored him. He, however, could not stop the grimace. "I meant it when I said that I would prosecute you. You'd go to prison. You're a weak pathetic excuse for a man. What do you think will happen to you?"

"For me to go to prison. You'd have to testify. What if you were in no condition to testify, or anything else?"

Sherlock frowned. He stopped backing up when he noticed Anderson's finger tightening on the trigger of the gun.

He tried again to ignore the dull headache as he looked for his options. He put his hands in his pockets.

"Take your hands out your pockets. I'm not stupid." Anderson's gun filled hands waved back and forth.

Sherlock tried to keep his voice level despite the headache. "Do you really want to explore whether or not you're intellectually up to power?"

A satisfied look came across Anderson's face. "I was wrong about you? You do care, for Lestrade don't you? Is it true that he stood by you when even your own family abandoned you because you're a freak. I could do as I said. I could ruin him, with one phone call. If you don't care about yourself, what about him. I won't go to prison, but Lestrade could. Don't underestimate the influence of my new friends. He'd be in prison, before he had a chance to know what had happened. What do you think will happen to him in prison? Lestrade has put a lot of bad and nasty people away." He smiled. "Don't worry; I am sure that Lestrade will eventually be found innocent. I can imagine that you'll fight for him. I can even imagine that after a year or two in prison, he'll be released, but, I assure you, not before he'd suffer quite a bit…"

Sherlock took two angry steps toward him.

"Ah-Ah-Ahhh. I can shoot," Anderson said with glee.

"You would do this to a man who has helped and stood by you, someone that considers you a friend. You're a more pathetic prat than even I had imagined." Sherlock voice volume grew. "You could never convince me that you can do this alone. All I hear is a lot of threats, where's the proof of your new found power." Sherlock hissed. "Unless you prove, here and now that you're more than a pathetic joke of a man, that you can do what you say. Aim well. You miss, my turn." Sherlock's voice started to lose control.

Anderson was thrilled as he witnessed the normally composed man lose his composer. He calmly picked up his mobile and pushed one number that was preprogrammed into his mobile. "Yes, it's me. I just wanted to assure you that I am close to finding out who the plant is for the criminal that we have been discussing. I should have the answer for you later this week, and then you can notify internal affairs. Nasty business, Mike. Someone in our ranks has been leaking information to criminal organizations, taking bribes, and the worst part is the child pornography I found. I almost became sick." There was a pause. "There's no need to thank me Mike. I'm sorry I have to go. No, No more problems from Lestrade, thank you and good day."

Anderson made sure that he watched Holmes face closely as he disconnected the call. He looked pleased with the fact that it was more pale than usual. He was looking at the ground with a blank look on his face. Anderson's smile widened.

"Let go somewhere private."

Holmes seemed frozen with confusion.

"Did you hear me freak?"

Holmes blinked a few times as if he just heard him.

Anderson walked close to Holmes and looked downwards. He smirked as he insulted and tried to intimidate the man. He was almost on a high as he enjoyed Holmes discomfort. He finally came close enough to touch Holmes. He was so busy insulting the Consultant Detective; he did not notice that he pointed his gun down. He also did not notice an important fact.

Sherlock's head was still bowed down. However, the look of confusion left instantly. His body became tight as his hands slowly moved away from his body. His eyes looked sharp and focused. His eyes became dark.

Anyone but an idiot would have noticed the sudden changes. They would have wondered at the look in Sherlock's eyes and backed down, or taken more caution.

Anyone but an idiot.

But, as it has already been established, Robert Anderson was an idiot.

A/N: Love and peace. Thank you all for reading. Stay safe.

** Optional Fun Question:

I have made a strong reference to canon, The Noble Bachelor. In this story, Simon's first name is Lord. In canon, what is he called by Hatty Doran? Feel free to read or use the internet, but let me know if you did not need to.

Bonus question: The last name of Hatty's Frank was what?

Have fun. :)