Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 152
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
*Congratulations to Benedict Cumberbatch for winning best actor at the Broadcasting Press Guild Awards. Sherlock and Parade's End.
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 for violence, drug reference T rated ****. ****
"… Always think twice before the pawn move, pawns do not go back."
… The Fall… Part III…
The devil has no power ... except in the dark". ~ Cassandra Clare, City of Bones
Note: Ne me razočarati. means, Do not disappoint me in Serbian
Current Day
Early Morning
Tirada, Albania
It had been a long drive from the hotel. The Rogner Tirana Hotel was located on Tirana's main boulevard. It was close to the Ministry of Finance, the Presidential Palace, Apollonia restaurant, as well as all the important Embassies. It was a modern area with businesspersons, and international travelers.
His body gently rocked back and forth, as the vehicle moved. His eyes were closed behind the sunglasses, his head lay back on the leather seat. The ear buds of an iPod pressed firmly into his ears, as the soothing tones of Mozart rose gracefully, yet silent to all, but the man in the gray suit.
The part of the city that they drove through now, was older. He had been traveling for some time. The modern landscape had slowly transformed. The brick buildings in their current area were much older than those who were living inside them.
The Mercedes Benz drove through narrow brick laid roads. The streets lay in between the varied, dull colored buildings. The structures had been re-mortared because of damage in times of war, and because of age in times of peace. The motor car turned and entered a new area. More colorful cafés and small businesses lined the lower level of the buildings that were now being passed. A few persons, mostly men, walked about, or sat talking as they ate their food.
Within minutes, the Benz made a sharp, right turn. The motorcar entered an area where the streets were even more narrow. The Benz came to a stop.
A large man hurried over to the door of the back seat and opened it.
The air outside was a strange combination of muggy yet chilled. The man in the suit removed his iPod and gave it wordlessly to the large man as he looked around. He now looked at the door of the building that he would soon enter. He started to move. Two men exited the motorcar, as they scanned for threats and potential dangers. The man in the suit face betrayed his boredom.
They walked toward the door.
A slightly bent over, older man slowly made his way over to the small table. His body swayed slightly from side to side. His gait was odd and stiff, especially when he moved quicker. He seemed to use his arm to help propel his body forward. The humble dwelling had a few scatted pieces of well-made but worn furniture.
"Please," the older man said in English. His thick accent and deep voice reverberated in the small space. He gestured with a wave of his hand to the wooden chair.
The distinctive tap of alligator skin, Louis Vuitton shoes echoed as it struck the cement floor. The shoes cost more than the entire furnishings of the humble abode. The opulence of the designer suit, the shoes, and the man himself; seemed out of place in the humble surroundings and brought a vileness to the place.
He sat on the chair without even a glance or concern for it being clean. His brilliant mind was focused on other matters.
A suitcase was the only object on the thick wooden table. The man in the suit looked at the suitcase and glanced at the older man who was standing with one hand on the table for physical support.
The man in the suit raised an eyebrow. "You did well."
"Thank you, Sir," the older man said as he shifted his weight slightly. He looked into the eyes of the younger man in the suit, before looking at the table again. The man never gave a compliment. He briefly wondered if he would find a bullet in his back instead of the money promised.
He shifted again as he held on more firmly to the table, and grimaced. He needed to sit down but he did not trust to do so in the man's presence.
The man in the suit looked at him amused. He seemed to notice his physical discomfort, and mental unease. It was as if he found his discomfort amusing.
"Is everything in place?" The man in the suit knew the answer, but he found it amusing when normal people tried to lie.
The older man frowned but spoke truthfully. "Not yet Sir, but it will be very soon, weeks at the most."
There was a moment of silence when the man in the suit seemed to almost look through him. The older man held his gaze. He looked grim.
The man in the suit brown eyes seemed to darken."Ne me razočarati."
The older man gave a slight shift of his head down then up.
The man in the suit nodded, and one of the men put his hands in his suit as he walked up to the older man. The older man tensed and prepared himself.
The older man sighed with relief when he saw that the object was not a gun. He watched as a small piece of metal was put in his hand.
The older man took the key. It would open a safety deposit box. He would find his usual cash payment inside. It was always an ungodly amount of money. It was never for him, but for his granddaughter. She was sick. He tried to justify his actions with this thought; however, it was becoming harder to ignore the deep crimson that stained his once clean hands. He frowned as he deposited the key securely into his trouser pocket.
Moriarty walked out carrying the suitcase. He did not give it to his men as he normally would. It was too critical to the years of planning that would climax in several weeks. A small smile graced his face, as the back door of the Mercedes was opened then closed.
The older man watched through the window. The film of dirt distorted the figures, and the car. He watched the silver colored car pull onto the narrow brick road, then disappear from view.
The older man turned as quickly as his body would allow. He slowly lowered his graying head. He looked at the floor. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of shame.
A/N: Thank you all for reading. Thank you for your comments. Lots of Love.
Fun Question: "I can do anything I want to you Mr. Holmes, anything at all…" Which episode of Sherlock did this line come from.
Stop reading now unless you want a hint.
Still there, okay. It is found during the last fifteen minutes of one of the following.
Choices:
1. Pilot , A study in Pink
2. A Study in Pink
3. The Blind Banker
4. The Great Game
Have Fun :)