Chapter 5: The Sins Are Punished~
Mycroft's heart has stopped.
The day that he has to atone for all his faults, he feels , has finally come. He has bitterly regretted the decision he made in Sherrinford's behalf ever since the day.
Suddenly into his mind flashes a memory he has not beckoned. He tries to delete it ,like protocol would have, but in the end, Mycroft's dying heart has won.
He hasn't spoken to his brother since the day that Sherrinford died. Hasn't seen him face to face. And now, now he must give him the files for the Viper's Nest mission, the mission that most likely will be his death sentence too.
Sherlock was mixed in with the rest of the soldiers that moved like a cloud of locusts about their business. Always work when there's no fighting, that is the way of it.
When he sees him, he hardly recognizes him from behind. He's a lot taller than the last time he saw him, which was over a year ago. He's a lot thinner too. Sherlock stopped eating after the things he'd seen in the line of service...
He sets down a huge crate of medical supplies, and calls to one of the boys, that it needs to be taken to Watson's tent, and that there are computer parts in it as well, so it needs to be handled with care.
Then he turns...and it takes Mycroft's breath.
The look on Sherlock's face.
The boy is gone. The man that was rising up in him is gone.
There is only a machine standing there, cold, isolated, mechanical,solitary...
Not his baby brother. Not anymore.
He is drawn to him like a magnet. And the harsh words he expected, even the blows that he expected, don't come.
Sherlock says nothing to Mycroft at all. He doesn't take his death sentence like man. He takes it like a MACHINE. Extending a hand for the papers, reading them carefully.
He salutes, cadaverous mask never breaking into an expression, never entreating Mycroft for an explanation, never one to express dismay that he must die so young a man. No emotions at all, in the face of his great traumatic end.
There is no life in his eyes, it is as if the spirit has already flown far away, there is no spark ,nor glory, nor even a purpose in the mission... The machine just follows the program...the protocol.
And Mycroft realizes ,to the sinking of his heart, that he has lost Sherlock too...
"Sherlock,...what have you done?" Mycroft gasps...not wanting to believe it, but knowing.
"I shall say this now, although it is very unlikely that I shall need to. If I fail in this endeavour, report to Unique Headquarters immediately, and tell them they have a Code Red. And...don't tell our mother..." Sherlock tells Mycroft, taking a deep breath.
"What endeavour? SHERLOCK, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" John shouted, and his face had flushed as if his heart was about to burst.
Sherlock couldn't bear to look at John. Or at any one, but Mary. And it was Mary who answered...
"I started a war with you lot a long time ago...and Sherlock means to finish it."
"Some of us only speak English!" Greg growled, fighting against the medical equipment he was plugged into.
" I ...made a deal with the devil...with Mary...during my Hiatus , when we encountered each other again. A deal to preserve John's life... and a deal to ultimately settle the score between us."
Mary giggled, impatiently, wanting to tell her end of the story,
" I'm a sharp-shooter, not gonna lie. But my real field of expertise, when it comes to killing quietly, is poison. Not deadly poison. Poison that makes a man a monster...drives him out of his mind...gives his soul over to me...where I can use him for whatever I please, then I shoot him. Well...Sherlock's got everything I need, every thing I want, all the little details that could secure for me a clean slate, as well as send me climbing up the "stairway to heaven" when it comes to the Order, if you know what I mean. Pandora's Box...all locked up nice and neat inside his head. Well, he's not gonna just give it to me, it comes with a price. I have to promise him John's head won't be touched, nary a hair...And that seems easy enough, I might like to play with John again in the future...seeing as his little psychogenic episode, that lasted around 10 years...has completed wiped Ms. Mary off the board, am I wrong?...So since keeping John, and you lot too I guess, and Molly and your Major...and the landlady old what's-her-face...works out good for the both of us...Seems the price needs to be a little steeper. Sherlock's still loyal to a fault to his precious Secret Services, ...knows that if he squeals, not only will they off him, but it gives Mycroft a passport to the electric chair as well...Gots ta save big brother too, eh, Sherlock? Still love him, despite everything. In the end , so bloody honest, under all that bad-boy talk of yours. So in the end, it was Sherlock who came up with the idea for me to wrench the information from him. "We'll make it a Game..." he says, "And the winner takes the prize..." he says. If he wins, he keeps all his secrets, plus your miserable lives, gets to save the day,...and all that precious rot. And if I win...then I get my secrets,...and I kill the lot of you, using the same methods I did on him, and then when it's all over...I see to it that he falls into the hands of authority, and he dies in disgrace for what he did. "Fair enough," I say,..."I always do love a good game." So, it was up to me to figure out what the rules to this Game was...how it was gonna work. I've been saving a sample of the "Akhlys" serum I used on Sherlock the night of mine and Irene's escape...Well, over the years, I got to stewing about Sherlock Holmes, and how he didn't deserve to have lived on, and kept that puke , that angel what looks more like a little hedge hog or something alive as well, keeping him like a pet, LIVING with him now!.." Mary hissed, looking at John who is hyperventilating...
"Well...I perfected Akhlys ,Sherlock. Wanna hear how the serum works now?"
"All ears." Sherlock shrugs. Greg's stomach jumps to his throat. Sherlock...is going to be tortured. If he caves to the torture, it will be goodnight Vienna for the lot of them. Which is why, everyone knows, but no one will dare think it, except open-mouthed, open-minded Greg, that Sherlock won't cave. It will become utterly impossible for him to give in to whatever she is going to do to him, because he wants to win, needs to win, and can win, therefore he will. This ultimately means that he is going to suffer. Until he can suffer no more.
He might even die, for real this time. But Greg can't bring himself to think about that.
"You will have a window of 48 hours to come and catch me if you can. And it's so good, you'll see...that I'm willing to add a little more to the bargain. If you win, I will turn in my gun. I will walk willingly before the firing squad."
"Really?!" Sherlock scoffed, not believing her.
"No lies, Sherlock. No time for them any more. I really am tired of running around. Tired of being bored. You can't win anyway...Not to this. You will have a window of 48 hours, in which the poison increases its psychedelic potency. You'll still be lucid to everything around you though, you might even have a chance to dissolve my little puzzle. But...when the Akhlys Hour comes..." she is suddenly grinning like a demon.
Irene has burst into tears...
" You...really...you are REALLY going to use that...on another human being?"
"Oh yeah, of course. Why? Have you suddenly grown a heart?"
Irene is shaking her head. And looks at Sherlock apologetically.
"Even the King forbid its use. Even James Moriarty had limits..."
"Oh...did he now? Mmm...maybe that's why he's dead.. I have a news flash for you, dearest.I am not James Moriarty. I am that terrible monster under his bed, that makes him run to his mummy, sucking his thumbs, wetting his nappy and all of that!"
"You...you honestly think that I will ALLOW you to go through with this ridiculous deal? I have a whole firing squad at my command, on this premises!" Mycroft gasped, voice not betraying his sheer desperation.
"Well...let me put it like this." Mary said, with a smug smile, and then she put the barrel of her pistol directly between Sherlock's eyes.
"Don't...please, just!" John gasped, stretching out a shaking hand.
" The "Akhlys Hour " is when my specific poison has reached its peak performance. That will be the hour of truth, and we'll see then if the great Sherlock Holmes really has what it takes to beat me...or if he will cave and undo everything you've worked so hard to build, Ice Man. But... , there is a chance, that he can pull through said Hour alive...A small chance...If you try to interfere with our bargain, though..."
She chambered her gun, finger stirring the air around the trigger.
"Mary..." Irene begged, voice grown hoarse.
"He dies here and now. And I disappear. Or I don't. You can kill me, I don't care. Just the satisfaction of killing Sherlock Holmes will be enough for me..." she smiles again, sickly.
"The gun will be easier..." Mycroft gasps, desperate to keep his brother from suffering anymore.
"Will it?" Mary asks, turning it over, and pistol-whipping Sherlock viciously across the face.
John shouts, but no sound comes. He's enraged to the point of being mute, and is sheet-white.
Sherlock stands slowly up, nose streaming blood, facing Mycroft now.
"It's...alright. Just...let me..."
"Sherlock...it's...too great a risk."
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life, brother mine."
"This is the only way to save your lives...It's alright...Let me..."
Mycroft couldn't say anything.
"Oi, really, please...NO!" Sally begged, covering her mouth. No one paid her any mind, except Greg, who was absolutely stunned that even Sally Donovan was begging for Sherlock to be shown a little mercy.
Mary looked at Mycroft with a laugh.
"Silence is consent. Aint that right, Sherlock?"
"Just finish this, you snake." Sherlock hissed.
"Be my pleasure." she gasped.
Suddenly one of the black leather gloves she was wearing grew needles, like a wolverine's claws. John gave a sputtering cry, and was babbling hoarsely begging her not to, but she reached, hard against Sherlock's chest, needles going up into his rib cage.
He let out the softest moaning sound, like when one makes noises in their sleep. He closed his eyes tight, and his teeth barred, in an expression like a dog makes when its sleepy. Mary rolled her hand, with a sudden high-pitched giggle.
"Oh, Sherlock! I can feel your heart! I didn't know you had one. It's..suprisingly warm..."she motioned her fingers in a tickling motion, and then she squeezed her fist down on the vital organ.
Sherlock gasped, and his eyes opened wide, and rolled back in his head, whites turning a robin's egg blue.
Mary pulled the needles out, even as Sherlock began to froth at the mouth like something with rabies.
He fell to his knees, gurgling.
"2 days, Myc. That's all you get." Mary gasped, with a wink. "Come on, Irene..."
Irene stood above Sherlock staring in horror.
"Go...before I change my mind about showing you mercy." Mycroft hissed, and she fled the room.
John fell to his knees beside Sherlock, and took his face in his hands, making him look at him.
His eyes had a hard time focusing, whites turned bluish, and tearing up, lips foaming for a minute...
John swallowed, and smiled as kindly as he could.
"There's been times...when I've followed you into the dark...Listen...can you hear me?...I need you...oi!, no, look me in the eyes!- I need you to follow me into the Light, got it?...You are going to get through this...Do you hear me?...You are going to pull through. I'm right here. It's alright..."
Sherlock groaned, and fell forward on John's chest, out like a light.