The Weapon-A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 3~Arriving at 221B Baker Street

~Jax's POV~
I sat in the chair as I waited. They had informed me that I was to pack the things that I owned, which wasn't much. A few books that I was willing to take, it wasn't practical to bring all of them. Probably because there was too many of them, and that I remembered every word of every book that I had ever read. I also packed a few clothes, a box of paints and pencils, and a few sketchbooks. I was dressed in jeans, combat boots, and a grey t-shirt. My hair fell in waves down my back. I twirled my ring around my finger. I was anxious to get out of this place, even though the place they were relocating me to probably wasn't much better. Out of all the places I'd been, I had stayed at this one the longest. And it wasn't as good as it seemed. The door beeped and slid open. Dr. Harrington entered the room, a scowl on his face. I smirked. I loved seeing Dr. Harrington in a bad mood.

"It's time to leave." He said sourly. I hopped up from my seat, tossing my bag over my shoulder. I threw him a wink as I passed him, skipping up the stairs. Behind the wrinkles and the glasses, he was an awful person. When I reached the top of the stairs, all the scientists that knew about me were there. There were lined up, their hands folded in front of them. Their faces were blank. As I walked past them, I threw hot glares their way. I hated almost everyone in the room. I spotted Tom and a ghost of a smile crossed my face. He smiled at me. I shook his hand.

"I'm gonna miss you, Jax." He said sincerely. I chuckled.

"Thank you, Tom." I said. "Take care of yourself." After one last smile at each other, I turned away. Tom had always been nice to me. I noticed the two men standing by the door next to Dr. Harrington. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson stood there, watching me. They saw all that, didn't they. Dr Harrington crossed over the file cabinet by the door. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. He slid it open, revealing the only items from my past. The drawer only contained five items. I felt Sherlock's and John's eyes burning into me as Dr. Harrington started to hand me the items. The first, was a leather jacket. I brought the fabric to my nose and inhaled deeply, the familiar smell washing over me. I shrugged the jacket on as he handed me the next item. It was a silver cigarette lighter. I stared at it for a moment before slipping it into my pocket. The next item was a laptop. It was black and thin. I snatched it from his hands and shoved it into my bag. The next item was a bottle of pills. It was unlabeled and had been opened many times. I grabbed it. The last item was by far the most important. And the most painful to look at. Dr. Harrington reluctantly handed me the brown Swiss Army knife. I flicked it open, staring at the blade. I watched the light glint off the blade for a few seconds before putting it in my pocket. The familiar weight of the knife on my hip reassured me. The memories that were connected to each item flashed before my eyes. I pushed them down as fast as they had surfaced. What were these memories you ask? Well, that's my business isn't it.

"Ready?" Dr. Harrington said irritably. I narrowed my eyes at him, and walked over to the two men escorting me to my new location. We silently walked down the hall, our footsteps echoing. As we walked, I fidgeted anxiously. I couldn't wait to get outside. We reached the door and Dr. Harrington led us out. As the cold air hit me, I took a deep breath. The first time I had breathed fresh air in a long time. Dr. Harrington looked me in the eye once we got to the car.

"Goodbye, Jax." He said, monotone.

"Oh, please." I spat. He had the nerve to pretend he had feelings.

"You are a despicable human being and I will never forgive you." I snarled, ducking into the vehicle. After a minute, Sherlock and John entered the car. Sherlock started the engine, and we drove away from the building that I had grown to despise. The first few minutes of the drive were silent, the hum of the car the only sound breaking the silence.

"What was that about?" John asked curiously.

"What was what about?" I replied.

"You said you'd never forgive him. What exactly did he do?" John said. I stared blankly out the window.