One-shots/Short Stories

BBC Sherlock - Part II

The Assassin - Part II
Sherlock barged into the office, John and Lestrade trailing behind him hesitantly. Mycroft jumped in his spot behind his desk, having just recently finished a slice of cake.
   "Why didn't you tell me!" Sherlock seethed, face red in anger. Mycroft furrowed his brows at his brother.
   "I don't understand -"
   "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SHE WAS ALIVE!" Sherlock roared, swiping all of Mycroft's items off the desk in anger. Despite the items being important, Mycroft kept his gaze solely on his brother.
   "Sherlock -"
   "AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, YOU KNEW DESYLIA WAS ALIVE!" Sherlock yelled. "HOW CAN YOU KEEP THAT FROM ME? I LOVED HER -"
   "She was a distraction to your work." Mycroft said quietly. Sherlock slammed his hands on the desk loudly.
   "SHE WAS MY FIANCEÉ!" Sherlock roared. John and Lestrade, who were quiet throughout the whole thing, stared at Sherlock in shock.
   "WHAT?" Lestrade yelped. "That assassin is your fianceé?"
   "You had a fianceé?" John said in disbelief. "Christ. . ."
   "You know fully well how much she meant to me." Sherlock said lowly, his voice a bit hoarse from all the previous yelling. "You knew she wasn't a distraction. She was the one that got me into the job as a Consulting Detective -"
   "Because of her you turned into a drug addict." Mycroft interrupted him sharply. "Evidently she distracted your mind."
   "I am not one of your petty agents, Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed. "You saw how I truly felt about her death at the funeral - you stood beside me."
   "In my defence, I didn't know she was still alive until just recently when you were out those two years taking down Moriarty's Network." Mycroft said quietly. Sherlock's eyes widened at the reveal.
   "What?" he breathed out.
   "While you were out, I had received a visitor." Mycroft said. He then started to explain the small encounter he had with Desylia.

***

Mycroft shuffled through his paperwork late at night, once in a while checking up on Sherlock, seeing how he was doing taking down Moriarty's Network. He suddenly heard the sound of the door getting shot at, only to look up and to see the doorknob break. He sat up straight at his desk, his hand slowly reaching out to the hidden gun under his desk. What he saw startled him. He knew that figure; her blonde hair, her lithe body - when she turned to him fully he recognised her green eyes.
   "Desylia?" Mycroft gasped. She said nothing and instead stalked towards him, her face blank of emotions. Mycroft somehow sat up more straighter in his seat. "H-how are you still alive? Sherlock -"
   "You. . ." she said slowly, a hint of a Russian accent oozing out of her voice. "You brother of Sherlock Holmes, yes?"
   "Yes," Mycroft answered confused, "you know that already though -"
   "I remember now. . ." she interrupted him. "I see. . .a man vith curly hair and blue-green eyes - pale skin. . ."
   "You. . .you don't remember Sherlock?" Mycroft mumbled. He took his hand away from the gun, knowing she meant no harm and simply wanted to talk. "What do you remember?"
   "I. . ." she trailed off. "I don't remember my. . .childhood. . .they. . .they take the memories avay. . ."
   "Who? Who do?" Mycroft asked eagerly. Desylia's confused and lost look disappeared into a dark, blank one.
   "I need to go." she mumbled. "It vas a vaste of time coming here vhen I am just going to forget about this and the memories."
   "Wait -!" but it was too late. She had pulled out a smoke bomb, covering her escape. Mycroft was then determined to find her, and to get his answers before he could tell Sherlock about his discovery.

***

"I was going to tell you, Sherlock." Mycroft said quietly. "But I was going to tell you when everything was sorted out." Everything was silent; Sherlock stared at Mycroft in disbelief, John and Lestrade still trying to take in the information.
   "So. . ." John said slowly. "What do you think it is that has made her forget her childhood? I mean, who did it?"
   "That's what I have been trying to find out." Mycroft said, opening his drawer and pulling out a file. He handed it over to Sherlock who was still looking a bit lost at the new discovery. "From what I saw, she has been trained as an assassin ever since her 'death' -"
   "Death?" Lestrade interrupted. "Hang on, I remember Sherlock saying earlier to you about a funeral -"
   "We thought she died from a hit and run car accident." Sherlock answered. "She supposedly died in the taxi she was taking, the driver drunk. He lived and instead of helping her he ran away from the scene." Sherlock turned to John. "Carl Powers gave me the inspiration to be a Consulting Detective, but when I heard that the driver survived and ran away instead of helping Desylia, that made me go into action and start my career as a Consulting Detective."
   "Did you get him?" John asked him.
   "Obviously." Mycroft snorted. "Got a life-time in jail."
   "But that still didn't satisfy me." Sherlock mumbled, flicking through the file idly. "I hated the idea of the driver still being alive while Desylia died -or so I thought she died- the pain from emotions were choking me. . .the drugs helped take the pain away and also slow my thinking." Sherlock revealed. He frowned down at the file when he found something. "She was with Moriarty?" Sherlock said in disbelief.
   "She was actually second-in-command followed closely by Sebastian Moran." Mycroft revealed. "She however stopped helping him after that pool incident you and John got yourself into."
   "Why?" John asked him.
   "My guess is for a moment she remembered who Sherlock was." Mycroft stated. "I had some of my agents go undercover and ask around. From what they got, Desylia had frozen in her spot and couldn't stop staring at Sherlock. When Moriarty had left, she got up and said she didn't want to help anymore, and left the area, going into hiding. No one saw her ever since until those two years."
   "She hid from Moriarty?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "That's impressive."
   "From what we gathered, she has been trained to be an assassin for many years." Mycroft mused. "Even Moriarty wouldn't have been able to find her."
   "Well if he couldn't find her, how can we?" John spoke up.
   "Easy," Sherlock said, "we found her in a week, yes? It shouldn't be hard to find her again."
   "Yeah, but remember, she's wanted from lots of people." Lestrade reminded them. "You can't just find her and everything will be dandy, sadly. If you do find her, we have no choice but to arrest her."
   "What will be her punishment when you get her?" John hesitantly asked him. Lestrade looked down gravely.
   "Life-time in jail, or. . ."
   "Or?" John pressed on.
   "Or death." Sherlock realised, a sudden feeling of pain stabbing at his chest at what he said. "No. . ." he murmured. "That can't happen."
   "Sherlock. . ." Mycroft said.
   "No!" Sherlock exclaimed, running a hand through his curly hair. "You said that she can't remember us, yes? That's easy then; she-she has been brainwashed and have been trained to be a killer -"
   "Sherlock -"
   "-she has no choice but to cooperate -"
   "-but Sherlock -"
   "-so you see, she can still be claimed innocent, right? We say she was under their control. She-she couldn't do anything -"
   "SHERLOCK!"
   "WHAT!" Sherlock yelled back at John.
   "Sherlock. . ." John hesitated. "There are other. . .logical ways as to why she can't remember her childhood. Maybe she stored them away and can't find them, or maybe she truly forgot and had gotten amnesia or something? Even if we were going to defend her, the jury would more likely believe that Desylia simply has amnesia or something and willingly chose to do all these stuff."
   "No. . ." Sherlock shook his head in denial. "I know Desylia. She wouldn't just willingly accept being an assassin. She's smarter than that. I should know, I taught her to be like me; be able to deduce and think quick on their feet."
   "Well, we won't know the truth until we get her." Mycroft spoke up. "You go find her, and I'll go and try to make you get the answers from her before they do anything to her."
   "Thank you." Sherlock said gratefully, already making his way to the exit. "I'll keep in contact."
   "Sherlock?" Mycroft called after him. Sherlock turned around to face him. "Be careful." Mycroft told him. A small flash of surprise came to his face, before a blank one replaced it.
   "Of course." Sherlock nodded, walking out of the office.