Chapter Fifteen
Known Admirer Part Two
Sherlock's P.O.V.
"Please don't tell me you blew up the kitchen," John said, eyeing the kitchen suspiciously.
Sherlock was staring out the window of the flat earnestly. "Actually, I need advice."
John froze, furrowing his eyebrows in my direction. "You....you need what?"
"Advice. Isn't that guidance or recommendations concerning prudent future actions that are given after someone vents out their problems?"
"Yes."
John nodded, waiting for Sherlock to say more. He didn't.
"You need......advice?" He finally spoke up after a few minutes.
"Mm, yes."
Another long pause.
"Are you going to help me?" Sherlock asked irritatingly.
Painful silence
"To be honest, Sherlock, I am completely unsure of how to respond," he admitted.
"I don't understand how it's that complicated, it's a yes or no question, John. There's only two answers you can choose from."
"Yes, but.....why do you....need my help. I never remember the great Sherlock Holmes ever needing advice before this."
"John."
"Yes?"
".......please."
John stopped. "What do you need advice for?"
"If Moriarty were to ask us to help him save Carter because he claimed he didn't put that camera in her room, and that he didn't kidnap her.......would you trust him?"
John cleared his throat, "Why are you asking me this?"
"Don't be stupid. You know exactly why I'm asking you this."
"When?"
"Right after I left the crime scene, I came back here and he was waiting for me."
"And what happened? What did he say?"
"According to him, he never knew about the whole camera part, all he knew was that Carter was kidnapped--"
"Wait a minute....so....if he didn't kidnap Carter....who did?"
"Assuming that Jim wasn't the person who kidnapped Carter, it would've been a man by the name of Sebastian Moran, which would also explain why the note at the crime scene was signed, 'S.M.'"
"Who's Sebastian Moran?"
"Reasonably an associate of Moriarty somehow, an old associate however, Jim confessed that he has nothing to do with Sebastian anymore. He proposed that we work together since Sebastian trusts him and we can constantly be two steps ahead of him."
"What'd you say?"
"I declined his offer."
"And he said what to that?"
"He said he hopes that I make the right decision before it's too late."
"And you're telling me this because?"
"I'm not just feeling pain and fear anymore, John. I'm feeling doubt, I'm doubting whether I made the right decision. John, you may not be as smart as I am," Sherlock began, causing John to groan annoyingly. "However, I don't always have the best judgement, but sometimes I believe you see the truth in people more than I do. I mean hell, I thought Harry was your brother when we first met."
John laughed and Sherlock gazed out the window with a smile. "In other words, I know you more than anyone else. Quite literally, I've deduced everything I can about you, including everything I could force out of you such as your middle name. So if I didn't know you any better, I wouldn't be begging the favor I am asking of you now. John, I believe in this situation, you have better judgement than I, and so I'm asking that you choose whether we trust Moriarty or not."
John expired an unconfident sigh, letting himself drop down into his chair. "Moriarty sat in that chair," Sherlock remarked.
John looked down at his chair, pursing his lips as he hesitantly decided whether to stand up or not. "Just thought you'd rather know," Sherlock said in a monotone voice.
John raised his eyebrows as he inhaled deeply, "Lovely."
"Welcome."
John chuckled, leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair and placing his cheek on his fist. "Come here."
"Me?" Sherlock questioned.
John furrowed his eyebrows, giving him a disgruntled look. "Who else would I be talking to?"
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, walking back towards John and sitting down in his seat opposite him. "Now I want you to look at me, and say that you trust James Moriarty to save Carter," said John.
"But I'm not sure whether I believe that, that's why I'm asking for your help."
"I don't care...whether you believe it or not, Sherlock. I just care that you look me directly in the eyes and say it."
"I don't understand what this is accomplishing."
"Just do it!"
Sherlock sighed, looking straight into John's eyes and repeating his words, "I trust James Moriarty to save Carter."
"Good. Now do the same thing, but say you trust James Moriarty to not save Carter but murder her in cold blood."
"John, I--"
"Do it!"
"I....I...." Sherlock kept pausing, unsure of how he could possibly say it. "I...I trust James Moriarty....to not save Carter.....but murder her.....in cold blood," he winced at the thought of his own words.
"I think the answer is in plain sight at the moment."
"How did you possibly gather any information from that?"
"Sherlock Holmes, you are the most inconsistent man when it comes to proving to me that you're human. But one thing you are indeed consistent at is knowing everything about a subject whilst you speak it. So if there was ever a time that you hesitated to know something, it must be bloody untrue! You didn't stutter when you said that you trust James Moriarty to save Carter; therefore, I believe that we are on the same page."
"You believe we should trust Moriarty," Sherlock said, but it sounded more like a question.
"Correction: You believe we should trust Moriarty."
"John, you are continuing to confuse me."
"Sherlock, you knew all along that you believed you should trust Moriarty. But you're beginning to doubt yourself and you needed someone to assure that you were going down the right path. You've hit rock bottom, and you needed to be lifted onto your feet. As surprising as it may sound, I believe whatever you believe. I completely trust you. Although for someone who can't even deduce that Harry's my sister, I'm not sure why."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh, "Everybody's a critic."
John smiled contently, reaching into his back pocket for his phone which was suddenly vibrating like crazy. "Crap, it's Greg!" John cursed before answering the phone.
"Oi, we've got another one, visual too, caught 'em in the act!" Greg was panting on the other end of the line.
"Where are you?" Sherlock voiced himself aloud enough for Greg to hear as he hurriedly threw on his coat and scarf.
"St. James Park, get here as quick as you can!"
"We'll be there in five minutes," John assured, following Sherlock out the door.
What has Sebastian done this time?
Carter's P.O.V.
"Good luck," Michael had said into the ear piece.
"Tell me if it does me any good."
I found Jessie sitting at a lonely park bench at the Western edge of the park, an older gentlemen whom was feeding breadcrumbs to the pigeons that gathered around him. I wasn't a murderer. I'd never killed a man in my life. I wanted to talk to him so he wouldn't be suspicious. But if I did, I might get too attached and not be able to fulfill my duties. Then what?
"Hello, young lady," the man smiled, scattering some more breadcrumbs onto the ground in front of him.
The man had blue, sparkling eyes and a smile that made him look so jolly. "Oh...uh...hello," I stuttered.
"Out for an evening stroll, are ya?"
Evening already? To be honest, I hadn't been keeping track of time, so I shouldn't be surprised.
"Yeah, it's....peaceful here."
"I agree."
"So...do you come to feed the birds everyday?" I struggled to make conversation since I was already too deep.
"Not every day, but often. Today is a happy occasion though."
"Oh, how so?"
"My daughter is to be wed to the love of her life tomorrow. God, they grow up so fast. I've lived my entire life to see this day, to meet my son-in-law and grandchildren, perhaps even great-grandchildren. I just want to show my daughter that I love her....always."
Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Could this be any less depressing?
Tears slowly began to blur my vision as a lump formed in my throat that I desperately tried to swallow down, but it was impossible. "How sweet," I gulped. "If you'll excuse me, I think I might have accidentally dropped my IPod on the ground back there."
I stood up and sped away towards the sidewalk. Pretending to look at the ground as I pressed the button on my ear piece. "I can't do it!" I whispered into the mic, my eyes burning with a fierce heat.
"Don't think of it like you're killing an innocent man. Think of it like you're freeing him," Michael suggested.
"Damnit, Michael! His daughter's getting married tomorrow and he wants nothing else but to meet his grandchildren! I can't....kill him!"
I began to hyperventilate.
"There's nothing else we can do!"
"You heartless bastard!" I seethed.
"I never chose to live like this, you know? To be a slave!?"
"Then why are you working for Sebastian!? A criminal!?"
"Because he'll kill my parents if I don't!!!"
I let my head hang low, watching my tears race down my cheek and spot the dry, cracking pavement. "I'll be right back."
I walked back to the bench, sitting down next to Jessie. "Did you find your IPod?" He inquired.
"Oh..uh....yeah. I did."
"Good for you. I know it's none of your business, but I can't help but tell everyone I pass by how happy I am. You understand, don't you? You must, such a beautiful girl as you, you have a boyfriend, don't you?"
"Yes, yes I do," I laughed, wiping a tear from my eye.
"What's his name?"
"Jim. His name is Jim."
"Do you love him?"
"Of course. Of course I love him...always will."
"Would you marry him if he proposed?"
"I...uh....I haven't really thought about that. It's really hard to say because....well, my family and him aren't exactly on good terms."
"Ah, I see. Well I can tell you mean well, and I can tell you that everything will be just fine. You're going to live a long life in the arms of the man you love, my dear, never forget that."
"I won't," I began to sniffle under the pressure.
"Don't cry, darling," he frowned, wrapping his arms around me.
I embraced him as well, realizing that this was it. I pulled the syringe out of my pocket with gloved, shaking hands, bringing it around in front of me and waiting.
Could I do this?
Could I really do this?
.
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I plunged the needle into his skull, pressing down on the piston as he cried out in pain. Tears breached my eyes as I screamed in terror at the gigantic gash, bleeding out onto his head, blood soaking through his hair. "Wha--What the hell did you do to me?" His eyes widened in fear.
I looked away, unable to catch one more glance of his disappointed, dying face. I covered my face with my hands and loud sobs erupted from me. I reluctantly lifted my head up and my eyes froze on the empty syringe in my hand. I dropped it where I stood, watching it fall to the ground and shatter.
Beside me, I could hear moans still escaping Jessie's lips as his hands clutched the wound at the back of his head.
So this was it.....
I was a murderer.
A cold-hearted, careless, blood-thirsty murderer.
"I'm a terrible person," I whispered to myself.
"I'm a terrible person!!!" I screeched, all air leaving my lungs so that I could no longer breathe.
Jessie began to lean forward and I grabbed hold of his shoulders, gently lifting him to the ground. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.
His lips were motionless. He was motionless. Other than the occasional quivers when he inhaled timid breaths, his eyes were open and pupils dilated. "I'll be right back," I assured him as I stood up, wandering around the park.
"Where the hell do you think you're going!?" Michael yelled through the ear piece.
I didn't reply.
"You're going to get us killed!"
I still didn't reply.
"What do you think you're doing!"
"I'm doing whatever I can to make this last part right!" I retorted.
Traveling to the left corner of the park, a garden of flowers stood out against the green trees and clear, blue sky. I collected a few of all the different colors, gathering them together in a bouquet with a hairband in my pocket.
I walked back to Jessie and put his hands over his chest so that they were holding the flowers. "Jessie, you are a great man and I am so sorry this had to happen. You gave me great advice, and now I must return the favor. Jessie, I'm so sorry you're not going to see the day your daughter gets married and you're never going to live to see your grandchildren. But Jessie, if there's a heaven, you are going there, and someday, you're going to see your daughter again and your grandchildren too, even your great-grandchildren. And they'll love you as much as you love them! Everything will be okay, it'll be okay...."
I broke down in tears as his last breath escaped him and his head rolled onto its side, lifeless and limp he lay on the grass. I placed the note in his pocket as a voice came from my far left, "Oi, what are you doing over there!?"
"Oh my god," I muttered under my breath. "Greg?"
I looked up and sure enough, Greg stood at the other end of the park, squinting and now beginning to sprint towards me. "Hurry up, you've been spotted!" Michael warned.
'I know,' I thought to myself.
Maybe this was it?
Maybe now was my time to be rescued.
There was Greg, only a few meters away, and I had the choice.
"Carter, what are you doing!?" Michael shouted.
"I'm sorry," I whispered once again, and even though he couldn't hear it, it was directed at Greg.
I turned away before he could see my face clearly, running back to the car and hopping in, the driver speeding away within seconds. I caught one last look of Greg's baffled expression before he disappeared out of view.
I couldn't have let him rescue me.
How could he ever forgive me, he or anyone else, after murdering a man?
I turned towards Michael. "I'm a murderer."
"You had no choice, Carter. It wasn't your fault," he assured me.
"I'm a murderer!" I yelped, falling sideways onto him so that I was crying into his shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around me protectively, keeping it there for the rest of the ride.
When we arrived back at Sebastian's prison for me, my tears were gone but they had stained my face, my eyes still red and puffy from crying. Sebastian awaited us at the door. "I hope you enjoyed your first mission, my dear. You must be hungry though, how about we discuss it over a meal."
"No thank you," I refused, shoving past him.
"That was the wrong answer, dearie."
"I'm not going to talk about it! I'll starve! Feels like heaven compared to everything else I've had to do for you, you psychotic arse!"
Sebastian was taken back, but he quickly masked it before it could show. "No ones ever been so honest with me.....I like it," he smiled. "However, you still must be punished. No food as you wish. Michael, be a dear and show her to her new room. If she's smart enough, she'll know where she really is."
I snarled at him before Michael grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I followed him down a series of hallways before I was taken through a pair of doors that led to--
Oh.
My.
God.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
You.
Have.
Got.
To.
Be.
Kidding.
Me.
"I know exactly where I am," I gasped.
The bright, white tile that smelled of chemicals. The bright lights that lit up the room intensely. The silver chambers.
"Thought you might recognize it," Michael chimed in.
Sebastian popped in the doorway and smiled at me. "Isn't it lovely."
"Why here? Why would you keep me here? In St. Bart's? In the morgue?"
"It makes things so much more interesting, doesn't it? Knowing how close you could be to being rescued, yet so far."
"Sherlock comes here all the time....how come nobody's noticed yet?"
"Oh, but you see, this isn't the morgue you go to. No, we're at the very back corner of St. Bart's. It was originally, back a while ago, used for patients with the plague, but the outbreak was too large that health violations were taken into consideration for other patients in the hospital, so this entire section was shut down and abandoned since. Nobody's been down here for forty years, until I found this place that is."
"How'd you find this place?"
"I had some....help....but I don't want to get into that, you must be tired after a big day, I'd rather you get some sleep before your next mission."
He pulled out one of the cold chambers that would normally be used to hold a dead body, now for me to sleep on. "I hope you're not scared of the dark," Sebastian grinned with fake concern.
I looked over at Michael and he gulped, motioning for me to listen to Sebastian. I sighed, hopping onto the shelf inside the cold chamber. I was about to lean over and spit on Sebastian when his words caught me off guard. "And if you do anything to piss me off, these chambers do have locks, and I will lock you in here."
I swallowed my spit and leaned back on the cold, hard metal slab. Sebastian pushed the chamber in so that I was concealed within complete darkness. "Sweet dreams, dear Carter. You deserve them," Sebastian taunted, his footsteps fading away as he and Michael left the room.
"Someone please rescue me," I prayed. "Anyone."
I shut my eyes. "Amen."
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Well theres this chapter!!! That was sad! Gillian almost cried writing the flower scene after she killed Jessie!
Wasn't that a cool plot twist? So she's been at St. Bart's this whole time and still is? Do you think Sherlock will be able to find her in time? Will Sherlock actually team up with Moriarty?
All of which are fantabulous questions that you should answer in the comments! **cough** **cough** **hint** **hint**
Anyways, thanks so much for the reads and votes and comments so far guys, they really mean a lot and I'd really like to hear more of what you think of the story!
Well, I guess that's it so........
PFFT!!! DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK I'D FORGET TO MENTION DAT AWESOME PIC OF MORIARTY ABOVE!!!
Oh yeah, take in the flawlessness!!!!! ;)
Ok, I'm done now!
Bun Byee!! 💁💘🔫
~Autumn
And Gillian (TheCandyCutie21)
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