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Before the chapter begins, I want to thank all you little criminals who left nice comments on my last chapter! This chapter is dedicated to you guys: @Holliebee12 @johnlockcrazythought @thiazura @raindroplets12 @MarielLorien @Curley_Wirley @Willow_Moriarty @ScottlynB THANKS!!!
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Punctured Lungs
Jim's P.O.V.
Hurriedly returning from the bright, white hospital rooms that smelt distinctly of Ammonia, I ran outside to clear my nose of the strong, sickening chemicals. My lungs and heart were tiring, yet I still felt compelled to keep going. Rounding the corner of the old, brick building, I burst through the doors and kept running until I came upon the dark, freezing room Sebastian's dead body lay in.
He sat there, drowning in a pool of his own chilling blood. His dead eyes stared endlessly into the distance while his body lay limp, a much more daunting sight than the rest of the intimidatingly silent, frozen premises. Sebastian had always been a thief, even before I taught him everything else he knew.
I removed his black and white sneakers, feeling around inside and finding a switchblade concealed within the rubber sole of his right shoe. I'd always disagreed with the idea of casual clothes being better than a well-fancied Westwood Suit, especially in the presence of your enemy. It was one of the first few things I'd taught him.
Hmm....the little shit didn't listen worth a damn, did he?
I continued my search more thoroughly up his socks and pant legs, where a crowbar was hidden below the seam stretching down the length of his dark, blue jeans. There was an apparent bulge in the left pocket of his dark chocolate brown, almost black leather jacket.
Maybe I'm the one... Maybe I'm the one who is a schizophrenic psycho, yeah....
The song erupted from the bulge as I slowly recovered Sebastian's vibrating and ringing phone. 'Jamie' I read the caller ID aloud.
I tapped the green call button as I swiftly brought the phone up to my ear. "Sir," an American accent greeted me.
"Who is this?" I asked in a dark voice and a small gasp escaped the man's lips.
"...who are you?" He questioned back.
I rolled my eyes.
Amateur....assuming that he's even a criminal at all. Everyone knows if someone else, other than who you're expecting to pick up, answers your call, you don't reply, hang up, and possibly break the phone if it has no other use to you, but never...NEVER reply! It just gives the other person more time to recognize or memorize your voice....
"I asked you first," I reasoned.
The man scoffed. "Jamie," he responded simply.
"Hmm....Jamie?" I inquired with intrigue.
"James Moriarty, I presume?"
"You know, you don't sound like a Jamie?" I mentioned, blowing off his question entirely.
"Oh, I don't, don't I? Then what do you propose I sound like?"
I paused. "You sound like a lying bastard!" I seethed. "Who better tell me right now how you know Sebastian Moran and where is Carter or I will--"
"No, no," Jamie snapped. "You don't talk to me like that. If you want to threaten me....you come find me....and say it to my face.... I suggest you start searching."
And with that last comment, he hung up the phone with a click.
I screamed in frustration, kicking the wall closest to me. Running my hand briskly through my hair, I went to look through Sebastian's texts only to see that he'd deleted them all. I threw the useless mechanism on the ground as I continued frisking Sebastian. His tight, white V-neck clung to the muscles of his biceps, chest, and abs, so it was impossible to fit any weapons there--wait...
"Sebby, you son of a bitch," I growled, though a grin tugged at the corners of my lips.
I reached under the collar of his shirt and towards his shoulders where large shoulder pads made him look quite broader and much more intimidating. The shoulder pads had a pocket in each of them and inside.....a hand grenade....a last minute resort, of course.
Hmm....at least he wasn't the most idiotic of all my associates.
I got bored of my endless searching and left the room in the same sprinting, energetic manner I'd entered it in. Just across the long, dark hallway was a hollow, creaking door that opened up to a gross, mangy bathroom. The mirror was so old and unclean you could no longer see you reflection within it. The sink and faucet were covered with rust and any water that came out was most likely untrustworthy.
Dirt and cobwebs littered the greying, cracked tile and the room itself smelled a putrid smell of sweat, blood, and piss. As much as it pained me, I forced myself to stay in this enclosed hellhole just a few seconds longer to search for more clues concerning Carter. Jamie was a number one suspect for sure, but their was no proof that he wasn't just a distraction to lead me away from the real kidnapper.
I averted my search towards the cabinets where I found a black, leather suitcase underneath the sink. After clicking open the metal clasps, I opened it to see a bunch of missing spaces as well as a spray bottle with black drops on the inside. The liquid immediately caught my attention and I placed the bottle in my pocket, moving from room to the next until I came upon what looked like quite a fascinating lab.
The white tile was stained with colorful blotches and puddles and the toxic scent of green and black poisons consumed the air. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe in lightly, only for the fact that if I were to breathe in too deeply too often, the plethora of airborne chemicals would murder me from the inside out.
Beakers were scattered along the counters as well as glass shards across the floor. Bags of powder and bottles of liquids and acids, both in and out of containment, were spilled throughout the lab. A giant contraption on the middle counter bore a display of liquids being heated above inactive Bunsen burners, vaporized in dry ice, frozen in liquid hydrogen, and being maneuvered through test tubes and funnels until it all combined into a black, sticky goop in a small jar at the finish line.
Powders like Baking Soda and liquids like Mercury were tossed carelessly in bags and boxes and jars, some labeled and some not. I took mental pictures of all the chemicals I could find, whether they were identifiable or not, including the apparatus that was apparently the center core of the poison's making.
I strolled out of the messy lab, wandering from door to door until I came upon an old, dusty mortuary with one of the drawers open and fairytale books scattered across the floor. I stepped around the spots of dirt and books as I made my way towards the empty drawer. The drawer was obviously used as a bed from the pillow inside it.
I took another mental note and was about to leave when a pointy object stuck out from beneath the pillow. I looked underneath to reveal a black, fountain pen and a Rapunzel fairytale book. I flipped through it, seeing if their was any markings in it and sure enough, a note was written on the last page in the neatest of handwriting.
I'm not sure if I'm writing a journal entry or what? Hopefully this is a clue if Sherlock or John or Jim finds this. If you haven't solved it already, I've been committing the murders. Sebastian's been sending me around on "missions" where I've had to poison all the people I'm forced to kill. Sebastian's so cold-hearted it sickens me. I'm so, so sorry! I'm sure you guys are afraid and disgusted by me now...after what I did.....I don't blame you if you give up your searching now and choose to forget about me forever....
A dear friend, Michael, was there by my side the entire time. He even tried to help me escape, but unfortunately, the side of the demons had overrun the side of the Angels. Sebastian killed him.... I haven't eaten in days and while I'm not actually in pain, starvation is starting to kick in.
If you guys are reading this, you must know that I've already left St. Bart's. And no, I'm sorry, I have no idea where they've taken me yet. However, you have no need to worry. I have gained access to some of the poison and I plan on easily escaping the premises of wherever I'm being taken next.
I give you my best of luck and I just want to say that I miss you guys so much! I promise I'll be back to living in the flat above yours in no time, just like old times. And don't worry, Jim, I most certainly haven't forgotten about you. I'll come find you soon assuming that you don't find me first. I love you all!
Love, Carter. ❤️❤️❤️
I watched a drop of water fall and saturate part of the note. I wiped away the drops of water escaping my eyes as I gently folded it, placing it in the right pocket of my navy blue suit jacket. I retraced my steps back to the exit of the building and began walking around to the front of the hospital where I stepped in a wet, sticky puddle that stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
I sighed in annoyance, attempting to shake off the muddy substance from my shoe. However, it wouldn't budge. I gave up, taking a closer look at the sticky pavement, only to find the same poisonous, slimy substance that I'd seen inside the lab. The liquid created diagonal patterns that resembled tire tracks in which were embedded into the murky concrete. I decided it'd be more efficient to take an actual picture with my phone as it would be less accurate to just explain what they looked like.
With the pattern implanted in my head like nails, my feet wandered towards the front of the hospital, Sherlock's voice echoing through silent trees.
"You better have a bloody good reason for me not calling the cops right now; or better yet, killing you myself because I know you're the one that kidnapped her, and you're the one that set up that camera in her bedroom so that you could manipulate her and everyone else!!!"
"You may be a criminal, but you're anything but good at it!"
Air rushed out my nose with a heavy sigh as I pushed open the hospital doors, rushing towards the elevator. The secretary at the front, knowing that I had come a few minutes ago, remembered me and gave me a polite nod as I passed.
I pushed the button and walked into the elevator, happy that I would be alone during the ride up. I pushed the button labeled '3' since the third floor was designated to patients with lung and rib injuries. The wait was short and after the second DING I exited in a casual manner, walking through the hospital's hallways until I came upon room 307.
John was awake, they had put him under anesthesia to remove the bullet from his shoulder. It was extremely complicated considering the bullet had hit him exactly where the shoulder is close to the rib, so both had been damaged. John was still under the effects of Morphine and his level was understandably high.
"How is he?" I asked, directing my attention towards Sherlock.
"I'm doing fine," John answered, himself. "Did you find anything?"
I nodded, revealing the note and conjuring up my memories of the lab. "You should've seen the lab, it was brilliant!"
John raised an eyebrow at me and my smile faded, "I also found this."
I showed him my picture of the tire tracks as he creased his eyebrows in confusion. John scooted up a bit to see the picture, too. "So...we should call Lestrade?" John suggested.
"No, he's too slow," Sherlock disagreed.
"Then perhaps Mycroft, then...he would probably know--"
"No, no, he even slower! And I do mean in both the physically active and mental sense," Sherlock scowled.
John rolled his eyes, grabbing his cell from his bedside table and I'm assuming started texting Mycroft, himself. "Send me the photo so I can forward it," John said to me sternly, his army doctor side showing through.
I did as he asked and I watched John's reactions change as he watched the screen. John sighed and Sherlock spun around rapidly, awaiting an answer. "You know how they had that mysterious pattern? That pattern is only used in the tires of government vehicles. It was stolen so they are unable to trace it back to anyone."
"Damnit!" Sherlock yelled in frustration.
"They won't use it too long," I spoke up. "The car, I mean. They'll abandon it somewhere and when they do, there's our chance. We'll get Scotland Yard to search for DNA and then we'll know everyone who's ever been in that car. Oh, and does the name Jamie ring a bell?"
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, "No, why?"
"Now wait a minute," John paused. "I think Carter had a psycho ex-boyfriend she once told us about named Jamie, why?"
"Ugh, of course you'd remember something like that," Sherlock scowled.
"Well I don't delete things from my brain!"
"A certain Jamie made a call to Sebastian's phone," I interrupted.
"John, tell Lestrade to search for Jamie's that used to live around Carter's old location," Sherlock shifted gears at once.
"..."
"John?"
"..."
"John!"
I turned to seen John with two hands clutching his throat as he struggled to inhale. My eyes widened in shock as Sherlock slammed down on the emergency button and a loud siren-like sound went off. Nurses and doctors rushed in, shoving us out of the room as John lay there, choking and dying because I.....I had let him get shot....
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OH NO POOR JOHN!!! Sorry for not updating on the right day!!! But still like Whoa!!! YAY!!! NEW COVER!!!! :) :D lol Ha hope you loved the chapter and the new cover ;). So the chapter was originally 5000 words so o decide to split it into two parts so the net chapter will be all Carter's P.O.V.
Yay, and Jim's catching up!!! Please vote, comment and read on!!! Maybe check out me and TheCandyCutie21 's other books? Please? Please? Please? Pretty please? With ice cream? Chocolate syrup? Whip cream? Toppings? Nuts? (DEEZ NUTS!!!) gυмму ωσямѕ!?!?!? A CHERRY ON TOP??? Eh no? Ok :p still love ya guys!! Thanks for reading!!!
Bun byeee!!
XOXOXOX
~Autumn and
Gillian aka TheCandyCutie21
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