Chapter Eighteen: Fear In A Forrest
Noting could stop the violence of my thoughts during the car ride. If I put in earbuds, and played music it reflected on my shock. If I played nothing I was alone with my thoughts. John and Sherlock were silent here and there, but whenever I heard them take a breath before speaking, my heart skipped a beat. I found that my thumb was tracing over my scars, that image of me hitting rock bottom also played in my mind. And what of Moriarty and the stare I received in the memory. It's like he knew I was there.
I buried my face in my blue and white striped sleeve, but the darkness only pulled me in deeper to the games my head was playing. My breathing began to deepen, and my heart was racing. All around my body there were shivers and tingling, an alert feeling took hold.
Suddenly, the car stopped, and Sherlock's door opened. I sniffed, ready to open the door.
"Don't." John ordered as my hand wrapped around the handle. I looked over to him, his eyes filled with sadness.
"What's wrong with you?" He asked, his voice helpless. He was giving me this talk again. "That back there wasn't normal. Nor was it new for me. But seeing you so into it that Sherlock had to take extreme measures, that was new. You know I love you Aspen, nothing can change that; you're my niece. But if there is something going on, something familiar you're going through, please don't hesitate to tell me." He lectured. "You're afraid all the time, and you know how it affects me. I know that my sister wasn't the best mother in the world," he stopped, for his voice had broken during the last part. "I'm proud of you, truly I am, for putting up with that. And I promise, Aspen, that I will never abandon you the way your father did. From this moment on."
My father, I thought, looking out the window to see Sherlock waiting for us. "Okay." I said, my voice hoarse and rough. I looked back over to my uncle, accepting his apology. We both then got out of the car, meeting in an embrace. For the first time in a long time, I felt something near happiness towards joy towards my uncle. I couldn't say the same about Sherlock. We locked eyes for a brief moment before him and John proceeded to walk into a greenhouse, up to a door. I followed behind, amazed at the enormity of the home.
Not long after Sherlock rang the doorbell, Henry Knight opened the door.
"Hi." He greeted timidly.
"Hi." John said back as his flatmate headed inside. I lightly smiled at the young man, still perplexed at the state of his house.
"Are you... um..." John began, searching for a word.
"Rich?" I finished for him, following Sherlock into Henry's kitchen. The architecture continued to amaze me, seeing as his kitchen was in a glass extension of the house, lit from the wall of windows.
I settled myself down onto a stool near John, while Sherlock prepared coffee for our little couplet of people.
"It's a couple of words... that's what I keep seeing." Henry said, standing near me, and eyes down at the island. "Liberty... In." He looked over to John, who had taken out his notebook, and began to scribble on it.
"Are you done?" The young man asked my uncle, to which he nodded his head.
"Mean anything to you?" John asked Sherlock, once had finished his last written phrase.
He slid me a mug of the coffee he had made, myself catching it. I smiled lightly at the gesture, but still couldn't shake his slap from earlier. No doubt either that he wasn't trying to make amends. Nevertheless, I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting it toast my skin.
" 'Liberty in death' -is that the expression?" He asked, his voice soft. His blue eyes then locked with mine, my warm hand now supporting my chin. "The only true freedom."
Inside, I could feel my attitude shift once again, as if the man had sent me a message through his words. I removed my hand from my chin, placing both on the edge of the island. Before John could notice, I hopped the stool.
"Need some air." I said, my stomach turning. Quickly, my feet took me outside, a light breeze blowing through, and pushing my hair behind my shoulders.
"Liberty in death, the only true freedom." Sherlock's voice echoed in my head. Something inside began to hate him for saying that, and yet its other half was reminded. Reminded of something...
"Aspen?" John called, and I turned around, folding my arms.
"Yeah?" I asked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
"Um..." He began, looking down. "I understand if you don't want to come tonight, but Sherlock has a plan for this case. He's really confident, though I'm not easily supporting his- hypothesis." He breathed the last word, anxiety filling his words.
"What?"
"Henry, Sherlock and I are going out onto the Moor, to see if anything... 'attacks' him, as Sherlock said." He croaked. I could feel my pulse elevate at the thought of being in the woods, at night, and potentially at the mercy of a hellhound.
"Now reflecting on this afternoon, and Sherlock and your state, and I'm a doctor, so believe me when I say that it's not in my best interest that you come with us." He warned, sensing my shift in mood.
"Okay." I said, "but, I'm okay now John, I really am." I said, keeping my voice steady.
"No, you're just saying that. Because Sherlock complained about how much you bring us down, and you don't. You and I, Aspen, we're not Sherlock. Don't believe him when he says how much he ignores emotions. Avoiding emotion doesn't mean you don't know how it feels. You of all people should know that." John conveyed, his voice thick.
"John." I started, then embraced my uncle. A knot had formed in my throat, shutting my eyes.
"You're not going. Your my niece." He said
I opened my eyes while pulling away from my uncle.
"John, you know I have too. I'm your niece." I said, making him smile. I did so as well, trying to cover the knot of unease that was growing.
"I can do this. I can handle myself." I assured.
'Let's hope I'm right'. I thought.
*
"Okay, Aspen do not leave my side." John told me. He handed me a flashlight as the sun set behind the four of us. "Now Sherlock and Henry will be right there behind us, so if I do so happen to wander off, they'll be there." He instructed. I tried to focus on his voice rather than the animal noises in the distance.
I looked back to Sherlock and Henry, seeing the young man with the detective. His eyes were filled with a silent fear, meeting my identical ones. The both of us had fears we felt were waiting for us within the Moor. I twitched my lips into a smile, to try to lighten his nerves. He did the same, but his was less lighthearted.
Not long after we reached the woods was it completely dark around us. I found myself standing closer to my uncle and his flashlight.
"Aspen!" I heard in the distance. I stopped for a moment, while John continued to walk.
"...aspen!" The voice was again, this time more clear. It was an all too familiar voice, one I couldn't help but move towards. I wouldn't be long. John was still there anyway.
The voice continued to call my name, making me more nervous at who and where its origin was.
"Who's there?" I called, now moving downhill, into a fog.
"Aspen!" I heard once more, this time as if the person was right next to me. The fumes of the fog were sweet, and for a moment I thought my senses were clouded, but then came into a clearing, near a ditch. I thought I saw a body curled up, the epicentre of the voice.
"Hello?" I asked, and bent down to touch his shoulder. Right when this happened, the man of Moriarty sprung up and pushed me down, the ground cutting through my knee. I could feel blood lightly flowing out, and turned to face him.
"You're not real." I said, my mouth working faster than my mind.
"I'm real in your head." He teased. Coming to my side and at eye level. "Why'd you wander off Aspen? To investigate a silly voice? The voice in your head?"
"Shut up!" I yelled, crawling back, but stopping to investigate my knee.
"You knew I wasn't here! Look at you! I don't need to destroy you, like Sherlock. You're doing it yourself."
This wasn't real. None of this was. I had to get him out of my head. Let's see...
"Aspen!" I heard the familiar voice of Wyatt call. "I've been following you!" He said, helping me up.
"Oh god." I gasped, hugging him.
"Oh god! Aspen I'm so disappointed in you!"
I heard Moriarty's voice ring once again.
"What was that?" Wyatt asked, his brown eyes confused behind his glasses.
"Nothing, come on." I said, then took his hand, and ran through the fog.
"Can you separate what's real versus what's not anymore?" I heard him question.
"Get out of my head!" I insisted.
"Aspen!" I heard, then slammed right into Sherlock. The three of us went tumbling to the ground, my mind still hazy from what had just happened.
"For god-sakes Aspen, can't you do anything right?!" He yelled, his voice shaking. I could tell he had just as much a fright as I had.
"Sherlock, we saw-" I started, pointing to Wyatt, but then noticed he wasn't there anymore.
"Who's we?" Henry asked.
"I- I thought-" I started again, then saw John emerge from the clouds.
"Aspen! Oh thank god." He said.
"John I saw him." I said, and the three men looked at me.
"I saw Moriarty he was right there- look!" I insisted, then pointed at my knee, scanned and bleeding through my jeans. "He did that! I saw him and he spoke to me and then Wyatt came and-"
"Aspen slow down its okay you were just-" John started, his voice trying to calm me down.
"No! I'm serious! I saw him, and he was here and so was Wyatt and there was all of this fog and oh my god." I vented, then fell to the ground. The knot had grown to such a size where I had to let out a sob.
"I knew you shouldn't have come." John said, walking over to me, and placing a hand on my shoulder. Somehow my body had taken it as a threat and flinched back.
My eyes met Henry's, and his look was one that was not angry nor irritated; it was of fear and understanding.