A Game Of Hearts And Minds

CHAPTER XVII - The painfull face of an old 'friend'

We all regroupped at Scotland Yard. Sherlock paced outside Lestrade's office, and I sat nearby, watching him pace around. Moriarity was getting to him, I knew it. I saw it. 

Suddenly, the door to the office opened and Sally and Greg came out. "Right then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn..." I rolled my eyes, stood up and walked over to the others. "Now remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old. Anything you can do to-" Lestrade started.

"We'll keep that in mind." I interrupted Lestrade and slipped through the door into the office. A little girl was sitting at the table in front of us, looking down into her lap. A female officer is sitting beside her, stroking her arm in what was probably an attempt of reassuring the little girl. "Claudette, I..." Sherlock started. But he got no further because Claudette lifted her head, took one look at sherlock and began to scream in terror. "No-No, I know it's been hard for you.." Sherlock tried again. But no use, the girl continued screaming and scrambled to get away. "Sherlock." I whispered under my breath. Sherlock looked at me. 

Lestrade and Sally came barging in. "Out. Get out!" Even when we were out of the room, the girl continued screaming. 

Moments later, Lestrade, Donovan, Sherlock and I were sat down in another office. Sherlock was the only one who wasn't seated and he was standing at the window looking out into the night through the slats of the blinds instead. "Makes no sense." Lestrade said. 

"The kid's traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper." I said, turning my sight from Sherlock to Lestrade. "Has she said anything?" I asked.

"Hasn't uttered another syllable." Donovan sighed.

"And the boy?" I asked.

"No, he's unconscious, still in intensive care." Lestrade answered. 

Sherlock turned around at us and looked directly at me. I knew that he wanted to get away from here, so I rose from my chair. "Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people." Lestrade called out. I looked at him and rolled my eyes and followed Sherlock out of the room. As we passed Sally, she spoke. "Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It's really amazing... Unbelievable." 

For a moment, I could see Sherlock hesitate, but before he got the chance to say something, I had already turned on my heels and my fist had already made very close contact with her nose. And with that we continued on. 

Outside, Sherlock hailed a cab. "You know we have a car?" I asked. "Yeah, but we're taking a cab."

"Just you?"

"No, you're coming with me too. It's too dangerous to go alone."

Seconds later, a cab pulled to the side of the road. Sherlock climbed in first, and I followed. As we pulled off into the road, I looked at Sherlock to see that he was already lost in thought.  Partway into the journey, the TV screen on the center console turned on, playing an advertisement for jewellery. "This is a stunning evening wear set from us here at London Taxi Shopping"

I looked over at Sherlock, who looked incredibly annoyed. I turned to the driver. "Can you turn this off, please?"

The driver didn't respond, and the advert continued. "As you can see, the set comprises of a beautiful ..."

"Can you turn this off..?!" Sherlock now requested louder, even a hint of anger in his voice. 

The image on the screen began to frizz as if another channel was breaking through. There are momentary glimpses of someone who could only be Jim Moriarity grinning at the screen. I risked a glance over at Sherlock, but his eyes were glued to the screen. Eventually the advert completely dissapeared off screen and I could see Moriarity smiling cheerfully. There was a pale blue wall with clouds painted over it behind him. His voice took on a sing-song quality, as if he was taking to children.  "Hullo. Are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot." He paused, I risked another look at Sherlock, his face was tense. "Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slain ..." Behind him, I could see the pale blue sky grow darker and darker as the clouds became grey and threatening, rain started pouring down from the clouds. "And soon they began to wonder.. 'Are Sir Boast-a-lot's stories even true?' "