Athena Holmes was a quiet but intelligent girl. She kept to herself and found no care for the world. She can be described as a perfect mix of the other three Holmeses. Calm, cold and collected like Mycroft Holmes. Blunt, clever and sociopathic like...
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2012
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A T H E N A' S P O V
The dinner seemed uneventful at first, the meaningless chatter continuing as cutlery clattered against plates. And when Lady Eleanor raised her glass to toast the evening, the room felt suddenly colder.
It began when Lady Arabella Fitzroy suddenly gasped, her hand flying to her throat as she struggled to breathe. Her glass fell to the table with a dull thud, and for a brief moment, the entire table froze.
"Arabella?" Lady Harrington called out in alarm, standing as her cousin staggered back from her chair. Panic swept through the guests as they rushed to help her, but by the time anyone reached her, Lady Arabella was already crumpled on the floor, her skin ashen.
I watched in horror as Lord Ashcroft turned Lady Arabella's body over. In her palm, clenched tightly, was a small note. Ashcroft pried it free and read it aloud, his voice trembling.
"It was one of you."
The note sent a shockwave through the room. Panic descended like a heavy fog, suffocating the air. Lady Harrington screamed, clutching at her own throat as if she, too, might be next. Lord Wycliffe's face twisted into a mask of cold fury, while Lord Ashcroft's eyes darted around the room, filled with suspicion.
I knew it immediately. This was Moriarty's doing. The note was his opening move, a seed of fear planted in fertile soil. He had been planning this for months, planting fear in each of the guests, nurturing their paranoia until it bloomed into violence.
I had to stop it before his plan spiraled into chaos.
Lady Harrington, her eyes wild, was inconsolable as she wept over her cousin's body. The note, small and crumpled, was passed around the table like a cursed relic.
Lord Ashcroft stood up suddenly, his face pale but resolute. "One of us... one of us has done this!" he shouted, his voice strained with hysteria. "I knew this night was cursed! I knew it!" He pointed wildly around the table, his finger hovering over Lady Eleanor, then Lord Wycliffe, then even me.
"Murderer!" he spat. "It could be any one of you!"
Moriarty rose, his hands trembling but his voice calm. "Lord Ashcroft, please. We must remain calm and think rationally. We can't start accusing each other without proof."
But the tension had already cracked the air. Ashcroft was shaking, teetering on the edge of his own sanity. I could see it clearly. He was the weakest link in this deadly game, the one Moriarty had pushed closest to the edge.
"I can't stand this! I shan't stay in this room any longer!" Ashcroft bellowed before storming out of the room.
"We really shouldn't be separating-" I spoke, but my words were cut off and ignored as everybody began distancing themselves from one another.
The death of Lady Arabella fractured the group. People began to move about the house, separating into small clusters as fear settled in, gnawing at their nerves.
I stood by the window, watching as Lord Wycliffe paced back and forth near the fireplace, murmuring to himself, while Lady Eleanor sat in stunned silence. Lady Harrington excused herself, muttering something about needing air, and vanished down one of the corridors. Lord Ashcroft followed her, his expression drawn and wild. The butler, Mr. Blackwood, hovered nearby, helplessly wringing his hands.
I stepped toward Lady Eleanor, trying to offer comfort. I couldn't risk her snapping aswell. "We need to stay calm," I said firmly. "We can't let fear cloud our judgment."
Lady Eleanor shook her head, taking a swig of her brandy. "Calm? You think we should be calm after what just happened? That note..." She trailed off, her hand trembling. "Who would do this? And why?"
Moriarty was counting on this, on their suspicions driving them apart. But I can't reveal him yet— I need proof, something tangible that could link him to these deaths. Otherwise I'll make them even more paranoid.
"It could be her," Lord Wycliffe pointed his glass at me. "She's the only one that hasn't met any of us before."
"Nonsense!" Lady Eleanor spoke loudly. "As I said before, we shouldn't point fingers. It won't help."
"An hour," I said, suddenly realizing how much time had passed since Lady Arabella's death. "We've already been in here for an hour."
"Is that what you are concerned about?" Lord Wycliffe was about to continue before a voice interrupted him.
Lord Ashcroft's voice boomed from the hallway. "The butler! It has to be him!"
My heart sank. The tension had reached a breaking point. I quickly followed the sound of Ashcroft's voice, leading me to a narrow corridor just off the dining hall. I found him standing there, chest heaving, eyes wide with barely contained fury. Lady Eleanor and Lord Wycliffe had rushed behind me, while Mr. Blackwood stood at the far end, looking terrified.
"The butler?" Lady Eleanor asked in confusion. "Ashcroft, what are you talking about?"
"He's the one who's been watching us," Ashcroft said, pointing a trembling finger at Mr. Blackwood. "Always hovering, always listening. He had the perfect opportunity. He's the one who poisoned Arabella!"
"No, Lord Ashcroft!" Mr. Blackwood pleaded. "I swear, I had nothing to do with it!"
Ashcroft lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Mr. Blackwood by the collar. "Liar!" he roared, shoving him toward the window. "You've been behind this from the start!"
"Wait!" I shouted, rushing forward to intervene. But it was too late. With a powerful shove, Ashcroft sent the butler careening through the window, the glass shattering around him as he plunged to the ground below.
The room fell silent as Ashcroft stood over the broken window, breathing heavily. His eyes were wild, and he looked around at the others as if daring them to challenge him.
"I did what needed to be done," he said, his voice hoarse. "He was the murderer. It had to be him."
I stood frozen, my mind racing. Mr. Blackwood had been innocent. This was Moriarty's plan, carefully designed to push Ashcroft over the edge. The tension and suspicion had finally snapped, leading to this brutal act of violence.
"Ashcroft," I said carefully, "you've made a mistake. Mr. Blackwood wasn't the killer."
Ashcroft spun around to face me, his face twisting in confusion. "What are you saying? I... I stopped him. I—"
"No," I interrupted gently, stepping closer to him. "This is exactly what the real killer wanted. They planted the note to make us all turn on each other. Mr. Blackwood was just an innocent bystander."
The realization dawned on Ashcroft's face, and he staggered back, clutching his head in disbelief. "No... no, that can't be."
But the damage had already been done. The others stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the horror that had just unfolded.
I noticed that Moriarty had not followed us to find Lord Ashcroft and realised who else was not with us.
"We need to find Lady Harrington," I said quickly, her eyes darting toward the empty corridor. "Before something else happens."
