The Angel And The Devil

12

I'm in pure shock. That's the nastiest thing that has ever been said to me. What he said isn't important. It's what he meant. He means I'm ordinary that he's more important. That he'll never see me as an equal and that he is alone. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and step out of my room. I put on some tea (we drink obsessive amounts of tea in this flat. It's a cure for everything. Parents die; have some tea. Best friend/I'm not gay boyfriend almost blown up; tea and a custard creams [side note if you haven't ever had a custard cream or a borbon then you are missing out.] Syco coming to kill your dad and Dads about to be arrested; use tea to bribe them.)
"No, Inspector." My Dad says as I walk into the living room.
" What?"
" The answer's no." My Dad repeats irritated. I back into the kitchen.
"But you haven't heard the question!"
"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking." Dad steps towards Lestrade. Greg sighs.
"Sherlock ..."
"The scream?" Interupts Dad.
"Yeah."
" Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home... there." Dad smiles shaking his head a little.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asks. He doesnt want to be the trigger to the nuclear bomb which will radiate my fathers dignity into ash. Or radioactivity. Whatever.

"One photograph - that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." For a moment Dad's eyes flicker to lestrade. Their crazy colours melting into his soul. Willing not to perform the unspeakable. "It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play." He looks away and busys himself with the camera. (THIS IS MENTALLY TESTING BECAUSE HE KEEPS PRESSING THE WRONG BUTTONS) "Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan."

Greg sighs and runs his hands through his hair. Uncle John shows him out.

"It's a game Claudette, a game of shadows, a game of kings." My Dad whispers. "And the man with the key is king. And while Moritarty has the key he as the crown. And I need to take it back." He says it almost inaudibly. I bite my lip. I haven't forgiven him. Uncle John re enters.

"Do you want some tea Uncle?" Uncle John smiles quickly. "No thanks Claudette." He walks past me.
"They'll be deciding"
"Deciding?"
" Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me.
"You think?"
"Standard procedure." Dad shrugs.
" Should have gone with him. People'll think ..."
"I don't care what people think."
" You'd care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong." Uncle says pausing after the stupid and the wrong.
"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong."
Infuriated uncle turns to Dad. He has anger boiling in his eyes.
"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're ..." Uncle John breaks off as Dad looks him dead in the eyes. They lock eyes for a moment, tension brewing.
" That I am what?" He whispers in an icy cold tone, his words spat out.
" A fraud." Dad rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair.
"You're worried they're right."
"What?" Uncle John asks, annoyed.
"You're worried they're right about me."
"No."
"That's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well." Oh my god.
"No I'm not." Uncle John spits and turns towards the window, boiling.
Dad leans forward.
"Moriarty is playing with your mind too." Furious, he slams his hand onto the table. Scarylock.  "Can't you see what's going on?" Uncle John stares at him for a second before shaking his head and chuckling.
"No. I know your for real."
Dad looks up at him.
"A hundred percent?"
Uncle John nods a smile spreading across his lips.
" Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time."
Dad locks eyes with him again. [Kiss. My inner fangirl yells.]  Then his mouth twitches with the trace of a smile. Uncle John looks away once more.