Devil Take The Hindmost •Sequel To Life Is But A Dream•

•The Hounds of Baskerville: Part Eight•

Chapter Nineteen: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Sherlock and I hurried to the hotel,  the both of us shaken up from the past events.
"Sherlock, stop okay?" I burst from his grip on my arm, and heart racing with fear. The words from Moriarty continued to play in my head, but right now there were more pressing matters. "I know you. You're scared and trying to hide it. That's why earlier you did what you did." I said, once again letting my words come out raw. You said you didn't see anything, but if I did, you must have." I pressed, my friend distraught and piercing my eyes.

"Oh just shut up! You don't know anything about me! You think that because you didn't see the hound that you can be afraid?" Sherlock asked, his words not like his usual vocabulary.
"Sherlock I saw things too. I saw your worst enemy, Moriarty." I challenged, my voice shaking as his name escaped my lips. His pale, defined face hardened, and it was like he gained authority.
"You still saw the devil. Aspen, I'm not the one who defied my uncle, and wandered off because of my own problems. You asked for what you saw, and deserved everything after. So don't try to sympathise with me. You already have a disadvantage, being as weak as you are." Sherlock lectured.

Furious and still anxious, I slapped his cheekbone back into his skull.
"Don't say that, Sherlock Holmes. Don't you dare say that. You may be able to deduce the devil himself, and try to outlive god having the last word, but you don't know a damn thing about what I have been through. So you have no right calling me weak." I stated. His eyes were dark in the night sky, but mine were illuminated by the light. Tears had also formed and were spilling mercilessly, so I knew that my body had betrayed my words.
He said nothing. Something in my speech had taken him back, and he went inside the hotel.

I was alone now, a couple walking near. Looking, they were both holding hands and laughing, a heartwarming scene.
"Can't you separate what's real and what's not?" Rang in my ears.
Immediately, I went into the hotel, bursting into John and Sherlock's room. On the floor were blankets where I slept, my book laying nearly on my bag. I slid onto the floor and opened it, the old blue rose falling out. One of the petals too, and I picked it up.
"That was real." I said to myself, but I felt more tears well up. I read some of the chapter, it's words comforting me. Soon I drifted off to sleep, falling onto the pillow.
*
I am in my flat alone, in shorts and a shirt, laying on my and staring at the ceiling. This evening existed too well in my memory. My finger traces over the first scar on my wrist, too low to be safe. It's still a tad raw, for it had been opened up, and was now stinging from my dry skin. In my ears was an orchestra, playing to drown out the silence. But not even the clashing of cymbals nor the hit of a quartet could hide the opening of our door.
"Aspen!" My mother calls, and the chatter of someone else with her is heard. I pause my music and slip on a jumper before going downstairs. Every thought goes towards John coming home.
"Yeah?" I call back, but stop dead in my tracks when I saw a girl with her.

"Clara this is my niece, Aspen. She's staying with me while he's serving in Afghanistan." My mother informed. A wave of confusion swept over me. Part of it is because my mother was arrogant enough to reject me as her daughter, and the other is because it wasn't John but some random woman.
"That's a lovely name! And she's beautiful!" Her friend says, holding out her hand for me to shake.
I take it, and shake her hand, but she pulls me towards her, and shoots up my sleeve, exposing my scars.
A laugh escaped her mouth, and I realise the pair was drunk.
"Haha you were right, Harry." Clara said, then pushes me away. I was silent through the whole encounter, shocked by how my mother allowed her friend to treat me.

"She's got problems. Don't know where she get them from. Mad as a fish she is, and weaker than my first husband." My mother stated.
Before she could say anything else I hurry out of the room, marred by her words. The cold air blows onto my skin, stinging my wounds. I stop at the threshold of my door, hand on the knob, and head down. Breathing became a chore, and my eyes meet my bookshelf. Behind it is a picture of my mother, and the other half is covered.
I go over to it, and pull it out. Nothing was there, just a man with his face scratched out, most likely with a penny.
I put the picture to my chest, and closed my eyes in grief.
"Aspen, Aspen..."
*
"Aspen!" John's voice rang, and my eyes opened. Both palms were resting my head, and a blanket was pulled back so John's hand was on my shoulder.
"John-" I said, and sat up. "W-where's Sherlock?" I asked, noticing his neat bed and an open luggage.
"I want to talk about last night, before we meet him up." My uncle said, sitting cross-legged.
A weight settled over me, and I shook my head.
"John, please no." I complained, but he shook his and pointed his finger at me.

"No you, Aspen remember what I told you. I won't abandon you, but what happened last night was all you. I thought you were trailing behind me the whole time, and then when I heard the yell-" he explained.
"Yell?" I asked.
"Yes, you yelled. I had to look for you, and that's when I saw you running." He said. "Look, I need to know now, Aspen is there anything you want to tell me? Because honestly at this point I am seriously worried about your mental state." He said.

I was speechless. John said he was to be there for me, and now he's treating me like Henry.
"I thought you were my uncle, not my doctor." I said, to his surprise.
"Don't, please. I'm already stressing over this sodding case, I don't need you to play mind games with me." John told me standing.
"You're the one who's talking to me like a patient! You've got to understand John, that I'm not someone you can just talk to and reason with. Okay, you left me behind consciously, knowing who and what you were leaving me with. There are so many ways I couldn't have turned out like this." I defended.

"I know. Don't you think I know that? I- look," John stumbled with his words. "All I'm saying is that you and Henry are very similar, and he's got a therapist. Maybe it's time you should too."
*

Oh snap. Ohhhh guys Hounds is coming to an end, and we know what that means! The Fall! *sobs* just wanted to say that and thank you so much for sticking along! Seriously you guys like make my life. I love y'all so much. Thanks again!
~jedihobbitwizard