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

•The Reichenbach Fall: Part Eight•

A/N: I advise you read the chapter before this, but because it looks like more are reading this one before part seven. Thanks!
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Wandering Child

The roar of rain slamming against my window woke me from my sleep. I was my old flat,, laying in bed with clothes from the night before. On my right wrist was the crust of dried blood, with a blade in my hand, holding small cuts from the tossing and turning. Silence told me that my mother was out on the streets, leaving me to care for myself once again. I groggily brought myself out of bed, and made a way to the loo.
In the mirror was a girl who had changed during these past few weeks. A few weeks was all it took for me to go mad. I was mad.
"Aspen, those who claim to be mad usually are not." I said to myself, turning on the water to wash my self-inflicted wounds.

A solemn sigh came out of my mouth, and I brought the back of my hand to my teeth, hoping to block out oncoming sobs. I sunk to the floor, turning off the water in the process. Why was I still here? My friend had left me many years ago, followed by John a few weeks ago, and I had no one. Why was I here?

I pulled my phone out of its plug, and brought up my music. A shaking hand made it hard to pluck a song from the vibrating list.
All I saw was loads of theatre, something John was fairly fond of. I picked out one with a mask, and sat against the cabinet, feeling remorse as the music played on.

"Aspen... aspen..."

"Aspen!" My uncle called, and I shot up. The music was playing, a phone in his hand, and I took it from his hands. We were in Scotland Yard, a starry night revealed through a wall of glass.
"Aspen-" John said once more, moving in to embrace me. I immediately backed away, taking my phone from his hand and stopping the music at once.
"You were talking in your sleep, so I thought if I played music, you'd call down." He explained, standing from his kneeling position. I saw Sherlock standing at the window, staring at the building across from us.

Shudders and chills ran down my whole being as John approached me. I felt the watch dig into my skin, so what had happened hours ago was very real.
"I-I saw him." Was all that could come out. While my uncle looked a tad baffled, Sherlock immediately turned around. Quickly, he was between John and I, offering a hand up.
"Aspen, I'll need to speak with you, if your uncle doesn't mind." He requested. With a trembling hand, I accepted his gesture. He pulled me up with a kindness and gentleness that was unusual.

The three of us walked out of Scotland Yard, out onto the sidewalk.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Girl screamed her lungs out when she saw Sherlock." John told me as a cab approached.
"You take the next one, John." Sherlock ordered his friend.
"What? Why?" He asked as the detective went into the vehicle. "Aspen, come." He said, and I glanced at my uncle before obeying.

John looked on at us as we rode away from the man. All I could do was look out the window.
"You saw him at Addlestone, didn't you?" Sherlock asked. I felt his stare and nodded, keeping my eyes on the lights of London. "The watch. You didn't enter with it."
At that point, I opened up to the detective, hope absent from my words.
When I finished the part about the deal, he immediately said:
"Rumplestilskin. A tale of a woman who makes a blind deal with a man, whose objectives are far more sinister than they seemed."

I sniffed, lowering my head. I really didn't want to listen to what he had to say. Taking out my earbuds, I put them in. As soon as he saw me, he stopped talking.
"Fine, don't ask me for help them." He said.
I blocked out his words and listened to more music, drifting off.

Sometime in my sleep, a podcast came on, a storytelling podcast. In my dream it came to life:

"Today's story is about princess Christine. She was the most loved and beautiful in all the kingdom. So many admired her, reaching into many other kingdoms across the land." He began.

"She didn't feel beautiful and admired, no. Christine felt and was alone. Her father had abandoned her with a terrible queen, terrorising the land with her terrible ways. So the princess ran away. Along the way, she met a man,  a wizard who offered her everything she wanted, if she would kill the queen. He had exploited her weaknesses, and had power over her. The wizard had claimed her as his own, using her to do his bidding.

Both of them realised how alike they were. Both were mad and alone. Soon, she saw through his villainous ways and. She ran from him, into the arms of a kind man, who took care of her and allowed her to live life with free will.

She refused to tell her kind caretaker of this wizard.
Both the caretaker and his faithful companion loved Christine, but they kept something from her. Both were convinced she was mad, completely bonkers. Turns out being with that wizard too much had taken a toll on her state of mind.

Until one day when the wizard returned for Christine. He was intent on claiming her by force, killing her caretaker and his friend. Although she had hidden from him, he had found her eventually.
Oh, I'm sorry. It would seem that her story is not finished yet.
*
A banging woke me up, and I saw Sherlock on the other side of the window. As soon as we made eye contact, the cab screeched off, and onto the main road. I saw Moriarty and his eyes in the mirror, hidden under a cabbie hat, one that reminded me of the very first case with Sherlock and I.

An immense fear welled up inside as I was intent on escaping. There were too many cars right now, but soon we approached a bridge, where there were not cars, but pedestrians on my side. As soon as there was a clearing, I opened the door and rolled out onto the sidewalk. Some were appalled at my action, stepping back in shock.

My chest rose and fell with every breath as the onlookers continued their usual commute. I stood, looking at the cab in the distance. I had escaped his clutches once again.

"Aspen?" I heard someone call my name, and turned to see the once person who has been ignorant of the truth.

"Lucy?"