Red (Sherlock BBC)

Interlude: October

A/N: Unedited, and final part until The Great Game! Enjoy these stupid little interludes, 'cuz shit picks up next part.

Staring at the scene before me, I took in every detail I could.

The tilt of the fan; the bruising on her neck; the scarf, and even the clothing she wore.

Something about this scene was not correct, and I needed to find the missing link.

I'd been putting off coming to this particular scene for over a month. Ever since the 'Pseudoside', as Watson so lovingly called it, I'd been delving into solving the truth behind Lollia's death. Up until now, I'd only done research on the computer about everything. In the waking world, I was on a plane to Venice to speak with the police there to possibly gather the evidence they had collected. Here, I stood in the memory I had nightmares about for months- the scene I'd been trying to escape, I was now stood in willingly.

You could imagine how reluctant I was to do so, especially after just escaping that hell.

Kneeling next to her body, my fingertips brushed her cheek. Dried tears. I could almost hear the unspoken apology as she did this to herself. Blinking away tears of my own, I looked closely around the room. On the table was a familiar envelope, almost identical to the one found a month ago. The M seemed almost overconfident in how neat it was, the image sending a wave of nausea through my body. I approached it carefully, picking it up and removing the letter from inside.

Lollia Selis, how great it is to see you once more.

Though, I imagine it's not very great for you, now is it?

Let's play a little game.

You kill yourself any way you please, otherwise your precious Jasmine will die.

I heard of your recent engagement, and I would wish you congratulations-

That is, if you would live to see the day of your marriage.

The game is on, Lollia.

Check mate.

My eyes widened and I coughed, jolting me from my unconscious state.

"Ma'am? The plane has landed." A voice said, and I turned to my right to see a flight attendant. Blinking, I watched at the world cleared around me, and I nodded slightly.

"Sir, but thanks," I corrected, rising from my seat. Due to my handicap, I had fortunately gotten a seat near the front, meaning I had less distance to walk to get off the plane. They assisted me in grabbing my bag from the overhead compartment, and I moved with it trailing shortly behind me (I had tied a rope to it, and it had wheels. I thought it was pretty clever. Stepping into the gate, I glanced to my phone, turning it off airplane mode. Messages after messages rolled in, most of which came from Lestrade and Sherlock.

There's been a murder. Come to 221B as soon as possible. -SH

Even if impossible, come. -SH

Where are you? Why is your phone off? -SH

Then there were Greg's.

There's been a murder. I know you're on your way to Italy, but we might need your help.

Sherlock keeps bugging me because you wont answer your phone. Reply ASAP -GL

He keeps trying to get me to send a search party. Btw keeps making me end my texts in GL so you know who it is. This is getting absurd -GL

Rolling my eyes, I messaged Sherlock.

I was on a plane to italy. Can you not handle this on your own? And please leave poor lestrade alone, he doesnt need your shit atm