Natalie

Liar, liar, Pants on Fire

I sat in my 'new room' for the seventh day. I received food everyday around lunch. Enough to keep me fed and alive, but also little enough to keep me hungry. There were clothes and a hair brush. A mirror and bed. A bathroom with a shower and bathtub, a toilet and sink. Books and an empty journal, even a few pens. A digital clock on the nightstand. Three different cameras were trained on my door, but none inside the room. They didn't want to kill me. No, no not yet. First Jim needs Sherlock. I haven't seen Mark. Probably off flirting with someone else's daughter. How could I be so stupid?! Why would anyone like me anyway! I sighed heavily, lying on the bed, still in my bridesmaid dress, as there was a knock on the door. I expected to hear some stupid comment by Jim but there wasn't one. I sat up as Mark slowly opened the door. I flopped back down on the bed and rolled over, waiting for him to set my food down and leave. But he didn't.

I still refused to face him. I refused to face him when he set my food down. I refused to look at him when he sat on the other side of the bed. I refused to look at him when he said my name. I refused to look at him, I stayed curled up on the side of the bed, thinking of my father and how much I resembled him at the moment. Sulking like he does on the couch. I smiled. Then I remembered where I was.

"Natalie." He said again, sounding sad and tired. "Just let me explain. Please." He pleaded, but I still refused to look at him. If there's one thing I could do, I could be stubborn. But he continued to talk. "Dad, my dad, you know, Jim." I scoffed at that, but nothing more. "He took me in a few years ago. And he wanted my help with getting back at Sherlock. He said he'd give me a home and food and money if I'd just help him get even with this guy. I was eleven. How was I supposed to know he wanted to kill Sherlock?" He sighed and then continued. "And then you went to school. So he enrolled me. Told me to get close to you, be a friend or something. I didn't even know your name but I told him yes, afraid to go back out on the streets. But then I saw you. Man, I saw you." He said, the with a dreamy tone in his voice, like he was recalling a pleasant memory. "You were just so gorgeous. And then I found out you were clever. And you so sweet. And loyal. And fierce. You were just.... Amazing." I turned my head just the slightest to see him. From what I could tell he had a probably normal heart rate, not crazy at least. He was smiling, staring into space. He shook his head, his messy hair flopping around, and he resumed. "I knew I couldn't do anything to you. I just couldn't bring myself to. That's why we were in school months before I ever said anything. I kept putting it off, telling Jim it was just hard to get close to you. Telling him you were isolated, anti-social, you didn't like me. Anything he'd believe. Then I told me I had to do it that day or he'd kick me out and hurt Sherlock the easy way; He'd just shoot you. He offered me a last chance and I jumped at it. He figured out I liked you, even when I tried to convince him I was dating you because it was easier. He kept telling me to bring you in, but I kept saying the plan got messed up. Lost track of time, Sherlock was on the phone, he'd figure it out, she'd know, it's not right. I made so many excuses, he just did it without me. He must have followed us. I got into the cab first because I knew you liked independent and you were already wearing the jacket and I didn't want to do too much and everything. And I told the driver, '221b Baker Street please' and then Jim just turned his head and said, 'co-operate or she's dead'. So I went along because you'd hate me and you wouldn't like it but at least you'd be alive and yeah. I guess that's it. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I at least wanted to be able to tell you so you would know." He sighed. "I'm sorry Natalie." I felt him shift, knowing he was going to stand and had to decide. I retreated into my mind palace.

"Guilty or not guilty?" I said aloud, pacing the flat.

"Guilty." Sherlock stated simply, not even looking my way, his ankles crossed in front of him.

"But he did it to save me." I defended.

"So he claims" John told me. "He lied before, why not now?"

"But he seemed so real." I told him.

"And he might be." Mary smiled at me from the desk, one arm over the corner of the back of the chair, her body angled to the middle of the room.

"But why would he need to lie to you again? He achieved it all. They have you. You're trapped. What would he gain with your trust?" Molly asked me, eyebrows raised.

"So you're saying he's honest?" I asked them all.

"Am I? I'm telling you to think it through. Logic is your friend Natty, and offering it's help. Use it." Molly said from the couch, looking around the room.

"Give the boy a chance, he's not the same man he was five minutes ago. But be cautious. His past still may influence him." Mary told me.

"Sentiment is not on the winning side, Natalie. Moriarty will play your weaknesses, choose them wisely." Sherlock told me, still staring forward, his hands right under his chin, finger pads pushing against each other.

"If you really do like him, go for it. You have each other. He's out-numbered. Besides, Holmes beats Moriarty every time." John smiled his smile that only he can put on and looked up at me from his chair. "And Watson beats Holmes." He winked.

"So now I have to make a decision." I confirmed, still pacing the room. "Do I accept Mark, mistakes and all? Honestly, the situation didn't have a right answer. So he picked the best. Or maybe just the least evil." So I made my decision in that seven seconds. And I think they would all be proud.

As he stood I rolled over, so I was on my knees on the bed. I hugged him tight, my arms resting over his shoulders. He immediately wrapped his arms around me holding me like he was afraid to let go. With my head nuzzled into his neck I whispered to him. Three words. Three powerful little words. Words that took a lot for me to say. Words that all the voices in my head encouraged me to tell Mark. Words that I wanted to honestly tell him from the minute Jim began talking in that cab.

"You are forgiven."