August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter Eleven: Taken

The three of us stood around the tall oak tree, tears were threatening to leave my eyes. On one of the branches was a woman, hanging by her neck. A thick rope cut off her air circulation. It looked like a suicide, but we knew that it wasn't. The letters 'JM' were tattooed on the bottom of her feet, just like the last woman.

"Suicide, nothing more." A police officer walked up to Sherlock, John, and I and nodded. He looked be about forty years old and had two sons. He had uneventful life, judging by his clothes and wrinkles that were painted on his face.

"This wasn't a suicide. There are hand bruising forming around her neck. Someone made this look like a suicide." Sherlock said, pointing to the woman's neck. I closed my eyes.

"Are you okay? You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, August." John stood next to me, his eyes looked dim.

"It's okay. It's just sickening what this man is doing." I swallowed my disgust and focused on the woman. A golden wedding ring glistened from her finger. I swallowed again.

"Sherlock, I can't prove that this wasn't a suicide." I heard Lestrade's voice from a few feet away. I opened my eyes to see him and Sherlock conversing.

"Of course you can. Get me a DNA test. There are bruises on her neck from a man's hand." Sherlock retorted, obviously annoyed in Lestrade's attempts. "Get her down from there."

I watched as the police team carefully cut the rope that was suspending the woman from the ground. They placed the body in a bag once she was cut, and set it in an ambulance.

My attention was distracted as my phone beeped in my pocket, looking down, I noticed that Molly texted me.

August I need you at the Morgue NOW, I need help!! Please come. - Molly

Are you okay? I'll be there as soon as I can. - August

No, I'm not okay. It's an emergency. - Molly

I looked at John. "Molly needs me at the Morgue. She says it's an emergency. Tell Sherlock I left." I didn't wait for John's reply before I started running towards the main road. Molly never needed  me as an emergency. Something was wrong.

As soon as I hailed a cab, I rushed the cabbie to get to Bart's Morgue as fast as they could. Once we were there, I threw a 10 pound note towards the cabbie and slammed the door shut, sprinting towards the morgue.

"August!" I turned and saw no other than Jim Moriarty on the sidewalk, walking calmly towards me.

"Jim Moriarty? What do you want?" I yelled towards him, backing up as he approached me.

"I told you, I was going to burn the heart out of you." Moriarty threatened, taking more steps towards me.

I was outside the Morgue door, if I was fast enough I could run and go inside. He would have a less likely chance of catching me inside a building then on the open sidewalk. I turned my head away from Moriarty and prepared to start running. My heartbeat pounded inside my chest. It felt like a thousand drums were beating in my ears.

As I sprinted towards the door, my body slammed into something, or more like someone; how did I not see them? I ricocheted off them and landed on the ground, my back searing in agony from the fall.

The person who I ran into was a tall and stocky man. They had a large muscular frame that's covered in dark clothing. I didn't see if he used his hand or foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest and I felt myself skid even farther back from where I had originally fell.

I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet.

He walked towards me slowly. "That's a very nice distance you fell." London accent.