Moriarty's Musician

Purging the Demons, Part 3

Annabelle sat down on the edge of her bed and tried to breathe. She couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling of betrayal that was consuming her. Imagining Soo-Ling in the same bed that she had just shared with James... doing things with him. Annabelle could feel the bile rising in her throat. How could she look at him again? He was despicable.

"You're an idiot. He's never cared about you," she said to the empty room. 

She was nothing to him. Meg was right; she was broken, only Moriarty had done the breaking. What was next? His demand that she tell him all she knew? And what then? Once she was of no use to him, would he kill her? Her Uncle John thought so.

Annabelle thought of Sherlock; her shoulders sagging as bitterness filled her mind. How had she so completely misjudged him? She thought that he was her friend! He had actually contacted Moriarty to come and get her. Annabelle shook her head as she remembered the image of Sherlock shooting her father. Who could she trust if not him?

Annabelle glanced over at Moriarty's book that still sat on her nightstand. Picking it up, she flipped through the pages and withdrew the photo in the center. As she looked down at the woman's lovely face, she couldn't help the feeling of hopelessness that settled over her.

"What happened to you," she whispered, "and what happened to your son?"

Annabelle shivered as a chill wrapped itself around her. She looked around the empty room. If she was alone, why did she always feel like she was being watched? Quickly putting the photo back into the book, she set it on her nightstand and stood up, rubbing her arms to try and smooth the goosebumps away.

It didn't matter what Meg thought. She needed to get away while Moriarty was gone. She was nothing but a pawn in his sick game and this might be her only chance to escape him. 

Annabelle opened the closet and withdrew her suitcase. She hurried to the drawers, gathered all her clothes and packed them up. She put the suitcase back into the closet. Ok, now what? 

She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. Somehow she needed to find out where the nearest town was. Surely, Meg would suspect her plans if she started asking questions, and William hardly said a word to her to be of much help. But what about Jack? He must know where the nearest town was and maybe even the best way to get there.

Taking a shaky breath, Annabelle left the bedroom and headed down the hall. Descending the stairs, she prayed that she would find Jack alone. She looked into the kitchen and quickly pulled back as she saw Meg at the stove and William reading a paper at the table. She continued down the hall popping her head into the rooms until she came to the music conservatory. 

She grimaced as she remembered the last time she had been in the room, and of course, just her luck, there was Jack. He sat on the window seat, furiously sketching in his book. His head swung from his pad of paper to the outside, then back to his pad of paper, his attention riveted on whatever it was he was working on.

Annabelle entered the room, not wanting to interrupt him but desperate to ask him her questions. She cleared her voice as he looked up from his book, his eyes widening. 

"M-M-Miss Watson? Is e-e-everything okay?"

Annabelle smiled back at him. "Yes," she lied, "and thank you for asking. I was just feeling a little lonely is all. What are you drawing?"