Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

20. Something Fishy

I knew this was his doing. If only he had never existed in this world to begin with, then none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have died.

I rested my forearms and forehead against the wall opposite my cell door. I'd been in here for two months, ever since the police had come to the conclusion that I was her killer. I had never touched her; I had been away when it happened! Unfortunately for me, he had executed his plan well.

He got what he wanted. He was ruining my life, just like he said he would.

I licked my lips, thinking back to the night the police had stormed into my parents' house demanding I be taken from home, as I was under arrest for murder. Even in America, he could ruin me. He had lots of minions to do the job; he didn't have to do it himself. If he had really wanted to, he most certainly would have murdered her. But that would mean he got his hands dirty.

If there was one thing I knew for certain about him, it was that he never got his hands dirty.

My nails scratched the rough brick wall in front of me. I wished I was running my claws across his face. I wished he was thrown in with me so I could tear him apart and make him pay.

The faint jingle of keys and loud footsteps alerted me to company. I snorted, wishing the guard away. He had the night shift, unlucky bastard.

Though everyone was silent, that was when they were at their most dangerous. Silence meant they were plotting.

The guard tsked behind me. I grimaced.

"Such a shame. A pretty girl like you doesn't deserve this. Oh wait..."

I raised my head, now recognizing the voice. Slowly, I turned around. The moonlight from down the hall barely gave me enough light to see him.

My hands went into fists. "You." My voice was lathered in venom.

He stepped forward, closer towards my cell door. A stupid smirk was on his face. "Me."

I scoffed. "Hats aren't your thing." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Eh, you're right." He removed the guard hat from his head, giving his dark hair a ruffled appearance. "I can see jail time is treating you nicely, Rachel. The clothes also suit you, too."

I briefly glanced down at my orange attire. I looked back up at him, approaching the door. I remembered the time I thought I had seen a trace of fear in his dark pits he called eyes. But what did he have to fear? He was a psychopath, a "consulting criminal" as Sherlock had deemed him. He was at the top of the criminal world, a lethal mastermind. Nobody could touch him.

Well, I could, if I caught him off guard. No pun intended.

"You came to gloat." It wasn't a question.

"I came to check on you. I told you I would come for you next, kitten." He grinned impishly. "Did you think I lied?"

"No." My voice was low. "You could have framed me for anything: robbery, fraud, anything. Yet, the one thing you pick is murder." I shook my head. "And to make it even worse, you framed me for the murder of my best friend." My lower lip quivered.

Yes, Moriarty had taken out Amanda. Amanda, who had known everything. Amanda, who I could tell anything and she would listen and not judge me.