Playing Games With The Devil - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter five: Caught

A million thoughts filled my mind but I couldn't bring myself to speak. "Brooke?" Sebastian said placing his hand over mine. I pulled away.

"I have to go." I stood up and began walking off. "Wait! Please, just at least let me explain." He pleaded. "There's nothing to explain. But if you really want to do something for me, leave me alone. I'm working right now, for a very dangerous person. I don't need you to screw things up like you almost did tonight. Because this time, you might actually get me killed." I told him trying my best to be strong. I'm not sure why I didn't just admit to working for Moriarty as well. It could have made things a lot easier. But I just wanted to be away from Sebastian. 

This time he didn't stop me when I walked away.

***

I didn't get home to my flat until late in the morning. After walking for about thirty minutes I finally gave in and went back to Sebastian asking for a ride. Neither of us spoke the entire time which I was thankful for but my pride was still hurt. 

I got a text from Sherlock this morning reminding me to meet him at his flat. Honestly I didn't want to go but I figured if Moriarty found out I declined an offer like that he'd be pissed, and right now it's in my best interest to stay on his good side. If he even has one.

***

I arrive at Baker Street and knock on the door. An old lady answers. "Hello dear, Sherlock told me to be expecting you. He's right up stairs." She said moving aside to let me in.

Sherlock met me at the top of the stairs. "Come in, Brooklyn." I stare at him wide-eyed unsure of what to do or say. He guides me into the flat where Detective Lestrade is sitting on the couch.

"Hello, Brooke." Lestrade said with a faked smile. "Hello, Greg." I mimicked. "I see you've found yourself as a criminal now. Tell me, what's it like? I heard you got arrested last-" 

"Enough." Sherlock said interrupting Lestrade. "Who are you working for?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." I tell him.

"I want to hear you say it."

"What will I get in return?"

"You won't be arrested for acquiring a false identity and every other little crime you've committed in the past year." Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Fine. Jim Moriarty."

Even though Sherlock already knew who it was he still looked uneasy at the sound of Moriarty's name.

"How do we know she's not lying? Maybe she's working for someone impersonating Moriarty." Lestrade said to Sherlock. "She's not. Sebastian Moran was at that house in Manchester last night. He would never work for any person other than Moriarty." Sherlock explained.

"What do you know about Sebastian?" I asked. Sherlock looked over at me. "What do you know about Moriarty?" He asked. 

"You first." 

"Sebastian Moran was in the army for several years, until Moriarty hired him. He's devoted to Moriarty, he would do anything that was asked of him. Sebastian would even murder you if commanded. You may think that you know him but you don't, it's all an act."

I stare at Sherlock with a blank face. "No, you're wrong. Sebastian isn't like that."

"Isn't he? Lestrade told us everything. Moran left you to die, he doesn't care about you. This is the problem with people who let sentiment cloud their judgment." Sherlock was almost laughing.

For the first time I let the memories of that night fill my thoughts.

I was sent undercover to get into the ranks of a group of serial killers. So far we'd had no leads on on the murder of about thirty people until someone tipped us off about this group. It took me months to find them and be accepted in, then one night something went wrong. Markus, leader of the whole thing got suspicious of me for some reason and found out who I really was. The next night when I went to meet them Markus confronted me. I tried to lie but it was no use. They threatened to kill me and then Sebastian came running in, apparently he followed me. I was relieved to see him until I realized he was in danger too. Markus told him to leave but he refused. Sebastian threw the first punch.