Secrets (Sherlock)

Blind Banker- Part 3

 So I have decided that all POV will be Quintessa unless specified otherwise. Thanks for reading, ENJOY!

~Maggie

Later that day, I made my way into a restaurant with Sherlock and John. We were going to talk to Sebastian who was currently talking to some clients over lunch.

“…He’s left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done.”

“It was a threat. That’s what the graffiti meant,” I interrupted, not really caring about his story.

“I’m kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?”

“I don’t think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders, someone who works in your office was killed.”

“What?”

“Van Coon. The police are at his flat,” John said.

“Killed?”

“Sorry to interfere with everyone’s digestion. Still want me to make an appointment? Would maybe nine o’clock at Scotland Yard suit?” I snapped. Personally, I was sick of this assholes bullshit. The past 10 years I had grown to hate him a little more every time I see him.

Sherlock and John went with Sebastian to the toilets. I think one of them noticed that I was about to hurt someone, so they went someone where I couldn’t come. I sat on the bench at the outside of the restaurant, waiting for them to come out. My blood was boiling beneath my skin, but I was calming down quickly. I saw Sebastian come out of the restaurant, and he came over to me.

“Well, I will be going,” he said, trying to get through my barriers.  I growled.

“Oh, sure do have fun. Let’s hope life slaps you in the face before I do,” I snarled.

“God,” he said. “No wonder he jumped. What was his name? Edmund? No, Eddie? No, it wasn’t that. OH, yes! It was Ebb-“ before he could finish, I punched him right in the nose. The bones crunched under my fist. I heard the doors open behind me, but I was I was being fueled by rage. All I could see was red.

“DON’T YOU DARE BRING MY EBBE INTO THIS!” I yelled, kicking him in the stomach. He groaned, but someone picked my up and hurled me over their shoulder before I could finish. I started screaming for him to put me down, and I slammed my fist into his back, squirming in his grip. “Let me down!”

“No,” his deep voice spoke. I recognized it as Sherlock, and I gave up. Knowing full well that he wasn’t going to let me down. I heard him hail a cab, and practically throw me in. John sat in front of Sherlock and me. I felt tears brim up in my eyes, but I didn’t let them out. No, crying is a sign of weakness. And there has been enough crying for one life for me. Luckily, we were fairly close to my apartment, so we were in silence for only a few minutes.

“You can stop here,” I croaked, my voice cracking. The cabbie pulled over, and I ran out of the taxi. I quickly made my way up to my apartment, and immediately took my giant butchers knife, and threw it harder than I ever had before at my wall. It landed smack in the middle, and I screamed the most blood-curdling scream I had ever given before. I screamed so loud, that Mrs. Tyler came up to make sure I was all right. Mrs. Tyler, Jim, and Sebastian were the only people left who knew about my past.

She found me curled into a ball in the corner of my kitchen. She was like a mother to me, so it wasn’t a shock when she came over and comforted me. I cried into her shoulder, not being able to hold it. I haven’t had an outburst like this since the night it happened. That night so long ago. That night where my heart and soul were ripped from my chest, and thrown off of seven stories.