The Mind Reader - A Sherlock Fanfic

Echoes

My head was spinning. My eyes were filled with dust. The sound of rubble settling on the ground crumbled through the silence. I slowly lifted my head and looked around. A big piece of concrete loomed a little overhead, balancing on other pieces of broken wall or ceiling. Through the dust I could make out a few limp or aching bodies. I suddenly felt something squeeze my arm. I looked down; I forgot I was clutching Amy tightly in my arms. Her head was leaning on my shoulder and her body rested on mine. She cautiously lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. "Are you alright?" she said in a struggling whisper. 

"Yeah," I replied. "I don't know about the others. I think I see some people in front of us,"

Amy looked over in the direction of the bodies. She found her way to her knees and began crawling over to whoever was over there. I found my bearings as well and crawled out of where we were hiding. I rose to my feet and examined the warehouse around us. It was hard to make out which parts of the building were still standing, it was so foggy. Most of the ceiling was gone, I knew that much because of how much light was shining on us. I could vaguely make out the edges of the walls that were still in tact. At this point, we were standing in ruins. Amy was helping to bring an officer to his feet, when I heard the sound of faint grunting and rubble moving. A pile of rock was slightly rising and falling. I ran over to it and started lifting bits of rock off the pile. Once I thew a particularly big piece away, I could just make out the shape of an arm. "Sherlock!" a muffled voice called.

"Lestraude?" I replied. 

Amy rushed over and helped me lift the rest of the rocks off of Lestraude. He quickly sat up from his cement grave and grabbed my arm for support. His shoulder was bleeding, so was his head and a part of his chest. The wounds looked like scratches from the falling rock, nothing too fatal. Coughing and groaning began to fill the air as more people were getting up. "Where's John?" Amy asked.

I looked at her, my face quickly filled with worry. Amy quickly understood my expression, and we struggled to our feet and started looking around for John. I frantically searched anywhere I could imagine someone could be. Amy began calling for John, I did the same. More and more people started to join the search when they were able. Soon, it was hard to hear any silence because of all the echoes of people frantically searching for John. Amy joined a small group of people rummaging through a big pile of rubble while I kept wandering through the warehouse. The voices began to be quiet as I strayed further away from the crowds of officers. The warehouse became almost peaceful, like walking through ancient ruins. The building was more in tact over here. The piles of rubble became smaller and the air was cleaner. I could still hear the echoes form the others still searching for John and any other stragglers caught under rock. Amy's voice cut through the air and into my ear. She sounded frantic and worried, like she was blaming herself for all of this and just wanted to know that everyone was okay. I don't know how to feel about all of this. How can we go back to normal after this? Can we? Ugh, who am I kidding? We were never normal. The things I know about her are only about crime and history. I don't know her hobbies or her interests. I don't even know her favorite colour! Well, I have seen her gravitate towards purple things, so I suppose... Not the point! 

A sudden rustle filled the air. The sound of the heel of a shoe scraping across the cement floor screeched in my mind. That sound was then followed by footsteps, two of them. They were moving quickly, but they were struggling, like one was trying to encourage the other to move. I had questions, lots of questions, but I didn't want to go through them. I sprinted after the footsteps, running farther away from the only help I had. Finally, through the dust I could barley make out a door. It was old and dirty, and was slowly creaking closed like somebody ran through it and couldn't close the door fully. I pushed open the door and found myself on a small landing. There were two staircases, one leading up and one going down. Other than my frantic breaths, it was quiet. I struggled to slow my breath and listen. I let out one long exhale and waited in the perfect quiet. The footsteps returned, they echoed through the stairway starting from above and ringing down my spine. I raced up the stars and came across an open metal door. On the other side of the doorframe was a rusted metal catwalk. Parts of the floor and railings were gone, like they were ripped from their original placement by falling rocks. I knew this place. I looked down at the floor of the warehouse and envisioned myself down there. That was where I looked up at Amy the first time we were here. My eyes drifted across the ground at the group of police officers, still treating and looking for people in the dust and rubble. Their voices seemed like whispers from up here, but Amy's filled my head like she was right next to me. She frantically ran around the area, helping everyone she could. I've never seen her act this way. So determined and selfless. Does she feel guilty for this? "Sherlock!" a worried whisper called to me.

I slowly looked in front of me. John looked right into my eyes as he struggled against Moriarty. He had John's neck in his arm and was leaning him over an open part of the catwalk. A small shining knife was in his other hand. "Will you ever just give up, or die, or something?" Moriarty whined. "I mean, all of this has just become tedious, hasn't it?"

"Your restlessness makes you easy to fight," I replied. "You're just helping us at this point,"

Moriarty's expression didn't change, but I could see in his eyes that he was getting angry. "Why do we do this, Sherlock? Why are we so perfect for each other?"

"We are not perfect for each other. You're just an impulsive-"

"Don't flatter yourself! It's so... unlike you,"

John struggled against Moriarty, but he lost his balance and was right back where he started only the knife was pressed against his neck this time. "Moriarty, just let him go and we can settle this ourselves," I said calmly.

"Oh, honey, I hate to break your heart. You always, think everything is about you. You're an old challenge, Sherlock. Now, you're just bait,"

Suddenly, the sound of an echoing door and approaching footsteps filled the air. The sound climbed up the stairs and my heart began to sink. No, no, no, no.

Amy burst through the old rusted doorframe and froze a few feet away from me. "No," I whispered.

"Amy!" Moriarty cheered. "It's about time you joined the party!"