The Second Generation

Chapter 8

I knew someone would die when Dad started working on his latest project. But I never in a million years thought it would be like this.

Neymar called me earlier, said something about Sherlock I can't remember. My own father called me, said to meet him at Saint Barts Hospital at 4. As of now, I'm headed there, running as always. I stop to breath for a moment when my phone starts ringing again. Neymar. I answer fast.

"Mrs. Hudson's been shot, me and John are headed back to the flat." The boy is close to tears, I can hear that much

"What about Sherlock?" I ask

"He didn't come. He's detaching himself. He's at the hospital."

"Okay. Stay with John for me. Promise you'll do as I say and I'll try to figure everything out."

"I promise."

"Good. Stay with John." I hang up, the old woman was not shot, it was a distraction, Sherlock was too clever.

I continue my run to the hospital, it's nearly 4 right now. What is my father going to do? I'm at the bottom of the hospital, Sherlock and my father are at the top, and Sherlock is holding my dad over the edge. I run inside and run up the many flights of stairs.

By the time I reach the top and push through, I arrive just in time to see my father shake hands with Sherlock, then pull a gun from nowhere and shoot himself. I can't help but scream, and Sherlock nearly falls backward. I run to my father's body and drop down next to him, my hands now covered in his blood.

"Dad..." I cry, what else should I have done?

My family was dead. I was covered in warm sticky blood, belonging to my father. I look over to see Sherlock standing at the edge of the roof. He's on the phone.

"Mister Holmes... I don't know what my father said to you... But I can help you..."

He ignores me.

"John... tell Neymar I'm sorry." He hangs up the phone and throws it behind him

"Don't do this. They still need you." I say, standing and nearing him

"Do one thing for me. If you're not your father then prove it."

"Mr. Holmes..."

"Stay away from Neymar." He steps off the ledge

I lurch forward but I can't grab him, I tried, I really did. I don't go far enough to see the ground, I really don't want to. I've seen enough close up death for a life time. I drop next to my father and only sit there, staring at him. The door slams open, it's Neymar but I can't seem to register anything aside from what lay in front of me.

"Oh my god... Jack...."

"I'm sorry." I start crying again

"Jackson, it's not your fault. This isn't you." He drops down next to me and pulls me close to him, he just sits there and hugs me as I cry

"Sherlock, he... He went over."

"I know. I know, but it wasn't you." He doesn't cry himself, he was probably inside when it happened, he wouldn't have seen it.

"I'm gonna be sick." I have to stand up and rush inside to the nearest bathroom before I throw up

Neymar follows me and sits with me, just being comforting while I lose the days meals. I see it clearly, the gun, the trigger, it's all repeating in my head in slow motion.

Once I'm done throwing up, at least for now, Neymar stands up slowly.

"I'll bring something, just don't go anywhere." I nod weakly and lean against the wall, I really don't care how clean or dirty it is, I don't care much about anything.