the king's crown | j. moriarty (18+)

thirty five

BY THE TIME Elizabeth reached them, Sherlock Holmes stood scowling into nothingness with his fingers pressed against his temples with a force she was sure would leave marks. Mary held her dress, staring between the two with a both breathless, and prepared expression. She was extremely composed for such an event, Elizabeth mused, and seemed much to adapted to it all. She eye'd her a little bit longer.

"Elizabeth!" John Watson hissed at the brunette in a rough and strained voice that shocked her, he was tired and scared. John was scared for Mary's safety, he was scared for Sherlock's safety and everyone else in the venue. Least of all himself and Elizabeth felt a frown pull at her lips from the notion. "What in the hell are you doing here?" He let out a raspy sigh, pinching his temples, hesitating to take another step, and leaning back on the balls of his feet. "You-why aren't you with the other guests you were supposed to-" he raked the rough skin of his hand across his face, muffling the anxiety coming up his throat. Elizabeth watched Mary place her hand tentatively on his arm and smiled at him comfortingly though he didn't look. "How can you not remember the room? You remember everything!" John turned to Sherlock irritably, throwing out both his hands to which Mary shuddered and shook her head.

"I have to delete something!" He scrunched his eyes shut, his hands open on either side of his head like he was threading strings of thought through both sides of his hair.

"Two-oh-seven." They ran, instinctively Elizabeth followed without thinking, like she had been waiting for that response with the same anticipation as they had. Her heels made nothing but dull thuds against the carpet until they arrived outside a chocolate brown door.

"Major Sholto! Major Sholto?"  Sherlock gave up pulling at the handle, and slammed the palm of his right hand flat against the wood. "Major Sholto!"

"I don't understand." Elizabeth said it in a low voice so she wouldn't interrupt what ever was going on. She looked to John through her eyes lashes, barely turning her head in his direction. With exasperated fidgeting halting his answer, Elizabeth looked quickly to Mary, who answered in the same quiet voice without a second thought.

"Someone's coming for Sholto. The murderer must be inside." Elizabeth stared at her for a second, letting the cogs in her mind twist and click. Obviously, she didn't need that stated for her, but with it in the air between them she felt she could pick and prod at the sentence until some resolution came to mind.

"If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, it won't be the first time." They heard through the door, "I'm ready." With a shaking hand, John moved forward, pressing his own touch against  the wood.

"Major," he said sternly with a raw concern.

"Kick the door down." Mary added, looking between the two.

"I really wouldn't." Elizabeth heard Sholto's solemn reply. "I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes." Elizabeth stood helplessly with a devouring feeling of uselessness. She stared at her fingers, which wound together nervously and racked her brain for anything she could add. She prayed her mind to uncover the stories Sherlock had been telling; she recalled very little. The invisible man with the invisible knife. She sighed, no better off.

"You're not safe in there, whoever's after you we know that a locked room doesn't stop him." Like clockwork, Elizabeth watched the sentence fall from the detectives mouth, a curious scowl settling on her features. Could he read her mind? She wanted to laugh at herself, many would argue that he could.

"The invisible man, with the invisible knife." The bitter voice through the door made Elizabeth take a baffled step back.

"I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again." Helplessly Elizabeth watched the three faces painted with worry lean hopefully towards the door. Her mind went to Sebastian Moran, a man who felt nonexistent to Elizabeth. He had vanished quite abruptly from her daily routine, she didn't know why, or where but thought not to question it. An invisible friend, Elizabeth looked to the floor rolling her eyes. It certainly wasn't Sebastian. But the thought of him sparked an incomprehensible trail in her thoughts from everything she'd witnessed around Moriarty. All that information she retained because she wasn't to see it in the first place.