Moriartys Girl - A Sherlock Story

12 - A Look into The Past

We arrived at Jim's home, pulling up a long stone drive and parking in front of the white building. I never noticed how it looked when I left last time, too busy making out.

The door opened on Jim's side, he got out and took my hand helping me leave the car. He moved his hand around my waist, gently pushing me forwards as we walked.

From the hall, we went through two large windowed doors, opposite the door where I had been tied up. I breathed in deep as we passed. Jim noticed and squeezed my hip, "Don't worry, you won't be going back through there" he whispered, leaning in close to my ear.

We entered the room and a large table was set with two place settings and three huge rose centrepieces. Each vase had a black ribbon round the middle, tied into a bow. The wine glasses had a black base and stalk before fading to clear nearer the top of the cup. Jim pulled my chair out as I sat and he moved to sit opposite.

"Looks lovely. Don't think I'm really dressed for the occasion though" I took my napkin and place it on my lap.

"You look perfect" Jim smiled as a server walked over and poured some wine into the glasses.

"Thank you" I smiled at the server, he bowed and walked out.

"You're too kind" Jim picked up his glass and I followed suit. He stared me down as we clicked our glasses

"What do you mean?"

" 'Thank you' to the help? I don't get it" he took a sip of his wine.

I stopped dead with the glass by my lips. "It's polite" I said, putting the glass down.

Jim frowned at me as I straightened out my napkin, not wanting to look at him. I didn't get him at all. He was surprised I was polite? But he can be nice to me. When he wanted to, if he felt like it.

A plate was placed in front of me; steak and asparagus, one of my favourites. Did he know? How could he know? Did he...?

"Enjoy" Jim smiled as he picked up his cutlery.

We ate in silence. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. I could never read him, was he surprised I was nice? Was it supposed to be a compliment? An insult?

We both finished and the plates were removed, "That was lovely, thank you Jim." I finally took a sip of my wine. It met with the steak and tasted heavenly.

"How did you get the bullet scar?" He blurted out.

"I was shot" I took another sip.

"By who? When? Why?"

He wasn't going to stop. I took in a deep breath, a big gulp of wine and looked over to him. He was resting his elbows on the table, fingers linked and leaning on them.

"When I was five, Mum wanted to get a job. So Dad let her and she had to work late one day, covering someone else's shift" I started. Jim just sat there, staring "So he picked me up from school and on the drive home he got a call. We drove to this abandoned warehouse, Dad passed me this little portable radio as he wanted to take the keys with him and lock me in, and some colouring books. I sat there for around 20 minutes, colouring random pictures. I remember colouring in a rainbow, I'm not even sure it was even in the picture. I think I just put it in there. I heard gun shots. Loads." I took another sip of wine before carrying on, "But that wasn't the scary thing" I looked up to Jim who frowned at me.

"You were shot at five!?" He asked shocked

"No" I shook my head, "I didn't flinch. Not once. I just carried on colouring."

I stopped talking for a few moments to let him process it. He moved his hands, grabbing his wine and leaning back in the chair staring at me.

"Dad had to keep taking me to things. I got more interested and nosey as I got older. By eight I was sneaking in to the rooms and hiding behind doors, chairs, boxes, anything just so I could watch."

"Did you see anything?"

"Loads. Shoot outs, stabbings, torture" I sighed and took another large sip.

"At eight?" He raised his eyebrows

"Yeah. I got to 13 without being seen. One day I snuck in and Curtis Child's saw me. I thought I was safe, I was wrong." I swallowed hard, remembering the day. "He grabbed me and held the gun to my head. He shouted at my dad about how women shouldn't be here. Kids were useless and they were a weakness" I spat. I could still feel the gun barrel pressed against my temple as I spoke, "My Dad talked some sense into him and he let me go. But as I reached my dad and turned round, before my dad could shout at me, Curtis took a shot. Hit me in the stomach. Dad shot him in the arm. He rushed me to their den, whatever you call it, and their doctor managed to get the bullet out and stitch me up. Mum never found out."

We sat there in silence as we both finished or glasses of wine. Another sever came round and topped us up. This glass didn't last me as long. Three sips and it was gone.

"And he taught you how to handle yourself?" Jim finally broke the silence.

"Yeah. He said I'd need to know these things in this life. In case it ever happened again." It didn't. Everyone got to know me and stayed away. Well, most of them. The ones that didn't stay away, didn't speak again.

"The ones on your legs?"

"Rope burns, knifes, whips -"

"Torture?" I could see his chest rising higher as he breathed in

"Some of them"

"And what about the pregnancy? Another drug lords?"

"A story for another day. I've shared enough." I couldn't share that story. I hope he never asked again.