Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

37. Paranoia

"Bay?" I called in the darkness.

I had no idea where I was. I'd woken up to darkness. Darkness was something I loathed, because I associated Moriarty with it. What if he was born in it? I shuddered, feeling that could possibly be true for a man like him.

Dull light lit up the room. The source was a huge TV mounted on the wall. I squinted, adjusting to the light. There wasn't any sound when the picture came on. At first, I couldn't make out what it was. Once my vision adjusted, everything dropped: my heart, my spirit, my legs, and my mouth.

221B Baker Street was almost nothing, nearly obliterated. A sob hitched in my throat. I feared the worst: that Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and possibly my dad were dead. I knew Mrs. H never really left Baker Street, so most likely she hadn't survived.

My breathing quickened. No...This couldn't have...How...? Who was behind this attack? Was it someone new? Someone who Sherlock had encountered before? Why was I even in this room? I didn't even know how I got here!

"Enjoying the show?" a voice drawled.

I closed my eyes, wishing the voice away. I thought I'd forgotten what he sounded like the day The Fall happened. Violent shudders rippled through me. How he hadn't managed to seduce women with that voice amazed me. I guess they had to be extraordinary, as I apparently had been to him. I was the only one he ever caught in his trap. In a way, I was glad it was just me.

"You sick son of a bitch," I growled venomously. "You're behind this." I spun around only to see nothing but darkness. He was here, I could feel it. He was using the dark as cover. I wanted it to remain that way; I didn't want to see him. For his sake, he better hoped that I didn't find him. If I did, I would give him hell.

"I had to deal with my other problem first before getting to you." Low, echoing footsteps flew around me. He was definitely here, I wasn't imagining it.

"Theatrical. What are you going to do with me?" My best bet was to act brave. If Sherlock and Dad were...dead, then I had to muster through their deaths. If they really are dead, then what about Mary? Oh, wait...

I'd forgotten Mary was no longer in the picture; Dad had divorced her a while ago. I'd wanted them to stay together for the baby, but even it wasn't enough to hold them together. The Watson family was once again fractured. It would always be that way.

"Oh, that's the best part!" the voice crowed. "You'll see. We'll have so much fun, Rachel."

I didn't want to be here. I wanted to know if Sherlock, Mrs. H, and Dad were alive. There was a chance they'd all not been at Baker Street at the time of the explosion. There was some hope.

But the hope was shot down when the closed captioning told me three people were dead. It vanished when I read the names. Their lives were taken out by fire.

Moriarty got what he wanted; he burned the heart out of Sherlock. He burned Sherlock in general. He, Mrs. H, and my dad were now nothing but ash. It was one thing to take out my dad and his best friend, but what did Mrs. Hudson ever do to deserve such a horrific death?

I couldn't breathe for the smallest second. How could Moriarty have managed to claim all three lives? Surely Sherlock would have found the bomb before it went off. Surely he would have had a feeling something was going to happen. There was barely anything that could get past him. Surely—

My teeth gritted together with Moriarty's high, triumphant laughter. He was lucky the dark was hiding him; I was ready to punch the happiness out of him.