The Tables Are Turned (Sherlock x OC)

Chapter 7

I woke up in a dark room. How cliché. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found myself lying on dark cold cement in an abandoned building, probably a parking garage, judging by the yellow stripes on the floor and the pillars scattered everywhere.

Richard Brook stepped out from behind the nearest pillar, and swaggered over to me.

"You should've picked me over Sherlock," Richard said, and I gasped. I could hear again!

I tried to stand, but found my wrists and ankles chained to the floor. Richard walked over to me and whispered, "My real name's Moriarty, Jim Moriarty." Then he-- I'll just skip over that if I may. If not, I will anyways.

Years of torture and -- other things -- and I had given up. Given up resisting. Given up hope of ever seeing anyone, especially Sherlock, ever again. Given up hope of freedom.

One day Jim came in again. I shrank away from him in fright, but he leaned down and unlocked me from the chains. Two of his henchmen came and grabbed me underneath the arms and dragged me to a car, one without a license plate. We drove away and Jim... I'll skip over that bit as well.

His henchmen dragged me out of the car and into a building. The building was white with baby blue tile chevron pattern. They handcuffed me to a heating pipe, thankfully it was turned off. Jim winked at me and blew a kiss, then left the room. The henchmen left the room briefly and came back with a man decked in a parka, who they handcuffed to the same pipe as me. I quickly looked him over, testing my deduction skills and found he was a retired army doctor injured while fighting in-- Afghanistan perhaps? He had a psychosomatic limp in his left leg, but was actually injured in his shoulder. His therapist should be fired, she diagnosed him with PTSD, she said his hand shakes when under stress, that's a lie, he's under stress and his hand's not shaking. He's attracted to danger.

"I'm John," the man said. "John Watson."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I hadn't spoken in about 12 years. I brought my hands to form a triangle under my nose, and scanned my mind palace quickly to remember how to speak.

"I'm Charlotte," I said softly after clearing my throat. "Sorry about that, I had to use my Mind Palace to remember how to speak. I haven't spoken in 12 years."

John stared at me for a moment. "You-- You have a Mind Palace? I thought only Sherlock had a Mind Palace!"

I immediately snapped to attention. "You know Sherlock?"

"You know Sherlock?" John asked in surprise. "He never mentioned a Charlotte!"

"He thinks I'm dead," I said. "According to everyone except Jim Moriarty, I've been dead for 12 years."

"I'm his flatmate," John said. "We solve crimes together."

"Ah," I said. "You've taken my role."

"You solved crimes with Sherlock Holmes?!" John exclaimed.

"Yes," I said. "We lived together when we were younger. We went to school together, along with all the other imbeciles. I taught him how to play the violin, actually."

"No!" John gasped. "All he does is solve crimes and play his violin! He says playing the violin helps him to think and to relax."

"That's my Sherlock," I said dreamily. "So, he kept the name?"

"What?" John asked, confused.

"Mind Palace. He calls it that now? He always seemed to hate it when I called it a Mind Palace. He said it was too 'unprofessional'."

"Yes, that's what he calls it now," John said, obviously amazed at how much I knew about Sherlock.

"He still solves crimes then; he doesn't work for the police though, does he?" I asked.