Playing Games With The Devil - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter twelve: Troubled Past

I hastily put my clothes back on. The realisation of what I have just done has finally sunk in. I can't help but hate myself for falling back into my old ways.

"Oh Brooklyn, didn't I warn you about the affect he has on people?" Mycroft asks in a surprisingly calm voice. "Just have me arrested and get it over with." I tell him.

"Arrest you for what exactly? Having a make out session with the most wanted criminal in Britain? Damaging a room in a 400 year old hotel? Or possibly for murdering that family. The first one really isn't a crime but I expected you to have more moral sense than that.

This is a very superlative mistake you've made and I expect you will come to regret it. But I won't be having you arrested, either of you. I don't see the point in wasting time with a court case when in the end your friend Moriarty will blackmail the jury. I will however, see to it that you are escorted back to London. And one last piece of advise, you're playing with fire. It would be wise of you to not get burned." Mycroft says before exiting the room.

All of Mycroft's men follow behind him and I'm left alone with Sherlock and Moriarty. "You've been working with him this whole time, haven't you?" Sherlock asks pacing around the room.

"No! I'm not working with Moriarty-"

"Did you really think you could fool me? When I got your text it wasn't hard to piece things together. I had your phone tracked and when I found out where you were I had a few people follow you, homeless network." Sherlock says throwing photos onto the bed. I pick them up and look threw them.

Me rushing into the airport, meeting up with Moriarty, him winking at me, and lastly of us walking off together. I know exactly what this must look like to Sherlock; like me and Moriarty are together. And what he's just walked into doesn't make the situation any better.

"You planned this." I say to Moriarty. "You manipulated everything! How could I be so ignorant? You wanted Sherlock to find out, you wanted us to get caught!"

Moriarty begins laughing. "Brooke,
what are you talking about? I didn't manipulate anything. I thought you said you had fun, I mean you asked me to let you kill those people, you wanted this." He's speaking in a much different, softer voice.

I glance over at Sherlock. "Please tell me you don't actually believe what he's saying. You, of all people should know what he's like. Moriarty is a liar!"

"Did he force you to come here?" Sherlock asks.

"Well, no but-"

"Did he force you to kill that family?"

"Technically no-"

"And did he force you into bed?"

This time I say nothing. Sherlock is right, despite Moriarty's involvement I made all the choices myself.

"Come on, we're leaving." Sherlock says practically dragging me out of the room. I make no notion to protest.

When we get outside I look up at the building; the window on the far left side is blackened by smoke. I suddenly find it very difficult to breath. I feel like I'm seventeen again, looking up watching a house burn as Kyle sent me words of appraisal. All I ever wanted was to make him proud.

Our parents were never around much. They would leave for months on end without so much as a phone call. Even when I was young the only person I had to take care of me was Kyle.

Kyle began selling drugs to pay for our rent, food and everything else we needed. As soon as I got old enough I started helping him. For a while, we managed to get by very well on our own. Neither of us took any of the drugs; I knew it wouldn't turn out good if we got addicted to them. Selling drugs to get by and becoming a junkie are two very different things. But of course, curiosity got the better of him.

After that he started doing deals with very bad people. One night I walked into our living room and caught him in the midst of silting a man's throat. He had told me it was necessary and I believed him. Kyle was my big brother, the only person I could ever count on. I never wanted to think bad of him so I listened to whatever he had to say.

Kyle and I adapted quite a reputation from then on. If someone screwed us over, they would pay the ultimate price. We would discover who the person cared about the most and kill them. I was the one who did most of the killing, I would tie the person up then pour kerosene all throughout the house before setting it afire. "Good job, sis." Kyle would say. And I honesty thought I was going the right thing.

Despite my young age and his brain constantly hazy with narcotics we were exceptionally smart and never got caught, not once. But then he started getting really messy and I started to see that what I was doing was wrong. Killing innocent people, ruining lives; I no longer wanted any part of it. I begged Kyle to stop but he wouldn't listen. I knew I had to do something to stop him.

One night, while he was passed out I made my decision. I couldn't take that life anymore but I knew he would never allow me to leave so I burned our house down with him in it. I went to the police and told them I came home to find the place on fire. I told them he was involved with drugs and that he had many enemies so it was very plausible one of them may have came to exact revenge. I met Lestrade not long after that and he helped me in becoming a detective.

Over the years I pushed the memories of Kyle out of my mind. And ever since then I haven't retreated back to my old self. Well, that is until now.