Sophia Holmes and the Great Game (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Fifteen - The Spider, Unveiled Part I

I wake up to the smell of chlorine and sweat.

The space I find myself in is narrow, with just a short bench one end and a curtain on the other. Judging by that and the wet floor underfoot, we must be inside the changing room for a swimming pool.

Moriarty - or whoever transferred us from the cab to these stalls - hasn't left the lights on, so the room is in complete darkness. I feel around for my gun but unsurprisingly it's been taken, so I push the curtains back and head out into the main changing area to look for John.

The lights begin to flicker into life as wet footsteps enter the room, and I blink my eyes rapidly for them to adjust. As I identify the first as Moriarty, two more sets of footsteps join him.

Seeing me, one of them parts from the others and pushes me back into my stall.

He's a Korean-trained assassin, going on the way he holds himself and the position in which he's put his gun. No family: he was raised by adoption homes in North Korea before being handed over to the State. He found the work too dull and turned to freelance before taking up with Moriarty.

He hands me a black duffle coat lined with semtex, and I take it hesitantly and put it on. I hear John protesting in the next stall as he too is offered the jacket, followed the click of his assassin's gun.

"Just calm down," I call. "Do as he says!"

He's not going to be of any use dead - we need to comply with their orders until dad comes. Then we might stand a chance of escaping - once we've established what Moriarty is up to, of course.

My assassin goes to silence me, but Jim places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Your daughter has a point, John," Jim drawls in his real, Irish accent, quite different from the cockney one he acquired at the hospital. I'm also impressed at how much difference a Westwood suit and combed back hair can make compared with the jeans and shirt he was wearing the last time we met. "Little Ellie Watson. Such a shame you'll be dead by the end of the night. You're a mystery to me."

"How so?" I reply as I slip my second arm into the sleeve of the coat.

Before he can answer, the latch on the door on the poolside opens and another set of wet footsteps enter. These ones are familiar.

My assassin backs away as Moriarty hands me a small, almost invisible earpiece and I'm held at gunpoint as I insert it into my ear.

"You both know how this goes," Jim says, his eyes darting between each stall. "I'll speak to you through these and you'll repeat everything I say exactly how I say it. You won't speak to Sherlock Holmes unless I tell you to."

He beckons us out of the stalls and we follow him down to the door at the far end.

"You alright?" John asks me quietly, grasping my hand.

I nod in reply and pull away as it begins to get clammy. The heating is on and this coat is not very cooling.

"Silence," Moriarty whispers, before opening the doors and directing us out onto the poolside.

The lights are on, illuminating the pool, but the viewing gallery is still dark. I can only guess at how many snipers are up there waiting to shoot at Moriarty's call. Dad's back is turned as we walk onto the poolside, but he turns as he hears us enter, my fake memory stick still held aloft in his hands.

I begin to play my part in this hostage situation, standing tall and beginning to glare at dad. He'll know something is wrong. He knows me too well. I would never betray him. Even so, he surveys us with shock as we advance towards him.