Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 25 (Rosie's POV)

'They lied to you, they lied and lied. 'They betrayed you'. 'I despise him'. 'People are not what they seem Rosie.' 'I owe you many things dear.' Their unbelievable words ring loudly throughout my head over and over again as if it's stuck on an endless carousel. I'm re-evaluating everything that's been said in the past few days, all the many, many things that have been fed into my mind. I said that I despise my father Sherlock, but do I really? Something isn't right, it's on the tip of my tongue. Exactly like when you're thinking of the right word but it never comes to mind even though you know it's there. I've been fed these constant statements and it's turned me into the wrong person, an 'opposite' which isn't me. And it's driving me insane. My nails are digging into my skull as I force myself to think logically. First of all, where is the proof that Sherlock and John have ever done this? Are Mary and James hiding the facts from me? Second of all, James has a very changeable persona which makes him harder to trust. Third of all, after knowing Sherlock and John all my life, I'm sure that they would never send anyone to this prison ever. But Sherlock has killed before, and I know that for a fact. He was trying to save John and Mary herself from a man called Magnussen. I may know Sherlock but I don't know him fully. However knowing him mostly, I can almost visualise him hating on my mother. After all, she did come in on his life one day and interrupt a possible relationship with John. I don't know who to trust or believe, but my mother sounds so convincing. The way she is completely destroyed. I mean, I don't think anyone could fake that. Herself and James, they're just so nice, they would never lie to me. Or would they? No, they wouldn't lie. I can't believe that I actually said that I despise Sherlock, maybe I just felt under pressure to tell James. A strange force making me spill. But they betrayed you Rosie. No, have you seen how much John and Sherlock care for me, they're always so protective. They lied to you Rosie. It's seems a reasonable way to cover up a story...but I've known them all my life. People aren't always what they seem Rosie. Yes, but we all have our secrets. I don't think anyone knows who someone really is unless they are that person. Except he's a sociopath Rosie, they can manipulate people, make them think in a different way. Like what you're doing now. You hate him Rosie, just admit it why don't you? NO. I take back what I said before, people make mistakes and I'm not sure I completely trust Mary. She could be making it up or be twisting the story in some way. Think logically Rosie, just like you were taught. I am thinking logically. And my final decision is get out of my head. Something's wrong, and I may be in terrible danger. I need to get out of here, but how? Maybe I should figure out a way to reach Mycroft without anyone noticing. Your mother Rosie... My mother. Yes, I need to speak to her.

"Mum?" I call as I walk into her plain room. It's empty. "Mum?" I call a bit louder. Then something taps my shoulder, completely startling me. As I turn around in a panic I am met with my smiling mother. "Yes darling? Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She apologises drawing me into a hug which I quickly release myself from. Her expression goes bare. "Sorry, can I speak to you? It's important." I request urgently. "Of course you can."
We take a seat back on her soft bed. Taking a huge breath, I begin. "About what happened...do you have any proof?" I ask slightly scared of how she will react. "Proof? Yes darling, I have everything. Wait here a second." She brings herself up from the bed and enters the lift. I think she's getting her evidence. Minutes later, she comes walking back in holding several sheets of paper that look to be files. Sitting herself back beside me, she spreads out the sheets and hands them over to me. "All the proof that I have. Please, I need   you to believe me." She starts to beg once again. "No it's fine, I do...believe you. I'm just interested in the evidence." I explain quickly before she erupts into another fit of tears. The sheets she has handed me are police reports issued about Sherlock. Tons and tons of information regarding her accusations. I'm denial to even mention what is said as it is so horrible and inhumane. Do my eyes deceive me? Or is this the unspeakable truth? "There's more on us..." Mum speaks as she hands me more paper and identity cards. The identity cards contain all the usual information of her and James. Everything from full name, birth date, country, photos, parents etc. It all links with me. So they are who they claim to be, my real mother and step-father. "I hope that this is enough proof..." Mum says desirably. "...it is." Or is it?

You can fake anything, can't you? Are they trying to convince me? It still doesn't add up. I think they're lying to me. Of course, this is all to get me as distant as possible from Sherlock and John. It's all Moriarty's game. I must play the innocent damsel who has no idea in order to remain safe...

The crystal waves are crashing down softly, just about tickling the golden sand. Birds are calling to their partners in the distance, scouring the land for any food to bring back to them. Fresh, salty air fills every corner of my lungs as I inhale deeply trying to calm my racing mind. I'm strolling along the beach with James, hair whipping in my face from the strength of the windy breeze. I've managed to convince him to talk so here's my chance. But before I can have the first word, James speaks. "Why have you brought me out here dear?" He asks looking down upon my pale, miserable face, hands in pockets. "Just wanted to talk, that's all." I shrug like it's nothing. He pauses for a moment in thought, continuing his stride. "You know me Rosie, I always like a good chat." James expresses somewhat cheerfully. "I know." I nod. "Don't act like I don't already know dear."
"Know what?"
"Something seems to be troubling you."
"I think you can make a guess of why."
"Mummy dearest has shown you the police files?"
"...yes."
"Terrible inhumane things your daddy did..." He winces. "I wanted to ask you something...about this whole thing..." No, don't ask him. Just don't.
"Carry on..."
I've realised that we've stopped in our tracks and that James is peering darkly over me as if he already knows what I'm about to say.
"Just tell me why you did all of that to me." I blurt out. I already have a plan in mind incase I have to dash, although I hate flying, Mycroft taught me how to drive a helicopter once because I was interested. I've kept it stored in my mind palace.
"Like I said, no other choices. We had to get you away from Sherlock as effectively as we could. That meant  building trust with you first. The rest was just leverage. But it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you're here and you're safe." He looks at me with those dark eyes that seem to never escape the void. Never failing to reflect on his dark intentions.
"Or," I inhale sharply, "you're just manipulating my thoughts and emotions in order to make me loathe Sherlock. It's all a game, your game, the evidence is fake, both of you are hiding behind masks. This is all a trap and it's not going to work." My mouth leaks the words in quick-fire and only then do I cover my mouth in shock. Crap. Run. Go now. Before James can form his next sentence, I make the split decision and flee from the scene. Now I'm definitely in trouble. The helicopter is several hundred yards to my right. I can see it in view, growing larger by the second. With no time to pause, I grab onto the door handle and pull it open. But suddenly, a force grabs me by the collar of my shirt and slams me to the floor. I groan as I am pulled up with rough movements, feeling the harsh coldness of a gun to the back of my head. "Hands in the air!" The gaurd barks. I obey, head whirling in panic. James suddenly approaches us slightly out of breath, presumably from running after me. "Stand down!" He demands angrily towards the guard who relieves my head of his gun. I stumble forwards after losing my balance and he catches me by the shoulder before I reach the ground. "Are you alright?" He asks worriedly, something which I have never seen before. "Get out of here now!" James yells furiously at the guards who scurry away. "I've got you dear," he proceeds to hug me, "Why do you always bloody run away?" His hand strokes my head gently. "I-I." Get away, get out.
"What were you doing with the helicopter?"
"Leaving..." He sighs.
"Dear, Holmes is the bad guy, not me. Me and your mother care for you so much...we won't let anything happen to you. So long as you promise me one thing."
"What's that?"
"You follow my rules." He whispers. James let's go of me but keeps my arm in his grip. "Come on, I need to get you back." He continues to pull me along the beach in an urgent manner. Leave. Get away. You idiot, leave. "When we get back, I need to do something important."

As we arrive back down into the bare, grey room we are met by two guards who stop us in our path. James puts both hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face him. He grins manically and sniggers to himself, tightening his grip harder. Oh no. I should have left whilst I could. "Now dear, this won't hurt one bit." He smiles reassuringly. THWACK! Something hard hits the back of my head, then black...