Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 35 (Rosie's POV)

2 days

My hands are clenched in my lap as I fiddle around with my fingers nervously, eyes fixated on the floor. "Look at me when I'm talking to you Miss Watson." Mycroft demands but not in a harsh tone, a comforting one you would give to a feeble little child, like me for instance. John is perched beside me on the small arm of the leather sofa watching me in concern. My eyes flicker to Sherlock as I catch him staring at me intently, reading every inch of me, delving right into my head. I hate it. My attention draws back to Mycroft who is arched upright in a chair, an impatient pout upon his lips. "Did you find out any information on the whereabouts of some rather confidential government files?" He asks. Government files? What is he talking about? I shake my head and Mycroft lets out a sigh. This idiot has been questioning me for 20 minutes now. I've had enough. "Don't you remember anything at all?" His voice is sterner this time as he is growing more impatient by the second. "Leave it Mycroft." John warns him as he turns to face me, sadness reflected in his ocean blue eyes. "Are you alright Rosie?" He questions softly. "Fine-I'm fine. Like I said before, my memory is messed up from a blow which I received on my head." I explain, hoping that it's enough to convince them to let me go free. "That's enough Mycroft." Sherlock speaks finally as he shoots his brother a look. Mycroft hesitates for a moment thinking it through before removing himself from the chair and brushing off his suit. "Well, goodbye for now. And Rosie, do take care of yourself." Mycroft says before leaving and I take a deep breath of relief. Thank God he's gone. I look back up from the floor and spot two pairs of eyes staring straight at me. "Yes?" I ask in annoyance. "What has gotten into you?" John bursts out suddenly, releasing anger that has been building up for the past half hour. I screw my eyes shut momentarily and hear Sherlock's deep voice. "John. She has just been abducted by the worlds most dangerous criminal and my insane sister. Maybe take it easier?" I hate it when he calls my father that. But sister? All I want to do is scream at him but I must retain myself otherwise it will blow my cover. "You're right," John sighs, "Sorry Rosie-I-you've had no idea what it's been like without you." His voice breaks at the last word as he brings his hand up to his face in shame and begins crying. Sherlock slowly places his arm around John's back and looks me in the eye once again. "I'm guessing you're pretty exhausted Rosie. I would get some rest." I take that as a signal to leave and I immediately dash out of the room. At last, I open my door and fling myself onto my comfy bed. It's only 12:00 and I'm bored from all these imbeciles. Ding! My phone chimes and I grab it from my bedside table. I've received a message from Dad.
Two days. Bored yet? -Dad x

Very. They're all imbeciles, especially Microsoft-R

It's Mycroft dear. What's happened today?- Dad x

Mycroft decided to question me all the usual stuff. Only difference is he asked about some important government information. Apparently you have it according to him. Also, Sherlock said you were the most dangerous criminal in the world (again) and called mum his sister. 2 days and he'll never say that again- or anything-R

I told you dear about what Sherlock likes to do. He's trying to confuse you once again. Mother does say hello. Those government plans? I sent one of my associates to investigate them-Sylvia Wellsbrough- but she failed and was killed. Oh well, it's nothing for you to worry about dear-Dad x

I know it hasn't been long but I really miss you and mother. It's so lonely is this dull flat. What should I do now? - R

We miss you too dear. I have a surprise, go to your window-Dad x

Ok-R

I get up from my bed and walk over to my large window not knowing what to expect. Peering down at the bustling street below I spot a recognisable figure among the crowd in casual clothing, different to what he usually wears. To top it all off, a London souvenir hat sits on his head. Dad. He's looking up to me chewing what must be gum and smiling. I wave excitedly and he raises his hand in response.

Hello-Dad x

What are you doing here? What about Sherlock?-R

Oh never mind him dear. Come down- Dad x

But I can't!-R

From downstairs I hear two pairs of feet rushing down the creaky steps and the sound of the heavy door slamming. They're gone. Now's my chance.

They're gone now, come along Rosie dear-Dad x

Coming-R

I spring up from my bed in a hurry and rush to get on my brown coat making sure to slip my phone into the pocket. Then I open the door and realise that I must take this bit carefully as I don't want to alert Mrs Hudson. They've obviously told her to keep an eye on me. Gingerly, I tiptoe down the steps, cringing at every creak of the worn boards. Nothing. She must be watching tv or whatever mundane things someone of her age does. I quickly unlock the hatch of the front door, still being weary on not to make too much noise, and slip out. I'm free, for a while at least. My eyes scour every corner and every face for my dad but I can't seem to spot him or his large, deliberately noticeable hat anywhere. Surely he hasn't gone that far. I begin by peeking my head through the cafe door. Nope. Just people enjoying their Speedy's lunch. I pace down the street trying to at least spot his hat. Nope. Where is he? Dad was literally just here? I stop by the end of the road for a moment re-evaluating everything when a hand taps me gently on the shoulder. In an instant I turn around to come face to face with my Dad looking as casual as ever. My face brightens up as I lunge into a hug which he finds a bit of an unexpected startle but takes it lightly. "Hello dear." He laughs as I let go, a bright beam on my face. "Hi Dad I-I wasn't expecting you. Sherlock might be back soon, I don't know where he went with John."
"Yes dear, I know. That's why this is going to be quick."
"What is?"
"Follow me." A jet black car pulls up and we both hop in, knowing nothing of what I'm doing next.

We're back at the same warehouse again from earlier with Sebastian. Why are we here again? "Is this your favourite place to go?" I question jokingly and Dad smiles. "No. It's just convenient." He replies. "We're here because I need you to do a little task for me. I figured it will prepare you for what is to come." Oh. For some strange reason my stomach drops as I shift in my seat. "Ah, ok. What am I going to do?"
"You'll see." We exit the car and proceed into the warehouse where we are met with only brightness. Except the first floor (which is open like a balcony) is submerged in darkness and I can faintly hear someone fiddling with metal, probably a gun. My eyes set upon a man in the centre who looks completely dazed, almost unaware of what's happening around him. He's probably been drugged at a guess. "Now dear, I don't like getting my hands dirty... that's why I have my trusty snipers with me. However, today I'm giving you the privilege to outshine them all." Dad starts to explain as he prowls around the half conscious man who looks as if he's finally coming to his senses. "Yes...?" I encourage him to continue as I have an idea of what I'm preferably about to do. Dad grins slightly but not warmly as he reaches into his trouser pocket revealing a black pistol. He extends his arm as he knows what I will do. I approach him taking the gun from his pale hand feeling the harsh metal burn my skin. It's obvious what I must do. He wants me to kill the man as I will kill Sherlock. How tremendously ambitious of him. But what has this man done? "Why am I killing him?" I ask as I want to know if the pull of my trigger will serve a purpose. "A traitor dear." He spits in disgust. "Why, what did he do?" I pry further. "None of that matters dear. None of it matters." Dad whispers darkly as he begins to prowl around me like a hungry tiger stalking its prey. I raise the gun and click it into place, hands trembling as beads of sweat make my grip slippery. This man could be completely innocent for all I know. I'm ending the life of a stranger, he could have family, a lover, parents, anyone. He's around his late 20's, quite young. None of it matters. None of it matters. None of it matters.
None of it matters.
None of it matters.
None.
Of.
It.
Matters.
BANG! The echo of the gunshot ricochets throughout the whole warehouse causing it to vibrate. The man falls on his back with a thud and crimson leaks from the small wound in his head. I've just killed a man. My breaths are heavy as I lower the gun to my side, then silence. No feelings, no nothing, just emptiness. I'm completely unmoved, distant from any emotions. And it feels glorious. "Wow, I must say excellent job Rosie. Maybe I can put you up for hire now that there's an extra spot open. How did it feel dear?" Dad asks curiously. "I-I-" I stutter as the words disappear before they leave my mouth. "Go on dear...I won't judge." He encourages me, whispering his final words. "G-good. It felt good."