An Agent of Chaos (BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

Alternate Ending

Alternate Ending

I’d never known how it felt to be alone, to have no one beside me. I guess that’s one of the things you learn when you’re behind bars. I’d never had a criminal record, not until I decided to leave the United States and leave for England to start my new life. I’d never tasted the dark side until I crossed over into it. Many say that once you cross over, it’s almost futile to try and come back to the light. I proved them wrong, but I wish I had tried to convert sooner.

I couldn’t remember how long my sentence was. For all I knew, it could be for life. I’d spent a few months in prison so far, adjusting to it much better than expected. I was on my own, having to only worry about myself. I’d gotten into a few fights that were mostly initiated by my opponent. The first few times I’d backed off, but after one had called me a cowardly bitch, the switch flipped.

Apparently, it only took one real fight to put me in a cell by myself. Maybe it was because of my reputation that that was all it took for me to have my own room. It didn’t bother me that much, as I didn’t have to worry about being murdered in my sleep by my cellmate. I’d never trusted her from the moment I’d laid eyes on her.

Now here I was, back in my cell after a long, monotonous day. I did this to myself. I could complain all I wanted, it couldn’t change my sentence. It couldn’t change what I had done to end up in here. This was all my doing, and I was paying the price.

I was thankful for the cell to be blocked by a door that only had bars on the window. I preferred if the other women didn’t see me, not that I was afraid of them or anything. I didn’t want to have to get into any more fights. I’d already suffered a black eye and split lip, I didn’t want anything more to add to my body. One of the prisoners here discovered my semi-fresh scar in my abdomen, so that was now a favorite target.

My stomach roared at me, wishing for me to head back out towards the cafeteria. Unless I broke the door down, there was no chance of that. I couldn’t believe I’d been reduced to craving prison food. I guess you get used to it after spending a few months cut off from the world.

Everything I’d had, everything I could have had, it was all ripped from me. It was a huge mistake to leave Spencer and Dean for a man who promised he could give me anything. It was stupid to actually believe he’d live up to that. It was idiotic of me to think for one second that I could change and not receive consequences. I’d screwed up my life since the day I left New Jersey. 

If only my father hadn’t crossed Jim Moriarty. He was the reason Moriarty came looking for me in New Jersey. I could only put part of the blame on my father, as the other half was on me for being naïve and corrupted. I was stupid to think that Moriarty was someone I could trust.

There were no windows in my cell, so time of day had been lost on me for ages. I could only guess and hope I was right about the time. I wanted to be out, to stretch my legs, to at least be somewhere other than this claustrophobic area. I didn’t have the phobia, but I could eventually develop it if the limited space drove me insane.

I didn’t get one visitor since I was shipped off here. It was pretty lonely. Even my own sister didn’t visit me. She was understandable, as she had to head back to the States to resume her duty as a cop. I guess it was understandable for John Watson to not come either. He and I weren’t exactly friends—more like foes. Maybe not even that. Maybe we were frenemies. I bet he would have brought Elena over to see me if she’d begged enough. But maybe he was stubborn and wanted me out of his daughter’s life. I’d killed her mother after all—not that she knew that. Whether or not she’d ever know that, I wasn’t sure.

I would probably never know, because I would probably never leave this prison to find out.

A guard or two were on the night shift, taking their usual patrols down the halls, peeking in to see that we were okay and that none of us had committed suicide. The thought had never crossed my mind during my time here. Besides, I would have nothing to work with if I wanted to get away with it. Well, there’s always the chance to try and smother myself with a pillow.